Page 4 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

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I don’t see the ghost again.

I don’t go back to the Archive at night.

And life becomes…well, a strange mix of extraordinary and mundane.

By day, I weave through breathtaking halls, towering stacks, and vast chambers, each archive more magnificent than the last. I split my time between the main library and the Obscuary, digging through ancient texts and piecing together fragments of forgotten stories. I’ve learned to navigate the floating platforms, to ride the bullet trains that can take you to the other side of the planet in a matter of hours, to get lost (and un-lost) in the endless corridors that twist and turn like they’re alive.

The Grand Library is everything I ever dreamed of. No—it’s more. The architecture alone is an alien wonder: towering coral spires, chambers with glowing fungi embedded in the stone, golden orbs that light the paths with a faint hum of energy. The constant murmur of scholars fills the air, hundreds of languages overlapping but never chaotic. Each wing feels like a world unto itself—some are sleek and modern, others ancient and overgrown, vines twisting through shattered windows and wrapping around stone columns.

But then there’s the ordinary parts. The parts that remind me I’m still just Patience McRae from Boston.

Breakfast in the dining hall, where human pastries are served alongside alien confections. Study groups in the courtyard, where little kids run around fellowship students and ancient scholars.

And there’s that ever-persistent ache in my back after hours hunched over a desk.

A distraction from listening to others’ thoughts.

I’ve been keeping my mind carefully shielded, but it’s exhausting. The constant buzz of psychic energy never truly stops—not here, not in a city filled with so many brilliant minds. Sometimes I catch snippets of conversations in my head, half-formed thoughts that float into my awareness before I can push them away. Most of the time it’s harmless. But every now and then, something will slip through—something sharp, something hungry.

Tonight, it’s just me and a stack of notes at a table in one of the study nooks in the main library—the same way I spend most nights. The room is quiet, lit by a few hovering glow lamps. Outside the windows, the coral spires of the Nautilum rise like skeletal fingers, their bioluminescent domes casting an eerie, wavering glow through the dark water. The faint hiss of bubbles and creak of underwater currents seem to echo faintly in the quiet study nook. Somewhere below, thousands of Merati archivists glide through the water, perfectly serene.

The Nautilum is a place I haven’t yet visited, but I’ve heard the stories: an underwater labyrinth of knowledge, accessible only by submersible pods. The thought of it fills me with both awe and jealousy. What would it be like to drift through the water, to have nothing but silence and endless shelves of books surrounding you?

Jesus.

When I start fantasizing about other libraries, I know it’s time to take a break.

I rub my eyes and sit back, staring at the fragmented sentences in my notebook. The pieces don’t fit—not yet, anyway. I’ve been trying to trace the Skoll expeditions to Earth, hoping to find a pattern, a purpose…but every lead is a dead end. My notes are starting to look like the ramblings of someone who’s spent too much time in the shadows.

The thought makes me glance at the window to my left, but this time I find my reflection rather than the Mer Archive. My brown hair is tousled, dark smudges under my grey eyes. That girl over there? She looks like she hasn’t seen the sun in weeks.

To be fair, that isn’t far from the truth.

I sigh, closing my notebook. It’s not just the work—it’s this sense of urgency that’s been gnawing at me since I arrived. Like I’m running out of time to find something important, something I can’t even name yet.

I’m just about to give up on my research for the night when I hear a commotion and a few people shushing someone, then a familiar face comes into view. Riley is stumbling down the aisle, a stupid grin on his face as he slides into the seat across from me. He opens his mouth to speak and I shush him too, glancing around to see who’s judging me right now.

Okay…no one I know.

Because I don’t have any friends besides Riley.

“Relax,” he says, leaning on his elbows. “Last I checked, this was a judgment-free zone.”

He’s disheveled as usual, his dark hair sticking up in all directions. His shirt is wrinkled and he smells strongly of mead.

Whereas I’ve thrown myself into my work, Riley is making friends—like he always does.

“Let me guess.” I cock an eyebrow. “You got kicked out of another bar?”

“It wasn’t my fault this time,” he says. “Some Mlok group was hogging the pool table and clearly didn’t know how to play. I think…it has something to do with their talons. So I tried to teach them because I’m friendly.”

I snort. “And how did that go over?”

“He growled at me,” Riley says, grinning. “But it’s fine. They’re all bark, no bite.”

“Pretty sure they’re all claws and teeth, but okay,” I mutter.

Riley laughs. A few more people shush him. “You’re spending way too much time with your books. Or…are you just looking for another encounter with your ghost?”

