Page 51 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

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T he chamber where they’re holding the Thorne’s tribunal is drafty and echoing—a symposium room, usually, but now it feels more like a criminal trial. Every whispered voice, every shifting movement bounces off the high dome above, amplifying the pressure until it feels like I can’t breathe.

And everyone else’s thoughts…they’re deafening.

My one saving grace in all this is that Lyn seems to have decided not to tell Dr. Rhyss—or anyone—about my powers. If she had, I would be in a whole lot more trouble, and we planned for those consequences…but she didn’t.

So now, I have to sit here and listen to all these chattering minds.

Except for Thorne, who is completely silent.

He stands at the center of the room, cuffs joining his wrists behind his back. His silver hair is tied into a bun, purely on my urging, and he’s still wearing the clothes Riley lent to him, making him look at least a little more like a normal person .

Of course…he’s not, is he? There’s no one else like him in this room, even with the various species gathered here.

The Tribunal sits in their semi-circle, banners of each Pact species hanging behind them. A symbol of unity in theory…but in practice? All I can think about is the fact that they’re threatening the man I love.

At the center of it all is Administrator Kyral, the Merati chief of security and a professor of military strategy in the Nautilum. He’s tall, regal, with silvery skin and flowing robes, white-blond hair flowing down his back. I don’t know anything about him, but I’ve heard he’s stern and ruthless.

And, of course, there’s Kaelion Rhyss seated to Kyral’s right. His purple-tendril hair shifts like it’s alive, his glowing blue eyes fixed on Thorne. He doesn’t look at me, but I see the flicker of his gaze when Thorne is brought forward.

The Tribunal has never seen anything like this—a Borean fugitive, thousands of years old, who lived among us unnoticed. The weight of it hangs over everyone.

Davina rises first; my single hope on the Tribunal.

She looks as steady as ever, dressed in loose black pants and a long, crimson red robe. There’s a golden chain strung between her antlers, a pendant depicting an icon of the goddess Yrsa hanging from it. For all the tension crackling around us, Davina is calm, behaving like she’s faced down far worse than a room full of administrators. She doesn’t even glance at Thorne as she passes him, though she looks to me and nods.

“Members of the Tribunal,” she begins, her voice loud and clear. “I come before you not to defend a criminal, but to illuminate an unprecedented opportunity.”

A ripple runs through the room at her choice of words. I hear the thoughts, disjointed, overlapping.

Opportunity?

—what does she mean ?

This is absurd ? —

—he’s dangerous…

I tune them out. I have to.

“For centuries,” she says, “the loss of the Borean archives has loomed in our academic memory as a tragedy. When the Empire erased their history, they effectively cut us off from any avenue of understanding the peoples who terrorized the cosmos for millennia. The Skoll rebellions, the Nyeri’i Cataclysm, the War of Reclamation…the Convergence. We know what happened. But how much do we truly understand why ?”

Her question lingers, capturing the audience.

“We have grown comfortable with a simple narrative,” she continues. “The Borean Empire as a monolith of conquest—a dominating force with the wholesale buy-in of every single one of its subjects. But I would argue that’s the history that the Empire wanted us to believe, because as this man recently told me, an empire cannot seem eternal if it has a history.”

The room stirs, a few people nodding. I cling to those faces, searching their thoughts…seeing they agree.

“We’ve known for many years that there were dissenters in the Borean Empire, but that they were violently silenced. Some of those voices have names and titles—including Lirian Xhaeven, Soryn Drevaris…and even Zerithek Nexorin, the mentor of the accused—but some do not. Thorne Valtheris was one of them.”

“Show us the sources!” someone shouts. A Merati, laughing with a few other scholars across the room from me. I glare at them, but Davina seems happy about this development, giving them an appraising look. Thorne doesn’t move; he just stands still and proud, face impassive, as though every word isn’t potential damnation.

“I will,” she says. “Because there’s an entire collection of documents regarding Borean collaboration with the Skoll and Merati, concealed deep within the Obscuary…and I’ve de veloped a report delivered to the Tribunal just this morning.”

A few of the councilors nod along; the Jotenbei administrator, a female green giant from the Arborium, looks open to hearing Thorne’s story.

“The Obscuary,” Davina continues, “was more than a storage place for our most dangerous texts. It was built as a sanctuary of knowledge shared between species—Boreans, Merati, Skoll—before we had even made contact with any others. The Archive was not an isolated anomaly, but a symbol of collaboration.”

I chance a peek at Professor Rhyss, and I find that he actually looks…thoughtful. I lean over to Riley. “Is that normal for him?” I whisper, gesturing.

Riley frowns, then looks back at me. “Actually…I think he’s buying it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Thorne Valtheris helped with the creation of the Obscuary,” Davina is saying. “And when he fled Borealis to escape persecution for his opposition to the Celestial Convergence, he returned here. Now, he’s revealed himself with the intent of translating and cataloguing the texts in the Obscuary, and he can supplement those texts with real experience .”

She looks back at Thorne.

