The Weaver of Copper Threads in Iron Harbor City

Elara lived in the shadow of the great Iron Harbor chimneys. Her home was a collection of mismatched crates tucked behind a crumbling factory wall. While others bought shiny trinkets, she had only cold fingers and an empty purse. She often stared at the gilded mansions on the hill, feeling like a single copper penny in a mountain of gold.

The wind whistled through the gaps in her wooden shelter, biting at her thin sweater. Hunger was a familiar companion, whispering of bread she could not afford. She knelt by the salvage heap, searching for anything useful among the rust. Her eyes caught a glint of copper, hidden beneath a jagged mountain of iron gears.