Page 5 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

5

THORNE

T he silence of the Obscuary is not true silence.

It’s alive with subtleties: the faint hum of protective runes running through the towering shelves, the occasional whisper of air as a lantern swings gently on its chain. Voices of the occasional archivist, turning pages, the scratch of pen on paper.

I stay well away from it.

My alcove is far from the main corridors of the Archives, buried deep within the labyrinthine stacks that only a few dare to travel. Most never make it this far; those who try find themselves turned around, disoriented by the shifting paths. But I belong here, in the shadows where forgotten things fester.

I lounge in a stolen armchair, a book on ancient Nyeri’i timekeeping in one hand, the other scratching behind Ashlan’s ears. The little lumivix purrs softly, white fur warm and silky under my fingers, antennae glowing a soft, pleasant silver.

The light illuminates my skin, too pale even for my species—a shade that feels more like death than life. It’s no wonder the Pact species despise us, even after all these years.

We are, after all, the monsters of their bedtime stories.

This is my least favorite part of all the books—when the Boreans arrive, my people . They arrive on the Nyeri’i homeworld and they claim they’re friends; they bring alien technology, and all they want is one thing.

Elixir: the lifeblood of planets.

Even though I’ve read this story a hundred times, it still scrapes at my nerves like a jagged blade. My hands tremble slightly as I turn the page, forcing myself to steady them. The old anger stirs deep in my chest—anger at the atrocities I witnessed, the lies I believed, the actions I failed to take.

I should have done more. I should have stopped them.

Instead, I watched as we drained planet after planet, our ambition consuming everything in its path. It wasn’t just the Elixir we took—rivers turned to dust, forests stripped to barren husks, entire civilizations reduced to echoes of what they once were. We ripped out the hearts of civilizations, leaving nothing but hollow ruins in our wake.

The Celestial Convergence. I can still see it so clearly, the orgy of violence and power plays that marked the end of my people’s reign. I see the bodies—Nyeri’i, Skoll, humans—scattered like leaves in the wind, their deaths feeding our insatiable greed.

We deserved extinction.

But not me. Not yet.

Ashlan stirs in my lap, pulling me back from the abyss of memory. He stretches, yawning, his light flickering across the alcove. And then it happens again—the faint, tantalizing brush of her psychic presence, like a whisper through the cracks of my mind.

Her psychic resonance reaches me first…like the lightest br ush of delicate fingers against my skin, faint, unmistakable. It’s been lingering in the archive for days now, an intoxicating blend of wishful thinking and big ideas; a mind bursting at the seams.

I had to see her in the flesh.

Had to get the scent of her.

The urge was undeniable, and now I can’t forget.

Old books, warm flesh, and something far more dangerous…

Elixir .

The scent of Elixir clings to her, wraps around her like a net. She’s a trap for someone just like me—someone who hasn’t been touched in years, who’s starving for even a drop of the lifeblood I crave. It prickles at the edge of my awareness, a thread pulling tight, unraveling the fragile control I’ve spent centuries mastering.

I’ve avoided her so far, retreating deeper into the Archives whenever she’s near.

But I can’t keep doing it forever.

The faint scent of Elixir coursing through her veins is enough to make my jaw ache, a reminder of the hunger I’ve kept chained so long. A muscle ticks in my neck, canines pressing into my gums. I force myself to breathe.

It wouldn’t do to lose control now—not after all these years of careful restraint.

Ashlan senses my unease, lifting his head to nuzzle against my knuckles. His antennae glow brighter, casting long shadows around the co-opted and repurposed furniture, tapestries, books. I scratch him absently, trying to distract myself.

But the memories rise unbidden, as they always do when I’m unsettled.

The Celestial Convergence. Elixir-fueled orgies of violence and power plays .

Victims…dead and dying on Earth, on Eyela, on Kanin.

My people deserved to go instinct. But I remain, hiding in this labyrinthine library.

Ashlan chirps again, pulling me back to the present. I glance down at him and feel a pang of guilt. He doesn’t understand the depths of my darkness. He only sees me as I am now—a reclusive bibliophile buried in the Archives, hiding from the galaxy and himself.

And yet, even here, in the one place where I’ve found peace, she threatens to disrupt it.

I rise from my chair, the springs creaking beneath me, and pace the length of my alcove. Ashlan follows, tiny paws padding softly against the stone. The scent of her is stronger tonight, and I know she’s close.

Too close.

Intoxicatingly, deliciously close .

For weeks, I’ve kept my distance, content to let her wander the Archives in search of whatever answers she seeks. But her presence is a distraction I can no longer ignore.

Who is she?

Why is there Elixir in her blood? So much Elixir, more than I’ve ever sensed in a non-Borean.

And why, despite every instinct screaming at me to stay away, do I find myself drawn to her? Centuries of restraint undone by one girl .

How poetic.

How utterly pathetic.

Ashlan chirps, nudging my leg, and I glance down at him with a sigh. “I know, Ashlan” I murmur, voice hoarse. “I should leave it alone. But she’s…”

I trail off.

The truth is, I don’t know what she is. A threat? A curiosity? A reminder of everything I’ve spent centuries trying to forget?

Whatever the answer, I can feel the balance of my solitude tilting toward something dangerous and unknown.

And deep down, I know. I’ll give in to her eventually.

Because I’ve always been a monster…and monsters can’t resist destroying beautiful things.