He was afraid of his power for a long time. He didn't want to be responsible for the thing burning inside his veins, or for all the ways he could fuck up and hurt others. For a long time, he was paralyzed by memories of a skyline engulfed in flames, fields charred barren black, people mourning lost loved ones and razed houses — all, he thought, because of a mistake that took a blink of an eye to make.

Now, he can smile as Iris's fingers brush against his through the veil of shadow. This is a part of him. He seized his fear by the throat and from it forged a strength that he never thought could be his.

"Yeah. It's nice."

Being himself. A fuller, truer version of himself. With a quick gesture, he stretches the the bit of shadow and wraps it around Iris like a scarf. He's careful not to cover his face with it.

"Why was everyone telling you to stop?"