IIn 1908, the world changed. After the Tunguska explosion, something broke. Something was released. Isolated disturbances emerged at the edges of the map: nameless mountains, petrified deserts, valleys no longer present in the records. At first, they were flaws in the air, whispers in the wind, machines that failed without reason. But soon, these ruptures multiplied, and what had been anomaly became invasion.

Then came the Night of Horrors. In Vienna, Budapest, Prague, simultaneously, reality gave way. Creatures crossed over. Bridges contorted, theaters froze in the middle of operas, and the sky opened to things that had no name. Panic gave way to resistance, resistance to war. The conflict that followed lasted four decades. It was called the Nightmare War, a war that swallowed the world and which they promised would be the war to end all wars. Nations collapsed. Alianças were rewritten. The world that emerged was unrecognizable.

The Pact nations consolidated themselves as the greatest human power, an industrial and scientific bloc of vast reach. Paris, now a megalopolis with tens of millions of inhabitants, became the heart of this new order, alongside London, the political and diplomatic center. Around the Pact spread neutral zones, unstable protectorates, and ambiguous alliances with fae forces. East of the Carpathians, the Fae Dominion extends over Eastern Europe and part of Asia, a closed territory, isolated and almost inaccessible. The Djinn nation is recognized by the League of Nations. In the north, the Trolls dispute legitimacy over their ancestral lands.

In this world of uncertain armistices, electricity is restricted, technologies are limited by arcane clauses, and the Further Society operates as the main scientific and technological organization of human territories, pushing the boundaries of knowledge, often beyond what is permitted. 

It was a day of joy, a solstice wedding. Music, flowers, wine. Dozens of guests gathered at a countryside estate near Paris, far from any fae corridors. Lanterns hung from trees as a string quartet played. Then came the attack.

No full record exists of that night, only fragments. A damaged video shows the bride and groom dancing with blurry shadows approaching in the background. Evidence was presented that the estate was left in ruins: with what looked like claw marks on doors, burned linens, and all the event decoration torn apart. But that proved nothing. Not a single guest testimony was registered, the few declarations collected, recanted.

The fae authorities denied any wild hunt activity would be a violation of the Treaty of Evermore and dealt with, but there was reason to think that was the case. And when one Jasper Duvant claimed to be a wedding guest who lost his arm and hours of memory in the attack, his family insisted he was born without it and suffering delusions.

The investigation was closed.

Yet the rumor mill persisted noting that one witness account, withdrawn since, had placed Jasper at the wedding fleeing down a back road pursued by "a storm of claws and hooves." Other accounts of gnome like creatures tearing fabric, giant vultures carrying off musicians, knights with twisted silhouettes directing the attack were quick to make their way to the pages of sensationalist periodicals. And to the speeches in anti-fae rallies.

As Phileas remembered these reports, skepticism battled with unease. These were the kinds of stories Further Society scholars often debunked. Still, he ponders, one might ask: if such horrors could occur in Pact territories, what might await in the faedom he was about to enter?

When I started workling on Phileas I eventually reached a point I realized that even though I used my hybrid method to do a lot of exploraion and create many references for several creatures and places, I would make the final illustrations for the project by haand. 

It was a mix of the story being one that I thought matched better with my hand drawn and cleaner digital art, and being realy invested in perfecting the looks of the main characters to a point I realized I needed more control over the process. I am however in no way a fast illustratoir so I knew this would take a lot more time. 

That is the main reason P&TGT is always a project I am moving ahead in the background while working on shorter narratives using more of the hybrid. For that reason my desk is always cramed with several linearts and small samples of the work in Amalie, Phileas, Una´X and the other characters. That is also why I use Inktober to advance the work on this lineart whenever I can.

My wife saw many of those and started comenting how they could be simplified to better be coloured. I thought that was a good idea and alsoo a fun way to give the people that is following this project an oportunity to interact with the worldbuilding. 

There will be three sets of images (that is the amount I have pre-sketches) or booklets. The first with ten images is pretty much done. So I created a page where people already can dowload an try it if they want.

They were not supposed to exist. Anymore.

The War of Nightmares ended. The Treaty of Evermore was signed. For the first time, the fae had names and titles the human world could grasp. The fae leadership was known, Oberon and Titania they called thenselves, sovereigns of what would now be called the Fae Domains. And they were recognized as such. 

In this new time of pacific, albeit tense, coexistence there was no space for barbaric traditions like the wild hunt. Goups of fae no longer organized to raid and terrorize its enemies (human or otherwise). This costuime was banned and faes, either under the court rule or independent were expected to abide to this armistice, under the penalityof been processed and dealt with by their own kind.  And this was mostly the case.

Dorchadas, once known only as a commander in the darker campaigns of the conflict, vanished in its final weeks.  He did not reappear at the ceremonies. He was not listed among the fallen. Either dead or secluded, his leadership was not needed in the months and years of treaties and politic agrrements thar the conflict tuned into. And then, now, so many years later, his name is in the wind again, among rumours of riders in iron and shadow, of beasts that fly and crawl, of marks left on remote roads and patrols that never returned.

Rumiour thas they call thenselves The Wild Hunt.

Other names surface around it: Lobhar, the corroding terror of the salt plains; Bidziil, the crooked-limbed skinwalker. The Hunt strikes from nowhere, answers to no Court, and leaves behind no demands. The fae authorities deny their existence. The Further Society does not. They lists reports under “Residual Hostility Manifestations.” 

They know thatg if the Hunt rides again — it rides for a different war.