My eyes slide up to meet his and I roll them as dramatically as I can. I should never have told him about my close encounter in the Archive—he will never let me live it down.

“It wasn’t a ghost,” I insist. “I told you; it was probably just a trick of the light and too many hours alone in silence. These things happen.”

“Sure,” he says with a smirk. “But you were still out of breath when you met me in town that night.”

I glare at him, but the memory creeps back—the shadowy figure, the voice in my head, the brilliant flash of light. I shove it aside, refusing to let it linger.

“That’s because it was late and I was…tired,” I snap. “Like I said, it’s a hazard of the job.”

“Or maybe you were being chased by the ghost of some ancient librarian,” he says, eyes wide. “Do you have some overdue books or something? ”

“I swear I will throw this notebook at you,” I warn, holding it up.

He laughs again. “You would never. You’re too obsessed with your research?—”

“You’re disturbing the other guests,” a voice says, cutting into our conversation.

I glance up and feel a pang of dread as I realize it’s one of the librarians. She’s tall and lean, with pale green skin and crystalline eyes that glint under the glow lamps. The Skoll tend to look intimidating even when they’re polite, and this one is no exception. Riley freezes like he’s been caught breaking curfew.

“If you would…” she says, gesturing for us to leave.

“Sorry,” I murmur quickly, glaring at Riley. “We were just going.”

He flashes her a sheepish grin but says nothing as I gather my notes, stuffing them hastily into my bag. A few other students glance up as we leave, some with looks of irritation, others simply curious. I keep my head down, feeling strangely exposed.

It’s only a few minutes later that Riley is getting what he wants—me abandoning my work so he can drag me off to God knows where. I wrap my arm around him so he won’t stumble, and then we’re strolling out onto the plaza, his arm on my shoulders.

“I’m starving,” he says. “Aren’t you?”

“I was actually thinking I’d get you home so I can?—”

“Uh-uh,” he says. “You are not getting out of hanging out with me again. I’m starting to think you don’t even like me anymore.”

“Fine,” I groan. “What do you want?”

The glow lamps along the plaza cast soft, shifting colors over the stone pathways, their light blending with the alien architecture around us. Students and scholars weave through the space in clusters, their conversations mixing into a low hum. The air smells faintly of something sweet—spiced mead, maybe, or one of the sugary desserts I haven’t dared try yet.

“There’s this great Mlok street vendor on the way home, stays open late,” he says. “We can grab some food, wander the markets…maybe meet up with a few friends?—”

I shake my head, already thinking about my work. “I can’t, Riley. I’ll get dinner with you, but I’m so close to figuring this out. If I could just find one more connection?—”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks, and I know for a fact it doesn’t happen that fast.” His tone is gentler now, and he slows us down so he can look me in the eye. “I watched you go through your dissertation. I know what burnout looks like. You can’t solve the mysteries of the universe if you collapse from exhaustion first.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, stiffening.

“You’re not. You’re obsessed. And you’ve been spending so much time with the shadows that you’re starting to look like one yourself.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. Riley’s trying to help, in his own way, and I know he’s right. He knows me better than anyone; we grew up together, went through the harsh discipline of Catholic school together, stood up with each other when we didn’t have any other family.

But I want to solve this.

It’s not just ambition—it’s a need, an ache that’s been gnawing at me ever since I first discovered the fragments about Elixir back on Earth. I feel like the answers are close , just out of reach. If I could stretch far enough, dig deep enough, maybe I’d finally…

As if on cue, all the voices around me erupt.

Not aloud—inside my head.

The hum of thought bubbles in my mind like static, rising too quickly for me to shove it down. Snippets of words, emotions, half-formed sentences from the crowd around us: someone fretting over an exam, another wondering what they’ll eat for breakfast tomorrow, someone else…dreaming. It’s like standing in the middle of a crowd that’s shouting, but I’m the only one who can hear. I close my eyes, trying to drown them out, focusing on Riley’s voice instead.

“Page,” Riley is saying, reaching out and touching my shoulder, “I’m really worried about you. Is it the headaches again?”

I open my eyes and chew on my lip, debating whether I should tell him. Nobody else knows about my powers. I’ve been writing this off as headaches, but Riley will only believe me for so long.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Just a little headache.”

“You should really go and visit the hospital,” he says. “I’m sure they’ve got some kind of medicine for migraines.”

“Nah.” I smile. “I think I just need something to eat.”

