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At last, alone in my apartment, I unwrapped the oiled paper, to reveal a scuffed book bound in leather of a color that reminded me of algae, a kind of brown green. A leather band wrapped around it, holding it shut. From the feel of things there were pressed into the pages, but there was nothing holding the book shut but the buckle. When I put my fingers to the buckle, it tingled slightly, like a spell was testing me. It faded, but one of the strange elemental came anyway. Cross, I blew my nose, and chased the blasted thing away. I even took a moment and cast a circle to keep them away before putting my fingers back to the be-spelled lock.

The first thing I saw was a silver key on a long chain. From my best guess, it was fine silver. I twined my fingers in the chain, and held it as I flipped through.
The ink changed from time to time, and the handwriting even got better towards the end. To my surprise, The handwriting at the end of the book was the same as the writing at the end. I read the front piece.

"Hello again." it read- and after a moment I regognised it, with a shcok that set me coughing, as the writeing from the letter. Whatever this book was, my uncle had written it. "Hello again, my dear nefew. I'm glad to see that you've opened this book, because it means not all magic has gone out of the world. And, moreover, that you know it.
Our family comes from a long line of mystics, fortunetellers, and alchemists. I won't say that you have a glorious destiny before you, or a fate you have to fulfill; I'm not a fortune teller in the least. I can't even say that choosing craft will give you an easy life, for those in it tend to lead a life more interesting than most, which is rarely easy. But it will be rewarding, and in it's own way rich. So, I give you a key to a lock I cannot open, and my book of spells, which has served me well. "

I put the book beneath my pillow, and slept fitfully, dreaming of wizards moving mountains, and Merlin's betrayal by love.

When I returned to the theatre, we were putting on the Tempest.
Magic making my life interesting or not; some force in my life had a sharp sense of irony.