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She couldn’t have said why she watched him the extra second she did. All she knew was that she was glad when the square swallowed him back up, and gladder still that she had somewhere to be. She hadn’t come all this way to arrive late on her very first day.

If she was honest, she wasn’t entirely sure why she had come to Eryssan at all. Or rather, why she’d been asked. Her name had been the last on the summons, and the smallest. The three days on the road had not made her any more certain it belonged there.

At the top of the tall marble steps from the square, the Grand Archive waited for her. She walked towards it carefully, feeling eyes shifting to her as she did so.

She went in through a side door, as instructed. Inside, the warmer air smelled of salt, parchment, and hot beeswax. A steward in grey robes gathered the newly arrived apprentices near the entrance hall. He was older than she expected. His face was weathered to the colour of the stone, but his robes were immaculate.

He led the apprentices through the vaulted corridors. Their footsteps echoed against the floor as they followed; some whispering nervously amongst each other, others craning their necks at the endless shelves of books.

Maia counted heads without meaning to. They were mostly young men with the deep brown hair and sun-browned skin common to the harbour districts. Eryssan’s blood ran warm and weathered most of the year, generations of dockworkers and fisherfolk showing in every face. There were a couple of older apprentices, and one other woman with wild curls and even darker skin a few paces ahead, trailing her fingers along the spines, murmuring titles under her breath like she was already committing the shelf order to memory. Maia wondered what it must feel like to walk into a place like this and simply belong.

“So, the rumours are true, then?” a voice asked. It belonged to one of the young men, ink already staining his cuffs. He walked beside her. The steward did not slow, but Maia saw him roll his eyes.

“What rumours?”

The apprentice hesitated. “The Umbralyn. Is it true they live amongst humans here?”

A few people in the group murmured, looking at each other. Maia listened closely, too. She’d spent years reading contradictory histories about the Umbralyn. They were referred to as invaders, exiles, guardians or even monsters, depending on who was doing the telling.

And it was exactly that disagreement that had caught her. A story no one could agree on was a story someone hadn’t finished asking questions about. She’d been hoping, more than she’d admit to the others in this hallway, that she might finally see one for herself.

“Some live and work amongst us here, yes.” The steward did not slow his pace.

The apprentice pushed. “We’re to work with them?”

The steward stopped then and turned, his stare sharp. “You’re to do as the archivists tell you.” He paused. “And if we are to understand the Fracture, we must understand those bound to guard it. And if you’d done your research adequately you’d know that means the Umbralyn.”

The apprentice scoffed quietly, but no one else continued the conversation. Maia swallowed, her pulse ringing loudly in her ears. The steward studied them a moment longer before turning again and resuming his brisk pace through the corridor.

“Come along,” he said. “You will have plenty of time for questions tomorrow when you begin.”

They passed beneath a series of high arches where narrow windows looked out towards the harbour. From this height, the sea stretched black and glassy beneath the darkening sky, lanterns bobbing between the ships below. Maia stopped herself from looking north again. She didn’t want the others to see her hands shaking in her sleeves.

The corridor opened into a circular chamber lined with narrow staircases that spiralled upward into the Archive’s upper levels. The steward gestured towards one of them.

“Apprentices’ quarters are above the Grand Archive, then to the left wing. Some of you will be sharing rooms, others may find more solitude. We do not operate as an inn, so you will forgive the modest arrangements.”

A few of the apprentices exchanged uncertain glances before climbing the stairs. Maia followed near the back, her fingers brushing the cool stone of the banister as they wound higher and higher into the tower.

At the landing, the steward produced a small iron keyring and began handing out their keys. When Maia reached him, he paused briefly to glance at a parchment list he had pulled from his robes.

“Colwyn,” he said.

She nodded. “Maia,” she confirmed.

“An old southern name,” he said, almost to himself. “They named their daughters for the tide-mothers, once. Before the coast forgot why.”

“Yes, sir.” She wanted to ask what the why had been, but he had already gone back to his list. She hoped where she came from wouldn’t count against her here.

“Hm.” His gaze lingered a moment longer before he handed her a key. “Room seven.”

Maia stepped aside as the others collected theirs. As she turned towards her assigned room, the outspoken apprentice appeared beside her again, looking both nervous and eager.

“Did you know?” he said quietly. “About the Umbralyn being here?”

“I’d heard stories,” she replied honestly. “But I didn’t know they worked in the Archive.”

“Work with us, you mean.” He pulled a face. “My father didn’t drag us across half the coast for that, I’ll tell you.”