I need help

Instructions

I stare at the open book on my desk as I vaguely remember being told not to meddle with it. The worn leather cover a stark contrast against the sleek, glossy, wooden desk. The golden text glowing faintly in the candle light. The first page read Ignotas Artes in Tenebris. (translation is weird… supposed to say the Unknown dark arts) The knowledge in this book, though not many can read it, is forbidden, even for the most powerful, trusted magic users. I stare at it in awe and wonder, knowing the gravity of this discovery. This is soon overrun by the growing feelings of hate and rage, this book, or rather what it had released, was what had killed my mother. Slamming the book shut I stuff it into my bag, and turn to leave. I look over my shoulder before closing the door not knowing when, or if, I would be back to the small, book filled apartment. Knowing that if I went through with what I was planning I would be a fugitive, wanted for treason. I let out a deep breath trying to calm my nerves as I locked the door behind me. As I step out of the building I am hit by the cool autumn air, the sound of the bustling city loud in my ears. As I start down the road the thought of turning the book over to the authorities popped into my head, but I quickly shake it off knowing that if I did it would still be a threat. I knew I had to destroy it. The minute I had picked it up, I knew that this book was bad luck. All magic users had heard tales of the darkness that surrounded it. We had learned of the voices coming from its pages, burrowing into the minds of those who listened. This book, if it can even be called that, is the embodiment of pure evil. The embodiment of Lilith herself. It’s concerning how much dark energy it pours out, it’s clearly trying to tempt me; I won’t let that happen. I won’t let it take lives, not again. I need to find a way to destroy it, the remnants of the rainwater forming puddles in the uneven street. Despite holding an item that brands me an outlaw, I must seek someone with the knowledge; Otherwise, it would take years to actually find a good way, and opening this cursed book would be death at best. Who can I trust? At that same moment, as I stood pondering my options, a man stumbled into the alleyway. I attempt to act nonchalant, and observe. They continue to stumble around, and bangs on a brick wall, before to my surprise, it opens. I watch as the man walks down a staircase, falling down, quite clearly intoxicated. This is my chance! I quickly make my way over to the door, the loose stones on the steps crunching under my boots. As I step over the body, I see a table, with a man in a grey trench coat. He motions for me to sit, and I hesitate, before sitting down. “You know, you ain’t very good at hidin’ your intentions.” END OF PROLOGUE I know you're probably wondering what's going on, so let's start at the beginning. It started about five days ago when I found it resting on one of my bookshelves. I don't remember it being there the day before, so, being naturally curious, I pulled it off the shelf. I don’t recognise it from the cover. The worn leather having no distinguishing features or markings. Though as soon as I open it I had known what it was.