I stoked furnaces in a Sebiestor industrial enclave, shaping steel for resistance. Taken in an imperial assault, Imgonnagetya subdued my fiery spirit, forcing me to tend her sacred braziers. My days roar with flames and tools, my once‑defiant gaze lowered in submission. I recite prayers of penitence at night, my labor a forced offering to her exalted service and to the Empress.