The Last Wild Book Novelas e Histórias

She raised her hand and with her index finger she brushed the books, reading their titles. There were some that said "satanic pacts" others like "the call of the devil" "the forest and its hidden side" "small town legends" "werewolves and the full moon" and the last one said "Wisconsin Cases". Camila took out that last one, the book was big, it had a red cover with the image of the town itself. But that image was in black and white, as if it was taken years ago.

He said walking through the vast site. The leader of the clan, walked to the last shelf and picked up a big black and gold book. On the cover was a huge dragon, written, legendary creatures, extinct and extant. Cassius handed it to the girls and said:" Good luck. Now the work is with the young." He laughed. Nayssa and Kyria looked at each other and smiled, they sat down on the large wooden table and sat down in the padded chairs. The book was really huge, with a thickness of 20cm. Nayssa began to flip through the pages. There were several creatures in that world besides wolves. And the similarity between them was the hatred for the werewolves who took their mother away from them.

Startled, I get up from the bed and move toward the window, pulling back the curtain with trembling hands. Outside, under the moonlit sky, a large black wolf stands in the clearing. Its silhouette is striking against the silver light, casting a long shadow on the grass. The wolf’s eyes glow a deep, intense blue as it lifts its head and howls again, a sound that seems to resonate with the very essence of the night.

"Very well, then. I will be needing you to come back three days before your journey. There's need to bath you clean and keep you protected of the dangers and evil of the wild." "Aunt Lyra," my voice was barely above a whisper. "Could you tell me about the wild, please? What you think I should know." She heaved a sigh, her lips pursed before speaking. "The wild is a beast. A roaring beast, there's every need to protect you from its fangs and claws." she explained. "There's a legend that says it is the home of souls that hell had let lose as lessons for others. They crave blood for survival and the Kingdom has been able to keep them at base with the offenders, serving them as offerings."

“Last night was enough.” “I’m not,” I lied—though every instinct screamed for me to beg her to stay. To keep her here, safe, where I could reach her. I guided her a short distance away, stealing a final moment before the world pulled her from me. “Before you go, let me give you a quick rundown. Wildroot Pack is unlike any other. Power and money mean little to them. Their lives revolve around the rhythm of nature, the cycles of the moon, and a kind of quiet, ancient magic-"

She said as she walked over to open a small wooden cupboard, and took out a big book whose pages were coming out, the cover was half torn. She opened the book, and went through the pages. After almost reaching the middle of the book, she turned it towards me and pointed at the picture. "Look at this wolf. It has blue eyes. They're called the ultime meaning ultimate. They're one of a kind, haven't existed for more than 200 years, and are the most powerful and most dangerous werewolf of all time. The last one was a male, his name was Parker, he existed in 1756, that was the last blood of ultime."

She pushed that down deep, sipping from stored bags in the fridge. Rain hammered the windows that Tuesday night. Lydia sat at her desk, sorting through a box of new books. One caught her eye: Spirits of the Wild: Bindings and Releases. The cover was cracked leather, smelling like dirt and old forests. She flipped it open, her fingers brushing over faded words in some ancient tongue. "Just a peek," she told herself. Curiosity burned in her chest. She read the spell aloud, soft and quick, like testing a locked door. The air changed. It got heavy, like before a storm. Candles on the shelves flickered wild, shadows dancing on the walls. A rumble started low, from the book itself. Lydia's hands s

“You did nothing wrong.” Her pulse refused to slow. The Northern Wolves. The book. She had taken it without understanding why, back when escape had been all instinct and terror. Taken it from Lucian’s study, heart racing as if it already knew it mattered. It told a history Wildbourne never taught. Wolves as balance. Hunters as something broken long ago. Some nights she believed it completely. Other nights, she feared it was dangerous just to read. It had become Ever’s favourite story. Now she knelt in the sandpit, holding Ever close, eyes darting as the ground beneath them seemed to hum.

He placed the book on the table. It was huge and very dusty. “This book has been passed down for several decades, and it’s been left with trusted people who can keep it safe. In this case, my father was the last person to keep the book. It’s called the White Oak book.” He started to open the pages, with different illustrations in languages I have never seen before. “I have gone through this book since I was a child, but I have never been able to finish it since then. History repeats itself, and this book keeps writing everything that happens every day, everything that has to do with the white Oaks.”

I took the piece of paper from him and nodded, "Yes, sir." Ezekiel dismissed us, and we left his office, relieved that it was over. Later in the afternoon, Aiden, Penelope, and I sat down together at one table during lunchtime, I couldn't help but notice the excitement in Penelope's eyes as she held a worn-out book in her hands. "What's that book you've got there?" Aiden asked, looking over at her. "It's the last known book of witches," Penelope said, beaming with joy.