Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Turi hadn’t realized how vast the library was until she began to explore its every nook and cranny. The days without Ellion were long and silent, and she found herself seeking solace among the rows of books and datascreens. Her forays into reading had expanded into a deep hunger for knowledge. She wanted to understand everything—her own species, Ellion’s, and especially the Axis. What was it, really? Ellion called it “they,” and made it sound like the Axis was a group, rather than a thing or one single entity. And why did they hold so much power over all of their lives?

As she delved deeper into the library, the air grew thick with the scent of aged paper and forgotten words. There were parts that Ellion didn’t go to very often, which made sense since much of the material back there was either copies of books found elsewhere in the library, or dull tomes of weather patterns or technical surveys that made no sense to her. Still, there was a chance for something new and useful to be found.

The dust motes danced in the shafts of light that pierced the high windows, casting a serene glow over the shelves. Turi’s fingers traced the spines of books that hadn’t been touched in ages. Maybe it was a fruitless search. Surely Ellion knew every book in his library, and if there was anything that contained information about her people or some great secret about the Axis, he’d know. But would he tell her?

He’d already said there were secrets he had to keep. So maybe there was something to find in this library. It was with this thought that Turi stopped at shelves that covered the far wall from ceiling to floor. They were filled with volumes in large collections, each with the same bindings, and titles such as, Astronometric Variants of Class 8 Asteroids, Volume 26, and none of them tempted Turi to pick them up. But she stood staring at a section of books on the bottom shelf that sat pushed out farther from the otherwise perfect line of books. Curiosity piqued, she crouched down and pulled out the volumes that obscured the anomaly. She peered to the back of the shelf and found herself staring at a thick, metal-bound book. There was no doubt it had been hidden there. Her heart beat harder as she reached inside and removed it.

The cover was cool to the touch, and a fine layer of dust suggested it hadn’t been disturbed for a very long time. Turi’s heart pounded as she opened the book.

Not a book, but a journal. It only took a glance to see the pages were filled with Ellion’s familiar, precise handwriting. And if she needed any more proof, right on the first page was Ellion’s name, written plainly. She turned to the first entry with a little guilt—it was his , after all. But when she saw the date on that first entry, her hesitancy vanished. It was from nearly six hundred years earlier.

Turi blinked at the date, trying to make sense of it. Ellion had told her that he was one hundred twenty five in her years, which would make this entry impossible. She flipped through other pages with a sense of shock and horror. All the dates in the journal were sequential, but ancient. They predated even the oldest stories that were told in the settlements about the overseer. About anything .

With a sick feeling in her stomach, she skimmed the first entries. They chronicled the early days of the Terian settlements. Plenty were of counts of people and supplies, weather conditions and resources. Ellion kept detailed accounts each month in this book. The thing that made Turi’s blood turn cold and her hands begin to shake was one constant and repeated phrase: Penal Colony 5-11B.

The people of the settlements were called “inmates.” They weren’t native to the planet, but were brought there in transport ships. And right there, in Ellion’s clear handwriting, he kept a log of the number of uprisings, attempts at escape, and deaths.

Three inmates were apprehended and confined for escape.

Two inmates executed for setting fire to an Axis transport shuttle.

Ten inmates transferred to an off-planet facility for rehabilitation.

Fifteen inmates died. Causes: starvation, eight; accidental injury, one; execution, four; infighting, two.

The lists went on. Each one was as cold and detached as the last. Ellion added to these early entries with his personal perspective detailing the Terians initial arrival and the establishment of the penal colony. Ellion’s words painted a vivid picture of a time when the Terians were still reeling from the loss of their home world and their newfound status as prisoners. The journal spoke of the overseer’s role in maintaining order and ensuring the Axis’ demands were met, no matter the cost to the Terians.

Turi’s hands trembled as she read. The realization that Ellion had been in this role for far longer than she had ever imagined was staggering, although she wondered if there was another explanation for the time. It was one thing to know that the Axis was an ancient being—or beings —with immense power. It was another to confront the possibility that the male she was falling in love with had an unnaturally long life that spanned six hundred years.

That he hadn’t just kept secrets. He’d lied to her about everything.

She turned the pages with a mixture of dread and fascination. The early entries continued to be clinical, detailing the day-to-day operations of the settlements, the quotas for food production, and the various ways in which the Axis exerted their control over the Terians. But as the years passed within the pages, the tone of Ellion’s writing shifted. There were hints of doubt, of questioning the morality of his role. He wrote of the Terians’ suffering, their resilience, and their unyielding spirit despite the harsh conditions they faced.

Turi came across an entry that made her breath catch in her throat. Ellion had written about an encounter with a group of Terian rebels who had dared to challenge the Axis’ authority. The rebellion was swiftly and brutally crushed, but not before Ellion had spoken with their leader—a Terian male who had implored Ellion to see the injustice of their situation and to help them reclaim their freedom.

The journal did not reveal what had become of the rebel leader, but it was clear that the encounter had left an impact on Ellion. His entries became more introspective, more critical of the Axis. He began to document the small acts of kindness and rebellion among the Terians, noting them as signs of their will to survive and to preserve their culture and decency.

As Turi read on, she noticed a change in the handwriting. It became less precise. The sentences became shorter and filled with frustration and anger. Ellion wrote of his growing disillusionment with the Axis, of his desire to break free from their grasp and to find a way to atone for his part in the Terians’ oppression.

The journal ended abruptly with a quarter of the pages left blank and untouched. There was no entry for the following month. It was as if everything had stopped. But it hadn’t. That last entry was dated about four hundred years earlier. Plenty had happened at the settlements between then and now, and Ellion was still very much here . She shut the journal with a head full of swirling thoughts. What happened?

Turi held the book against her chest, heart slamming against both, and raised her chin. The only way to get to the truth was to go to the person who wrote the book: Ellion himself.