[ The monster is observed in its quiet retreat. A mere mention of its name is enough to make it retreat into the woods. Interesting. Slowly, surely, the soul disappears into the muddy world beyond his vision. He could consider what that meant later. For now, he would need to tend to his ally.

And for all his confident speaking, Emet-Selch clutches a hand to his chest as he feels the flood of emotion from his dying comrade only intensify. Fear and pain wash over him in an overwhelming wave. It's a feeling he knows - the body's instinctual terror in the face of death.

He hurries to Barnaby's side and kneels at the growing pool of blood on the ground. ]

Stop your struggling, you'll only succeed in making it worse.

[ There is no time to do anything else. He immediately holds both hands out and concentrates on a healing spell - hands that immediately begin to shake from the residual empathy between them. A light of soothing green light would rise from the ground. The next few moments would make it apparent whether his healing would be too little too late. ]