Yeitzer Hara

Arif Asfour. You never could figure out why your friends avoided the old librarian, as he had long since been a guide to you. While your friends spent their time mischief making or honing their bodies, you honed what your parents told you every good wizard should work on; your mind. No where felt quite as comfortable as this old place. 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, reminding you that Arif may have well read every volume here. How old was he again? You remember it's well over 300, but even then, there must be tens of thousands of books here. A paradise, unending.
"Do you understand, Mr. Hosotrom?" You snap back into the moment, realizing Mr. Asfour 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."
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's the tome the cultists were using as a journal. Your book.
You reach your hand to it, only to see on the spine writing that was once never there: "Yeitzer Hara." You hesitate but for a moment. Arif Asfour is a good man, noble too. However he is not the grand wizard you will someday be. His time has long past, and though he was obviously powerful, he is limited. It was, afterall, the mighty humans of the past who created the owl people. So then surely he'll understand that to you, nothing is off limits. No knowledge is too much.
You pull the tome off the shelf and notice a few differences. Growing from the cover in a sort of X shape are several crow feathers, and the book is now bound and clasped shut with a beautiful faux gold latch. For a book once stained with the blood of someone you cared for greatly, it now 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 practiced in your youth. You feel it. Your eyes begin to glow and though all the light in the world seems to be sucked out of the room you continue reading. Then you hear it. Footsteps. Asfour? 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 old owl librarian, 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 you concentration on the figure. You see them now, they swam over head, the thing blocking out the light from view. Finally, the figure speaks.
"Golios, oh mighty human wizard. I sense in you great potential. You travel with your friends bound for a life of heroism. So I have now come to you, haunted your dreams in the form of my children. 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 great forest. Trees so tall they blot out the sun. A tree more grand then them all. It falls to the Earth.
Then you wake up, clutching to your chest a tome familiar yet strange to you. A tome labeled across its spine "Yeitzer Hara"