Raquel Vasquez Gilliland returns to the Order of Wild Things with a story that understands the fierce, untidy work of healing. This is a book about what happens when the heart refuses to stay tame, when the past won't release its grip, and when magic—both literal and metaphorical—becomes the only language left to speak. At its center is a protagonist caught between worlds: the ordinary demands of survival and the extraordinary pull of something wilder, something that defies easy categorization. The magic here isn't clean or convenient. It's rooted in earth and emotion, in the messy intersection of desire and damage. Gilliland writes with a lush, grounded sensibility that makes the fantastical feel inevitable. Her prose blooms with sensory detail—the scent of herbs, the weight of longing, the sharp edges of old wounds. This is romance, yes, but it's also a meditation on belonging, on what we owe ourselves versus what we owe the people who shaped us. The central question pulses beneath every page: Can you love someone fully without first learning to be whole? The answer, as Gilliland reveals it, is neither simple nor sentimental. It's earned through every chapter, every choice, every moment her characters choose wildness over safety. This is magic that costs something. And it's all the more powerful for it.