The Outland Novels & Stories

"My wolf can’t smell the clockwork anymore. He smells the old blood of the mountain. We are entering the territory of the first-generation outcasts." A low, guttural chanting began to echo off the dark, glassy walls of the cavern, vibrating through the soles of our boots. From the shadows of the obsidian pillars, dozens of hulking silhouettes emerged. These were the Basalt Outcasts. Their skin was a cracked, grey patchwork of calcified stone and dark, thick veins that glowed with a faint, volcanic orange. They did not carry refined iron or brass; they wielded massive, jagged slabs of raw obsidian, their eyes burning with a wild, lawless hunger as they looked at the silver-mesh armor of our v

The moonlight caught the glint of the blade, a cold promise of death. “Speak,” Karl’s voice was a low growl, devoid of any warmth. “Tell me about your weapons. Your technology. Your defenses. Everything.” The outlander sputtered, fear overriding his drunken stupor. His words were rushed, desperate, painting a terrifying picture of the outlanders' arsenal: plasma rifles, energy shields, automated drones, and a complex communication network that made their forces incredibly coordinated. He spoke of power conduits, vulnerable points in their supply lines, and the purpose of the strange glowing structures – field generators, creatin

It wouldn’t be strange for him to own the penthouse on the very top of this building. “Seems you’re enjoying the view, kid. You should see it from the garden. You can see all around for miles,” Drake says over to me amicably. I look back at Drake and Kain and nod my head slowly. “Can you see the Outlands from up there too?” I ask curiously. The Outlands are what locals call the surrounding forest area. Many people say that it used to be a desert, but then an oasis sprung up one day and eventually, flora bloomed all over the surrounding lands. Though no one really knows if that is the truth.

Clyde has refused to leave my side, his obsidian wolf-spirit pacing just beneath his skin, a constant, silent threat wrapped in the smell of winter rain. ​We find the Unbound three miles north of the ridge, huddled within the skeleton of an old-world research outpost—a half-collapsed structure of rusted steel beams and shattered, solar-glass panels that juts out of the snow like a broken ribcage. ​The moment our perimeter guards close the circle, the air shatters.

“Prepare yourself, I’m coming down to you! I have good news. In less than an hour, I will have both your and Isabelle's money. Over 10 million dollars all for us! Once I’ll have them in my hand, I’m going to take you on a little trip. We are going to visit some nice places, preferably countries without extradition.” After he saw Nathaniel going down the stairs, Billy approached slowly the basement door. He waited until Stevens arrived downstairs. He didn’t do anything even though he wanted to get his hands on Stevens and kill him. But Billy couldn’t follow him... the bastard might get scared and Stephanie's life could be in more danger.

He laughed, the sound making my insides feel a tad weird but in a way it felt nice. "I was clearly busy at the time," I began, my hand indicating my room and the apartment before us. "So there was no time to ask questions on whether anyone resided here, spirit wise that is." I gave a small grin. "Plus I didn't know what to say." "Based upon my observation you," Jem said with a light chuckle. "Cora," he said, brushing his fingers across my cheek. His touch was cool and still semi-solid. "Didn't you have any loyal friends to rely on growing up?" I shook my head to tell him no because in some way I always remained the outcast of anyone that I befriended. A loner who believed that trusting other

Adrian interrupted and said, "It’s fine. Leave him to his duties. Where are the outlanders? Take me to them please." "Yes, sir. This way.” Adrian and Mya followed Tina to an office. Upon entering, they saw two beaky-nosed outlanders tied up and sitting on the floor. They were looking intently at their surroundings as if trying to come up with an escape plan. They stopped the moment someone entered. "Are you Rondoniers?" Adrian asked. One of the outlanders immediately said, "Since you know where we’re from, you should let us go. We're just ordinary people, not spies. We're innocent!"

Closer to the edge of our territory. No, they can't be taking me there. The outlands. The land is run by Rougues. Starving outcasts who lost their minds and their packs. The kind of wolves who tear into flesh just to remember what it feels like to have a purpose My heart pounds against my ribs. No. No, this can’t be real. Gideon said a cabin. He said I was to be locked up. Watched. Not this—not exile. We reach a clearing. The trees thin out, revealing the broken fence that marks the edge of Silver Crescent's land. Just beyond it, wild woods stretch on for miles. Untamed. Lawless.

It was already very dangerous in the desert, and it would be even more dangerous as he got to the outlands of the desert. Of course, Gerald, who was already a semi-master, did not take some of the beasts that he had encountered so far to heart. As it got closer to the evening, Gerald had already reached the deepest part of the outlands. He reached a place called Ullerwood. It was not yellow sand everywhere now, but instead, it was filled with black sand. Moreover, the wind was very strong here, and it seemed as though a gust of wind could break a human skeleton apart.

"I just want her to know she has no right to make a scene. She can lose me at any time." And I, in the next room, kept calling his name until the last of my strength was gone. Then I finally closed my eyes. Several hours later, Julian walked out of the studio fully dressed. Two men approached him. They looked satisfied and excited, scrolling through an auction livestream on a phone. "Incredible. That figure has to be at least a D." "Ha, when the auction starts, I'm buying one no matter what." Julian accidentally glanced at the phone. He rushed over and grabbed the man's collar, eyes bloodshot. "Whose photos are you looking at?"