In a distant land, there lived a Poor Alchemist. His clothes were tattered, and in his heart, a heavy burden he carried.

He had a Shadow, dark and grim. It followed him closely, tied to his fate so slim.

Seeking change, the Alchemist journeyed far. His Shadow whispered doubts, as distant as the stars.

They reached a murky swamp, the waters thick and deep. 'Here,' the Shadow hissed, 'is where you'll forever sleep.'

Struggle ensued, the Alchemist fought with might. But the Shadow was strong, under the pale moonlight.

From the water rose a figure, ancient and sage. The Vodyanoy appeared, the water his ageless stage.

With a voice like the river, he spoke to the curse. 'What will you give, for his life in reverse?'

The Shadow paused, a bargain it sought. For the Alchemist's life, what could be bought?

A deal was struck, a pact was made. The Alchemist's life was saved, his Shadow's power to fade.

But the Rich Alchemist, with his heart so stern. Would soon cross paths and a lesson learn.

For wealth and power often blind, to the magic of kindness, intertwined.

And so two Alchemists, one poor, one rich, discovered wealth not in gold, but in making a switch.