Silas' Dream 2

The library is grander than any building you had ever set foot in. From wall to wall it is lined with books. From top to bottom, all the way up high into the rafters. The idea that your life may yet be too short to take in all this knowledge rushes over you for a brief moment; there must be tens of thousands of books here. A paradise, unending.
"Do you understand, Mr. Silas?" You snap back into the moment, realizing the large gentlemen in the suite has been speaking to you all this time. "You may read any volume you want, you may acquire any knowledge you desire. All but one tome. Do not read from the book of Yeitzer Hara." You nod, noting that if only one book is off limits in this vast place, it should hardly bother you any. You could spend all your days here and never finish half the works. "It is a book of good and of evil. It is yet too much for you. Still, the knowledge here offers more power and foresight than any human before you has ever held. I think you will find it quite satisfactory." With that, he turns and leaves you to your own devices.
Pacing down the endless floors you pass by many books. Some contain the secrets to spells long lost. Some contain notes of the future; the times and dates of your death and the deaths of all your loved ones. Other tomes reveal the very nature of the world. All its secrets. Secrets of beast, of man, of the past, and of the future. Yet one book catches your eye. You notice it instantly. It radiates an aura so powerful you can not look away from it. In a sea of books it is clearly unique, something you must look into.
You reach your hand to it, only to see on the spine written in deep crimson letters: "Yeitzer Hara." You hesitate. The words of the strange man ring out in your mind but only for a moment, before being replaced with another thought: I am Silas. I am destined for a greatness beyond any other human. For me, nothing is off limits. No knowledge is too much.
You pull the tome off the shelf and study its cover. Growing from the cover in a sort of X shape are several red scales, and the book is bound and clasped shut with a lovely faux gold latch. For a reasons you can not quite grasp, the book looks beautiful to you. You open to its first page, and something catches your eye. Written in a tongue you plainly understand are passages and passages of spells. Knowledge of great rituals, secrets to drawing into increased power to call upon many of the cantrips you've seen practiced by mighty spellcasters. You feel it. Your eyes begin to glow and for a moment it seems as though all the light in the world seems to be sucked out of the room as you continue reading. Then you hear it. Footsteps. The Sakhra in fine clothing? You know you'll be in trouble if he catches you reading the only book he forbade you read. You turn in a panic, weighing your options, until the figure comes into view.
Standing before you is not the man, but instead a beautiful woman. Around her body is a sinfully dark corset, strapped tightly to her body showing off her feminine features. Over her face is a mask, covering her eyes and extending into a long dark beak above her mouth. Her ears remind you of the elves, but her skin is as black as night, and you swear you can see the stars in her skin as if they dance across the night sky. Long dark leggings go down to bare feet that seem to almost hover over the ground. The call of crows is the only thing that breaks your concentration on the figure. You see them now, they swarm over head, the thing blocking out the light from view. Finally, the figure speaks.
"Silas, oh mighty human warlock. I sense in you great potential. You travel with your friends bound for a life of heroism. So I have now come to you, to leave you with the power you so desire. Come, do not be so, rise and look upon me."
Rise? That's right, you're looking at the floor, though when you threw yourself to the ground in worship you are not entirely sure. Is it her beauty? A sense of some power? Something draws at your mind that makes you feel like you're looking at the divine. You pull your eyes away from the library floor and gaze upon her. You stand, clutching the grimoire to your chest. As your eyes meet hers, a vision flashes in your mind. A man in armor marked by a Red Hand. A trees so tall it blots out the sun. A man attempts to take an axe to it, before several spells lay him low. Then you, standing over his body, a red hand painted onto your face as you look to the heavens and laugh.
Then you wake up, clutching to your chest a tome familiar yet strange to you. A tome labeled across its spine "Yeitzer Hara"