Romans & histoires The Wild Book

Prologue - The Moon’s Forgotten Pact Before the forests of Willowmere had names, and before mortals learned to build walls against the dark, there was only the Moon and the Wild. The Moon was light, gentle, patient, and eternal. The Wild was hunger… the heartbeat beneath every root and bone.

Even Hadrian goes still beside the fire, his lion eyes watchful. “They told me the Wilds are dying,” I continue. “The walls between man and beast are breaking. If I don’t seal the bonds, all of them, we’ll all fall. The Games, the kingdoms, everything.” A heavy silence follows. The only sound is the crackle of the fire and the drip of water from the cave ceiling. Fenrick breaks it first, whistling low. “Well, that’s cheerful.” Nythor sets down his pan carefully. “It makes sense. The old stories always said the balance would return through the bound witch. The Wilds marked you for a reason.”

I was going to rip the world apart to give it back to him. ​The cutters launched, their engines shrieking like dying banshees as we shot over the walls of the Keep and dove straight into the northern wilderness. ​The Wildlands were not like the Blackwood forests. The North was cold, yes, but it was alive. Here, the snow didn’t melt, the pine trees didn’t grow green, and the air always tasted like old dust and copper. It was uncharted, dangerous, and the only things that lived here were rogues who had gone mad or things that had never been human to begin with.

Just muttered, “Feel free to browse.” I nodded and wandered. The silence was thick. Peaceful. I ran my fingers along the spines—mysteries, war history, sci-fi. None of it felt right. I turned a corner and found myself in a crooked, narrow aisle. A handwritten label above the shelf read: “Folklores, Myths & Things Best Left Alone.” Something about it made me shiver. I reached out and picked a worn, black-spined book: “The Blood and Bond of the Wild.”

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“But you get my point.” “Yeah, I do.” Wilder bites his lip as if he’s thinking carefully about something. Then he says, “Do you want a fight?” “What do you mean?” “Do you want to kill some Ravagers?” “Always.” He laughs. “You’re not even going to ask what I’m talking about?” “I can’t picture a scenario where I wouldn’t want to kill Ravagers.” *** The trap Wilder sets is the first use of magic I’ve ever just fucking fallen in love with. It’s also probably the most insane thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Amid the crisp sound of glasses colliding, I took a sip of the cold beer. The chill slid down my throat, but somehow, it warmed my heart. The road ahead was long, yet there was no reason to look back. Somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, an open wilderness was still waiting for me.

~Nick~ The name’s Nick Gracen, but most call me Lightning. I’m the local prez of the Wild Ridge MC Club. It’s a title that carries weight, respect, and a hell of a lot of responsibility. I looked around the clubhouse, a place that had seen more action than most could handle. The air was thick with the scent of oil, leather, and a hint of whiskey—a comforting blend that felt like home. The brothers were scattered around, some tinkering with their bikes, others deep in conversation about our latest shipment.

“Oh, please, Charles, I have so much to do right now and I don’t have the stomach to digest your stupid accusations or lectures. Believe me, that’s something I don’t need.” “How come can you be so cold-hearted? Are you insane? You sent someone to kill people like you had sent him to hunt some bunnies!” “Why don’t you make me a solid, ah?” “Valeria, you’re a damn murde-” “Get the hell out of here if you’re not here to give me solutions!” “You’re crazy! You’re crazy, Valeria!” Then, Charles went out. When he closed the door behind him, Charles gave himself a minute to breathe normally. He was indeed fearing that wild woman, not, she was no longer a woman, she could no longer be a human being…

Only then did I notice the hands gripping at my feet. “You will never be forgiven!” “You will never be forgiven!” I tried to call out for help yet no matter how I screamed at the top of my lungs, no sound came out of my mouth. I waved my hands, searching and finding anything I could hold onto to stop myself from being dragged deeper into the darkness. Yet no matter what I did, the hands continued to claw and pull me deeper. I… I couldn’t breathe… Am… Am I going to die? **