Far below the earth, in the deepest confines of the Sparrow Grove where a great tree did blaze wildly without harm, a druid hangs his head. One by one as the cluster of fire flowers too set alight, their flame-hued petals incinerating to ash, smoke carries up through the numerous crevices and opening in the stone. Rising high through nigh natural chimneys to the surface.
"Might you have died as you lived llir. Llun. I wish I could've taught you more. To truly learn of life's likeness... Adont'ahern, be at peace with your soul. Fiyem."
The druid waits outside patiently, until all of the flames had burnt their course and been snuffed out. Leaving naught but soot, embers, and a still proud standing tree.