Valkyrie. Asgard. These words, the Firebird knew them. Or had known them once? It flicked its tail and fluffed its wings in agitation. Why could it not remember the words?

It opened its beak to answer, but all that emerged was a long, eerie wail, as red-gold feather-flames caught and swirled. They wound around the bird-girl shape, spinning wildly, and then abruptly, they stopped.

Where the bird had been, there was only a (very large) pile of ashes.