My gran used to tell me stories about you lot.
I've known your family for centuries.
Then you know there's not one of us that can be trusted. What do you want with me?
Something of mine came into your possession. A leather pouch filled with sand. I need it back.
Oh, that was yours? Bought it at an estate sale. Didn't even manage to get the drawstrings open.
Where is it?
No idea. Could be anywhere.
We must find it.
Must we? Why is that?
Because without it, my realm will cease to exist, and if dreams disappear, then so will humanity.
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