Before him, the flames seemed to meld and merge together to form her figure. Her face was as sweet and as black as a mask from a masquerade, her slender hands etched in flame invitingly beckoning him into the furnace. Her heat scorched his skin, infiltrated the coldness inside and brought a world of pain as it seared from his chest to groin. On fire. He was on fire. Clutched between the meaty fingers of Lucifer, slowly being crushed and violated by this massive beast whose embrace smelt of sickness and sulfur.
Her hand reached out from the furnace, and gently traced over his chest, her flame burning through his thick robe Such sweet agony. And then, of course, came the fire.
The flames lapped at him hungrily, devouring him in some sort of horrible mockery of his own lust. Spreading from his chest to his sleeves. Burning him down to his flesh, bare as Adam was in the fruit of his unholy sin. The clothes burned away, exposing. Exposing. And as he struggled to cover himself from the Devil's gaze, the flames began licked at his skin and ignited.
The black stain of burnt flesh spread across his sin, a sickly disease tainting and then destroying his form. Pale to pink, pink to red, red to black, black to ash-grey as his skin began to peel and drift into the furnance. Dancing around that triumphant succubus as she laughed at both his pathetic pleasure and his cursed agony.
"God save me! Maria, my mother! Save me from her!" His voice gurgled in a throat consumed by flame. His arms were burned to the bones, his chest and heart eaten away. The inferno licked his cheek with its scorching tongue, and the skin began to bubble and melt. Soon, his face was gone, exposing the skull underneath. Layer by layer, it was exposing him.
Finally, it climbed his legs and wrapped around his groin in a powerful vice. Frollo screamed in sheer horror as some disgusting wave of pure and primal pleasure wrenched his entire form, growing hotter and hotter until there was no distinction between the extremes of pleasure and pain. And then suddenly - there was nothing. No pain whatsoever. No lust. No incessant wanting. Only the painfully naked skeleton of Claude Frollo, picked clean straight to bones that were left pure and white, broken in front of the dying furnace.
He awoke with a start, the insipid scent of ashes from the dead fire drifting past his nostrils. There was silence. After the roar of that hellfire, it seemed almost unnatural. His mad lust was gone, replaced only by grim determination. The fire had ripped it from him, bore him to pain and then cleansed him. Yes...the sin had been wiped from him. Now it had to be wiped from her. He saw and felt the fire swelling around her, embracing her groin and chest and making her screech shrilly as her sins burned burned her from the outside in. Destroying that lovely flesh and purifying both her and Frollo forever.
A tatter of the scarf floated from the furnace as a light breeze blew from the chimney into the hearth, sending it flying gently towards him. A premonition, a vision of Esmeralda's remnants.
Her ashes would dance as they drifted away from Frollo and from Paris, carried in the wind.
