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He burned with her as he watched each strand of hair ignite in bellowing aches of forgotten time. He did not predict it, nor prevent it; he simply stood there, motionless beneath the growing fire. And somewhere within the blaze, a part of him burned with her—igniting his own passions, desires, heat, and terrible emptiness.

It was within the surge of her intensity that he discovered the shape of his own light. Not embittered by the countless doors once closed against him, he instead watched as she radiated his strength back into the world, as though she alone could carry the brilliance he had long failed to name within himself.

And in that moment, she danced at the edge of insanity while he paraded in awe before her—strong, secure, everlasting beneath the spell of her infectious vision, her ever-intensifying beauty.