Novels by Kim Yoon

The alleyway was a suffocating throat of stone, choked with the refuse of the city and the lingering, sweet-sour stench of the succubus’s glamour. Raka braced his shoulder against Nikolai’s ribs, his boots skidding on the slick, oil-stained cobblestones as he hauled the older man toward the mouth of the street. Nikolai was dead weight, his body swaying like a marionette with cut strings, his breathing a jagged, wet rattle that made Raka’s own chest ache."Move, damn you," Raka hissed, his teeth gritted. "We’re not dying in a back-alley trap."Nikolai’s head lolled back against Raka’s shoulder, his silver eyes fixed on the murky, smog-choked sky. "It’s... it’s so quiet here, Raka. Why is it so quiet? Did the city burn down?""Shut up," Raka gasped, his voice straining. "The city is fine. You’re just seeing things. Keep your feet moving, or I’m going to drop you right into this puddle of rot.""You

The alleyway didn’t just grow dark; it began to breathe. The cold, stagnant air pressed against Raka’s skin like wet velvet. High above, those multi-faceted eyes retreated into the rafters of a structure that seemed to shift and expand, turning the narrow lane into a grand, velvet-draped ballroom."Hey! Come back here!" Raka shouted, his voice sounding thin and hollow, as if he were yelling into a deep well."Are you looking for something, little spark?" A voice purred. It wasn't one voice, but a dozen, overlapping like silk ribbons sliding over each other.Raka spun around, his hand glowing with a desperate, frantic pulse of gold. "Who’s there? Show yourself!"The shadows shifted, coalescing into a figure draped in shimmering, translucent fabric that seemed to change color with every heartbeat. She stepped out from behind a pillar that hadn't been there a second ago. Her face was beautiful, sharp, and entirely devoid of warmth."You’re a long way from your master, aren't you?" she ask

The morning sun barely managed to pierce the thick, charcoal-colored smog that perpetually hung over the industrial city of Oakhaven. It was a place of iron, soot, and secrets, a stark contrast to the desolate, haunted ruins they had just escaped.Nikolai adjusted the collar of his trench coat, his gaze scanning the throng of merchants, laborers, and robed bureaucrats clogging the main thoroughfare. He didn't look sick. In fact, if not for the slight, unnatural stiffness in his left arm, he looked like any other aristocrat slumming it in the lower districts."Keep your head down," Nikolai muttered, not bothering to look at Raka. "This place is a beehive. Thousands of souls, all buzzing with the same drab, mundane energy."Raka tightened his grip on his pack, his eyes darting toward the colorful banners flapping above the street. "You said the Midnight Orchid was here? How are we supposed to find a rare flower in a city built of concrete and iron?""It’s not in a vase, you idiot," Niko

The walk away from the Old Mourning Grounds was a jagged, uneven affair. Nikolai moved with a forced, rhythmic precision, but Raka, trailing just a few steps behind, caught the way his mentor’s left shoulder slumped every third or fourth stride. The cold, biting mist of the valley seemed to cling to them, refusing to dissipate even as they cleared the iron-wrought gates."Are you going to keep staring at my back, or are you going to help me find a place to hunker down?" Nikolai’s voice cut through the damp silence, sharp and thin. "There’s a waystation about a mile north. It’s not five-star, but it’s dry.""You’re favoring your left side," Raka said, ignoring the dismissal.Nikolai didn’t break his stride. "I’m tired, Raka. It’s called being human. You should try it sometime; it’s a fascinating, albeit pathetic, experience.""It’s not fatigue," Raka pressed, quickening his pace to stay alongside him. "That thing, the Titan, it scratched you. I saw the way the shadows moved under your

The creature hauled itself from the rift, a towering monolith of compressed shadow and jagged tomb-slate. It stood nearly ten feet tall, its form shifting with the sound of grinding tectonic plates. There were no eyes, only burning rifts of white heat where a face should have been."Don’t just stand there with your jaw hanging open, kid," Nikolai said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, rhythmic hum. "It’s a Grave-Titan. Keep it occupied while I calibrate my resonance. If you get squashed, try to make it look graceful.""Occupied?" Raka’s voice cracked, but he didn't retreat. He shifted his weight, his boots sinking into the loose, frozen soil. "That thing is made of stone and spite, Nikolai! How am I supposed to occupy a mountain?""Distract it. Be annoying. You’re good at that," Nikolai replied, not even looking back. He began to draw geometric patterns in the air with his fingers, the space around his palms warping as he gathered a terrifying amount of energy.The Titan let out a

The city walls receded into the grey haze until they were nothing more than a memory, replaced by the jagged, iron-wrought gates of the Old Mourning Grounds. The air here didn't just feel cold; it tasted of copper and stagnant earth, a heavy shroud that clung to Raka’s lungs with every ragged breath.Nikolai stopped abruptly. He didn't even look back, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his charcoal coat."Stay close, kid," Nikolai said, his voice flat. "The fog here is thick with lingering resentment. You stray more than three feet from me, and you’ll find yourself having a very long, very painful conversation with things that haven't had a tongue in a century."Raka gripped his pack straps, his knuckles white. "I know how a graveyard works, Nikolai. I’m not a child.""Could’ve fooled me with that heroic posturing back in the city," Nikolai muttered, shifting his gaze toward the swaying, leafless trees ahead. "Are you going to keep standing there vibrating with anxiety, or are