When We Were Still Human by Vaughn Foster (best ereader for textbooks .txt) 📕

She sighed, leaning up against the sill of one of the enormous windows that lined the wing. She was jumping at every shadow and every darkened corner—which, in a castle that size, were quite numerous. Angels milled about in the town below; chatting, walking, playing on the golden streets.

It wasn’t fair. Her world had death, heartbreak, and crime; bottomless chasms in their chests that they could never fill. While humans suffered wars and plagues, these people had been living in eternal paradise.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. The past crumpled back into memory and she tore away from the window. The present was what mattered. The present was that she was trapped in a castle in another world. Or, well, another dimension, or realm, or however they wanted to coin it.

Without much plan, she took off again down the hall. The castle must have sensed her lack of direction because a soft shudder rippled beneath her feet. The next second, a sudden bend came up far too quickly.

The medieval styled decorum was now a Middle Eastern palace. Elaborate pillars of red, brown, and orange rose into blue arches that tunneled overhead down an endless corridor. The solid grey floor was now black and silver tiling that pulsed with magic at her weight.

After several minutes, she wondered if she’d stumbled into a trap. The previous halls had housed doorways and windows, or some general form of outlet. The sculptures and paintings had varied as well. Now, no matter how far she walked, there was only the forest of pillars. Maybe this particular hall had been enchanted to imprison intruders—or in her case, escapees.

The encroaching panic diffused with the approach of footsteps. Val dove behind the nearest pillar and prayed that whoever was there was coming from the opposite direction.

Several excruciating moments later, three figures passed in front of her. The man leading the procession was very tall and very thin. His white hair fell back like a plume of feathers, and his pale complexion was the first she’d seen of anyone truly fair skinned. Until this point, every angel she saw was decently tan—a blend of olive tones and their golden aura.

The woman to his right was tall, taller than him. An African headdress of teal stones and gold suggested nobility. The blue veil glided back to fall nimbly above the small of her back. A sweet scent drifted behind her. Val, perhaps by the Mark, was able to recognize it as Nigerian Christmas Roses.

Then there was the man heading up the rear. His skin looked like rough sandstone. While Gemini had been enveloped in the night sky, the man before her was devoid of all color. A white mundu flowed around his waist and legs with the subtle impression of a breeze. Instead of stars, tiny cracks ran along his bare chest in swirling patterns until they reached his stony arms.

The trio walked several feet farther, then turned into an arched entryway that Val was confident had not been there before. This was her opportunity to run. However, she had no idea where she was going, and the past twenty minutes was proof she couldn’t trust the hallways. Creeping pillar to pillar, she neared as close as she could without detection. She had to learn as much as possible about their world if she hoped to be rid of it.

Peering around the stone, the three dignitaries—or whatever they were—were standing at a high round table. The only thing of interest was something that resembled a crystal ball. The room was circular and unimaginably small in comparison to the expansive foyer just beyond it. Strange creatures were carved into the ceiling. An oval portrait of an aquatic beast was centered directly above the table. Carved along the walls were winged figures, male and female.

“Tell me, what do the birds want of us?” It was the large man with chalky skin. His voice was careful and low; vocal cords cut from the same stone as his body.

“Father,” the woman chided, “be respectful.” The warmth of her brown skin and sapphire eyes, which glowed even from Val’s distance, bled life into the room.

The thin man made a dismissive wave. “He’s quite alright. I personally advocated for you to rule the seas during the Accords. As a whole, the Orisha were the most competent, and by far, the least corrupt. But politics are politics, I suppose.”

Dove.

The Mark on Val’s chest pumped with rigor. He was the chief adviser to the king, as marked by the golden birds and runes stitched into his robe.

The living stone scoffed. “Then perhaps you can explain why my daughter was not elevated when the Grecian violated the Accords. Instead, you filled the spot with a Celestial.”

“Father!” Her blue eyes met his cinereal gaze and he sighed.

“Apologies, Seph Ọkan,” he muttered.

Seph Ọkan. High One.

“Again, all is well.” Dove made a welcoming gesture, then flicked his wrist. The crystal ball roared to life and a map of the world was projected at eye level. “Obatálá, Yemọja, it is an honor to have your counsel. I’m curious about operations in Jibhel Kumri.

“Our ‘Avenue of the Dead,’ as you birds call it,” the woman, Yemọja, chuckled. “There are always demons trying to tap into the current, but the rivers and mountains have been relatively peaceful.”

Obatálá nodded. “A few human explorers might stumble across the base, but the sheer power typically consumes them in seconds.”

Dove nodded, then moved his fingers over the projection. The region of Antarctica expanded, then divided into small zones. Val tried to lean closer without completely abandoning her cover. The Annwn appeared to hold the same landmasses and locale as Earth Proper, but simply bore different names and boundaries. Dove flicked his wrist again and a smaller screen appeared.

It was Avia. Val blinked, having