Greetings to any who care to read past this line.

To those who did not bother reading the first line, or may not even know this post exists, we hope you buy and enjoy the book anyway. Salutations sold separately.

This is Totak H. Clymes, owner, but not operator, of this little slice of the internet dedicated to shameless self-promotion of my one and only standing project: Amissio Libra. My lovely associate heading up the THCALS Team and performing most of the updates you will all see on this blog, along with the Facebook page, is Vanessa. We both bid you, the few who actually bother perusing these silly little introductions, a fond welcome.

As this is my first project ever taken to print, I will admit that releasing the first book has been somewhat of a trying debacle. With any luck, Chaos will go live on schedule, and we can spend more of our ever so valuable time playing Diablo III. I mean Magic. Writing the second book… yeah, that.

We look forward to communicating with our fans here on this blog and will attempt to do so whenever possible. And on a final note, as the mind and soul of Amissio Libra, I hope that you, the reader, enjoy the ride.

Jeep Snippet

The Shadow rose above most of the treetops and glared at the fleeing vehicle with a tangible malice that sent chills along his skin. Its body was alight with swirling hues behind the black smog again, and the air around it was still as distorted as it had been in the town. A terrible screech ripped through the forest. With a fierce wave of its arm, the Shadow let loose a massive wave of miasma and rushing darkness. The force tore across the mountainside without slowing. Trees were stripped of branches and thrown from their place, toppling over one another. Rock exploded from the ground, uprooted by the overwhelming force, and dirt evaporated in mid-air. As the wave of destruction closed in, the air around the jeep seemed to freeze over. Black wind swept over them, picking the jeep up from the road.

Cabin Snippet

Shapes glided along endless shadows at the base of trees lining the path to the cabin. Where one appeared, hundreds seemed to follow. For each shape, a new series of indistinct whispers and hisses broke against the deadly silence, but the forest remained quiet. A wail made of undulating, genderless tones filled the air, drowning even the myriad of hushed whispers. The moan distorted itself, creating sounds akin to an echo of a recording being played in reverse. It faded in and out, rising when the hiss of the slithering shapes receded, falling when they bolstered. Distinct, hollow voices emerged through the chaos.