Cinder-of-Nine resembles a small, upright person assembled from furnace coals, ember-glass, and drifting ash. Its body is narrow at the waist and broad at the shoulders, with cracks glowing orange beneath a crust of blackened ceramic. Every movement is slightly delayed, as though its limbs remember being logs before becoming limbs. It leaves faint red footprints that cool into gray smudges after a few seconds. Its face is a smooth mask of soot with nine pinprick lights arranged like a broken crown, yet its hands are unexpectedly delicate, each finger ending in a soft blue flame like a candle wick. The impression is of a dying campfire trying very hard to look dignified.