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On the other side of the village, in a quaint, little cottage shrouded in a perpetual veil of mist, lived Misty Meaner. A woman as mysterious as the mists that danced around her home, her demeanor was as changeable as the weather. One could never quite tell if she was about to bestow a blessing or a curse. The villagers often spoke of her in hushed tones, respecting her power and the depth of her ancient wisdom.

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"I think you’d crack in an hour if you had to handle my chaos," Misty countered, blowing a plume of smoke toward the moon.

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