Page 10 of The Viking in the Vault (Galactic Librarians #2)

RAGNAR

T his cannot be M’mir.

Elena stays beside me as we walk through the damaged passages of the archive–not a Borean prison, as I thought, but somehow so much worse. There are no more Borean prisons…no more Skoll expeditions, no more war for liberation. The war is won.

Everyone I knew…everyone besides Fenrik.

I reach down to scratch the skarnhound behind his ears, hoping to catch even snippets of conversation and understanding very little.

Elena talks with her friends–not other prisoners, but young scholars.

She tells me M’mir is a large school now, not the vault of forbidden knowledge that it was the last time I was here–before Stormcaller took flight.

Before my whole world came to believe I was dead.

The archive takes shape as we move into the areas that weren’t damaged, ultimately climbing aboard a levitating platform that carries up to a higher level.

It’s light outside again–my second day with Elena–and I wince at the light.

She looks up at me, worried, and I'm surprised when she takes me by the hand and says something to her companion, the Skoll–only for them to start translating.

“Elena want…warn you…might be a lot…outside,” the Skoll, Ves, says. Their command of my language leaves much to be desired, but I take it as a blessing from Yrsa that at least there's someone capable of speaking to me. “Big changes…M’mir.”

I grunt, looking down at my fenvarra, and she gives me an encouraging smile. I find I dislike this new dynamic; before, I was saving her from a dangerous enemy…now, I'm like a wide-eyed, frightened child being led by the hand into an unknown world.

“Tell her I have been through far worse than she could possibly know,” I mutter.

Ves relays the information and I watch Elena for her reaction, waiting to see the annoyance on her face.

She doesn't look annoyed at all–which, if anything, makes me feel worse.

Elena glances up at me, her expression softening.

She says something in response, her voice gentle, and Ves translates again, haltingly.

“She say…she know…but still want to…help.”

Her words stir something in me–the only warmth I've felt in centuries, a deep and abiding love for this woman I hardly know. She has no reason to care for me, yet she does. Perhaps it’s her nature, or perhaps she feels responsible for finding me in this shattered place.

Either way, I allow her to keep hold of my hand, though it makes me feel like a fool. I should be taking her to my ship, introducing her to my crew, carrying her to bed…

Instead, she leads me around like a lost pup.

We make the final trek through a magnificent entry hall, pillars of ice arrayed around us. The older Merati female–their leader, I think, looks back at me as we move toward the door. They confer with Elena, who squeezes my hand as if to brace me for what I'm about to see.

I steel myself. It can't be that bad…can it?

Then the door opens, light streaming in.

At first, I’m struck by the brightness of the sky. The auroras dance across the heavens even at dusk, casting the landscape in hues of green and blue. The air is sharp, colder than I remember, and the terrain…

The thought again occurs to me: this cannot be M’mir.

The ice cliffs are taller, their edges jagged and worn, as if the centuries have carved away at the land itself.

Or…no, that's not it at all. The cliffs have been intentionally carved away, a glowing village–a city–built in the shelter of those cliffs. Structures I don’t recognize rise in the distance, sleek and alien.

The horizon is dotted with strange vehicles gliding smoothly over the ice, their engines humming faintly, and a zipping vehicle moves faster than I can track, over the mountains and then out over a frozen sea.

My chest tightens. This is not the galaxy I left behind.

Elena looks up at me again, her dark eyes searching my face. She says something softly, and Ves translates. “It’s…been long time. Many changes. But…safe now.”

Safe.

The word rings hollow in my ears. How can it be safe when everything I knew is gone? When the very land beneath my feet feels foreign?

I step into the open air, my boots crunching against the snow, and Fenrik follows close at my heels.

The skarnhound’s ears twitch, his gaze sweeping the unfamiliar landscape with the same wariness I feel.

Elena stays close, her presence steadying, but the others hang back, their voices hushed as they observe me.

“Elena,” I say, her name unfamiliar yet comforting on my tongue. She turns to me, her expression open, and I shake my head, struggling to find the words.

“This…” I gesture at the horizon, at the vehicles, at the distant buildings. “This is not…M’mir.”

She frowns, then speaks to Ves, who hesitates before translating. They speak quietly, saying more than would be necessary for a mere translation.

