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Summary
“You want me to help you steal from the Cerebus Assembly?” The human lets out a harsh bark of laughter and says something else that hardly needs translation out of his strange, foreign tongue.
“You are thinking much too small,” Essek says. “With your talents? I say we burn them all to ash.”
Or: In a small clearing in the woods near Vergessen Sanatorium, two wizards meet five years too soon.