Page 40 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

40

THORNE

I can’t tell her my true intentions, but now that Page is gone for the first time in days, I’m taking things into my own hands.

I have to contact Davina Ferhalda myself. I’ve asked Page for too much.

The blank parchment stares back at me as I hold the pen in my hand, brow furrowed. I’ve lived through revolutions, wars, and betrayals, but the simple act of writing this letter feels heavier than all of it combined.

To Professor Davina Ferhalda, University of M’mir–

I scrawl the salutation at the top of the page, then pause. The ink dries as quickly as my confidence wavers.

If I reach out to her directly…I’m putting both Page and myself in jeopardy. But if I don’t , I’m only delaying the inevitable.

With this letter, I can beg Page’s supervisor to keep her safe, no matter what happens to me.

I glance at the chronicle on the desk, its half-filled pages just the beginning of what I have to confront. The names and stories of the Borean dissenters I once knew haunt me. Most of them fought to their deaths to stop our species from embarking on a path of domination and destruction. I betrayed them by surviving.

And now, I’m asking for help from a Skoll scholar who has every reason to hate my kind.

I pick up the pen again, staring at the parchment as if this letter might write itself.

“Where do I even begin?” I mutter under my breath.

The Obscuary. This story started here…and this is where it will most certainly end.

I doubt you expected to receive this, nor would you have believed the source if you knew who I truly am. But I write to you not as an adversary, nor as a relic of the past, but as someone who shares your passion for historical truths and your respect for knowledge.

I pause, the pen hovering over the parchment. The words are polished…but hollow, too formal. Will she believe me if I hide behind the facade of a distant scholar? Or will she see this for what it really is: an act of desperation?

I keep going.

The Obscuary is more than a collection of books and artifacts. It was created as a bridge, a sanctuary for knowledge built thousands of years ago through the collaboration of Borean, Merati, and Skoll scholars. Its secrets are vast and vital, and I believe you have the strength and clarity to see them for what they truly are.

You’ve dedicated your life to understanding the past, and I trust you’ve felt its pull, its significance. Dr. Patience McRae felt that same pull, and that is why I trust you with this great secret.

I need to do this…and Page seems to trust Davina. The Skoll scholar has given us time, even when Page’s behavior has been undeniably strange.

I am Page’s source: Thorne Valtheris, the last Borean.

It feels ridiculous; reading that sentence makes me seem like so much more than I am .

I shake it off.

Though you have every reason to fear or hate what I am, I implore you to see the bigger picture. The Obscuary is not just my refuge—it is a legacy. One that must not be lost to ignorance or fear.

My thoughts drift to Page—the sacrifices she’s making, the risks she’s taking…all for me.

Beyond that, I write to you because I must beg you to protect Page. She believes in you—believes you will understand the stakes, the danger, and the potential of what we’re trying to achieve. Thus, I ask that you meet with me, and shield Page from the consequences of my secret. The choices that have led us here are mine alone, and I will bear them alone. Please do not let her suffer for her loyalty and conviction.

I almost add that I love her. That I need her, that Page—not the reading room, not the history I’m writing—is the most important part of this entire thing.

But I think this will do.

If you wish to get in touch with me, you can leave a return letter in the Borean genealogy section of the Obscuary. If not, please spare Page. It’s all I can ask.

The pen shakes slightly as I sign my name, then fold the letter. The weight of what I’m about to do settles over me, cold and heavy.

I stand, the letter clutched in my hand.

Page is back at her cottage; probably showered by now, gathering supplies to bring back with her. My chest tightens at the thought of her walking through the sunlit world, unaware of what I’m about to do.

If she knew, she’d stop me. She’d argue, plead, tell me I don’t need to take this risk. And maybe she’d be right…but I can’t keep dragging her down with me.

If anyone is going to face the consequences of the truth, it has to be me .

I shrug on my sweater and pull up the hood, then tuck the letter securely into an inner pocket. The Obscuary is silent around me, its vast halls and endless shelves holding their breath. Ashlan doesn’t follow me, sensing my mood.

It’s easy enough to slip through the gate. I’m a ghost, padding down the hall, finding Davina’s office. At her door, I hesitate only a moment before slipping the letter into the mailbox.

Then, it’s done.

I take a breath, force myself to turn away. The hallway is quiet, glow lamps casting a warm, steady light, and for the first time in days, I feel a strange kind of calm.

The letter is with Davina now; our fate in her hands.

Whatever comes next is up to her.