Prologue: The Library

(Note: This is an introduction and not truly part of the story.)

It was always cold.

Oh, it was never freezing, nor was it even as cold as the chill of a winter morning. No, it was a mild cold, like the faint brush of autumn winds, just enough to leave you mildly uncomfortable, but not enough to make one shudder.

Not that he shuddered, not he.

Of course, the fact that he had never shuddered in his long life may have had something to do with the fact that he perpetually cloaked himself in a long, thick robe the color of midnight, even though no weather reached him within his sanctuary. No discomfort could reach him within the long dusty halls of his abode, but for the mild chill.

On this very night, the robed man had been making his way down one of the endless aisles of his home, grumbling at the mild cold, wishing that he had had the foresight to have brought his hooded cloak with him when he had departed his chambers, when all of a sudden, he stopped.

The Library had spoken.

The Library had many names. The Infinite Archives, the Vault of Endless Wisdom, the Knowing-Place – all these were but a few of the names that many had known the Library by in the long, long time that it had stood. Its one and only permanent inhabitant, however, had his own term for his majestic yet neglected home – the Reading Room.

For it was the Keeper of the Library's due to wander endlessly among the ancient tomes and texts, to protect them and keep them, and to use the wisdom they provided with care. The Keeper was well aware that his tenure in the Library would be lasting for a very long time, and what better way was there to while away the ages of time beyond count by reading?

If there was one thing that the Keeper loved, it would be the joy of reading. His old, wrinkled face bore two bright eyes, nimble and shining, like two polished pearls that had been inserted into a prune. He loved reading, and his eyes would endlessly devour the pages of the books that had been entrusted to his care. The Library knew his love, and often guided him to volumes of particular interest. In return, the Keeper maintained the books of the Library and added to its collection. As such, the Keeper fed the Library, and the Library fed the Keeper.

Sometimes, however, the Library would have a request. It would speak to the Keeper, whispering lightly in his ear, bidding him to accomplish some task or another. Today, however, was different. The whisper was urgent, as if the Library was agitated.

The Keeper listened to the words of his friend attentively, brows wrinkled more than they usually were in a slight frown, his discomfort over the persistent chill forgotten. As the whisper faded, he nodded energetically, and quickly set off to find one particular tome.

Striding swiftly between the tall, handsome bookshelves that made up the halls of the Library, the Keeper muttered under his breath as he counted the aisles. With a grimace, he noticed that spiders had once again taken up residence in the Forty-Ninth Aisle of Debated Succor, and resolved to alert his helper ravens to clear the infestation out as soon as he had completed the task that the Library had set before him.

"Two-hundred eighty-six, sixty-thousand nine-hundred and twenty-two, Nine million and – ah, this must be it!"

The Keeper, having located his quarry, moved into a particularly narrow corridor, lined by books, as every aisle was. Running his long, thin fingers over the spines of the ancient tomes, he read their names as he searched for the one volume that the Library had bid him find.

"The Phoenix and the Snake, no, no, finished that one ages ago. Not the Turbulent Histories of the Seven Kingdoms, either, no. Stories of the Ringbearers? Not that, either. Ah!"

The Keeper exclaimed happily as he pulled a thick tome out of its resting place beside its brothers and sisters in triumph. Brushing off the dusty cover, a title written in gilded letters could be read.

A Tale of Four Stars.

Taking the thick book, the Keeper once again breezed off, walking quickly. The Library had spoken and had asked him to Read it.

"Coeus, Eidyia! Spiders again, on the forty-ninth of Debated Succor! Clear them out, now, go!" The old man waved his hand at a pair of ravens as he entered his study, causing the two to flap their wings noisily and fly off in the direction of the doomed nest of spiders.

Not pausing to watch the progress of his helpers, the Keeper busied himself with preparing for the Reading. Lighting dozens of candles around the room, the beauty of the study was thrown into sharp relief. Crystals floated in midair, unsupported by any conventional means, reflecting the candlelight. Intricately-carved furniture could be found standing around in a rather random fashion, as if their user paid little attention to their placement (which was true). On the walls were carved uncountable numbers of artwork, all woven together into one majestic tapestry, rising up high into the air and disappearing beyond naked sight. On the far side of the door was a great window, painted with stained-glass, depicting constantly-shifting scenes, that if one were to look into, would show the viewer countless facades of immeasurable beauty, though afterwards the beholder could never remember what exactly it was that their eyes had seen.

In the center of this intricate and lavish room lay a simple wooden lectern, standing upon a raised dais. It was to this rather common-looking implement that the Keeper stepped. Very carefully, he laid the book upon the smooth surface of the lectern, worn and polished by countless years of usage.

He gingerly lifted up the first page and began to read.