“1000 po ”
***
It was as if the craftsman, by carving the stone, had managed to make every single facet trap the very last light of the crypt. The clarity of the jewel made that diamond shine like a star under the torchlight of the temple. It was undoubtedly worth every last one of the thousand gold coins the goldsmith demanded from the group of heroes for such a particular commission.
"These adventurers are surely good customers," the gnome whispered to himself as they entered his workshop. Moreover, they weren't looking to haggle or trade gold for gems, he thought again when the one who was clearly the warrior of the group showed him the raw stone he expected him to cut. He was so precise and clear in his instructions that, had they been magic users, the gnome would have charged them double right then and there. He accepted the task without much resistance—opportunities like this are rare in his trade—and when the jewel was finished, he gazed at it satisfied. He was convinced that, whether its destiny was to crown a king's brow or, as he sensed, to trap a soul within, that diamond had been ready long before it ever passed through his hands.
Deep within the temple, the clerics intoned a litany of chants among bones cleansed by time. They sought to call upon the free soul to which they were once bound. The diamond, now floating and glowing above the remains on the altar, was consumed by that divine light emanating from within with every prayer, until it vanished completely. And after nearly a century, like waking from a long slumber, the old companion-in-arms finally found it was time to get vertical.
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