It turns the idea over. Remote projection like that is actually quite tricky. Do they want alternate visual modes that can go through concrete? That's easier.

Also: they're about to be in danger!

Alright, Sylvia, you know how this works -

Call up the light of her soul, focus it through the protective emblem, and brace for impact as-indicated - she can hold through this.  She believes in this, with no less than several exomemories backing her up.

Also, maybe, but right now she wants structural fault tracking!

The gift starts working on that.

A blast of what they might recognize as Kryptonian heat vision comes up through the floor — thankfully a glancing blow — and splashes off their shield before continuing up through the building. Through the gap in the floor, the edges of which are glowing red hot, a boy in a white suit is visible. He's being bear-hugged by Superman, who is speaking urgently into his ear.

Oh fuck.

She can certainly muster enough sheer terror to make some sort of laser attenuation field, surely -- wasn't he supposed to not have heat vision?! -- but actually belay that too Gift, fucking rapidly-evolving situations she hates them -- "I don't have any but would Kryptonite help with this?!", she calls through the hole --

"In theory, yes!" Superman calls back up. "He's not hostile, but his powers just started working, for some reason, and he doesn't know how to control them yet!"

The boy jerks sideways, and Superman has to wrench him around to avoid hitting Wildcard with another blast. The upper stories of the building are not fairing well.

"That would be because he probably didn't have them until recently, but I digress --"  And Ophelia clicks into place with the inevitability of gravity.  This must be terrifying.  Her heart goes out to the kid.  Having no understanding, no control, of these powers he's been given - likely ones that are entirely new - especially when someone else who knows how they feel is right there, trying to communicate but yet unable--  "Would you be willing to share yours?  Telempathically."  One affirmative later, her focus is entirely upon the task she's set herself, a perhaps superfluous but perhaps entirely necessary somatic component sweeping outward-across-together-again gently as she focuses upon the need to bridge a gap of understanding - "Understand yourself, child, as you are reflected in the mirror of another."

In the heat of the moment, it might not have worked. Too unstructured, too unpracticed.

But the thing is, means 'Hope'.

And here is a man — not a parent to the child, not yet. In another world, where he was rescued by others and Superman could try to put the matter out of his mind, maybe he would not ever be.

But here, he pulled him from the pod not an hour ago, seeing the boy, angry and misused, with his own eyes. And he still feels the outrage, the violation, of a child made from his own flesh and blood without his knowledge or consent.

But he feels other things, too. The yearning for more of his own kind, to replace a planet that was lost. The compassion of looking on a suffering child, writhing and tense in his arms as the child battles against forces he can't control.

And, of course, the Hope that the confusing and bewildering visitor from beyond the page can do what she claims and make things right. The Hope that he could share what has come easily to him, through his gradual awakening on the farm. The Hope that he could, in time, come to see this child for who he is, and not the betrayal his creation represents. Come to see him for a child of the

House of

El

All he has ever known before today has been the stillness of growth and the dreams of his tutors.

In the languid hours, floating in darkness among the buzzing and beeping machines of creation, they bid him dream of defeating Superman. It was, in many ways, a gift that so many people lack: a purpose, gifted to him right in the cradle.

But his creators were not kind.

They had read the tale of the old lady who swallowed the fly, and they dared not create something more powerful than that which they sought to counter. And so they made him weaker. Half-kryptonian, yes, but half-human as well, his organs threaded through with a delicate tracery of genomorph tissue to hold the whole thing together.

And they didn't tell him this.

The dreams his tutors sent him — they were of fighting Superman on equal ground, for who would train their weapon to lose? And then when he came out of the pod, and Superman was right there, but he wasn't strong enough ...

Superman doesn't want to hurt him, is the thing. And that burns. The thought that he could be weak enough to merit such unconcern from his destined foe. The thought that Superman wants to help him, wants to lift him up, and make him stronger.

There was not much to hope for, before today. Just his eventual release from the pod, the chance to take up his purpose.

But now,

cradled in the arms of his greatest foe,

unable to stop wreaking destruction on the people he was born to protect,

he hopes for something better.

... and he can see, now, that his anger, his desire, the things that have driven him through this short life, they don't lead to the place he wants to go.

He wants to be stronger? Superman wants that too.

He wants to protect people from those more powerful than they are? Superman wants that too.

He wants to go on believing the things his tutors told him, about his purpose and his future? Well, that stands in the way of letting him be who he wants to be. And that hurts, but he has to let go.

His muscles relax, his eyes changing focus. The beam of intense heat cuts out, molten steel dripping down from the upper levels like rain, dripping and pooling around them as Superman holds him in a silent tableaux of relief and joy.

Oh thank all the relevant gods, that worked.

They likely owe both of them so many apologies, but that can wait until the debrief.

"...Everyone alright?"

"... yes?" the boy ventures, his answer hesitant.

Superman slowly releases him from the bear hug.

"I feel fine. What did you ... do?"

"...Took a calculated risk that I could not make this situation worse by adding the Indigo Light of Compassion to it.  I believe the rest would have been your doing, from there."

...The building's not about to fall down on anybody, right?  Just checking.

The building is a big flashy target for supervillains to attack without damaging anything actually important. It's ridiculously overbuilt. It's going to be fine.

... especially now that Wonder Woman has finished notifying the DC police and fire departments, and triggering an evacuation of nearby buildings.

Not that that seems like it's going to be needed, but that's the procedure for when the Hall is attacked. She didn't know that things would calm down so quickly.

That still doesn't feel like it explains anything. But maybe that's what you get for asking questions of magicians.

"Right. Well. Are there any ... mystical things that you could check, to make sure he's healthy?" he questions.

"It feels like everything is fine, I just want to check that you're okay," he tells the boy in the jumpsuit. "It's been an eventful morning for all of us."

"...Probably, but I want to state for the record that I am not a professional anything and you should get a second opinion from...  The Fortress of Solitude or an actual wizard or something.  Seriously, I'm pulling most of this out of half-baked intuition, tropes, a power I've had for not even a day, and sheer bloody-mindedness.  But.  I think I can take a look, and even if that's something I can't work out with the tools I have on me, I think I have a working hypothesis."

Gift, a spark for Light-assisted medical diagnostics?

...If she understands what happened to the kid, she can explain it to him, and to Superman/Clark, who are both probably more than a little worried right now.

And, in all honesty, she really wants to know what happened.

Even if she's ready to believe that what happened was the White Light doing things.

"I hesitate to say that this might have been partly my fault, but I do think it might have been partly my fault, depending on when our guest arrived."