The elf slipped into the great library, his footsteps quiet on the polished floor. He bowed his head to the acolyte that stood at a desk near the entrance, who returned the greeting with a warm smile and a nod. Solomon Grundy was a well-known face in the library. A scholar by profession, the elf often wandered the massive bookshelves for hours, green eyes scanning the bindings for a title that would arouse his interests. After that he would usually sit in one of the plush chairs the librarians kept for obsessed scholars, devouring the pages as if they were a meal and he a starving dragon. Solomon's visits sometimes lasted fromd awn to dusk, and would have been longer if the great buildings doors did not close with the night. He returned the acolyte's smile and began to walk towards the towering shelves, a glint of purpose in his green eyes. Instead of wandering aimlessly he walked straight to the left wing of the massive, domed building. Here were kept the rarest, and probably the most dangerous, books in the entire library. Solomon looked up at the sign over the wing, easily reading the spidery writing.

Books of Magik & Splendor

Another acolyte stood here, this one a bit more intimidating. He watched Solomon approach, arms folded over his white tunic. The books contained inside possessed knowledge many people would kill for, and so the librarians never left the wing unguarded. This acolyte wore a simple short sword on his belt and there was a glint of metal under the hooded, white tunic. His stance only appeared relaxed; Solomon had watched the library's staff train before, had even taken part once or twice, and he knew all too well how adept they were in hand-to-hand fighting. Solomon nodded to the acolyte, producing a small chit that allowed him entrance into the wing. The man's serious face melted into an inviting smile, unlocking the door behind him and opening it for the elf. "Please, enter." Solomon nodded and stepped inside the room, feeling slightly nervous. After all, this wing was not guarded because of the rarity and value of the books. Instead, it was guarded for the protection of anyone who tried to steal one.

Solomon walked through the aisles, heading deeper into the library. In this area the shelves had more space between them, sometimes with the books separated by several yards from each other. Several had ribbon wrapped around the cover, sealing the book closed, and one or two was contained in a cube of well-polished class. The rustling of pages sounded from higher up in the shelves despite the absence of any hands to turn the pages. Magical books were different. Some were simply spellbooks, but some of the tomes had been infused with so much magic by their author that they constantly leaked arcane power. How this manifested itself often had to do with the book; tomes that revealed the secrets of levitation had to be tied to the shelves, books on about flames magic were kept in a fire-proof metal box, etc. And the book Solomon was here to see was bound in its own way.

He finally came to a table, nestled deep in the maze of shelves and books. Comfortably sinking into one of the two chairs around the circular table, the elf examined the book that laid in its exact center. The table itself had been carved with a sigil of protection and sealing, the tome resting in the center of the mystic symbol. The cover of the book was black leather, torn and stained, the letters long-faded from its binding. Two crossing chains were wrapped around the book, connected by a lock in the shape of an hourglass. Solomon reached out a hand, his thin fingers quivering with a combination of fear and excitement. The tome was powerful. Powerful enough it had not been opened once since being brought to this library. The elf sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side. He knew that if he tried to touch the cover the limb would probably age and weather, fading into dust as he watched. Instead he sat silently, chin resting on one hand, observing the book. One day, your secrets will be mine. And then I can avoid the cruelty of fate... A small smile crept across his lips as he closed his eyes, leaning back in the comfortable chair.

Cheshire Bingham entered the famous Parmamar Library, his large, bushy tail swinging behind him. He was a strange creature, appearing as a large house-cat, but with a twist: his hair was multiple colors, constantly shifting, like the light shining through a crystal; his fur was slightly long, but not shaggy; his eyes were a dark, dark purple, with a slightly lighter purple circle as the pupil. He walked on all fours, almost resembling a swagger, and a smirk seemed to adorn his visage at almost all times. As he looked about him, he saw more books than he had ever seen before. His eyes gleamed with curiosity; fortunately, it had not killed him yet.

He was a servant of Raku, but his service was far more than it seemed. He had not merely sworn allegiance to Raku, as a wanderer finding a cause. He was actually a creation of Raku, a crafted servant. He once fled the service of his master and creator, but at last returned to him. He was on a mission for Raku. He had heard rumors of a powerful source of forbidden knowledge, whispered among those dark acolytes in the Temple of Darkness. After much torture and interrogation along the way, he had at last found the location of the tomes: the Parmamar Library in Lomedor.

