The very air in this deepest, most desolate chamber of Angband was not merely hot; it was a suffocating, living furnace, thick with the acrid scent of molten rock and superheated earth. Great rivers of incandescent orange and fiery red magma flowed in vast, terrifying channels, their surfaces rippling like a terrible, liquid inferno. The light, if one could call it that, pulsed with an oppressive, malevolent glow, casting colossal, dancing shadows of ancient, jagged rock formations across the cavernous, echoing space.

At the heart of this consuming inferno, a figure lay utterly submerged, not in water, but in the searing, primordial embrace of a pool of purest, bubbling lava. This was Mairon, the Ancient Spirit of Fire, later known as Sauron, in a state of supreme, terrifying comfort. His form, though vaguely humanoid, shimmered with an inner heat, his very skin appearing like polished obsidian slicked with molten gold in the horrifying light. His eyes, burning with a cold, clear flame, were closed in what seemed to be a state of profound, luxurious contemplation, utterly detached from any outer world. The destructive power of the molten earth was not a threat to him, but a natural element, a soothing balm to his essence.

A low, resonant hum, a sound of deep, malevolent contentment, vibrated through the very bedrock, shaking the cavern with its primordial power. It was a sound born of ancient might and utter mastery over his surroundings, a sound that needed no audience, only existence.

He shifted, a ripple of liquid fire passing across his form as he settled more deeply into the searing embrace of the lava. A slow, satisfied sigh, a sound of profound release, escaped him, utterly unaware that any other sentience might be present.

"Ah," he mused, his voice a deep, sonorous growl that seemed to vibrate from the very core of the earth, carrying the heat and the power of the forge, speaking only to himself. "There is no comfort in the soft airs of the outer world, no true peace in the fleeting light of the false stars. But here... here in the ancient heart of the earth, where the very substance of creation is in constant, destructive motion... here is where power truly resides."

He paused, a faint, almost imperceptible smile of dark satisfaction playing on his lips. "This fire, this molten core, it reinvigorates me. It purifies. It strips away the illusions of weakness, the frailties of lesser beings. It reminds me of the primordial essence of all that truly matters: will, and the absolute power to enforce it. No weakness here, no sentimentality, only strength, raw and unyielding, and the inexorable march of a will that bends even the bedrock to its purpose."

His eyes remained closed, his face turned towards the pulsing glow of the lava, utterly absorbed in his fiery communion. "Soon... soon the world will understand this truth. Soon, all will know the power forged in such depths. And the light of the surface... it will burn away."