Clara felt the magic trickle up from the bare skin of her palm. With a cold crackle, the almonds transformed. Seven perfect diamonds. Even in the dim light of fog and cloud, they glittered. Clara sighed as her vigor was drained by the spell.

She looked ahead to the bridge. She had not expected fog. A shape emerged from it.

She held out the handful of diamonds. Enough to pay the toll for the next thousand travelers.

“It is not enough,” the bridge troll said.

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