The Devil of the book of Envy

Lucian sat on the cold stone floor of his grandfather's hidden study, the Book of Envy resting in his lap. The air was thick with dust and old secrets, the candlelight flickering as if nervous. He hesitated before speaking.

"What... exactly are you?" he finally asked.

The book trembled, its dark cover shifting like a living thing. Then, a voice—smooth, patient, yet laced with something unsettling—answered.

"I am the desire you bury. The hunger you deny. The voice that asks, 'What if?' I am the Book of Envy."

Lucian swallowed. He had expected an answer, but not one that felt like it knew him better than he knew himself.

"You granted me power... but I can barely control it. What's the limit of what you can do?"

The book chuckled—a dry, knowing sound.

"Control? Oh, little keeper, you have not even begun to grasp control. My power is not something you use—it is something you become. Desire is a chain, and you are still its prisoner. But... in time, I can make you the master instead."

Lucian felt a shiver crawl up his spine. The book wasn't lying. It didn't need to.

"How do I master it?"

A single page flipped on its own. The ink shifted, forming words.

"There are ten gates. Ten chains to break. Each time, you will step closer to your truth. Each time, I will ask: How much do you truly desire?"

Before Lucian could press further, a sickening laughter echoed through the room—high-pitched, deranged, filled with an unsettling joy.

"OHHH! To think I would witness another lost soul dance with the abyss!"

Lucian spun toward the voice. A man—no, a spirit—stood there, draped in rags of white and blue, his body contorted unnaturally. His smile was wide, eyes manic.

"You, child, have no idea how deliciously doomed you are!" the spirit cackled, tilting his head unnervingly. "Ahhh, envy, envy, ENNNVYYYY! The most sinful of sins! I love it! I adore it!"

Lucian felt his breath catch. What... is this thing?

The book answered in a whisper only he could hear.

"That... is the Spirit of the Lost. A remnant of those who reached too far... and fell. He clings to despair, but do not mistake him for a fool. He knows what awaits you better than anyone."

Lucian clenched his fists. Ten gates. A spirit that mocked him. And a book that spoke like it was alive.

What had he just gotten himself into?