The reaction it not what Hemera had expected (she had expected it, but hoped she was wrong—), and she rises to her feet, reflexively seeking to ease his pain however she can. Unfortunately the eagerness of her soul to reach out and soothe what it perceives to be no more than a child is more than it can handle in its current state. She collapses like a puppet cut of its strings, hitting the ground so harshly all the air is pushed from her lungs, leaving her unable to vocalize her pain beyond an agonized wheeze. The edge of her mask has cut into her cheek, mixing with the involuntary tears that trail down her face.

She had meant to do something, hadn't she? There was something she needed to do. Someone who needed her.

That thought is enough to force her into motion, struggling to push herself up with shaking arms.

A child of her people was in need of her.