Prologue
A man stood in a little meadow pacing back and forth. He was dressed in brown robes and muttering to himself, his staff in one hand. He paced back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He looked up suddenly as an idea struck him. "They must come," he muttered. "Yes, I shall make them come. They won't be able not to come."
The man set about to making a fire. Then he sprinkled something over the fire and muttered some spell. The chosen ones sat up from in their beds feeling something stir in their souls. There was something there, but in a moment, it was gone. And they fell back to sleep unaware of what was to lie ahead.
But would this scheme work? The man paced a moment. "Yes," he said to himself. "I need them. This must work."
