He manages to retain himself enough for her hand to touch the steel jaws unharmed, but the armor would draw her in as soon as fingers touched metal. The physical quickly dissolves into an ethereal blackness. A sense of floating, of a noiseless astral nothingness with no direction. An empty void.

And then beneath (or above) appears the outer tendrils of a massive vortex of hellfire, burning and raging wildly in all directions. With light comes heat, and sparks. It's a consciousness twisted so far out of itself that all that's left is an enraged and soulful howling into the ethereal nothingness all around.

At the center of it roars the hound, a shimmering figure in the flames.