[Voice]

[asouroldelf]

[There is a strained, stricken cry, born of something that seems more rage than sorrow. It's followed by a muddled crash of metal and shattering crockery. The din ebbs to the fractured rhythm of labored breathing, trails off into a solid moment of silence that is punctuated by one ragged sob. It is a long, long moment before she speaks, and then it is bare.]

Násë seldo eressë. Sin... Forge's closed.