As Cheshire Bingham made his way through the rows, he muttered a dark incantation, and his body swiftly became as invisible as the air around him. As he approached the entrance to the left wing, he noticed a guard, and he decided to have a little fun. As he silently walked past in the doorway, he scratched a claw on the side of the entrance. At the sound of the talon grating on stone, the guard started, and looked about him, searching for the origin of the sound. Smiling to himself, the strange creature spoke:

“Don't be afraid, my deary,
for though the night is drear,
the guardsman may grow weary,
and so the doom comes near.

But vigilant or lax, one cannot hope
to hold this doom at bay.
So don't waste time to search and grope,
for doom comes not this day.”

With that, Cheshire Bingham briefly brushed his tail against the leg of the guard, before swiftly running into the left wing, an invisible wind flowing through the alleys. The guard swung his blade at the invisible intruder, and he began to chase the faint sounds of the cat's padded feet, searching and searching. After some amount of time, he gave up, resuming his post, but keeping a sharp eye.

Meanwhile, Cheshire had stumbled across something far more interesting: an elf, seated before a bound volume, which no doubt contained endless power over the power of time, judging by the symbol that bound it. But Cheshire was more concerned with the elf, who seemed to be pondering the mysteries of the book. Walking slowly behind him, Cheshire became visible, and hopped up onto Solomon's chair, perched right behind and above his shoulder. Turning his mysterious, mischievous grin towards the elf, he said,

“What we see, with lock and key,
From us it seemed too sure bound.
But fearing not, we scheme and plot,
So that secrets may be found.

Why do you wait here, m' deary, hmm? Do you think that time will undo this lock?”

Solomon heard a small commotion from the direction of the main room of the library, the faint whistle of a blade and the slap of leather boots on stone floors. He opened one eye, a slit of green staring towards the noise, then shrugging and again regarding the book. Although the elven scholar was inept when it came to sorcery, he could feel the arcane waves that seemed to emanate from the book. He lusted for that power, that mystic strength that seemed so palpable he could almost touch it. If he would just reach out, thin fingers slightly curled, to softly caress the smooth leather binding... "No!" He snatched his hand away, holding the limb he had almost sacrificed to the book's power. The fingers that he had almost accidentally lost ached with cold, as if they lusted for the power contained within the ancient tome. They can not want that power as much as I do... The elf rubbed the life back into the numb digits, musing. So lost in thought was he that he missed the subtle padding of pawed feet approaching. Not until Cheshire shed his invisibility spell and leapt to Solomon's chair did he notice the strange creature.

The elf spun as the sing-song riddle began, the dark, mischievous words echoing in his pointed ears. His eyes met the creature's for the merest moment, but it was long enough to send a chill crawling down the elf's spine. The cat-like creature's eyes would appear normal only to someone who was completely color blind; the pupils were constantly shifting their hue, the entire spectrum forever snared in Cheshire's glare. No matter how bright they appeared, there was always a hint of darkness in those eyes, a trace of an unimaginable fear that would consume him if he stared into the depths of that stare for too long. The animal's fur color also varied constantly, never the same color as those frightening eyes. The creature bared its sharp, feral teeth at the elf, the fangs looking strangely out of place on the ever-shifting body of the animal. It's rhyme complete, the animal spoke again, his voice almost bordering on mockery. "Why do you wait here, m' deary, hmm? Do you think that time will undo this lock?”

Solomon swallowed uncomfortably, suddenly wishing he was somewhere very far away from the Parmamar library and this strange, rainbow creature. However, he managed to keep his discomfort from his expression, simply leaning slightly away from Cheshire in the chair. "The lock is made to withstand the centuries. Even eternity could not tarnish these thick links..." Solomon glanced at the book, the dull ache returning to the fingers on his right hand. The magic contained in the book seemed to be stronger now, as if it were calling out to the creature who had been born of arcane power. Godly power. Power that could possibly break the heavy chains, if it were not diluted as it was in the magical animal. Solomon looked back to Cheshire, explaining softly. "This book must be bound, for it contains secrets mortals were never meant to know... Secrets of time. How to sink your fingers into it, touch it, mold it, control it..." His voice trailed off, eyes inexorably drawn back to the musty binding. He hoped the creature had not heard the desire in his voice, could not see the lust for power in those green eyes. I need it... to escape my fate, as it is... His grip on his own arm tightened, knuckles turning white, making sure he did nothing as foolish as trying to touch the book again.