Page 32 of The Viking in the Vault (Galactic Librarians #2)

RAGNAR

T he ice shifts beneath my feet. The walls tremble. A deep, distant groan reverberates through the frozen corridors of the Eiskammer, and I know—we do not have much time.

“Elena!” I reach for her just as another tremor rolls through, knocking her off balance.

I catch her easily, her body fitting against mine as the others stumble, scrambling for stability. Ice fractures overhead, and Fenrik lets out a sharp bark, ears pinned back, pressing close to my side.

“We need to move,” Dr. Kallisto says, her voice tight. Her comm blinks furiously, scanning the seismic activity. “The collapse is spreading.”

“Stick together!” Davina calls. “Do not run—stay in formation!”

I nod, adjusting my hold on Elena before setting her back on her feet. She’s shaking, but her chin is lifted, her jaw set. She is afraid, but she does not give in to it.

Pride swells in my chest.

“This way,” I say, motioning for the others to follow.

Fenrik is already ahead, his nose low to the ice, his body tense. His paws barely make a sound as he moves, instinct guiding him deeper into the tunnels.

Behind me, the others hesitate. Kallisto glances down at the silver comm on her wrist, the device flickering with data, mapping the shifting tunnels in real time. She presses her lips into a thin line, weighing options. Logic against instinct.

Logic is slow. Instinct is fast.

She exhales sharply and falls in step beside Davina.

The tremors haven’t stopped. They’re weaker, but the ground beneath us still hums with something unsettled, something shifting far below. Ice cracks somewhere behind us, the sound like a branch snapping in deep winter.

We move.

I keep my stride long, forcing Elena to keep up. The last thing I want is for her to slow, to falter, to hesitate when the tunnels could still collapse at any moment. She’s breathing hard, her breath fogging in the air, but she doesn’t complain. She doesn’t question me.

Behind her, Ves mutters something under their breath, and Rishik lets out a sharp exhale.

We turn a corner. The passage narrows, the air thick with cold.

Fenrik stops.

I freeze.

The others stumble to a halt behind me, silence falling heavy over the group.

The tremors have stopped. The ice is no longer groaning under pressure.

Still, something feels…off.

Elena shifts beside me, her breath unsteady.

“We should?—”

A sound cuts her off. Low. Distant.

Like ice settling…or something else shifting below.

Kallisto pulls out her datapad and frowns. “We need to figure out where we are before we go any further.”

I inhale deeply, scanning the tunnel ahead. “Fenrik knows the way.”

Kallisto lets out an unimpressed huff, but she doesn’t argue.

We survived. For now.

But something tells me the ice is not finished with us yet.

Elena pants beside me, bracing a hand against the nearest frozen wall. Around us, the others check their gear, their bodies, their friends.

“We’re alive,” Cosmia breathes, pressing a hand to her chest. “I thought—” She cuts off, shaking her head.

“No one is injured,” Rishik says, scanning the group. “Some bruises, but we’re all in one piece.”

Dr. Kallisto exhales, checking her comm again. “We’re deeper than we should be,” she mutters. “The collapse forced us off the primary research path. I need a moment to reorient our coordinates.”

“I can lead us back,” I say. “Fenrik has a trail.”

“Not yet,” Kallisto says sharply. “We need to know where we are first.”

Fenrik lets out a soft whine, pawing at the ice ahead. I frown, my instincts prickling.

“Something is here,” I say.

The others turn toward me.

Fenrik moves ahead, sniffing at the ice, circling a patch of wall that looks no different from the rest. His ears twitch, his tail stilling.

I step forward, pressing my palm against the frozen surface.

I see a flicker of something beneath the ice—something metallic. The color is faint, just barely catching the light. But it’s there.

Close.

“Help me clear this,” I say, my voice rough in the still air.

Elena is the first to move, stepping toward me without hesitation, but Dr. Kallisto reaches out to stop her.

“What are you doing?” Kallisto snaps. “You could destabilize the tunnel even more?—”

“No.” I point at the ice, at the glint beneath the surface. “Look. There’s something here.”

Elena drops to her knees, pulling a scraper from her pack, and together we begin working at the frost.

Kallisto exhales sharply but doesn’t stop us.

The others hesitate, then move closer. Rishik pulls out his datapad, adjusting the settings as he scans the wall. His frown deepens.

“There’s something underneath,” he murmurs. “Something metal.”

I don’t need him to tell me.

I already know what we will find.

A pod buried in ice.

Just like mine.

The air tightens around me as we clear more of the frost. Slow at first, then faster, the shape revealing itself inch by inch: Curved edges. Worn plating. Not pristine like my own had been.

Something is wrong.

Elena wipes a hand across the glass viewport, clearing the frost, and there—inside?—

A Skoll.

Frozen.

Dead.

Elena inhales sharply and staggers back, covering her mouth. I can do nothing but stare—because the face beneath the glass is familiar, even through the years, even with frost-glazed eyes and vacant features. The memory stings, regret surging through me as Fenrik nudges my hand, whining.

