It takes Maia a few moments, but she realizes that there are people in the group who have bandages that weren't there before, or bloodstains on their clothes. She goes to each, intending to be useful for -something- before the night is through.
Though her healing is unquestionably magic, it's unusual for divine magic. She sings quietly, a simple, sweet melody that despite being in a foreign tongue seems maddeningly familiar. It's the lullaby your mother hummed while rocking you to sleep; the impromptu victory song your team burst into when you made the winning score; the hopeful music that only you could hear when you spotted your first love across the way. A she sang, Maia's hand glowed from within, as if her very bones were shining powerfully enough to be seen through muscle and skin, and became outlined in a thin white flame. The touch of the flame was soothing though, and when it faded; when Maia removed her hand, the wound she touched was gone as if it had never been.