Arcane Steampunk Novels & Stories

After the Inferno Guild, the next announcement came from the capital's physician's office, Arcane Sanctum. They had sent various precious medicinal herbs, including a century-old rare herb and snow lily. Following Arcane Sanctum was the Tideborn Guild, which also sent rare treasures. Among them, Mystic Pearls were the most prized. They seemed determined to outdo the Inferno Guild, delivering three jars of Mystic Pearls, along with a variety of gemstones. Their offerings filled three entire boxes.

There was no more Araknee. I turned back to the orb, still displaying my half sister's corpse in the water snake's tight grasp. I dissolved the snake-like form of water, setting the corpse free. Her body would rot faster at the bottom of the river. Just about to pull my hands out of the enchanted orb, the corpse twitched then her eyes flew open, eliciting a loud gasp from the audience around me. The film of light blue covering Araknee's eyes immediately had my skin crawling with goosebumps. Shit! She activated her defense mode.

It's not poison, it's magic. Atara looked at her closely. - Tell me what you see, girl. "It looks like black smoke or steam coming out of a keg," Deamara began to explain. “I saw something similar next to Larana. - Sorcery of the dark god, - Aznar disgustedly set aside the cup. “Looks like we’ll have to visit this merchant,” Bery remarked gloomily, “We’ll find out with what prayers he prepares his goods. -Too late.

Chapter 140: The Sovereign Marrow The interior of the capital's central cooling district did not look like a workshop of the living; it was a subterranean cathedral of industrial slaughter. Rows of towering, vertical brass boilers stretched sixty feet into the vaulted stone ceilings, each one jacketed in thick plates of dark green cast iron and wrapped in networks of glowing copper pipes. Through the narrow glass viewing slits of the primary pressurized tanks, a thick, luminescent arterial-red sludge bubbled without heat. It was the stolen marrow of the Lycan ancestors—the Primal Well—forced into a perpetual state of chemical degradation to stabilize the high-velocity steam-engines that powe

Little did I know, the spark was about to become a raging inferno, courtesy of something far beyond the mortal realm. It started on a rainy Friday night. I’d come home exhausted from a long week, my blouse clinging to my skin from the downpour outside. I kicked off my heels, letting them thud against the hardwood floor, and poured myself a glass of merlot. The apartment felt emptier than usual; my last girlfriend had left months ago, citing my “workaholic tendencies” as the reason. Truth be told, I missed the warmth of a body next to mine, the soft curves and whispered promises in the dark. To distract myself, I rummaged through the old box of junk in my closet— relics from my rebellious pha

At Night [Rina P.O.V] The Vampire Archives didn't feel cold. They felt old. A heavy, suffocating pressure that tasted of iron and centuries of trapped dust. The kind of silence that had teeth, gnawing at edges of focus as I stood in the subterranean chamber's center. The only light came from flickering violet pulse of my Moon Seal arcanery, casting long, distorted shadows against endless rows of obsidian-bound tomes. The script didn't mention this place. The Author didn't write the smell of decaying parchment and old blood into digital margins of the novel.

Sight and Sorcery Nova The Alpha home’s courtyard is transformed. The marble walls of the estate glow with fairy lights, suspended in the air like stars. Music pulses from the grand hall. Gold and green banners twist together in massive hanging displays, now carrying the Arcane Oracle sigil. And it looks incredible. I stop for a moment, drawn in.

Inside, the air felt colder. Thicker. Like every book here breathed a little on its own. Some were chained shut with silver locks. Some had covers made from materials I didn’t want to guess at—scales, bone, darkened velvet. Alaric reached for one specific volume. Thick. Heavy. Black leather with a sigil embossed on the front: a circle surrounding a cracked mirror. “This,” he said quietly, “is the kingdom’s only known complete record on necromancy.”

The creature looked at Elizabeth and gave a deep grunt noise as she ran in her direction and with a horrible growling stuttering voice she said “Why can’t you just leave us alone?....why did you have to disturb our happiness? We were having such a nice time, he got the mother he lost and I got to be in the world at the behest of my lady” The deamon-like possessed spirit that inhabited that corpse had just given its necromancer summoner away, specifically, it’s gender it was a woman, which narrow things down for the members of the society. Elizabeth looks at Michael Weaver to make him understand what is going on “This thing right here is not your mother, it's an Arcane Undead and it's very da

ARAH The creature that burst from her palm hit the floor with a heavy thud. It was a towering thing, plated in segmented, iridescent armor that glimmered faintly like oil on water. Steam hissed from its blue shell where her blood still clung. Behind it, a spiked tail swept around, smashing into vases and forcing her to jump back to avoid being hit.