Ishiguro Nocturnes Novels & Stories

My wolf still went crazy insane when she was near. Even though I could tell she was not happy about something, she still looked so sexy. I patted the empty side of the bed where she usually slept, but she ignored my gesture and stood in front of me with her hands on her hip. She had no idea how hard she was making me right now. I could easily jump up and take her there and then. “Issac, what is going on?” she asked not taking those chocolate brown eyes off of me.

From the shadows, silhouetted figures began to emerge, their eyes glowing with an eerie light. Selene's voice, filled with urgency, echoed from a distance, "Guardians, be wary! The harp doesn't just bridge realms; it also attracts those who dwell in the spaces between." The guardians, now encircled by the shadowy entities, readied themselves for a confrontation. But as the first notes of a counter-melody began to form, a massive rift cracked open in the sky, revealing an army of mirrored beings from various realities, led by the all-too-familiar mirrored Isolde.

I groaned, leaning over to her bedside to increase the brightness of the lights. Unlike most girls, Iris wasn't a fan of girlish paintings. She had her room coated in a shade of light Grey and a hint of white. The blend was breathtaking and exuded royalty at a glance. "Nocturne Ville keeps getting creepier every day." She sounded absentminded and I spared her a glance. She had her eyes pinned on the screen of her laptop. I hummed in response, flipping through the pages of my jotting note that I had retrieved beside me.

Gazing at the gleaming stars, their eyes are beaming in overflowing happiness. KISSING THE HORIZON. Enveloped in the scattered sunset, the wide bed of tall reeds is glowing along with the brightness on the golden horizon. HUES. A bright fireworks display, strikingly stunning with dazzling colors, is mingling hues with the city lights. Serin's dreams are not only oddly familiar but sometimes, they are the cherished events in her clear memory, as if she keeps recalling them while she is in her deep sleep. HOME. A completely dark and empty road is overlooking a sentimental night view of the sleeping cities. The emptiness and stillness of this road scream painful stories.

Moonlight spilled across the floor, soft and silver. Sleep came slowly. But when it did, it came like a storm. --- The dream began in silence. Then came the growl. Low. Mournful. Agonized. Lydia stood in a cavernous room, lit only by flickering torches mounted to cold, damp stone walls. Chains hung from the ceiling like twisted vines. The air was thick with the scent of blood, smoke, and damp fur. Every breath burned in her lungs. Ahead of her stood a cage—its black iron bars warped into jagged, unnatural angles. And behind them…

She giggled to herself, " Yuki was right. A new story has begun. I wonder what color flower they bloomed." Yuki was already by the plum tree situated on the Divine land. The tree that was naked with its flower on the ground a day ago was now blooming again with new flowers. The flowers that bloomed were of a different colors. The tree that always grew white flowers had purple flowers grown in the middle of winter. Yuki was admiring the flowers and the tree, "This color of love seems beautiful yet sad. If only this love could end beautifully..." The purple flowers that were grown had started falling from the tree again.