The sea air still clings to me as I slowly navigate my car through the busy city streets, the gridlock traffic being a far cry from the quiet cobblestone lane ways that weaved their way through my parent's new home town. Sea sticks to my skin, the scent of the ocean permeating my clothes and my face remaining flushed from the mild wind burn I had suffered on the ferry back.
The holidays had been a moderately relaxing time, far from my worries and cares in the city and out visiting family at their new cozy island home. However, despite extension after extension of my stay I had found myself needing to return to the job hunt and my old cramped apartment.
As my car jostles over a speed bump I hear the rustling of paper in the passengers seat, my hand reaching over to the plain brown paper parcel bound in simple twine to hold it stead. My heart raced with excitement as I place my hand on the paper, my fingers feeling a firm hardcover laying beneath.
"If you want it... Let's call it fifty bucks" the old store owner had said, the balding man picking at the wax in his ear as he mused over the price of small parcel I had pulled from one of the shelves.
The plain brown paper bundle had caught my attention on my last trip through the small town, my last day having been spent perusing the cheap old second-hand shops in the hopes of finding some items to flip for a profit once back in the city. A slight tear in the side had revealed some kind of leather binding beneath, the hard cover drawing my attention even more.
"Can I open the..." I began to ask, moving my hand to pluck t the simple twin holding the wrapping around the book only for the elderly man to pull the book away.
"You can once ya buy it" he grumbled, sneering less so at me and more at the book. "Wouldn't help ya neither, couldn't my heads or tails of the damn thing. No title, blurb, and the whole things in French or Italian or one of those fruity languages."
The old man seemed to notice my interest waning, his hand slowly pushing the book back towards me. "It's in good condition though... and old, real old" he explained, raising an eyebrow. "Had to wrap it up to keep the sea air from damaging it" he stated, lying through his teeth. The book itself seemed in as pristine condition as when it was made, despite the storekeeper having had found it washed up on the shore. The damn thing just creeped him out, chills running down his spine every time he saw the damn thing or when it tumbled from the shelf as though to get his attention.
"Listen, you're a nice kid and your folks are good people..." the man had said, a bead of sweat rolling down from what was left of his grey hair. "Hows about twenty for it? Its the season for generosity right?"
Had the storekeeper known what he was selling he may not have given it away for such a low price, though equally so he may have simply given it away from free, for an Archmage's Tome can be equal parts a blessing and a curse.
For time immemorial magic had fascinated and captured the minds of mortals, to bend the wills of men and beast with a glance or to simply speak only for reality to yield to your words. Many minor mages have existed throughout history, wielding a combination of lesser magics from the various schools to achieve a great many things from healing the sick and weary to charming and persuading those who would otherwise be their rivals.
However, all these minor mages simply lacked the understanding to go much further in the knowledge or to grow their power more. To blend magics, drawing on the various shades and colors of mana that fueled their spells, simply stunted growth into the deeper mysteries that lay beneath each school. While a mage might be able to weakly bind a foe and make minor alterations to their physical form, they would lack to ability to even attempt to enthrall another into willing servitude or transfigure that same foe into mere cattle.
These powers were left to those rare few who channeled one specific shades of magic, focusing solely on one particular type of magic that seemingly met their desires or needs perfectly. These few individuals throughout history were the Archmage's, their names largely lost to history though their impact remaining greatly felt.
These few were so laden with magic it seemingly leaked from every pore, seeping into various items and artifacts around them including their old spell books. These Archmage's Tomes would take on a life of their own after the passing of their master, their covers shifting in hue and substance to mirror the shade of mana now infused throughout their pages and developing a sort of consciousness and desire to teach a new master and Archmage. Speaking in the voice of their former master, these tomes would bestow 'gifts' on the worthy in the form of knowledge and even mana in the effort to be useful to an Archmage once again.
Of course, being suddenly infused with a single shade of mana had certain side effects to those not used to channeling these powerful magics. The fledgling mage would soon find their body twisting and reshaping, taking on a new form to properly house the type of magic now coursing through their veins. Furthermore, as they're connection to the type of magic deepens so to does their transformation and the magics effect on the world around them.
Leaving my bags in the trunk of my car I stagger out into my apartment building's parking lot. Before I can close the door I feel something itch and pick at my mind, my gaze turning to the small bundle of brown paper on the passenger's seat. Shaking my head slightly I quickly lean over to snatch up the book, wincing slightly as I catch as whiff of myself and the mixture of sweat and sea salt.
"I need a shower" I grumble, kicking the car door closed before heading back up towards my apartment with the book clutched to my chest. The book almost feels warm beneath the paper as I race up the stairs, the heat leaving my palm sweating into the thin brown paper encasing the hardback text.
As I shuffle into my apartment I place the book gently down onto the arm of my green sofa, my hands quickly moving to strip out of my heavy waterproof jacket and the various layers I had been forced to wear to fight back the frigid sea air which now merely trapped in my sweat and grime.
As I finally get down to a sweaty black t-shirt and my pale blue-jeans I hear something fall to the hardwood floor of my apartment. Hunched over with my shoes and socks in hand I look over to the source of the noise, my gaze shifting from the twine now sitting opened and empty atop the sofa and the thick hard book now resting on the floor below in a crumpled pile of brown paper.
I swallow hard as I toss my footwear to the side, my hands brushing against my jeans an an attempt to clean them off before I handle the book.
"Okay... Let's just..." I mutter, gently grabbing at the paper and pulling the book free. As I slide it out I find myself holding a...
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