The Archive smelled like dust, lemon cleaner, and secrets that had been sitting too long.
Kyle noticed all three immediately.
Liz pushed the heavy glass door open and stepped inside like she expected it to argue with her. It didn't. That somehow made it worse.
The front desk was empty.
"Friendly place," Kyle murmured. "Very welcoming."
"Don't touch anything," Liz said automatically.
Kyle held up his hands. "I wasn't going to."
She gave him a look.
"Okay," he admitted. "I was absolutely going to."
Rows of shelves stretched farther back than the building should allow. Kyle had been here once before and remembered it being… shorter. He didn't mention that. Yet.
Liz moved with purpose, scanning labels, already in her element. Kyle followed, keeping his voice low even though there was no one around to hear them.
"The hours changed again," she said. "Yesterday it closed at four. Today it's five."
"Maybe it got promoted."
"Kyle."
"Right. Serious face."
They stopped at a long table near the back where several books lay open, as if someone had been reading and simply vanished.
Liz frowned. "That's new."
Kyle leaned closer. "Do you think whoever was here forgot to leave?"
"I think they were never meant to remember they were here at all."
That wiped the smile off his face.
Liz flipped open one of the books. It was a town registry—births, deaths, arrivals. Names filled the pages in careful ink. Some were crossed out. Others were smudged, like someone had tried to erase them and failed.
"Kyle," she whispered.
He leaned over her shoulder. He didn't comment on how close they were. Neither did she.
"Those names," he said. "They look… tired."
Liz glanced at him. "Names can't look tired."
"Tell that to those."
She swallowed and turned the page.
Halfway down, a line was blank.
Not crossed out. Not smudged.
Just empty.
Liz's breath caught. "There should be something there."
Kyle felt it then—a low pressure, like the air had decided to pay attention.
A voice spoke behind them.
"Elizabeth Carter."
Liz froze.
Kyle straightened slowly and turned.
An elderly woman stood a few steps away, hands folded neatly in front of her. Her glasses were crooked, like she'd put them on in a hurry.
"You shouldn't be back here," the woman said pleasantly.
Liz found her voice. "The sign said the Archive was open."
"It is," the woman agreed. "Just not for this."
Kyle stepped slightly closer to Liz without thinking. "For what, exactly?"
The woman smiled at him.
It didn't reach her eyes.
"For noticing," she said.
The lights flickered.
A book slammed shut on its own.
Liz grabbed Kyle's sleeve.
"Time to go," Kyle said lightly, heart pounding. "We were just leaving."
The woman tilted her head. "You'll be back."
Kyle met her gaze. "Maybe. But not on your schedule."
They backed away together, then turned and ran.
The front door opened easily.
Too easily.
Outside, the air felt sharper, like the town had exhaled.
They didn't stop running until they reached the pier.
Kyle bent over, hands on his knees, laughing a little too hard. "Okay," he said between breaths. "That was officially not normal."
Liz laughed too—short, shaky, real.
Then she looked at him, eyes bright with fear and something else.
"You stayed," she said quietly. "You didn't leave."
Kyle straightened. "Yeah. Well. Someone had to make sure you didn't start arguing with the furniture."
She smiled.
It lingered.
Behind them, far across the town, a page turned itself in the Archive.
And Greywick made a note of their names.