The Spring sun had just risen over the valley. The dense fog still covered the town, lit street lamps the only way to navigate.

"I wish my hair was white." Clara said to herself as she pulled the black locks over her shoulder. By the time her hair came to rest in front of her; the raven strands had indeed changed to match the color of the silver signant ring worn on her index finger.

As she takes her next step, a smile now on her face; and eyes alight with mischief, her mind floats to another. she seems used to this, and continues her trek into the dense morning fog. A middle aged dwarf is covered in Trammels, held taught to a flat table. she had seen this before. Its the process for a Cursed One. a slug of brass and lead is placed on the chest of a dwarf, and pressed into their bones, to rest in their body next to their heart. A dwarf who survives the process is a shell of their former selves; the touch of alchohol and metal becomes the most caustic and painful poisions to their bodies. as the vision continues; another dwarf steps into Clara's view, with his face obstructed. His words were muddled to her ears, but she didn't need words to know This new Dwarf was trouble, and was the reason why the other was becoming cursed.

Clara took a seat on a dew covered bench, and watched the day turn to evening, without moving, or eating. Passerby seemed to know not to bother her, and others that looked similar to her seemed to avoid her gaze, and refused to speak with her. Just as evening fell, a Human visitor was gifted the new Cursed One, and took offense to the gift, while drawing the sword at his hips. Still Clara watched. This time however, it was not with her vision, but right in front of her, in the middle of the carraigeway.

As the man's sword went toward the Cursed one; Elves seemed to materialize out of the crowd, all with swords drawn at the human man. The one with his sword on the throat of this human began to speak.

"In our faith, ones like this are blessed, and are to be reveared. if you do not wish to care for this Dwarf, we will gladly take on that task." The human quickly sheathed his sword, never looking toward the sheath that the tip seemed to find on its own.

"I have no Quarrel with the Elves, if you want this one: he is yours."

the crowd seemed to disappear as quickly as it had formed, leaving only the Dwarf guards, and the Human behind. Clara stood, and the Dwarves seemed to recognize her, and quickly turned on their heels and ran as fast as their armor laden bodies would carry them. The human seemed mesmarized by her, and only stared.

"I wish you find yourself the happiness you are looking for; but not in this town." Clara said to the man. a female elf who had been walking on the sidewalk heard Clara's words, looked to the man, shook her head, and scurried away while holding the hand of a small child. The man tilted his head toward her, and looked as though he was about to speak, and disappeared from in front of Clara.

Clara turned and began walking the streets once more, until the sun had fully set, and the large gas street lamps were once again the only way to navigate in the valley.

She walked into a building that looked just like any other, used the stairs to go down, then entered a room in the basement. The Dwarf from earlier sat on a chair. a table next to him holding the garb of a Dwarvish slave that he had been wearing hours earlier. The Cursed Slug lay on the table, the elves having removed it.

She smiled at the man, and whispered just barely loud enough for him to hear. "I wish this Curse had never happened to you." her smile grew as the man no longer appered pale. "Now the Iron in your blood is no longer trying to kill you. Live your life."

The Dwarf, seeming to realize who was in front of him kneeled on a single knee, and placed his closed fists on the ground, while his eyes never left her face.

"Thank you, Godess of Wishes, Clara."

At his words, her hair shifted to black, she nodded to him, and faded from the room.