He smiles, and takes her hands, his own wreathed in bloody flames, that rolls across her body, a new red dress made of a unknown material replacing her current dress. The flames race down her arms, up her back, then flow to her head, horns pushing though her hair, and he shudders softly. "I. Couldn't change your skin. But you're fireproof now." He smiles weakly, exhausted. "The Underworld sped up the transformation." He gently rests his hand on her now scar free arm, her whole body healed of any scars, wounds, or imperfections.
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