"My name is Maylot Organa, the most powerful being in existence. Even being this powerful, I cannot escape death and frankly, why would I? To live long enough to see a lover die or fade. To watch your children and students die before you. Pain. Sadness. Victim. I will make a book called the 'Appendix Of Power' so that if someone is born to a world they don't belong to, they may at least find there way back home with what knowledge I possess. But as all things, power does not come free, a price for food, a finger for a toe, one must die to use my book. I hope it is never used. Never found. For the day it is, I hope they are kind and wise beings." 

After the man had spoken to his mirror, he sat down in his chair pulling something over his pale wrinkly face. His figure was that of a middle aged man but his faced looked as if he saw a ghost. The room was dark and without form, only enough light produced by a flame lit candle to see a wooden desk, old but polished with a hue of deep red. Anyone who saw this room would be lost in the shadows that seemed ever consuming. Yet the man seemed to be unfazed by that fact. The man who sat in a rackety wooden chair wore a brown robe that was well used, the hood was torn off revealing the mans long grey hair that sopped down to his shoulders. His face was obscured by the oddest of things, a mask so dark that no shadow nor light would approach. It was as if they were natural foes, or maybe something else. He reached into a draw in the desk and pulled out a pen. It was a simple quill pen that anyone could buy yet the tip was adorned with a sharp looking beak, it even seemed to move as he dipped it into the dark ink. With the pen in hand, he touched a leathery bound book that was old but well kept and had yet to be bestowed a title. Like an artist with a brush, he drew his pen towards the sheets, etching the ink into it. Looking at it, the book seemed unboundly heavy as the beak of the pen did not even shake the paper. As he finished with one page, he turned to the other forcing the page to flash and produced a violet glow if not but a second. Each page repeated the same magical glow that was supremely beautiful yet annoying to the sorcerer. When he reached the end of all this, he closed the book with a loud thud, and the man laid back in his chair and looked towards the sky.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The man sighed and said "And so it has begun".

After the man spoke, all was silent. The book seemed to fade into darkness, leaving a dustless space where it had laid. 

~a death births new life, and so a cycle is born~