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tors cast the bones that began our quest。
The vision pulls hard now； as I write。 But I cannot go； I cannot go。
I look up at the smoke that was Janos and see it suddenly give way to the eastern wind； then sail eagerly across the vast skies to meet the vision。
I whisper after it； Farewell； Janos Greycloak。 Farewell； my friend。 May the gods speed you on this final journey…to the Far Kingdoms of our youth。
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