Steampunk Laboratory Novels & Stories

The door hissed again, this time closing, and with another hiss, steam shot at us, and after a while, the second door that led to the lab opened. We stepped through the door and I was met with a large room. The room had tables pushed up against the walls with different things- Bunsen burners, test tubes, filter papers, boiling tubes, and the like. The middle of the room was devoid of tables and chairs; instead, it had hanging trays and pots of plants, which were in a transparent box. Those were probably the plants Doc mentioned that they were growing. They looked unlike any plants I'd ever seen. I must have been staring for quite a while because Doc appeared next to me.

Baby Zetty said, “If you don’t believe me, take me for a tour of your laboratory.” Without raising any objection, the security guard took Baby Zetty to the Poison Doctor’s laboratory. The laboratory’s door was unlocked. There was no smell of smoke nor fire coming from the inside. It seemed like the laboratory had not been used for a long time. Baby Zetty sneered and said, “It seems like your Poison Doctor has used up her creative power. It’s a waste to equip her with such a great laboratory.”

“She doesn’t look like the submissive type. Probably cooking up something.” A cruel smile played on her lips. “Avery Wells... let’s see what you’re up to.” Inside the Kuznetsov Hospital… A heavy silence hummed in the underground laboratory, a chilling hum of machines blending with the sound of clinking metal and low murmurs. Doctors—or maybe scientists—moved like ghosts in white coats, hunched over long steel tables, working under harsh fluorescent lights. They handled vials of pale liquids, crushed herbs, and dropped tiny amounts into tubes that fizzed without color. The air reeked of chemicals and sterilized death.

As their eyes adjusted to the pale blue glow, the true nature of the room began to take shape out of the gloom. "By the founders," Thalen breathed, his usual composure cracking as his gaze swept across the rows of rusted, iron-barred enclosures lining the far wall. "These aren't archival vaults. They're cages." "Not just cages," Zeyric corrected, stepping past him with his crystal held high, the light catching the tarnished metallic plates bolted to the floorboards. "Look at the runic channeling channels carved into the stone beneath them. This wasn't a prison. It was an experimental laboratory."

Khufra smiled and nodded at him. The three of them went back door while Khufra tended the store. They descended the stairs and arrived at a bigger room. It was filled with crates, jars, three stone stoves with three big cauldrons on it, some tables filled with things, and shelves filled tools. It was a bit warm inside here, and smelt oddly herbal. It was how Jai would describe a traditional laboratory. Sir Yang was putting powders on a paper and folded the papers, before putting them in some sort of a leather wallet, but bigger in size. The man heard them coming and without putting his attention away, he spoke to them.

His hands betrayed wrinkled and knotted by age, marked with old ink stains and burns from spilled experiments. Despite the stoop of his back and the rasp in his voice, he carried an air of quiet authority. Every gesture, every pause, suggested knowledge too vast for one lifetime. The fume vault chamber was one of the rarely visited rooms in the castle. It was Grandmaester Parole's little den, where he did wonders with herbs grown and tended with his own hands. The Fumevault, a place where the air never seemed clear, only thick with the tang of boiled herbs and the bitter smoke of burning experiments.

I took careful steps, sensing every movement from the area. Cobwebs linger everywhere, and antique furniture layered with dust sits perfectly arranged in the corners of the room. I didn't waste much time and walked farther to explore. If I remember correctly, the key for that vault is here somewhere With every heavy step and pressure on the brittle floors, it feels as if it will collapse at any moment. I make my way into the lab, where there are numerous empty vials, and experimental tools. There is even a make-shift bunsen burner and different apparatus used to extract many essence.

She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat betraying her nervousness. The silver chains coiled tightly, dragging Celeste into the heart of this mysterious lab. This place was a stark contrast to the cramped cell that had confined her earlier. It was spacious, almost too spacious, and flooded with an overwhelming brightness. The white walls bounced light like a gigantic prism, enclosing the space like an enormous cage. The temperature inside dipped, sending shivers down Celeste's spine, as if the air itself held a bone-chilling secret. Neatly arranged rows of metal shelves displayed an array of peculiar scientific contraptions, glinting with an icy metallic allure. Buttons, switches, and indi

The laboratory aboard The Trench was a chaotic symphony of humming centrifuges and glowing holographic displays. Unlike the pristine, clinical labs at Thorne Tower, this place smelled of ozone, burnt sugar, and desperation. Elara stood before a glass-walled containment unit, her eyes bloodshot. She hadn't slept since they stepped off the Ghost-Step.

[The Vacuum of the Soul] The laboratory on Golden Lane was not a place of chrome and glass, but a subterranean vault of damp stone and heavy oak, hidden beneath the foundations of the Alchemist’s Street. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and the heavy, sweet rot of old paper.