"I see the flames of the forge. It is so close I can touch it. The heat sears my face, and the sparks sting my

"I see the flames of the forge. It is so close I can touch it. The heat sears my face, and the sparks sting my cheeks. But there is no fear in my soul, only admiration and reverence for the work of an artist." The Storyteller seems to be in some sort of trance. His unseeing eyes reflect the flames of a forge that burned out long ago.