Michael Morrison - The Beginning

Marion Michael Morrison (goes by Michael) was born in Gallup, New Mexico (exact date to be determined, not sure how long mage training should be and how old chars should fall into), just outside the Navajo Indian Reservation.
 
Michael led a normal life. He has a Caucasian father and Navajo mother but didn’t really fit in with either side of the family completely or felt accepted. Again, nothing outside normal.
 
At the age of 10, one day while roughhousing with a friend in the living room, an urn was knocked off the mantle. The normally sealed urn came open and a mouthful of ash had found a new resting place. After choking and coughing as much up as he could and trying to hide any evidence of the event from his mother, he went about being a normal 10-year-old.
 
Not long afterwards, Michael began hearing voices. At first just unintelligible whispers, slowly becoming more and more coherent. With this increase in auditory distractions, the visual distractions were more of an issue. Movement out of the corner of his eye led to eventually seeing partially translucent figures. These figures having conversations around Michael, were a big distraction, and talking to these people that no one else could see was not something other people thought was normal. Having an invisible friend is one thing, but at his age they weren’t exactly looked on well.
 
Michael retreated to quiet places without many people, libraries being his favorite choice. Places he could read, and quietly respond to the spirits he saw. The spirits, having someone to talk to were quite willing to share their knowledge with him. He found he could call to spirits in the area and learn from them. The libraries he had sought as a refuge became a source of strength and knowledge, which he gladly absorbed.
 
Socially, high school was really no different from the past. The self-imposed isolation had become a comfort. It was around this time that the spirits alerted him that he was being watched. Michael didn’t notice anything, so kept on about his business of learning. He had already surpassed what most would consider being knowledgeable about history and books in general, particularly rare books. Books of what some considered forbidden knowledge were becoming of interest. He had already gone through the libraries in Gallup twice.
 
High school was now over, time to move on. While he may have been smart, homework was not his strong point. No scholarships came his way, and there was no other money for him to go to college, so if libraries were his safe place, then the Library of Congress would be a fortress. A very long bus ride later he was in D.C. where with his extensive knowledge of books and history (even without a library degree), he was able to land an entry level job.
It was late one night in the “off-limits” section of the library where he was guided to a book that didn’t belong there. As he went to pick it up, he heard a voice, a real voice which startled him, as no one else ever goes down here except the curators and Michael when they weren’t around.
 
“That book will take you on a different path, should you choose to open it”, said the voice.
 
Michael looked around nervously. He didn’t recognize the female voice which had a very smooth and calming effect, but not calming enough to override the fear of not knowing who had caught him down here.
He reached for the book again.
 
“Be certain you are ready for this. You will be taking a big step into a…different world.”, the voice said. He could almost hear the smirk.
 
Well, she sure made that sound ominous, but it’s just a book, what harm could really come from it?
 
He reached out again and opened the front cover. The page was blank. Michael rolled his eyes and flipped a couple more pages, the first page is often blank. The symbols and language were nothing he recognized.
 
“What is in this book…”, the words trailed off as he started to look around for the person behind the voice, and his eyes grew wide as he realized he was no longer in the Library of Congress, but a large old-fashioned library.
 
A woman with long black hair and bronzed skin was sitting in a soft, comfortable chair nearby. “I was wondering how long it would take you” said the silken voice from earlier. “My name is Amelia and welcome to the Trismegistus Library.”, the woman said rising from the chair extending her hand in friendship.