Dear Reader,

If you are reading this letter, that means you opened the tome in which this letter was in, for the sole purpose of finding out the truth.

Let’s start off with who I am. I was born in the winter year of 18XX in Bohemia to Mr. and Mrs. Tomasovic. Upon my birth, my parents named me Ozrota. The very first memory that I can recall of my parents was of my mother. I remember her holding my small hand, as we ran somewhere. I remember looking up at her face, seeing her face wear expressions of panic and worry. My father was not with us. I remember wondering why my father wasn’t running with mother and me.

Years later, at the age of 9, mother bought a cabin in the woods, far from civilization, with me by her side. I would ask her occasionally about father and why we ran from Bohemia. Her answer would be that I would understand once I was old enough to comprehend.

Ten years later, on a winter night, the very day and season that I was born on, I was in the attic, looking through books that my mother had collected over the years we lived in the cabin. As I finished flipping through the tenth book that I picked up, I noticed at the bottom of the trunk, in which the books laid in, an old, leathery white book, thick as my pinky finger. I picked it up, and opened it.

Forth from the book, there came a light, bright as the sun, which enveloped my body. I heard the light speak to me, in my mind, telling me, “Being Who Has Opened This Guardian Tome, I, Bestow Upon You The Many Powers And Weapons To Protect Which Is Precious To You And That Which Needs Protecting From Beings Not Of This World But Beings Of The Dark. Go Forth New Guardian Into The World And Protect And Fight That Which Needs Saving And Guidance!”

As fast as the light and voice enveloped me, it was gone. I stood there in the attic, looking straight ahead of me, out the window. I stood there, in front of the trunk, not even thinking about what went on seconds ago, until I noticed that I was holding something in my left hand. I looked at what I was holding, and saw what it was. A blood red scythe in my right hand. I dropped it onto the floor with horror, and confusion as to what was the purpose of it, and how it got into my hand in the first place. Shaking now, I stared confused at the object. A second later I realized I was holding an envelope in my left hand. I opened the envelope, took the letter in my free right hand, and read.

Dear Reader,

If you are reading this letter, that means you opened the tome in which this letter was in…