Beneath the full moon, where the earth’s wealth lies bare, she stands.  Coins spill and shimmer across the ground but to her, they are no more than leaves in the cycle of seasons. She is the Lady of Disks: sovereign of the material, guardian of its flow, keeper of the truth that wealth is a thing to be tended, not owned.

She alone knows the difference between wealth and worth. Wealth is what the earth gives, and what the wise return to it in turn. Worth is what cannot be weighed or counted: patience, stewardship, the deep knowing of cycles.

Around her, fortune blooms and fades without fear or grasping. She does not hunger for it, and so it comes freely. She walks within the flow, untouched by the poison that claims those who clutch.

Avarice. The Devil of Greed. Not a man but greed itself made flesh. Wherever wealth gathers, Avarice follows, drawn to feed.

To him, all bounty is hoard, all flow must be stopped, all abundance must be made possession. Gold streams through his form, but never satisfies; coins pour from his grasp as fast as he clutches them. He is not tempted by fortune, he is its corruption. He does not steal; he consumes.

And here, where the Lady of Disks tends the balance of earth and coin, he rises. Yet she does not flee, nor strike him down. She watches, knowing that Avarice cannot be slain only revealed.

For where she teaches the truth of value, Avarice shows its absence. He is the mirror of the unworthy heart, the fate of those who forget the difference she guards.

As long as the world spins, the two shall meet again and again: the Lady tending the flow, the devil seeking to seize it. Wealth and worth. Abundance and hunger. The endless dance beneath the moonlit earth.