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

she launched herself to the nearest broken tower. Arms outstretched, she ran across the pillar and slashed out at the two nearest elves. They were lighter than expected and crashed down to the rubble below. They didn’t get back up.

Closing her eyes, Val marked four pairs of footsteps in the building across from her perch. She leapt, tucked her knees, and crashed through the west wall in a storm of dust and rock. She eyed her prey carefully. Glossy, charcoal skin; pointed ears; black eyes. They looked more like goblins or demons than elves. One charged at her with a shuriken-like weapon. A single kick sent him airborne. Her hand was then around his neck and smashing him through another wall.

The others held their ground. Val cocked her head to the side, tongue reflexively running along her top row of fangs. She wanted them to run. God, she prayed they would run. Instead, they lunged forward and were dead in seconds.

She threw her head back in elation. This was Pennsylvania again. Her, Crystal, and Ligel, duking it out in sparring matches. Only this time, she didn’t have to hold back. Only this time, the rush bubbled over in rhapsody and she was still in control each and every second.

It was a frenzy of claws, teeth, and power. She’d lost count of how many she’d killed. At least seventy, but it had to have been more. She glanced down at the dead elves at her feet and frowned. A crease furrowed her brow, and she examined her hands. There was no blood. Whatever these elves had done to themselves, they weren’t held in the land of the living by flesh. They were solid, that much was obvious by the bruises forming under her clothes. A long gash was also sealing beneath her eye. They just weren’t… human was the only word that came to mind. Then again, they weren’t human to begin with, so maybe this was typical for their kind.

She jumped to the nearest pillar and crouched over the edge. Vladimir was in a world of his own. He had a second knife now and was using both to slash at the elves and bend the shadows. He was obviously holding back. She pondered the thought, absently watching a wave of darkness crash over a dozen more elves. Until this point, she’d only seen him use his power for trivial things. But now…

My name is Vladimir Dracule the Fifth, heir of the house of Dracule, Prince of the Eastern Kingdom, and emissary of the King of Angels.

The title rang like a gong. It hadn’t been obvious before, but the First Sin was in a league of his own. If he fought like this holding back, what would he look like fighting seriously? What did this say about the other five?

Val swallowed and the euphoria drowned. Her eyes darted about the wreckage. There was still no sign of a mage or anyone the least bit magical. The high of combat was fading and Val began to remember why they had come to this place. If the dark elves were simply hordes of corrupted magic, then she was hopeless.

She narrowed her gaze on Vladimir and could almost see a smirk turn the corners of his mouth. He lazily pulled three enemies into his grip and slammed them downward. His ease, his finesse. It…

He knifed another attacker then danced through the felled shadow. An uncomfortable weight saddled Val’s chest. Vladimir Dracule V was in no hurry at all.

Her mind stumbled over itself as it raced past a million thoughts. Before it could land, the earth behind Vladimir caved in and hundreds of black shapes skittered from the hole.

“Vladimir! Watch—”

Something hard struck her back, and Val tumbled at least three stories into the rocks below. A sharp piece of debris punctured her side, but before she could rise, a boulder-sized mass crashed into her chest. Oxygen fled, bones snapped, and for the briefest second, she was twenty-two years old. She was bleeding out in the woods with a ghoul biting into her flesh.

When her eyes flickered open, she found an equally, if not more, terrifying present. A boubous creature sat on her abdomen. It was made of swirling darkness with faint indents where eyes should have been. The world rocked, though she was pinned flat, and she forced her vision to steady. At first, she thought it was the concussion, but she was correct: the monster was melting. Shadow dripped and rolled down bulging fat, or whatever it was made of. Aside from its crushing weight, it made no move to harm her.

She strained against its body, smooth as shadow and cold as steel. It was useless. The effort, however, may have registered, because the creature untucked two stumpy legs and stepped to the side.

Val gasped for air. Her lungs fought for oxygen, but the flow had already cut off. Fingers clutched her shoulders and dragged her into a kneeling position.

“Vladimir!” She thrashed against the massive hand around her throat, but it was unflinching. The creature wrenched her head up and she watched in horror as hundreds of melting, shadowy forms flanked Vladimir on all sides. The remaining elves were changing as well. They twisted and stretched until their bodies also liquefied. Grey skin became black silhouettes as they hurled themselves at the dark prince.

He was saying something under his breath. The whispers and patter of the legion had since halted and his voice carried over the clashing metal.

“Aylos,” he hissed. The knife shot up to block a blow as a goblin-like creature decked him in the side.

“Aylos.” Two smaller creatures barreled into his shins and he folded to his knees.

“I command, Aylos.” A black hand struck his jaw before his hands could force another wave back.

Anger scorched through fear and Val fought harder against the blob. How could she have been