Flame burst through the hall and caught on the hair descending from the ceiling, blazing up -- but without the distinctive scent that usually indicated burning hair. There was nothing but a clean burning smell, as if nothing more than wood were burning, even as the flames licked downward towards her shoulders, towards the uncomprehending stare on her face.

In this light there was something almost accusing in the expression, a furious hatred at anyone who entered her space and did not intimately know her pain, understand it to their very terrified marrow. It didn't seem as she felt the burn or was even deterred by it, even as ashes fell from the ceiling.

Still, her outstretched hand paused in front of the creature that had burned her before passing directly through it. The fire was dancing about her head now, lighting up her eyes in a way that almost approximated life. Still she continued, gaze fixed on Junpei in determined intent. Beneath the crackling of fire was the rattle of a long, extended dying breath, sounding without end.

With pale fingers, she reached out and touched his face -- almost a caress, a promise of vengeance -- and then vanished completely, as if she had never been there to begin with. Ashes fluttered to the ground, and the hall was silent.