I walked the earth when time was young, Through forests deep and plains I sprung, Though time erased my earthly tread, Whispers remain of what I dread.

Some find me crafted in stone, in written tomes, or beneath the layers of soil. Without me, an individual can toil. Like lines in a beat, I tend to repeat.

I wore the crown of the East, yet longed to reclaim the West. I sent armies to reclaim what once was the best. My rule was gilded, but whispers abound, that my empress’s past was less than profound.

The first three letters of my name may describe a desirable summer physique, the last three a shivering skater's dream. Altogether, I'm used to shape the human form, a clothing piece of the past comprised of beautiful fabrics.

I wrestle with fire to awaken the stubborn, I bend what resists and shape what endures. Every strike echoes, forging strength unseen, I turn raw matter into purpose and power. What am I?