If there were just one other of my kind in this world, one other who shared my cause, I would search them out to the ends of the world; I would pursue their trail until at last I stood side by side with a comrade; and the light of two candles would rise above the rim of the world to drive back the evil, the pain, the sadness.

But there is no other. Alone I fight; alone I burn; alone I watch the stars wheel overhead and the sea cast its waters upon the beach. There is only one rylen in Wundyrr, and it is I.

Berwynn is no ordinary girl. She sees too much, knows too much, for that. Gifted with the power to see and command devils, her lot in life is an uncomfortable one, to say the least. Rylen they call her, if they call her anything at all, for few know of her importance in the fate of the world.

But soon her time must come. Finding herself pitted against forces stronger than any she's ever faced before, she joins a small band of mortals in pursuit of reclaiming a world quickly falling to ash. The might of the enemy, evidenced in the bestial army of the Menuri and the spiritual army of the eidolans, is far greater than any they can muster, however, even with a rylen in their midst.

Hope fades to hopelessness, and grey skies fade to black. Only when the last defenses are fallen will victory come, and only then through the power of a simple man the entire world has overlooked.

I don't know if there's anything that makes me more uncomfortable than telling someone I've written a book. For some reason, it makes me feel like a child, making play at doing something important. But maybe that's just the mask my pride has chosen to hide behind. After all, it can't take a beating if it's never tested. At some point though, pride has to take second place to courage.

So there it is, my name on the cover, my words inside. I wrote a book.

But now that the hard part is over, there's another problem. . . that inevitable question, What's it about? And that simple question makes me want to dive back into anonymity almost as quickly as telling you about the book did.

So I'm not going to tell you any more than the synopsis just did. Showing is easier than telling, and I'll let you discover for yourself what kind of tale I've spun. . .

. . . later.