James White Library Novels & Stories

MAYA'S POV Libraries had always been sanctuaries. The hush, the smell of paper and dust, the sense of ordered knowledge. Today, the branch felt like a bunker. We chose a study carrel in the farthest corner of the reference section, surrounded by towering shelves of forgotten statutes and geological surveys. James had swept it for devices. Liam watched the main floor, a silent sentinel. I sat with my hands folded on the scarred wooden table, the rings on my finger feeling less like jewelry and more like armor I’d reluctantly donned.