Page 76 of The Alien in the Archive

I smile back.

Riley steps toward the alcove’s exit, then pauses, glancing back at me. “Take care of her,” he says. “Because uh…if you don’t, I know where you live.”

“I will,” I promise. “And understood.”

He nods once before disappearing into the shadows of the Obscuary. As his footsteps fade, I glance down at Ashlan, who chirps softly and curls up at my feet again.

“Well,” I mutter, picking up my pen, “that was…unexpected.”

Ashlan doesn’t respond, but his quiet presence is oddly comforting as I turn back to the Borean Chronicle, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air.

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Between my own research, my psychic powers, and my budding relationship with an ancient alien vampire, I've got enough on my plate. But when a historian friend tells you she's had a breakthrough on something you might be interested in…?

You go. No argument.

Thalara is waiting for me in the entry corridor to the Turitella, at the top of the lift. She’s dressed more casually than usual—no elaborate updos or coral-hued gowns tonight. Instead, her blue-black hair is swept into a simple braid over one shoulder, and she’s wearing a flowing turquoise blouse with pearlescent buttons, a white skirt underneath. She looks younger like this, less like a Merati princess and more like someone I might have gone to school with.

“You look excited,” I say as I approach, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “Which honestly has me excited.”

“You should be!” she replies with a grin. “You’ve piqued my curiosity too much, Page. Borean history…Borean alliances. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since our last visit.”

I blink at her. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now come.” She loops her arm through mine. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

We reach the annex and then Thalara is guiding me down into the stacks, where I found her the last time I was here. This time, Thalara doesn’t stop there. She leads me down a narrow corridor lined with shimmering mother-of-pearl panels. The light here is softer, gentler, casting rippling patterns on the marble floor as though we’re walking beneath the waves.

“This is one of my favorite places in the tower,” Thalara says as she directs me into a study carrel tucked into a quiet corner. She closes the door behind us, then sits down at the table. “Perfect for long conversations and uncovering ancient secrets.”

I settle into the chair opposite her, glancing around at the compact yet cozy space. The walls are lined with glowing shelves, each one filled with thin, iridescent tablets and slender books bound in materials I don’t recognize. On the desk between us, Thalara has already arranged a small stack of texts, their covers ranging from richly embossed leather to smooth, pearly surfaces.

“Are we diving into Merati history today?” I ask, nodding toward the pile.

“Not just Merati,” she replies, her tone suddenly more serious. She picks up one of the mother-of-pearl tablets, running her fingers over the engraved characters with a reverence that makes me sit up a little straighter. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…but you must promise to keep it between us.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Of course.”

Thalara sets the tablet down gently and leans forward,lowering her voice. “The Merati don’t like to talk about this, but we have a long history with the Boreans. Much longer than most people realize.”

“What kind of history?” I ask.

“Allies,” she says simply. “And more than that—there was intermarriage. Hundreds, possibly thousands of unions, recorded on tablets like this one.” She taps the smooth surface of the tablet on the desk. “It’s not something we advertise, but there was a time when our peoples were deeply intertwined.”

I blink, trying to process the weight of what she’s saying. “Intermarriage? But the Boreans were?—”

“Terrifying?” Thalara finishes for me, a hint of a smirk on her lips. It's a look I know well—the look you get when you find something in the archive you know is going to piss the right people off. “Yes, to most. But to the Merati, they were something else entirely. Partners. Collaborators. Like, if you look here…” she slides a tablet over to me, “the Homeworld War of Reclamation wasn't waged against a Borean usurper; she was the rightful queen, intermarried with one of our male heirs…and half-Merati.”

Merati history isn’t my specialty, but I try to think back to that war—when a Borean magister intent on mining Homeworld for Elixir was overthrown by a Merati prince and his human consort. “Queen Lamia was Merati?”

Thalara nods, eyes sparkling. “It’s why some of our oldest cities are built with Boreans in mind—the architecture, the materials, even the pathways through our underwater domes. They were the first surface dwellers we ever came into contact with…and we got the transmatter technology needed to walk on land from them.”

I stare at her, stunned. “Why doesn’t anyone talk about this?”

“Because it doesn’t fit the narrative,” she replies, herexpression sobering. “The Boreans are remembered as conquerors, and the Merati are remembered as diplomats. To admit that we were once allies complicates that story. It forces us to confront the fact that we weren’t always the serene, enlightened race we claim to be.”

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