I didn't expect the next threat to come from inside our own walls again so soon, but that's exactly where it found us, three nights after Voss's death, in the shape of a young guard I'd barely spoken to before that night changed everything I thought I knew about him.
Finn was maybe twenty-two, earnest in a way that hadn't yet been worn down by the particular exhaustion the rest of us were carrying, and I'd noticed him mostly for his habit of double-checking the archive's exterior locks every night without anyone assigning him to do it — a small, unasked-for diligence that Garrick, watching from a distance, had apparently noticed too.
It was that same diligence that caught the intruder.
"I heard the archive's side latch before I saw anything," Finn told us afterward, still slightly breat