Riley grins, clearly pleased with my answer. “Now that’s the spirit. Let’s go get you some real food.”

He tightens his arm around me, steering me toward the markets at the edge of the plaza. The library’s glow fades behind us, replaced by the lively chatter and clinking sounds of Mythara at night. Even at this hour, the streets are buzzing with life—students, scholars, and travelers crowding the stalls, voices overlapping in hundreds of languages.

The glow lamps lining the streets are multicolored here, their light mingling with the neon hues of signage and flickering displays. Merchants call out to us, but Riley obviously has just one thing on his mind.

“I thought you were pissed at the Mlok,” I chuckle. “Something about their tails…?”

“Hey—even if they’re cranky, they make some great food,” Riley says .

He pulls me up to a small stall, a Mlok vendor behind it as she cooks something on a stone grill. Her scales gleam faintly under the light, a deep emerald green with hints of gold. The frill around her neck flutters slightly as she turns the skewers over the fire. She looks up with reptilian eyes, tongue darting out as if she wants a taste.

It brings a memory back—a memory of a hungry shadow.

“You’re going to love this,” Riley is saying. “Two spicy skewers, please.”

The Mlok vendor lets out a low growl of acknowledgment, sharp teeth flashing as she turns the skewers over the fire. Riley leans on the counter, grinning like he’s made the greatest discovery of all time.

I shake my head, resisting a smile. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be here to study, you spend a lot of time eating your way through the market.”

The Mlok puts out two clawed hands, and we each take a skewer.

“It’s called cultural immersion,” Riley says. “You should try it sometime. Live a little, fall in love…”

I roll my eyes, but I take a bite of the skewer, the smoky flavor filling my mouth. It’s…actually fantastic. Riley was right.

“See?” He smirks. “Told you.”

We wander through the market as we eat, weaving between stalls draped in colorful fabrics and glowing trinkets. A Ka’reth vendor is selling something that looks like dumplings, their soft, downy fur catching the light as they explain the dish to a curious human couple. Further down, a Jotunbei brewer—easily nine feet tall—stands beside a cart stacked with jars of honey.

It’s beautiful. Vibrant, chaotic, alive. But I can’t stop my mind from drifting back to my work, the fragments of stories and symbols and clues .

Riley nudges me. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“You’re back in the Archive, aren’t you?”

I sigh, taking another bite of the skewer to buy myself a moment before answering. It’s some kind of fish and it tastes fresh. The more I eat, the more I like it. “I can’t help it, Riley. I feel like I’m close to something—like the answers are just out of reach.”

“You’re always close to something,” he says. “But you’re not going to find it tonight. You need to let your brain breathe for once.”

His voice is soft now, almost pleading. I glance up at him, at his crooked grin and the faint afterglow of a night drinking too much mead.

I know that even though he’s drunk, he’s right.

But I also know I won’t stop.

“You’re relentless,” I mutter.

“You’re stubborn,” he shoots back. “But that’s why we make a great team. Need to balance each other out.”

He extends his hand and takes mine.

“And that’s why I need you too, Page. Don’t disappear on me.”

I give him a weak smile. “Okay…I won’t.”

“Promise?”

The smile gets stronger. “Promise.”

We finish our skewers as we wander further into the market, the streets getting quieter as we reach the village. This part is mostly residential, with quiet tea shops for studying late at night. I can hear the ocean in the distance, and above us, the stars of Yrsa’s Cradle shine brightly.

For a moment, I let myself exist here, in this strange, beautiful place, with my brother, my best friend, by my side.

Then…not voices. A voice .

Just one, drowning out the rest .

It’s faint at first, probing…then he’s there, in my mind. It’s the man from the library, looming in the darkness. Maybe he wasn’t there physically…but mentally.

Maybe we share the same power.

I’m so hungry , he’s saying.

“Page, look at me.”

I snap back to reality, and I realize that I’ve dropped the empty skewer. Riley is gripping my shoulders, searching my eyes.

“What…what happened?” I ask. “Sorry, just?—”

“I really need you to go and get your head checked out,” he says. “And…please get some sleep, Page. I’m being serious, I can’t lose you?—”

“You’re not going to lose me, Riley. But you’re right about sleep. We should probably get going.”

He nods. “Good. Let’s get you home.”

As we walk deeper into the village, I glance over my shoulder at the market one last time. The stalls are still glowing, the voices still murmuring, but there’s something else now.

A shadow, moving just at the edge of my vision.

I blink, and it’s gone.