Hello, Dear Reader. I wish to tell you a tale. A love story. A tale as old as time. Of a woman willing to risk it all, and a man ready to do what it takes. Whatever the cost.

But you see, dear reader, this is not a tale that one may tread lightly upon. Our woman knows far more of the occult than she lets on; and our man? well... let's just say he has a... A  sixth sense for danger.

They will plumb the depths of the  Liber Odit Videntium, The Book that Hates . A vicious tome that will damn all  who gaze upon its contents and grant generous boons to those brave enough to act on its instruction.

They will need far more than iron will and razor-sharp wit to escape their fates. So grab a drink, and kick back dear reader. Like any good book, it always starts at...

Chapter 1.

- Strange Bedfellows, and an even Stranger Book... -

A stormy night, in a cozy bar...

There sits a pair of friends, interspecies, slouched over their one too many drinks for that night. A hushed conversation was muted by the other patrons. The man in the gaudy sweater vest - more akin to an expressionist painting made of baby vomit - speaks up.

"What? What do you mean you're 'onto something?'"

Our doubtful friend here is one Anon Y. Mous. A bible belt raised, god-respecting good samaritan who's always willing to lend an ear, and even more poised to lend a hand. His escapades lie in more with his seemingly unnatural penchant for attracting danger, and his near-improbable gut-feeling for knowing  exactly what's about to go wrong.

"I mean it, dude! I've actually found some shit that might bear fruit!"

And our foul-mouthed lass here is one Vivica A. Lynx. A long-time friend of Anon, and a longer-time secret admirer. Her maddening crush is only matched by her endless drive for the  power that she so seeks. Her encyclopedic knowledge of all things hellishly horrifying and creepily accursed might  just save their lives.  Or consign them to a fate far worse.

"Language. And after months of no progress? I'm not buying it. Who did you even get that book from?"

"Anon, that doesn't even matter compared to what could be inside. Some of these are like, the  real deal. Realer than the real deal. I mean, I swear to god, half the shit in this thing is written in  blood!"

He shifts in his seat. She should already well know how he feels about this kind of stuff. It always made him feel...  Wrong. Doubly so when she might be onto something.

"V, just... C'mon.  Really?" Anon rubs the back of his neck; a “bad habit", the sisters would say. “Why are you even tellin' me? I'm like, the last person you should tell."

She sighs. She knows. But she's out of options.

"I just..." Vivian lets out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging and expression turning despondent. “I-I need help. A lot of help. From what I've skimmed, most of em' are a two-person job, and well-- *scoff* I'm one."

"C'mon Vivi."

Her nickname. Every time he says it, it makes her heart flutter. Makes her second guess what she's about to put him through. But she's desperate. Tired. No budging this one. No escape.

A fate for two.

"Please. I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't dead serious. I need your help."

He bit his lip. There was a bad feeling, and then there was  this. The gut didn't feel like this the other times. The other times were easier, made sense in retrospect.

The “alchemical mixture" back last march? Left for too long could release dangerous fumes. The blood sigils? Vivi forgot to staunch her bleeding and passed out.

This though? This is different. This feels worse. That feeling's telling him that that book? It's nothing more but a whole heap of shit ready to be piled onto anyone.

She needs help. Backup. A trusted friend ready to save her ass when shit gets dicey. This doesn't even begin to explain how fucked up this could get. He thought.

Vivian was sitting there, idly sipping her mojito, praying to any gods listening he says yes. She desperately needs him. In “both ways", dear reader. Heh. Sorry.

Give Vivian enough time alone and she starts to think. To reflect. And there's only one thing on her mind.

That book is fucking cursed. The stench of cadaver and death sticks to that thing like maggots to a corpse. The penmanship is borderline unreadable, and the ink stinks of the tang of dried blood. Opening the cover felt like she shaved 3 years off her life, and every page turned takes a week.

It is a massive tome. Wrapped in a black cover that when gazed at, almost seems to be undulating. It is undeniably evil. But the spells – good god, the spells…

An increase in riches. A sight to the immediate future. Fucking Immortality . Dear reader, that book can do more than grant wishes. It can rewrite your fate.

Tame it? Master it? You become literally unstoppable. Nothing can touch you.

But if you make the tiniest mistake? Dear reader, you don't want to know what happened to the last owner.

Anon clears his throat. Vivian jumps a little.

“Sorry Vivi. My bad. Didn't mean to scare you."

Vivian sighs, one of many laced with an ever-present dread. She's been on edge since she got it. Lord knows she hasn't slept. It's getting late. People are starting to call it a night.

“It's ok. Thanks. So?"

Anon balks. “Well, V, I just think-“

“Anon. Please. H-Hands and knees, on the big man upstairs." She clasps her hands together, begging. “I need your help."

Hands and knees. If you ever had to get Anon's help in something, ask with hands and knees. A dirty trick, but she'll get what she wants.

“I-I. I mean… Ok. I'll help."

“Thank you, holy shit thank you."

“But! And please, Language – but. You gotta help me with the kids come Monday. We're short-staffed and they really like you. Even if the sisters don't."

“Yeah man, totally!" Vivian sits up, like a massive weight was lifted off her shoulders. Another sigh; relief, yet still interspersed with ominous dread. She's nowhere near safe now. And she's roped Anon into what could very yet be a very painful end.

Far away, in a secret safe, away from prying eyes;

The book awakens.

Dear reader, I said in the beginning that this is a love story. I'm sorry, but that is a half-truth, at best.

This story is a cautionary tale, who's only existence is to warn you to never mess with powers beyond your control.

You will get your happy ending. Don't worry. I guarantee it. But they will have to suffer for it. She has to suffer for it.

Do you understand? Good. Every intro has a sister, and her name is...

Chapter 2.

- It's only a deal when you shake on it. -