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

gaze into the refractions of color. Magic aside, it was currently her only option. Vladimir placed his hand on her back and she nodded, allowing him to lead her into the light.

Val’s feet touched soft earth as iridescent light morphed to thick mist and cool air. While she hadn’t had enough time to build a proper fantasy of the Enchanted Forest, there were still expectations. Tree houses, or huts; flowers, springs... Not whatever this place was. If Le Ciel had been magic incarnate, then the forest they had entered was…

Dead.

Tendrils of fog coiled the branches and hung in the air like a noose. She meandered through the trees, feet crunching dead leaves and poppy flowers. Extinct was the only word to describe it. The air was warm and patches of grass occasionally broke the dry earth, but the forest looked like the dead of winter. Twisting branches bent leafless at odd angles and not a single bush bore foliage. Even without a breeze, the air didn’t sit right. It had that same burning scent as the blue-skinned sorcerer, but worse. It was a stench like burnt flowers, and ash, and fire that hung from the trees for miles on end.

“Vladimir!”

The vampire had vanished when she stepped through the portal. For the first time that day, she was now desperate to find him. She wove through the trunks of dying timber and skeletal brush, only to skid on a rock and slam her shin into a dried brook.

The pants that the spirit-magician-person-thing had left absorbed most of the blow, but the shock still sent her to her knees swearing. When she pulled up, her eyes fell on a strange sphere. Lying on the lip of the brook was what looked like a crystal ball. Val traced her fingers over the surface in anticipation of some kind of light or pulse. It was cold.

She was about to pull away when something twisted in the center. The glass rippled and slowly but surely, an image came to formation. The picture was fractured from long cracks in the glass. She leaned closer and saw hooves stomping over bloody ground. If she listened closely, she could almost hear the riders yelling. The sphere snuffed out.

Val stared at the weightless globe for several more seconds, then turned away. Several paces down the brook was another crystal ball. She picked it up and pressed her nose to the glassy surface when it came to life. Two small boys with wings were clutching each other atop a high branch. One of the riders approached and removed the axe held across his back. In one motion, he pulled back and launched it straight at the—

A short scream burst out and she dropped the globe. Glassy shards exploded across the ground.

“Cyclops’ eyes.”

Val stumbled back and her foot caught on a spiny branch. She pulled it free with a crunch, only to fall to the ground. It hadn’t been a branch. Panic exploded as she scrambled away from a skeleton nearly twice her size. Her foot had broken the ribcage of something that looked human, but its massive lower half resembled a horse.

“I’m surprised they left them.”

Val craned her neck to see Vladimir sitting on a nearby log. He’d donned his long coat, hood somehow flitting into the still air. “The hunters, that is.” He rose and stepped closer, careful to avoid yet another skeleton that Val hadn’t seen before. He held out a hand and she took it, letting him pull her up.

“What happened here?” Val stared out at the forest with new eyes. The mist had dissipated, and she could clearly register slash marks along the stone and trunks—some sword, some claws. Trees were felled at random intervals and colossal stones lay smashed to pieces. Then the bodies. The more she looked, the more kept appearing. Two. Three. Eight. Seventeen. She stopped counting.

Vladimir motioned towards the broken glass. “Cyclops’ eyes are essential in crystal balls for those without the magic to make a real one. They only show the past, but that’s nothing smoke, mirrors, and exposition can’t fix.” He kicked a stone and watched it roll down the empty brook. “They must have gotten so many they were just killing for sport.”

Ice pooled in her stomach. The warm summer air felt frosted over and an unnerving prickling sensation spiked down her neck. She tried to look away, but everywhere she looked was death. Phantoms of a deer carcass. Her teeth in a man’s shoulder. She bit her lip and drew blood, leaning into the pain, letting it carry her back.

“Vladimir,” she said carefully. “What happened to the elves?”

“The same thing that happened to the satyrs, the centaurs, the cyclops, and the rest of the fae.” He motioned at the graveyard of bones. “Humans.”

Humans. The word rolled around her head like a curse. Why was she surprised? Her species killed and enslaved their own; they hunted animals to extinction and left the planet a polluted garbage dump. Of course, the first time they would wreak havoc.

A deep furrow ran her brow. She suppressed the torrent of thoughts, and the initial urge to vomit. Alternatively, she began to pace. Why had she come?

“What,” she began slowly, “what happened here was horrible.” She turned to face Vladimir, gaze even. “But it doesn’t represent every human.”

“Here we go again,” he sighed. Shoving himself off the log, he lazily meandered over. He was now close enough for the icy scent she couldn’t quite place, but identified as Vladimir, to fill the space between them. Close enough that she was fully reminded of canines that peaked longer than they should. Close enough to hear that his heart wasn’t beating.  She set her jaw and prepared for another monologue. Instead, she received:

“You’re so stupid.”

“Excuse me?” She stepped back, cocking her head to meet his eye.

“You people…” He