Somewhere deep underground, in a quiet echoing dim-lit cavern disturbed only by the whisper of ventilation shafts painstakingly installed, the woman sings. Her voice rises and falls, one moment clear as a mountain-brook, the next husky and deep, then almost a scream or maybe a sob.
She sings of rage, and pain, and loss, and despair, and a final desperate quest for vengeance.
She sings, and she makes it beautiful - and makes it hurt, both at the same time.