Jag really wasn't sure that he could do this, but the least he could do was not disappoint them, after everything he'd put them through. He'd try, although he sniffled before he called the fire back. The fire helped, always, and he focused on its warmth inside his chest as he shaped it into his usual bird, leaning into Em's hand and closing his eyes, thinking far enough back that neither of them were in the memories he went for, so his guilt would not disrupt them. It was his first performance, him so much younger but elated with the experience, the crowd mesmerised by the fire he wove, and the pride and love obvious in Kennick and Drina.