Ashes of burnt flesh and leaves floated high, drifted through the calming wind, and landed at the base of the only fruitful tree that hadn't been incinerated by the gold beam of light.
Behind the tree, debris continuously fell from the top of the wine-colored proctor's building, which was now scorched black, like cooling lava, and hissed on the ground.
Inside, all the portraits that had once lined the hallway were burnt beyond recognition, leaving the surfaces to flicker with sporadic, dying flames.
Down the hallway, behind the heavy door, the silver light flickered erratically; the screen glitched as sparks of electricity popped from the charred stumps of cables.
A gust of wind exploded in the room. As it died, Mr. Lee and Lieutenant Hayes appeared from nowhere, parts of their black robes burnt and crumbling to ash.