I press my hand against the glass, my pulse roaring in my ears. Elena comes closer again despite the fear I can scent all over her, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder.

“Ragnar?” she whispers. “Do you…do you know this person? Or I guess…did you?”

“Her name was Syf,” I murmur. “She followed me…joined the crew because she thought…”

I shake my head, withdrawing my hand to run my face down my hand. This pod has been here for thousands of years, but for me, it was yesterday—a female who insisted fate didn’t matter, who told me she loved me regardless.

I insisted that my fenvarra was out there, in the stars.

She wouldn’t listen.

“I don’t understand,” Elena says. The others are watching in silence, like some great drama is unfolding before them. I wish they would leave me alone. “Ragnar…talk to me.”

I swallow hard, my fingers curling against the ice. “I told her not to. I told her she would not find what she was looking for.”

Elena hesitates, her breath still uneven from our escape through the tunnels, but she makes the decision to draw closer. I can feel her body heat even through her gear, and her touch…I want it to soothe me.

It doesn’t.

Because I am floating through time.

Staring into Syf’s frozen face, the past and present blur and tangle.

“Whatever happened, it’s not your fault,” Elena whispers.

“I was their captain,” I say. “If she’s here…is the rest of the crew dead, too? Did they crash—and why did I survive?”

Elena flinches, reminding me that I’ve asked a cruel question; I survived because Yrsa deemed it so, because my fenvarra was waiting in the distant future. Now, she’s here…and I am so very ungrateful.

“I uh…” Cosmia cuts in with a quiet voice. “I hate to interrupt, but I don’t want to linger too long if it isn’t safe; do you think that Fenrik can get a scent for other pods?”

Fenrik’s ears twitch at the sound of his name, and he lets out a soft huff, pressing his nose back to the ice. He circles the pod, sniffing intently, his tail lowering in uncertainty. His body language is tense, cautious.

“I don’t know,” I murmur, my voice rough. “If there are others, they could be deeper. Buried.”

Elena pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, watching Fenrik work. She’s trying to keep her emotions in check, but I can feel them shifting beneath the surface.

Dr. Kallisto kneels beside the pod, brushing a gloved hand along the aged metal. “This isn’t just wear from time,” she says, inspecting the structure. “It looks like it sustained damage before it was buried.”

I swallow hard. “A crash.”

Davina frowns. “But how? You said these pods were meant to deploy in emergencies, correct?”

“They were,” I say. “But they weren’t meant to malfunction.”

Elena glances up at me, eyes shadowed. “You think she was awake when it happened?”

I don’t want to answer.

Because I already know.

Skoll stasis pods are not meant to fail. If she died here, frozen in this way…it was not instant.

A sharp chill crawls up my spine.

“We should open it,” Rishik says, adjusting his datapad. “At the very least, we can extract some data, try to piece together what happened.”

A low growl rumbles in my throat before I can stop it. The idea of disturbing Syf’s rest—of prying open the place she spent her last moments—fills me with unease.

Elena notices, her hand brushing lightly over mine, grounding me.

“We don’t have to do that right now,” she says softly. “We can…mark the coordinates. Come back.”

Kallisto lets out a long breath, considering. “Fine,” she says, though she doesn’t sound pleased. “Cosmia, Rishik—stay here and begin analysis. The rest of us will move forward.”

Cosmia and Rishik exchange glances, but they nod.

Elena lingers beside the pod as the others begin preparing to leave. Her gaze flickers between Syf’s frozen face and mine, hesitation knitting her brow.

“Were you two…” she pauses. “Did you?—”

“I’ve never loved another,” I interrupt, shaking my head. I go to Elena and take her hands, hoping she’ll forgive me. “But she wanted me to. I just hope…I hope I didn’t leave the others to die, too.”

I squeeze Elena’s hands, willing her to understand.

She swallows. Nods. But her expression is uncertain, and I hate it—I hate that I’ve made her unsure of me .

“I just need to know one thing,” she murmurs. “If she had been your—your fenvarra …if fate had chosen her?—”

“I would have loved her,” I admit. “But she wasn’t. And I knew it. And she knew it, even when she refused to listen.”

Elena exhales, nodding again, more firmly this time. Her fingers tighten in mine.

“Ragnar, Elena,” Dr. Kallisto calls, impatient. “We need to move.”

I release Elena’s hands. The moment fractures.

Cosmia and Rishik have already set up their equipment, the soft hum of scanners filling the corridor. Kallisto is checking coordinates, muttering something to Davina. The others are shifting, restless.

And Fenrik—he’s staring down the corridor, like there’s more waiting for us, one paw raised, eyes unblinking. His tail wags once, but I can’t tell if it’s a sign that he’s eager to get moving…or that he scents something familiar.

Either way, I’m certain things are about to get far more complicated.

And I have to hope that Elena will stay by my side regardless.