Adelaide watches, because she can't not. She stares at the crumpling, dissolving child and wonders how much of this is what they knew would happen. How much was expected-

And if this boy was simply left for them to find on purpose.

Fires need putting out, wounds need tending. A wave of cool air for the fire, a moment's weariness and thick swallow against the migraine pounding at the base of her skull before she taps the ground and calls upon Compassion. Eyes and hands glowing a cool blue mist wafts along the party- easing aches, closing wounds. Her face is a blank mask. She cannot afford to lose her composure.

She'll never regain it otherwise. "Herian."

Gently. As gently as she can manage.