book of shadows

This is not a story, nor a tale. It is about a book [that I keep close to bed], which some say has dark powers, from wicked witchcraft. Others say it was created by the devil himself, to lure men into his traps. I say it has no faith, and all his darkness comes from men himself.
It is old [as all the magic books are], and has chosen me to be his keeper [for now].

Glowing in octarine, the book has sought me in my sleep: images and promises of brighter futures, of maps and guides to ancient and new worlds, to riches, power, love and peace. [I was looking for it, even before I knew]. It seduced me not from a shiny and fascinating place, but from an old bookshelf, in middle of other [old] books. The spell was cast and I was rapt.

The book told me the stories of the wisest, the foolish and the mad, all the previous holders [as it will never be owned] that it chose to change. It allured me into the mist with a simple [unforgettable] tune. It revealed himself as the most powerful of books, it holds the spells and secrets of the universe: it knows its workings and those of Men. The book promised me it all, [but with a price to be settled in the end]. This is the way it works: the book seduces its holders into traps of its own will, promising to fulfil all the desires it can find hidden in their soul.

I’ve read it and written on it, finishing the stories that others have begun and casting old and new spells to get what [I thought] I wanted, everyday losing a piece of my soul. This book holds the darkest secrets of my heart: dreams, love, anger and fears. It has the power to take out the ghosts and fears of your mind and heart, to let you [believe you] control your own destiny and fate in a confidence you never experienced before. My heart grew cold, and like the book itself, my eyes were covered in black.

A Lady appeared, glowing in a strong and soothing white light. She was beautiful; she had long hair, golden sad eyes that held a past she couldn't let go. Her heart was huge, and she managed to see beauty in all the wonders around the world. Despite all her sorrows and pain she held the strength, look and voice that could make empires kneel and turn even the coldest man into her humble slave. She held my hand, and with her love tried to save a helpless cause.

The book couldn't stand her; she was ruining all that it had achieved: she showed a world that couldn't exist to me. Pouring doubts, fear, suspicion, lies and jealousy, the book tried all it could to drive her away. My soul [or what was left of it], was torn between the two worlds causing grieve to everyone around me.

The Lady held my hand a second time and said "trust me", and for a moment the world stood still. She showed me the colours of the world, and how birds dance for people who love each other. She drove away the fears, and healed old wounds. She brought back the music, and taught me how to feel again. Slowly, battle by battle, the book lost its game. Now, my chest burns, in a slow sweet pain. The black eyes turned to green: the spell was broken.

Having saved me, the Lady left, covered by the silence of a rainy night. Her past and sorrows didn't allow her to stay. She would never truly love someone while she didn't healed her own wounds, and faced her own [old magic] book.

Despite no longer having power over me, I keep the book trapped close to my bed [until it manages to break free]: it protects others from falling into his traps, and reminds me, that somewhere, there's a Lady who saved my soul and won my heart, that I truly love and miss.