Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

V era frowned down at the paper she was grading, then sighed. There were many things she loved about teaching, but grading was not one of them.

"You can't just state that Enlil was the god of air, Emily," she muttered to herself. "You need to support your claims with evidence."

She scribbled a few lines of feedback, then made several more comments before she finally finished the paper. Adding it to the stack of graded papers, she sat back and rubbed her eyes. When had it gotten so late? The sun was already sinking towards the horizon outside the big dormer window, casting long shadows across the cramped office. As a PhD student and teaching assistant she only rated a small room on what was euphemistically called the third floor of the history building, but was in fact the attic.

Not that the size really mattered. She smiled as she turned on her desk lamp and the soft golden glow filled the room. The bookcases under the eaves were filled with her books, with more stacked close to her desk, and she could see the sky through the big window and look down on the peaceful campus. This office was her domain, her sanctuary, her haven from the mundane world outside.

A loud growl from her stomach reminded her that she'd missed dinner. Again. She pulled an energy bar from the stash she kept in her desk drawer and returned to her grading. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the slow passage of time. Just as she graded the last of the papers, a knock at the door broke the silence.

"Come in," she called.

The door creaked open, and Megan entered. A pretty, bubbly blonde who worked part-time for several of the professors in the department, she was always trying to lure Vera out of her office. Now she dropped gracefully into the worn armchair in the corner of the office and grinned at her.

"How's it going?"

She sighed and pointed at the neat stack of papers.

"Just trying desperately to drum some sense into these students about the importance of historical context."

Her friend rolled her eyes.

"You and your history obsession. I swear, you're trying to change the world."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do. If we don't learn from the past, we're doomed to repeat the same mistakes. Look at the wars, the injustices, the?—"

Megan held up her hands, grinning. "Okay, okay, I get it. History is crucial. But don't you ever want to take a break from studying and planning how to save the world?"

She returned the smile.

"Not while I've got this thesis to finish. And even then, there will always be more to uncover, more secrets to unearth and more lessons to learn."

"Well, take a break tonight, at least," Megan said hopefully, standing up. "Drinks at McGillicuddy's. I'm buying. You in?"

She considered it briefly, then shook her head.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I really do have a lot of work to do."

Megan gave a dramatic sigh.

"You're going to burn out if you don't relax occasionally."

She knew her friend meant well, but how many people over the years had told her to slow down, to not work so hard, to stop obsessing about the past? She pasted a practiced smile on her face as she shook her head again.

"I'll relax when I've made a difference, and the first step towards making a difference is completing my thesis."

Megan shook her head and gave another sigh.

"Fine. But you're going to have to join us eventually - unless you really want to turn into a hermit."

"Only occasionally."

Her friend laughed and left, and the room fell silent once more, somehow even quieter than before. Was Megan right? Was she turning into a hermit, passing up the pleasures of the present for the lure of the past? Suddenly restless, she wandered over to the window. An intricate lattice of branches framed the evening sky as a flock of birds took flight, their silhouettes dancing across the fiery orange of the setting sun. For a heartbeat, she envied their freedom, their ability to spread their wings and soar wherever the wind took them.

But the ache was fleeting, a passing fancy quickly overshadowed by the allure of the mysteries that awaited her in the pages before her. This was her calling, her life's work – to unravel the secrets of the ancient world and shed light on the civilizations that had come before.

She'd been eight years old the first time she held a genuine archaeological artifact. Her class had been on a field trip to the museum and most of them were already bored and restless. She was already too tall, too awkward, and too smart to fit in with her peers and she'd lingered as they raced ahead, fascinated by the stories behind the fragments on display.

One of the docents responded to her interest and brought out a small shard of pottery. She could still remember the excitement that had coursed through her veins as she realized that she was holding something created by another person, centuries before. From that moment, she had been hooked, consumed by an insatiable hunger to know more, to understand the stories those silent relics held. That thirst for knowledge had guided her every step, shaping the course of her life and leading her to this office, this moment.

She smiled and returned to her desk, picking up one of the references she was using, a report from an early 19th century explorer. Outside, the university's campus grew quiet, the evening chill seeping into the big stone building, but she was oblivious to the passage of time. She was so engrossed in her work that she almost missed it at first – a faint, barely perceptible hum that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once.

The desk lamp flickered, casting erratic shadows across her workspace, and the hum grew louder. Her computer screen stuttered, the words blurring into a jumbled mess before snapping back into focus. She quickly pressed save, then checked the power cord, tracing it to the wall socket and finding it firmly plugged in. A passing power surge, perhaps? The university's ancient infrastructure was prone to such quirks.

She reached for her phone to report the incident, only to find it unresponsive, its screen an impenetrable black.

"What the hell?" she muttered, going to the window to peer out into the darkness. The campus grounds seemed undisturbed, no signs of commotion or emergency vehicles that might explain the strange occurrence.

She tugged on her braid thoughtfully, trying to come up with an explanation. A power surge wouldn't account for the persistent hum that still permeated the air around her. When she tried the desk lamp, flicking the switch on and off, it responded normally, casting a warm glow across her cluttered workspace, and she frowned at it. If it was due to a power issue, why were some electronics affected and not others?

The hum intensified, the air vibrating with an electric tension that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Suddenly, the space between her desk and the bookshelf rippled, like the surface of a pond struck by a stone.

A figure materialized in front of her.

An alien figure.

Her mind stuttered, unable to believe what she was seeing. The tall, thin body, the grey skin and large black eyes were the stereotypical image of an alien, but he couldn't be real. Aliens didn't exist. They certainly didn't appear in university offices on quiet Tuesday evenings.

The alien took a step towards her, brushing a loose paper off a stack of books in the process. As she watched the paper float to the ground, her heart started to race, a primal terror seizing her as the full weight of the situation crashed over her like a tidal wave. This was no hallucination, no power surge playing tricks on her senses. The creature before her was very real, and very much not of this world.

"Who … what are you?"

Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper, but the alien didn't respond. Instead, he calmly pulled a small device out of his pocket and aimed it at her. Her world exploded in a blinding flash of blue light. She tried to cry out, but her voice failed her. The room spun, colors blurring together as consciousness slipped away.

The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the alien looming over, those obsidian eyes reflecting her own terrified face.