City Of Brass Audiobook Novels & Stories

I breathe. Bridges of polished metal stretch over rivers, linking one part of the city to another. It is a fortress of metals and rocks but that doesn't deter its beauty. The city looked alive. We weren't even so close yet, the sound of metal clanging on metal, forges, the hum of life in motion. Something stirred in my chest as we descend the winding path that leads toward it. We’re really here! “Welcome to the West!” The handler opposite me grins.

“Forever.” Mamá’s voice was soft. “My babies.” Marco’s smile was real. “No more loops.” Lila’s nod was solemn. “Family.” Rosa grinned. “Boricua.” But the subway grate hissed. A single red thread drifted out. It landed in the ash. And wrote, in no one’s handwriting: VOLUME X: THE CITY’S AWAKENING. The ground trembled. Every subway grate in Brooklyn opened. The city roared.

Raven pointed out the door. The city was gone. The streets had turned to moving silver belts, buildings sliding around like puzzle pieces. New York was reshaping itself—a spaceship now, not a city. “We jump,” June said. Marcus stared at her. “Are you insane?” “I can talk to the metal, remember?” June shut her eyes, reaching out with her mind—not searching for fire this time, but the clatter of gears and plates. She found the silver sidewalk. Stay still, she told it. Be a bridge.

Emma closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the city soak in, calming her nerves while filling her with excitement. By the time she reached her apartment, the sky was dusky, the streetlamps flickering on. The small, cozy apartment welcomed her with cream-colored walls and a tiny balcony overlooking a cobblestone street. She placed her suitcase down, exhaling deeply. This was her new life. Emma unpacked carefully, arranging her clothes, setting up her laptop, and placing a photograph on the desk — a reminder of the life she had left behind and the courage that brought her here. Stepping onto the balcony, she breathed in the crisp evening air. A faint violin melody floated up from the street b

The latest message was from just 30 minutes ago. [Honey, you can't be mad at me after we made out, can you?] [Everyone makes mistakes. What I did wasn't even that serious.] James replied, [You were so wild last night, you little witch. One day, I'll die on you.] I smirked coldly. I had planned to bid farewell before I left. After that, though? I changed my mind. I booked a flight to my dad's place for the afternoon. I left everything James had given me behind, including the 101 bracelets.

I smile, unwilling to let my thoughts ruin tonight. "Mmmm, not fooled, come on the car is here." Nodding I walk down, Marcus behind me, we climb in the car and silence builds giving my mind time to scream at me. The car stops, the building is lit up, and crowds are walking through the door. My eyes take in the sight, this business he is part-owner in has clearly got something to do with his lifestyle, some of the men and women are wearing collars, some leather clothing, and a few even with their chains on the collars.

A jagged fracture raced directly through the center of the square. Stone exploded upward. Dust filled the air. Everyone scrambled backward. The crack widened. Five feet. Ten feet. Twenty. And beneath it— My breath stopped. There was no ground. No earth. No foundation. Only darkness. An endless void stretching downward beyond sight. The city hadn't been built on a mountain. It had been built over something. Something vast. Something imprisoned. The realization hit me like a hammer. The city itself was the prison. Every tower. Every street.

Because the place before me wasn’t dark. It wasn’t underground. It wasn’t ancient and ruined. It was alive. A city stretched across the horizon. Silver towers gleamed beneath the sun. People filled the streets. Children laughed. Merchants called out to passing crowds. Music drifted through the air. The city from my visions. Not broken. Not abandoned. Whole. Beautiful. Alive. Beside me, Rex slowly turned in a circle. “What…” His voice trailed off. I understood why. Because standing at the center of a nearby square was a young woman with silver eyes.

“Glass insists on argument. Let it finish before you touch it.” “Is that how you’re useful now,” his aunt said, not unkind and therefore dangerous. “Yes,” he said, and cut a square with the mercy of precision. They ate in shifts, which is how decency counts its spoons. Bread buttered thin, onions resigned to being enough, jam appearing without announcement like a vote in favor of living another day. Men arrived from the Listening Rooms and pretended not to be relieved to have jam on their fingers instead of incense. Inspectors fidgeted with rods and then learned the miracle of holding a board in place while a mother finds the screws. The city behaved itself into competence.

The younger one: “He wants to take it apart because he thinks we’ll use it for something better than bread.” By the end, they were laughing. Something in the tension had broken, or rerouted. Lyra fixed Carolina with a sly, conspiratorial grin. “You learn that in a book?” she asked. Carolina shrugged. “Just seems quicker.” She walked to the broken front of the cathedral, squinted out at the city. Below, some of the pack were setting up a marketplace—ramshackle, ugly, but real. She saw Briony orchestrating the chaos, saw Marcus on crutches, a cigarette trading hands between him and one of the old council guys. She saw—everywhere—small signs that the city was shifting, molecule by molecule, int