Her expression doesn’t shift, but her silence is heavy with meaning. Skoll culture is one of loyalty, of legacy, of earning your place through persistence and excellence. She’s not judging me—but she’s waiting for me to explain myself.
“It’s not that I don’t value it,” I continue. “The work here, the archives, the prestige—it’s everything I used to dream about. But dreams change.”
Davina’s eyes narrow slightly, though not in disapproval. She tilts her head, waiting.
“I found something in the Arborium,” I say, my voice softer now. “Something I didn’t realize I was missing.”
Davina’s brows lift. “A rare manuscript?”
I huff out a laugh. “No. A…home.”
Davina’s eyes sharpen—not in a harsh way, but in the way an archivist notices when a missing puzzle piece finally slides into place.
“A home,” she repeats slowly. Then her gaze shifts. She studies me—not the way a boss does, but the way a historian watches a record rearrange itself in real time.
“You said you were visiting a friend,” she says. “And now you want to transfer to a small, underfunded archive that’s charming at best and chaotic at worst.”
I try not to fidget. “Yes.”
Her brow arches slightly. “This friend wouldn’t happen to be the beekeeper from the Arborium, would he? Your bodyguard on Earth?”
I blink. “You knew Garrik lived there?”
“I make a point to know my staff’s history,” she says. “And I remember you two were nearly inseparable in your field files. He once carried you three miles through collapsed terrain after a shelter breach, right?”
“Only two and a half miles,” I mumble, but the blush rising in my cheeks gives me away.
The corner of her mouth lifts ever so slightly. “So it’s not just the Arborium’s charm that has you glowing.”
I squirm, but I nod. “I…I know it sounds silly, but I love him. And I want to build something with him. And…I want tobelong somewhere that feels like mine. Earth never did, and here doesn’t either…but there really, really does.”
Davina exhales through her nose, slow and measured. Then she nods once and rises to her feet, her robes sweeping over the polished stone. “I can process the transfer by midday tomorrow. You’ll report to Archivist Letha in the Arborium. She’s an old friend. Strict, but fair.”
Relief floods through me—so much I almost feel lightheaded. “Thank you, Davina. Really.”
She levels a look at me. “You were always going to outgrow this place.”
That surprises me. “What do you mean?”
“You were never meant to be buried in a vault,” she says simply. “You don’t hoard knowledge—you live it. You carry it into the world. That kind of archivist is rare. Don’t lose it.”
My throat tightens. “I won’t.”
Davina reaches for a scroll interface hovering nearby and flicks it open. “And Iris?”
“Yes?”
“Next time the Arborium unearths a pre-Collapse seed archive or an alien codex bound in flower resin…” Her expression sharpens. “I expect a call.”
I grin. “You’ll be the first to know.”
Davina nods once, then turns back to her work.
And just like that, it’s done. I’m not just leaving the Grand Library.
I’m going home.
EPILOGUE