“This man is an invaluable asset to our research,” she says. “And yes, I suppose he could provide that information from captivity…but he was a dissenter. A scholar, like us. I ask you to consider his concealment in the Obscuary not as a transgression, but an opportunity for understanding.”

With that, she steps back and returns to her seat.

The room goes silent.

But people’s thoughts don’t .

They whirl with possibility, with research questions, with opinions and condemnations. I try to get a read on the room by listening, but it’s no use; the voices are too loud and too many.

Kaelion Rhyss rises next, his tendrils flicking around his neck. His eyes seem to brighten as he surveys the room, and when he speaks, his voice is smooth and deliberate.

“My fellow esteemed scholars,” he says. “While Professor Ferhalda has presented some fascinating information about this man’s role in the crimes of the Borean Empire, I am here to remind you of reality.”

I feel myself tense, bracing for what’s coming. Thorne bows his head, closing his eyes.

“No…” I whisper. “Don’t do that. It makes you look guilty.”

“The Borean Empire acted with impunity when it came to their enemies…and their subjects,” Rhyss says. “The domination of Kanin, the Nyeri’i Cataclysm, the Celestial Convergence…they were not accidents. Not some inevitability of history. Those atrocities were the result of choices made by the Borean Empire—by its leaders, its soldiers, its scholars .”

He looks at Thorne, eyes narrowed.

“The same Magisterium this man belonged to, if Davina’s report is correct, produced numerous bigoted creeds against Pact species. They argued that the Skoll were nothing but barbarians, that Nyeri’i mysticism proved we were weak-minded. The academic establishment on Borealis provided the theoretical foundation for their people’s dominion over the cosmos, and the loudest voices of dissent were quashed. Those who were quiet, subtle…what was their purpose in the end?”

A familiar mind suddenly brushes against mine, and I look across the lecture hall to see Lyn in the audience, sitting alone. She’s biting her lip hard, eyes sparkling as she stares at Thorne. I think she feels…conflicted. Not entirely vindicated, but still so, so angry.

“When one’s people are committing crimes against the rest of the universe—especially when you’re someone like Thorne Valtheris, who was in a position of power—are you not complicit in your silence? Your acceptance?” He grimaces, closing his eyes for a moment. “Thorne left before the Convergence…but where was he when the Skoll were enslaved and sent to be slaughtered? And where was he when the Boreans mined the Nyeri’i Trinity planets until they were torn asunder?”

Rhyss’s voice echoes through the room, rippling outward. I feel the impact in my chest, the air squeezed from my lungs as though he’s asking those questions of me . Of course, I knew all of those things from books, but hearing it from the lips of someone who lived it…

…it always hits different.

And that guilt Thorne feels? It’s over the pain of someone like Rhyss.

He pauses, letting the weight of his argument hang heavy in the air. “We Nyeri’i,” he continues, his voice lower now, almost reverent, “know too well the cost of silence. The destruction of the Trinity was not a singular catastrophe—it was the death of an entire way of life. Of art, of culture, of identity. It was annihilation. Our planets were destroyed, and we have now been a spacefaring species for hundreds of years. We were left without a home. And now we are asked to trust someone who hid while others died.”

His glowing gaze settles fully on Thorne then, sharp and unyielding. “Do not mistake survival for heroism.”

I look back at Lyn, finding her face in the crowd…and God, she’s looking right at me. In that moment, I get it, when I never did before.

I understand why Thorne felt so very guilty. I understand why some people want him put in prison until he wastes away.

And yet…I still want him.

Thorne is still. Silent. But I see the tension in him, the way his shoulders have drawn just slightly tighter, like every word has hit exactly where Rhyss aimed. The Nyeri’i doesn’t need to say anything else; he takes his seat with slow deliberation, clearly shaken.

But there are two more people who have been given permission to speak today.

Thalara rises next.

She hesitates for only a breath, her datapad clasped tightly in her hands as she makes her way toward the podium. I see the nerves in the way her shoulders bunch, the way her steps are cautious and small. She tosses her long blue-black braid behind her back and clears her throat, looking down at the datapad.

“I am sympathetic to Dr. Rhyss’s grief,” she says softly, her voice shaking slightly at first but strengthening with each word. “I understand it because the Borean Empire nearly erased my own history too. The Merati homeworld was nearly mined to extinction. But…” She stops, visibly steadying herself, then lifts her chin higher. “The Merati may not have been as blameless as our history likes to suggest.”

That draws another murmur from the crowd, angry and growing. But Thalara clears her throat once again, and she somehow holds her ground.

“During my research on interspecies marriage in the Turitella,” she says, holding up the datapad and raising her voice, “I found evidence that some Merati royal lines intermingled with Borean. They collaborated…and some dowries even included the spoils of war.”

The murmurs swell to outrage, punctuated by sharp gasps of disbelief. A ripple of shock runs through the Tribunal, their stoic expressions faltering. I hear scattered thoughts crashing together, fragments of hurt and rage and doubt.

Impossible…

—she’s wrong.

The Merati wouldn’t!

