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I am leaving you, Galithor, for one who appreciates my talents. My skill!
You wasted my genius on such trivial things. Chilling drinks. Tricking insects into euphoria so their ichor would not curdle your precious brew!
I have taken the reserves. I will stir in them a flame so bright the very stars will cast shadows, and from that darkness shall I rise like the sun!
My only regret is not seeing your face as your world falls out from under you, as mine did that night on Balding Hill!