Temperance moved through the winding streets of Frandyln, the fey city's otherworldly glow casting long shadows that seemed to stretch out toward her. The astral elf kept her posture serene, her training as a monk making her movements graceful and measured, but beneath her calm exterior, an unsettling paranoia gnawed at her thoughts. There was something lurking—some presence she couldn’t name. A darkness that clung to her steps, always just beyond her vision, just at the edge of her perception. This made her think about the ominous skull card that she had withdrawn from the golden chest in the lair of the strange gnome medusa. No matter how hard she tried, she could not dispose of the card as it always turned back up on her person.   She quickened her pace, trying to shake the feeling, though no one in her adventuring party had noticed her leave. They likely wouldn’t care that she had gone off to seek something for herself, but that didn’t lessen the sense of urgency in her steps. Her companions wielded magic with such ease summoning firestorms and whirlwinds and despite her years of training and the strength she possessed, Temperance couldn’t help but feel left behind.   The fey lights flickered as she passed through a quieter, more discreet part of the city. Her goal was clear: find a jar of restorative ointment, a practical item. It would be useful to the group. But deep down, she knew the truth—this quest wasn’t entirely for them. No, she thought. I can still be humble and seek to improve. But the darkness seemed to disagree, creeping closer in her mind.   Ahead, she spotted the sign for a small shop: “The Educated Artificer.” It was modest, blending into the surroundings as if it wanted to go unnoticed, much like her. Temperance slipped inside, the bell above the door chiming faintly as the air inside changed, heavier with the scents of metal, herbs, and arcane energy.   The shop was lined with shelves displaying vials, potions, mechanical trinkets, and magical oddities. At the counter stood an elegant, ageless figure—a 195-year-old elf named Eololiel. Her long, silvery hair shimmered faintly in the dim light of the shop, and her eyes, a deep emerald, regarded Temperance with curiosity. There was a calm wisdom about her, but her expression remained neutral, as if she had seen countless travelers like Temperance before.   “Welcome,” Eololiel said in a soft but commanding voice, her Elvish accent light but noticeable. “What can I assist you with today?”   Temperance approached the counter, her heart beating slightly faster, though she hid it well. She glanced over her shoulder, feeling the presence of the darkness again—still there, lurking—but when she looked, nothing was out of place. "I’m looking for a jar of restorative ointment," she said, her voice measured. "For healing purposes."   Eololiel’s gaze didn’t waver. “I have several, each crafted with great care. But..." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as if reading deeper into Temperance. "I sense your request is not just for the benefit of others."   Temperance’s fingers tensed slightly, but before she could respond, Eololiel gracefully reached beneath the counter and withdrew several items, placing them before her one by one. Each was displayed with care, as if the elf understood that something more than just healing was on Temperance’s mind.   “If you’re looking for something to aid your companions,” Eololiel said, her voice calm and measured, “or perhaps yourself, I have more than just ointments. Take a look.”   First, she lifted a small, blue sphere of thick glass, its surface reflecting the dim light of the shop with a faint, magical glow. “A Driftglobe," she said. "It will follow you, illuminating the darkness. It’s lightweight—only a pound—and invaluable in times of need. I charge 300 gold for this one.”   Temperance studied the orb, feeling a pull toward it, though she hesitated. Eololiel then set down a simple but practical item: an alchemy jug. “This jug produces different liquids—water, oil, even wine. Useful in a variety of situations. 150 gold.”   Next, a more tempting offer appeared before her: a Bag of Holding. Eololiel opened the enchanted bag, its interior far larger than its small exterior. “For 200 gold coins, you’ll have endless space at your disposal. Never be weighed down by burdens.”   Temperance felt her heart race slightly at the sight of the bag. Such an item could be invaluable for her and her companions. But as Eololiel’s hand moved to the next object, Temperance’s eyes widened.   “This,” Eololiel said quietly, lifting a vial filled with shimmering blue liquid, “is a potion of frost giant strength. One drink, and you will possess immense power. But, as you can imagine, such strength comes with a price—6,000 gold coins.”   The jar of ointment in Temperance’s hand suddenly felt small and insignificant. The weight of her desire to match her companions, to be more than just a healer, pressed down on her as Eololiel set the final item on the counter.   A spell scroll, its parchment shimmering faintly with magical runes. “A scroll of Find the Path. This spell will guide you to your heart’s desire—if you can afford it. 10,000 gold coins.”   Temperance’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected such powerful items to be presented to her. The jar of ointment seemed like the safe choice, the humble choice. But the allure of these other treasures gnawed at her. The darkness that had been trailing her felt more present, almost whispering in her ear.   She took a step back, torn between the practical and the powerful. "I... I’ll take the ointment," she said, though her voice wavered.   As Temperance stood before Eololiel, holding the jar of ointment, a flicker of doubt crossed her mind. The weight of her decision felt heavier than the small jar in her hand. She had come here to buy something practical, something useful for her companions. But now, standing in front of these powerful items, the pull of desire—her own desire—crept up once again.   Her gaze shifted to the Bag of Holding, the simple but elegant item that offered endless space. Then, her eyes landed on the alchemy jug, its potential uses sparking possibilities in her mind. Both items were undeniably practical, yet the desire to possess more than just what she had intended to buy gnawed at her. It was as if the darkness she felt trailing her had wrapped itself around her decision-making, urging her toward something more.   Eololiel watched her, silently, patiently. She seemed to sense Temperance’s internal struggle without saying a word, her calm presence both soothing and unnerving at the same time.   "I..." Temperance hesitated, her voice quiet and uncertain. Her hand hovered over the jar, but her thoughts raced. Was it so wrong to want something for herself? The Bag of Holding would ease her burdens, and the alchemy jug—well, it could certainly be useful, couldn’t it? Especially for the group. Yes, she reasoned. For the group.   Her words stumbled out quickly. "I’ll take the ointment." She paused, the silence between them growing heavier. Then, with a deep breath, she added, "And the Bag of Holding... and the alchemy jug as well."   Eololiel's eyes twinkled faintly, though her expression remained composed. “A wise decision,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring. She gathered the items and placed them carefully on the counter. “The Bag of Holding will serve you well. Never worry about the weight of what you carry. And the alchemy jug, as simple as it seems, can be a lifesaver in the most unexpected moments.”   Temperance handed over the coins feeling a strange mix of excitement and guilt. She wasn’t just buying these things for her companions; she was buying them for herself. And that unsettled her. She still couldn’t quite shake the sense that the darkness lurking behind her was somehow tied to this, as though it was watching her compromise her humble ideals.   As Eololiel wrapped the items in a thin cloth, she offered one last glance at Temperance, her expression more thoughtful now. “You’ve made choices today that may help others... and yourself,” she said, her voice low and cryptic. “Do not fear seeking what you need, Temperance. But always be mindful of the shadows that follow.”   Temperance took the items, bowing her head slightly in thanks, though her heart was still conflicted. She left The Educated Artificer, the weight of the Bag of Holding light in her hands, but the weight in her chest heavier than before. The ointment, the bag, the jug—all useful tools. But the darkness she felt? That was something she couldn’t simply carry or store away.