Page 52 of The Alien in the Archive (Galactic Librarians #1)

52

THORNE

T he world narrows to a single moment.

I stand in the holding chamber behind the Tribunal’s doors, the faint hum of the psycho-suppressive cuffs gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. The guards flanking me say nothing, their silence as heavy as my own. I barely notice them. My mind is a constant hum of Page— Page, Page, Page. I can’t feel her yet, but I know she’s close. I know she’s waiting.

The doors creak open.

Light spills in, bright against the cold stone of the walls, and the guards gesture for me to move. My legs are stiff, my muscles aching from hours— or days? —of stillness, but I walk forward anyway. Every step reverberates, impossibly loud in the vast Tribunal chamber.

The room is just as I left it—vast, echoing, filled with faces I don’t care to see—but my eyes land on one thing.

Page.

She’s sitting near the front, on the edge of her seat, her hands clutching the edge of her coat so tightly her knuckles are white. Thalara and Riley sit on either side of her, but it doesn’t matter. She’s the only thing I see. Her gaze meets mine as I’m led into the center of the room, and I swear I feel it— her —just beyond the edges of the suppression field.

Almost there.

Administrator Kyral rises, his silver robes catching the light. The room quiets, the low murmurs dying like wind snuffed out by a storm.

“Thorne Valtheris,” he says, his voice measured and grave. “The Tribunal has reached a decision.”

My focus sharpens as I stand in the center of the room, the psycho-suppressive cuffs still digging into my wrists. I don’t move, but every muscle in my body tenses as though bracing for a blow.

The Merati administrator stands tall as he surveys the room. “The case presented to us over these proceedings has been…unprecedented,” he says. “The crimes of the Borean Empire are not forgotten, nor are the scars they left on the Pact species. And yet, history—true history—is rarely simple.”

His gaze shifts toward Kaelion Rhyss, whose presence has loomed over the Tribunal like a storm cloud since this began. The Nyeri’i scholar sits motionless, his tendrils still, his glowing blue eyes locked onto Kyral. He doesn’t look at me, but I feel his attention as sharply as if he had.

Kyral continues, “Professor Rhyss has proposed a compromise that reflects both the gravity of the charges against Thorne Valtheris and the potential value of his knowledge. He will remain on M’mir under strict supervision. His movements and activities will be monitored, and he will work under the guidance of Professor Davina Ferhalda to document and translate the texts discovered in the Obscuary. ”

A murmur rises through the crowd, questions and opinions buzzing in fractured waves of thought. I ignore it all, my mind latching onto one word.

Supervision.

I’ll be free— conditionally. The cuffs are no longer permanent.

“And this proposal,” Kyral continues, his gaze still on Rhyss, “has been influenced not only by the arguments presented by Professor Ferhalda and Lady Seviris, but also by the…persuasion of Professor Rhyss’s own students.”

The murmur swells louder, and my gaze snaps to Kaelion Rhyss. For the first time since this began, I see something other than stoic in his expression. Frustration, maybe. Fatigue. He stands slowly, deliberate as ever, and when he speaks, his voice is calm but not as cold as before.

“When Thalara Seviris presented her findings,” he begins, “I could not deny the truth of her words. History has painted the Borean Empire as a monolith of villainy—but that oversimplification blinds us to the nuance that must be uncovered. We, the Nyeri’i, are no strangers to the cost of silence.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and I hear a faint intake of breath from somewhere in the crowd.

“Our people lost the Trinity—the Nyeri’i homeworlds—because we failed to act soon enough,” Rhyss continues, his voice steady, measured. “We silenced dissenters. We let them disappear because their ideas were inconvenient, and when the Borean Empire came for us, we were too fractured to defend ourselves.”

He sighs, shaking his head.

“This,” Rhyss says, gesturing toward me, “is not an easy choice. Thorne Valtheris was complicit through his silence, as were many. But history requires context. And Lady Seviris has shown us that our understanding of interspecies relations—particularly Merati-Borean alliances—was far more complex than we’ve allowed ourselves to believe. Knowledge like this cannot be ignored.”

He turns his head slightly, his gaze flicking—just for a second—and I follow his gaze to see Page’s friend Lyn Walker, who’s seated near the back of the chamber. She’s watching him closely, her hands balled into fists on her lap, her face ashen.

“And sometimes,” Rhyss adds, almost reluctantly, “the younger generation reminds us of things we would rather forget.”

I blink. I never thought I’d hear anything like that from him.

But I understand…because Page has taught me more than I ever imagined I could know.

Kyral inclines his head, as though satisfied. “The Tribunal has taken Professor Rhyss’s proposal under careful consideration. We agree that, under strict supervision, Thorne Valtheris’s knowledge represents an unparalleled opportunity for historical scholarship. His failure to act against the crimes of the Borean Empire does not excuse those crimes, but his testimony may yet serve a greater purpose.”

His gaze shifts back to me, and for the first time, I see something more than judgment in his pale silver eyes. Curiosity. Interest.

“Thorne Valtheris,” Kyral says, “you are hereby remanded to the supervision of Professor Davina Ferhalda. Your movements will be restricted, and you will submit to regular oversight by Library Security. Your purpose is clear: to assist in the cataloging and contextualization of the Obscuary texts, to provide testimony of your experience during the Convergence, and to contribute to a broader understanding of the Borean Empire’s history.”

The guards step forward, unlocking the cuffs from my wrists .

And suddenly— suddenly —the silence that has plagued me for hours is gone.

I stagger slightly, the sudden rush of sensation hitting me all at once. The bond roars back to life like a dam breaking, overwhelming me with warmth, with light, with her.

Thank God, oh fucking thank God…

Page’s thoughts fills my mind, profane as always, and I inhale sharply, as though I’ve been drowning and finally broken through the surface.

I can’t stop myself. My feet move before I realize what I’m doing. The guards move to stop me, but they’re too slow–and I’m across the chamber in seconds.

Page is already on her feet, her hands reaching for me before I even get there. I catch her around the waist and pull her close. I can hear the vague thoughts of others in the room, the judgments and the condemnations, but I just don’t care.

“Thorne,” she breathes, her voice trembling. She pulls away slightly to cup my face in her hands as she meets my gaze. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and her smile is wobbly, but it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “We’re okay?”

I swallow hard. “We’re okay.”

The world around us doesn’t matter. The Tribunal’s murmurs, the scholars watching, the tension still lingering in the air—it all fades to nothing.

This isn’t over.

The thought cuts through the moment, harsh and real. I know it as well as she does. Kyral’s compromise keeps me out of a cell, but it doesn’t set me free. I’m on borrowed time, watched, judged at every step.

But I don’t care.

We’re together.

I pull her close again, holding her like I can keep the rest of the world at bay. My body aches, my mind feels bruised, and my past still looms behind me like a shadow I can never quite escape.

But in this moment, her warmth anchors me.

I’m not alone anymore…and with Page, I know I never will be again.