It really wasn't destiny, just a random occurrence brought about by the perfect string of coincidences. In fact, no one was ever meant to find the book. It was something paid for by the blood of the universe and the death of all things. However... sometimes the will of the masses and just the worst luck, could bring about great change.
The day it was found it was like and unlike any other in that nothing extreme by human standards occurred, and yet more dramatic change ripped into the fabric of reality than any before it. On a cold morning in October, a plain leather bound book with no words sat in the grass next to the sidewalk. Located in a small town in the middle of nowhere, it waited, perhaps for someone worthy.
Mirio Sylver certainly was not worthy in any way. Really, no human ever could be. He was selfish and reactive, good and bad , loving and kind. And he was helpless in the eyes of death. No more or less important than a spec of dust on the winds of time.