The lingering warmth refused to vanish, even as his consciousness waned; uncontrollable actions of his body and the black flames kept the heat up, so the warmth didn't give way to the cold around him.
Steam rose from the top of the barrel, meeting the cold air in an ephemeral mist as Kyrie retreated to the bottom, unconsciously holding his legs, black hair with red strands floating to the surface of the water.
Even though this place was nowhere close to any conception of "safe", the young man continued at the bottom of the barrel, ignoring trivial things like breath, the temperature outside the barrel, and the possibility of a monster approaching.
His mind was in a strange state of full sleep with no dreams, but conscious and alert. The boiling water had removed much of the grime and filth from his body, but not all, and the most persistent stains remained on his body and hair.