Thalara’s hands tremble around her datapad, but she just keeps getting louder, gaining steam. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” she asks. “How else would idols of Yrsa, stolen from Skoll settlements, have ended up in the royal palace on Triton? Or Nyeri’i sacred texts, buried in Merati tombs far beneath the waves of Tortuga? I knew it would be hard to hear, but history is rarely as simple or as clean as we would like to believe.”

Her gaze sweeps across the Tribunal, lingering on Administrator Kyral. “The Merati aristocracy was fractured by those alliances. Some resisted the Borean Empire. Others chose to profit from it.” She pauses, letting her words sink in. “The records were buried—but they survived, scattered across forgotten archives. Hidden even from ourselves. Until now.”

Administrator Kyral’s silver brows draw together in a sharp line, his expression unreadable. The faint glow in his pale skin dims as he processes her words. “You make a dangerous claim, Lady Seviris.”

“I make a truthful one, Administrator.” Thalara doesn’t back down, almost like she’s strengthened by Kyral using her title. “The existence of Borean dissenters complicates the narrative even further. This man,” she turns to gesture toward Thorne, standing motionless at the center of the chamber, “was part of something bigger than himself. A collaborative effort between Boreans, Merati, and Skoll.”

Another wave of whispers fills the air, but Thalara pushes on, growing bolder with each word. “I have cross- referenced my findings with those Professor Ferhalda uncovered in the Obscuary. Together, they paint a new picture—one of resistance within the Empire. One that challenges the assumption that all Boreans were unified in conquest.”

Her words cut through the noise like a knife. The crowd begins to quiet again, curiosity tempering their skepticism.

Thalara straightens her shoulders, her voice rising. “You call Thorne Valtheris a fugitive. But what if he is something more? What if his story is a key—a chance to understand the mistakes of the past and prevent them from repeating?” She looks back at Thorne, her gaze softening. “He has knowledge that no one else alive possesses. And knowledge is more powerful than war.”

Professor Rhyss stiffens in his seat, but he says nothing. Again, I catch a glimpse of doubt…and even curiosity. Kyral’s gaze narrows slightly, and I can feel the tension in the air shift.

Thalara lowers her datapad to her side. “If we silence him, we silence the voices of everyone who fought against tyranny. Everyone who lost their lives to it. That is not justice. It is willful ignorance.”

The chamber is silent now. No more whispers, no more angry thoughts crashing into me. Just Thalara, standing in the center of it all, radiating determination.

She dips her head in a small bow before returning to her seat. Riley reaches for her hand as she settles beside him, giving it a quiet squeeze.

I want to cheer for her, but I can’t. My throat is too tight, my chest too heavy.

Because now, all eyes turn to Thorne.

The guards step back, and Thorne steps forward to the center of the room. For a moment, he simply stands there, looking out at the Tribunal, at the gathered scholars, at us . His silver eyes catch the light like polished glass, unblinking and unreadable.

He looks at me once…and my heart plummets.

He’s about to shoot himself in the foot, and I can’t do anything to stop him.

“Dr. Rhyss is right,” he says.

The air leaves my lungs in one hard rush. I want to scream at him, but I know better than to interrupt. I can’t help him if I’m in prison too, I’ll need to stay free if I want to advocate for him.

Thorne keeps going. “I was part of the Magisterium. I knew what was happening, what the Empire was becoming. And I was too much of a coward to fight back.”

Rhyss stiffens, his tendrils flicking. The murmurs rise again, more confused this time. Thorne doesn’t flinch.

“I ran,” he continues, his voice steady but heavy with grief, “when my people began preparing for the Convergence. I saw what was coming and I left. I fled to the Obscuary, where I hid while the galaxy burned.” He pauses, closing his eyes as though the memory itself is a weight he cannot bear. “That silence was my greatest sin.”

The murmurs hush. Even the minds around me—so loud and disjointed moments before—are quiet now.

“But hiding,” Thorne says, opening his eyes again, “was not the end of my story. It was not the end of the Obscuary’s story. What was built there was not simply a vault. It was a promise. A promise that knowledge—true knowledge—would survive. And I will not allow my silence to cost more lives.”

He lifts his chin, his voice ringing out, stronger now. “I am not asking for forgiveness. I do not deserve it. But I will give you everything I know. I fully intended to let myself die in the Obscuary, to allow my legacy to vanish with me…but I was convinced to emerge. And now, I will translate every word, every record. I will ensure that the mistakes of my pe ople are remembered so that they are not repeated. That is the only atonement I can offer.”

He bows his head, just slightly. “Please. Let me do this.”

The room is still.

Administrator Kyral rises, his expression unreadable, and the guards step forward again. Thorne straightens, turning toward them, and I feel like I’m being dragged out of my chair with him, like I’ll fall apart if they take him from me again.

“The Tribunal will deliberate,” Kyral announces, his voice ringing through the room. “You will have our decision soon.”

I can’t breathe.

The guards clasp their hands on Thorne’s arms, leading him back toward the exit. For a moment, just before the doors close, his gaze finds mine. It’s only a second—barely that—but it’s enough.

He sees me.

And I know he’s holding on.

As the doors shut behind him, the silence crashes down again, heavier than ever.

We wait.