Speaking with an old friend

Alone in his room Samoth sits in front of a very old book, the pages yellow and weathered, pen in hand. He flips to a page marked by a bended corner, he writes for the first time in many, many years. Things are going good, better than I expected. I don't have the key...nor did I think it would be that easy. I mean, who would give up an item that powerful. Yet...Mirage...did exactly that, why? Must be all that passion them sunites are known for. All that must cloud better judgement. All in all though, I think it's turned out better because of that. Mirage I don't think would've let me in on this little charade from the get go. Seline on the other hand, a chosen at that, has. Played into my hands, with a little coaching. To her now, I'm the lesser of 2 evils...on one hand, I wish the destruction of the key...on the other, of course people are gonna want her dead. Men who already are established, that thing can ruin it for them...and then there's the one who want power at whatever the cost. Items of that nature tend to draw many out of the woodwork you would never had heard of before. Now, I'm closer than nearly everyone...and a chosen has put me into that very position. I hope to be writing more to you, you've helped me over the years to solve complex issues and problems, just by letting my hand and mind flow. But, much work still to be done. Time to turn lies to truth, and truth to lies as they say...till next time. With that, he scans the page and nods. Uttering a simple arcane syllable, he waves his hand over the fresh ink and watches it slowly vanish to nothing. Folding the next page's corner, he places the small journal into another book with the pages cut it, it fitting nicely. Placing it back on the bookcase in his room, he heaves a sigh. One can never be too careful in this world.