Novel & Cerita Requiem City Book

Teddy had to clear her life of anything that would bring her pain, and this was the last thing of her husband that remained. Threading Rafik’s potion book’s leather straps through their wedding bands, Teddy tied them tight and patted his hands in the air over them. “I’m sorry, Rafik. I’m so sorry for what happened, but I can’t let you take her away from me. We’ll just have to settle up in the next life.” He flinched as the front door slammed shut and shoved the book inside Rafik’s bag of holding. There would undoubtedly be a storm coming, and he thought he was prepared for whatever came next.

It roared. Avery stepped through the tear and staggered, nearly buckling under the sheer noise of it. The sky overhead was swollen purple, pulsing like a storm cloud. Below it stretched a city built from shadow and stone: towers carved from bone, bridges of glass that spanned bottomless pits, streets alive with endless whispers. The air was thick with them—thousands of voices, too faint to make out, weaving into a constant hiss. “Souls,” the reaper said, walking ahead without pause. “What’s left of them, anyway. Don’t listen too hard. They’ll drive you insane.”

The will that proved her inheritance rested beside it, a promise and a threat bound together. Carson poured two cups of coffee, handed one to her, and stood looking out over the city. His reflection in the window looked carved from grief. “What do we do now?” she asked. He didn’t turn around. “That book could topple half the men who built this city. Every name in it is a match waiting to be struck.” “So we burn it,” she said, trying to sound certain. He turned then, eyes dark. “If we burn it, they win again. They built their empires on silence.”

He would pull them one by one until the tapestry of deceit unraveled completely. Damian rose from his chair and moved to the window, looking down at the streets below. Cars flowed like rivers of gold and silver, the lights reflecting in the glass. The city was alive, chaotic, unpredictable, yet here he was, orchestrating an unseen counterstrike that would shift everything in his favor. He felt a connection to the pulse of the city, a rhythm that mirrored the calm before the storm he was about to unleash.

The runes ignited, one by one, in violet fire. The air thickened. Wind howled. The soil trembled beneath their feet. And then—the altar cracked open. A blinding surge of light shot upward, tearing through the mist. The ground split, and a small obsidian chest rose from within, glowing faintly red. Inside lay a single black-bound book wrapped in silver chains—the Book of the Damned. Kael stepped forward slowly. “After all this time…” He reached toward it— —and the forest screamed. A flare of silver light cut through the trees as figures emerged from the mist—The Order. Dozens of cloaked hunters, blades drawn, crossbows gleaming with runes.

And somewhere, in the shadows of a city that never kneels, a new name is whispering its way into history. Stay ready. ~~~~~ BOOK OF BLOOD — FINAL ENTRY/GOODBYE. They bled for this page. Every name you read. Every vow whispered in backrooms. Every vendetta forged in alleys, at weddings, in blood-soaked corridors of memory, they all brought you here. Not just to an ending. But to a reckoning. When I began writing this story, I thought I was building an empire. But somewhere between Aria’s first scar and Lorenzo’s last breath, I realized what I was really doing: I was burying the old world. And growing something in its ashes.

--- **The Fractured City** At dawn, the western horizon fractures. A city thrusts upward, its architecture a schizophrenic collage-glass spires fused to concrete slums, neon signs written in a language that squirms when read. It shouldn't exist. The Seed's roots recoil from it, thorny veins blackening at the tips. Veyra finds me gripping the storm-gun. "Scouts went missing there last night. Their mutations... reversed." "Reversed?" She peels back her sleeve. Where serrated bone once protruded, smooth skin remains. "The city *erases* scars. Even the old ones."

ELARA Falling again. Always falling. Except this time, there’s no void to catch us, no glass bridge to stand on. Just impact. Stone greets me like an enemy. My ribs scream. My vision erupts in white and black stars. When I drag in a breath, it tastes like ash. Like bone dust. And then I see it. The city. Not from above this time—but all around me. Towering spires like ribs of a dead god, shattered bridges arching over gulfs of nothing. The streets writhe—not with people, but with whispers, pooling in the cracks like liquid shadow.

he said, eyes already gone dark. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Time stopped. Matteo yelled something. Lazaro’s finger curled. And I knew he was going to pull the trigger. To be continued... Chapter 38 – Burn Them All Amara The city burns. Flames eat through rooftops like hungry mouths, smoke veils the sky until the sun itself disappears. Sirens scream like dying violins. Bullets cut through air thick with the scent of gasoline, blood, and betrayal.

The creature that had bonded to her—whom she now called Ashmane—trailed at her side, eyes gleaming with supernatural intelligence. The city gates opened without a touch. Elara stepped forward first. Within Aethermoor, it was night though the sun still hung in the sky. The sky above the city shimmered with illusion, an eternal eclipse painted in swirling purple and black. There were no birds. No voices. Only the low hum of power vibrating through ancient runes carved into every wall. “Who keeps this city standing?” she whispered. “No one,” Kael said. “The city keeps itself.” They walked through empty streets where statues wept and windows blinked shut like eyes. Then they reached it: the Hall