"I could." The aetheric fire is wasteful, pointless. He does not put it out. "The world could. Mortals could, if they would only try harder."

Deep down he knows this conversation has no use, that no good will come of it. Daniel is a stubborn, conceited mortal like so many others he has met, semi-angelic powers or no. "How is it not one of you can seem to see your place in the world?" he asks desperately. "We are all part of a greater whole, but each of you acts as though the world began and ended with your little lives."

Unlike Rashad, obviously. He has never behaved selfishly; he has only ever worked to improve the condition of things, work toward universal categorization and stasis.

He has tried, at least.