Souls Of Steel Novels & Stories

Sometimes, the body remembers what the soul tries to forget. It wasn't the pain that broke me, but the way my body stopped belonging to me. Every unwanted touch was another crack. A piece of me vanishing without a sound. I arrived to Chicago months ago, and I still struggle to breathe. This city doesn’t embrace me—it watches me. Everything is clean, cold, precise. Neon lights flicker like fake stars, and the rain hits the windows with military discipline. It’s a world built to function, not to feel.

Blake The clubhouse was half-asleep by morning. Engines cold, bottles scattered across tables, brothers snoring in corners. The quiet before the storm. I’d been up before the sun, couldn’t rest even if I wanted to. Old habits. My body never forgot how to be alert, how to listen for sounds that didn’t belong. It wasn’t restlessness—it was survival, sharpened into my bones. I stepped outside, the gravel crunching under my boots. The lot was empty except for rows of bikes, chrome catching the pale light. I leaned against mine, lit a cigarette, and let the smoke curl out into the cool morning air.

[Soul Palace] Strike their soul and be my sword! For those that pry on thee shall suffer an unstoppable agony! [Pain Infliction] I stroke back on the mental plane, both defense and offense! The soul palace is the fruit of all the hard work I put into creating the [Archive] A barricade made of all my familiars' modified consciousness, standing as my shield, material to build a palace around my soul! Not only protecting me from being attacked but also erodes the foreign souls that enter without my permission!

] I call out through the link. [Miles and I are, we’re on our way.] Christian calls out. Relief fills me when Miles rounds the corner of the building, his grey wolf form spotting me instantly as he rushes towards the Soulless I’m fighting. Christian is hot on his trail, his form being a beige wolf covered with blood and wounds. I return my focus to the Soulless in front of me, keeping his attention on my body as I continue to attack. I needed to keep him busy long enough for Miles and Christian to take him by surprise, it would be our only chance at defeating him.

There would be more wars, more ghosts, and more roads to conquer. But we weren't afraid. Because a Thorne never wilts, and a Montague never breaks. And together? We were the Steel Phantoms. The road was ours.

The memory of the last few hours crashes into me like molten iron. Me. Gathering my men. “Yes, Boss,” Cameo said when he stepped into my office at the bank. “Get one of the boys to shut down all the security footage leading to the Roshids’ residence. Everything. The neighborhood. The street.” I ordered darkly. I pressed the button beneath my desk. The wall behind me gave way, sliding open to reveal the vault. My arsenal of weapons. Air conditioned. Clean. Sophisticated. “Sir? What are you planning?” Cameo asked from behind me as I stepped into the air-conditioned space.

The Solstice Forge didn’t just produce weapons; it produced a warning. As the "Star-Steel" blades cooled in their racks, glowing with a soft, bioluminescent hum, a new frequency began to bleed through the Forge’s communication array. It wasn’t the rhythmic song of the First City or the golden pulse of the Vanguard. It was a sound like shattering glass—a high-pitched, discordant shriek that made the mercury in the conduits churn with dark foam.

POV: Neoma Steel ground against magic. The Palace District became a collision of biological eras. On one side, the Onyx Guard stood in rigid formation. They were encased in black Barzil-steel plates that smelled of cold oil. They fired experimental white beams that unmade matter. On the other, the Covenant moved as a mass of sweat-slicked bodies. Rogues gripped rebar clubs until their knuckles turned white. Nulls held scavenged rifles with trembling fingers.