Smoke And Steel Novels & Stories

Max The smoke is thick in the fair making it nearly impossible to breathe. The flames are huge and hot, I don’t have much longer before the walls are gonna give in. I have to hurry, Sloane is unconscious in my arms as I try to navigate to the smoke and flames that now consume our family home. She doesn’t have her wolf yet, so if I don’t get her out of here soon, she could die. This day went from bad, to worse in a heartbeat and it’s not over yet.

The Incineration of the Forge The frost-covered steel grid of the central smelting floor felt entirely unstable beneath Leo's heavy boots as he dragged the primary incendiary crate toward the base of the massive blast furnace. The structural framework of the facility groaned constantly under the rhythmic, freezing wind coming off the eastern maritime shelf, but the low mechanical vibration of the automated chemical pumps had stopped. The dark titanium-weave armor across Leo’s chest plates clicked softly as he knelt in the charcoal dust, adjusting the digital timer on the primary thermite core.

Luca's pov The smell hits me first—char and smoke that’s long since faded, but still clings to the air like a ghost refusing to leave. I stand in the middle of what used to be my world. The beams are blackened, walls collapsed inward like broken ribs, the floors littered with glass and splintered wood. My studio… the one place where I had built something real, something that was mine… is nothing more than a pile of ashes and twisted metal. I close my eyes for a second, forcing myself to breathe, but it feels like inhaling grief. Every brushstroke, every late night, every plan for the future—burned away, gone without a trace. I tell myself it’s just a building. Just wood and paint and bricks.

I stood beside them and laughed my heart out. A thousand of Gideon's soldiers waited for him outside the city. We said our goodbyes early that night and made a pact to see each other the following day. … On the day we left the capital, the northern wind howled. Gideon sat atop a tall horse, and his soldiers stood in formation behind him. It was a majestic sight. I'd never seen this side of Gideon before, and I couldn't take my eyes off him. Life in Morbeck wasn't as lively as it had been in the capital, but there was something unique about the culture there.

It looked like a Gears-and-Steam Nightmare. ​The surface was entirely covered in rusted iron scaffolding, massive smelting plants that breathed black smoke into a toxic atmosphere, and "Credit-Gates" that ringed the planet like a halo of thorns. There was no green. There was no water. There was only the orange glow of forced labor.

It was the same steel they used to build the container ships in the harbor—heavy, brutal, and entirely indifferent to the luxury logo stamped on the grille. Ambassador Kolawole was on his knees in the wet grass, his manicured hands clutching his chest where the electronic cigarette case had short-circuited through his silk vest. The smell of scorched fabric and mint-scented synthetic nicotine hung thick in the damp air, a pathetic, corporate odor that was quickly ripped away by the rising gale coming off the lagoon.

However, she gritted her teeth and kept going, decided not to donate them the fulfillment of seeing her battle. As the sun plunged underneath the skyline, the camp settled into a unfaltering cadence of action. Smoke from scattered fires thickened the discuss, blending with the smell of charred meat and sweat. The mumble of moo discussions mixed with the sharp clatter of edges being honed, a steady update that savagery prowled underneath the surface of everything here.

Jeremy’s dark and cold expression changed. Clearly, he was convinced by what Joy said. “You’re really smart, Bae. I’m too impatient. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll execute the plan when you say it’s time.” Then, they started shamelessly dirty talking. I hurriedly turned off the security footage, cradled my chest, leaned over the toilet bowl, and gagged. My eyes burned with such rage that they became bloodshot. I turned on the water tap and dunked my head into the water-filled basin. The feeling of asphyxiation made my head clear up.

His tone was urgent, the voice of someone who had seen more battles than most. I looked over at him, my vision still tinged with the red haze of fear. He was already directing the others, barking out orders like a general on the battlefield. “Get the oil! Anything that will burn. Hurry!” The rest of the pack scrambled to obey, gathering up anything that could be used as a weapon against the smoke creatures. Broken furniture, old crates, even rags soaked in alcohol—anything that could catch fire was fair game. I watched them work, a flurry of motion, but my mind was still on Astrid.

She was followed by the smoke. Smoke clung to her skin, her hair, and her thoughts even after the building collapsed, after the sirens screamed, and after a guard who was only devoted to Nathan pulled her from the turmoil. Ash was like mascara on her lashes. She left it in place. She was immobile. Not at all. As firefighters doused the already-dead with water, she watched from the other side of the yellow tape. Like a last curse, the vault's bones continued to smoulder and spew black clouds into the night. Twisted metal shrieked as it cooled, and steel bent where it shouldn't have.