I hate that I don't know what they're saying about me.

Elena nods slowly, then says something back, her tone firm but kind. Ves struggles with the translation, but I catch enough to understand.

“This is M’mir. Just…different now. Time…changed it.”

Somehow, those simple words are what destroy me.

The weight of it crashes down on me, more suffocating than the cold. I stagger back, my breath coming in shallow gasps. Fenrik whines, pressing against my side, but even his warmth can’t ground me.

“Elena,” I rasp, my voice shaking.

She steps closer, concern etched across her face. She says something to Ves, but I don’t hear the translation. The world is spinning, the ice beneath me unsteady, and the sky above feels like it’s collapsing.

“Elena,” I say again, clutching at her arm. “Yrsa’s mercy…how long? How long exactly?”

Ves answers hesitantly. They told me back in the archive that it had been a while, but this…it's impossible.. “Long…long time. Expedition missing…four thousand years.”

Four thousand years.

The words echo in my mind, a hammer striking an anvil. Everyone I knew—my crew, my family, the boisterous younger brothers I promised I would return to—they’re all…

Gone.

I sink to my knees, the snow biting through my trousers, and bury my face in my hands. The weight of it all—the loss, the disorientation, the sheer impossibility of what I’ve woken into—it’s too much.

Fenrik nudges my shoulder, whining softly, and Elena crouches beside me, her hand resting gently on my arm. She speaks, her voice soft and soothing, and though I can’t understand the words, the tone eases the jagged edges of my panic.

“Ragnar,” she says, her voice trembling as if she knows. Then she touches my heart, meeting my eyes. “Fenvarra.”

I know she doesn't know what it means–that she understands it merely as a word that could bring comfort–but I don't care. Without another moment's thought, I reach out and take her in my arms, clutching her to me, heedless of what her associates might think.

I don’t know how long we stay like that—her hand on my arm, Fenrik pressed against my side—but eventually, the storm inside me begins to calm. I lift my head, meeting Elena’s gaze, and for the first time, I see not pity, but determination.

“Come,” she says, the word clear and firm. She stands, offering me her hand.

I take it.

The path winds down the foothills, toward what appears to be some sort of station.

Swift-moving vessels race along golden tracks, letting some people off and others onboard.

I catch more than a few strange looks, Elena remaining at my side the entire time.

She looks over at Ves and they share a murmured conversation before Elena looks up at me–and in my own language, says, “You are safe.”

We’re re-routed from the station to a smaller vessel, much to my relief.

I hesitate before I get in, but Elena leads the way, Fenrik hopping in behind her.

The rest of our party clambers inside, save for the reptilian male and the winged female.

Both are species I’ve never encountered before, more to pile on the list of things that are alien to me.

This is not the world I left behind.

Once we’re inside, the smaller vessel hums to life, the walls smooth and alien, with no visible controls.

Elena says something to the others, her voice calm and sure, and then she gestures for me to sit.

Fenrik settles immediately by her feet, his tail wagging faintly as if trying to reassure me.

I can’t help but glance at the door as it seals shut with a soft hiss.

This is not how I imagined M’mir would look—or feel.

The fortress I once knew was a bastion of cold steel and unyielding purpose, its walls lined with the whispers of forbidden knowledge.

We created it as a stronghold to store our histories, when the Boreans seemed intent on destroying all that did not serve them.

But this…this city, these people—they are soft in a way I don’t understand. Their clothing, their technology, even their voices lack the sharp edge of necessity that shaped my life.

I feel like an intruder in a dream, a relic misplaced in a world that has long since forgotten me.

Elena leans slightly toward me, her hand brushing my arm.

I glance down at her, and she offers a small, reassuring smile.

The warmth in her gaze cuts through the overwhelming strangeness, anchoring me in the moment.

Despite the chaos in my mind, despite the feeling that I’m drowning in unfamiliarity, her presence is steady, constant.

Ves sits across from us, speaking quietly to the older Merati scholar.

They keep looking at me, their expressions filled with curiosity and something else—pity, perhaps.

I clench my fists, wishing I could understand them, wishing I could demand answers instead of being left to piece everything together like a child.