Elfen Lied Books Novels & Stories

"I understand." Lorien seemed to regain a sliver of his composure. He gestured a trembling hand toward a tome resting before him, its binding the color of a deep sea, clasped in silver. "Perhaps we should begin here. A general overview. You may then delve deeper into whatever captures your interest." He opened the book. The vellum pages whispered as they turned, filled with an elegant, flowing script I could not decipher—the Old Elven tongue.

Cassian asked, curious. "Myths and Legends of Old," Elena said with a wink. "It's got stories about vampires, werewolves, angels, and demons." Cassian's face changed. "Elena, these are forbidden books! The Abbey doesn't allow..." "Oh, come on. Don't you want to know what other magical creatures are in this world?" Elena tugged on his sleeve. "Let's go. We'll read it in the hills behind the abbey. No one will find us."

The archives smelled of smoke. Not the cozy kind from the hearth, but the acrid, chemical stench of magic—faint, but enough to make Elara’s scar tingle. She’d spent three days buried in Eleanor’s journals, and still, the words “the fire comes next” burned in her mind like a brand. Ellie sat at her feet, sorting through a pile of leather-bound books, her tiny fingers tracing the sigils on their covers. Every so often, she’d pause, tilt her head as if listening to a secret, and tuck a book aside.

Fenrir spoke, diverting my attention. “That was fast.” I spoke. “Of course, I’m actually useful.” He spoke, giving Damon a death glare. “I’m listening.” I said. “When you mentioned the entity being a shadow or rather a dark shadow that granted wishes in exchange for souls I thought that sounded familiar—anciently familiar.” He pulled out a book, “Hey, librarian, know about this?” The book was old, with the back pages already peeling off. It read in bold, vintage font, “Elemental Werewolves: The Curse of The Dragon.”

Most of the pages in the front were smudged too terribly to read anything but once it became legible, I started to shake with happiness. It was a story book! Eagerly I began reading the first story that wasn't destroyed. MY mouth dropped open in wonder at this finding. It was a shadow elf storybook, and a very old one. Page after page I flipped through the words absorbing every word that I could. The stories were full of ghastly creatures similar to the ghoulcat and the heroes of ancient Gwathendor who fought them. And their lady loves that they saved along the way. Soon enough I was hunched over the bed with the little book in my lap and my head in the clouds.

I asked him, quite interested in their history for once. “No, they were elfs.” He was confusing me. “Plural of elf?” “Yes.” “Wait,” said Maurice, stepping in front of me. “The plural of elf is elves. Elf, elves, elven.” “Elfen,” said the shaman. “No,” insisted Maurice, “Hey!” he shouted at the roof. “Whoever’s in charge of the translating device, you got it wrong.” “Is this really that important?” I asked him. The look he gave me suggested it was.

There are too many places that welcomed us along the way. In a few days, I arrived at their castle town where the King of Spirits resided. And now, I am waiting in that castle at this very moment. Having served with tea in a luxurious reception room, we were standing by. Its beautiful decorations showed not single inferiority compared to our castle. In the Country of Elves, there are many articles made from natural wood and ores/crystals. It seems that the Country of Fairies does not differ by much either. However, there are still some items that I could not imagine how they were processed on the inside.

Although not as lethal as vervain is for a vampire, Wolfsbane is an effective plant to help keep a vampire at bay. Elsa snapped the book shut with a sense of satisfaction. Thankful that she kept such a complete garden of herbs for her medicines and spells, she rushed to the drying room and filled a few medium sized pouches with dried verbena and wolfsbane. She also grabbed a bit of dried garlic that she’d only just ground that afternoon. She wasn’t sure what she’d do with the garlic from her garden that she couldn’t do with garlic from a store, but it wouldn’t hurt to take it along.

Not in a world where wolves can smell lies and fear. Right? Melody’s notes could be just that. Notes. Medical knowledge. She was always reading, always studying symptoms. Wolfsbane is a known toxin; of course she’d write about it. And the bitter drink… maybe it’s just herbs. Maybe it’s really for my “growing pains.” Maybe it’s to help my wolf wake up, not suppress it. I cling to those maybes like they’re oxygen. Because the alternative is too ugly to hold. Dad clears his throat. “Abby.”

“That is what I thought.” Elena laughed quietly while Kael pointed accusingly at him. “I remember parts of it.” “You remember the title.” “I remember there was a prince.” “There is always a prince.” Kael groaned and dropped back into his chair while Rowan picked up the book and flipped through a few pages. “It is one of the oldest myths in Lycoria. A human girl discovers she is mates with a prince, they fall in love, and by the end of the story she awakens as a White Wolf.”