COMPLETE.
She'd stumbled and fallen to her knees, struggling and trying and failing to drag herself back to her feet. Two words materialised with sudden, crystal-clear clarity: Well, fuck. It was uncustomarily vulgar for her, but if near-death wasn't the time for profanity, then what was?
The last thing she'd seen was another rusty sword looming in her field of vision, a skeleton shambling towards her, the ground slippery with her own blood.
But then.
Then the light, and everything turning slightly green at the edges, and it was as if some force were sweeping Ofelia back up and dusting her off, the wounds sealing themselves, her body mending itself right before her eyes, and she felt filled with a renewed strength. A full cure. Their entire motley group shifted.
To their credit, none of them wasted any time. Ofelia didn't pause in awe or shock or gratitude. Instead, she hopped back to her feet and started beating a retreat to the crystal, firing off her cards with renewed strength. One of the special cards exploded into fire, catching on the ragged, rotting clothes of the zombies. The knight was back to tearing her way through their ranks with holy magick, even Ash was awake once more, deftly spinning her way out of the enemies' reach and felling them with strange bursts of imitative magic of her own. The zombies, caught off-guard by this sudden recovery of their prey, fell.
And then there was Cian, a dark smudge in the night. Ofelia caught his eye and gave a grateful nod.