A lone, weary figure sits hunched over a desk in the dying light of evening. She is the {songmaker}, a woman with tired eyes and ink-stained...

A lone, weary figure sits hunched over a desk in the dying light of evening. She is the {songmaker}, a woman with tired eyes and ink-stained fingers, her chest rising and falling with unspoken sorrow. Her clothes are threadbare but noble in form — a {tattered poet’s tunic} and a leather belt holding ...