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A narrow bridge of moonlight appeared, leading from the root of an oak to a clearing where an iron chest sat waiting. The chest was not locked but sealed with a riddle: “Who counts but also loses? Who keeps but also gives?” Hilda thought of bakers counting loaves, of mothers counting heartbeats, of the way she counted chimney stacks and then forgot. She answered quietly, “The keeper of stories.” read hanz kovacq hilda 5