Requiem City Book Novels & Stories

- he added in a cheerful tone, inviting her to walk along the sidewalk. Miyuki smiled as she moved into the unknown journey with him. Of course, she felt a slight fear, but it gave way to excitement quickly, for she had a strange certainty that was safe with Aoi, no matter how dark it would be around. ~~~~~~~~~ And so Miyuki and Aoi spent the whole evening walking around the city, although mainly in its hidden nooks and crannies, where there were practically no people, but a whole lot of wonderful views. One such place was the hill on the outskirts of the city, from which you could see the panorama of this part of Tokyo that was breathtaking. The lamps illuminating everything made the scener

City Hall looms closer with every second, and instead of dread, all I feel is the weight of his presence beside me, solid and unshakeable. “Don’t worry,” Damien adds, almost gently. “If you get nervous at the last second, I’ll be right there.” “That’s not comforting.” “It should be,” he replies. “I’m very good at keeping what’s mine calm.” I change the subject before my brain melts completely. “That auction house Roofus mentioned. The most famous one in the city. It’s called The Black Ledger, isn’t it?” Damien glances at me from the corner of his eye as he pulls into City Hall, a slow smile forming like he’s enjoying this far too much. “How did you guess?”

The walls were lined with shelves, each covered in jars, papers, and strange symbols carved into the stone. It wasn’t just a basement. It was a vault. Damien stopped suddenly. His light froze on something ahead—a large wooden chest, half buried under a collapsed beam. He knelt beside it, brushing away the dust. “This is it.” I crouched beside him, my pulse pounding. The locket in my hand glowed faintly again, a soft golden light that flickered like a heartbeat. Damien lifted the lid slowly. Inside was a single book. The cover was black leather, bound with gold thread, the symbol of the Reyes crest etched across the front.

The cliff face behind them began to waver, turning transparent through it, they could see the ghostly outlines of the drowned city, not peaceful and white, but twisted, grey, and screaming in silent agony and from that ghastly image, a coldness poured out, a deep, hungry cold that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze. The Remnant took a step forward, his grey robes seeming to blend with the emerging horror. “The facade is broken, the Oblivion’s foothold is revealed and now, Scribe, you must do the hardest thing. You must not restore the city. You must anchor the memory of its destruction and you must make the world remember that it was eaten.” Liora stared, exhausted and soul-sick, at the

Chapter One — The Girl Who Burned Bridges The city never slept, not even when the moon was high and full, casting silvery light over the glittering glass towers of Crescent City. Neon signs buzzed. Taxi horns echoed. Humans hurried down sidewalks with coffee in one hand and stress in the other. Somewhere, music thumped from a club basement. And inside a tiny, too-warm coffee shop tucked between a bookstore and a vape lounge, Riley Hart was pretending not to exist.

Damian’s POV The drive home was an exile, each passing streetlight a reminder of everything that had been lost. The city was sodden—buildings blurred and reflected in the slick obsidian of the tarmac, shadows clinging to alleyways where ambition and regret shared cigarettes. The storm’s remnants lingered, just enough to drown the city in melancholy, just enough to remind me what it meant to be hunted by grief.

“You seek answers. But are you prepared to bear the weight of truth?” Damian’s hand hovered near the knife at his belt. “She can handle it.” The Keeper chuckled, the sound dry as dust. “We shall see.” He raised one hand, and the book on the altar flipped open on its own. The moment my eyes landed on the words, a sharp pain pierced my mind. Images flooded my vision—a past long buried. --- A Vision of the Past I saw a city, its towers gleaming beneath twin moons. Not of this world—something older, something lost.

Chapter 85 The city had become a labyrinth of anticipation. Rain-soaked streets gleamed under fractured neon, casting distorted reflections across cracked pavement. Every alleyway, every rooftop, every abandoned building held the potential for movement, threat, or opportunity. Tonight, the stakes were higher than ever: the mercenaries we had previously disoriented had regrouped, reinforced, and were now orchestrating a full-scale siege, moving in synchronized waves to overwhelm, isolate, and test our team.

CHAPTER 158 — EMBERS OF THE FALLEN The city’s skyline burnt with a quiet, smouldering fury. Streets that had once carried laughter and life now twisted into jagged paths of blackened concrete, scarred by Bishop’s fragment-fuelled rampage. But Riven stood at the centre, crown key in hand, heart pounding, eyes scanning the horizon. He could feel every pulse of Meridian, every breath, every heartbeat vibrating through his body. The city’s consciousness was alive, but it hung on the edge of fear.