The Archive of Lost Lives
Chapter 1: The Book That Should Not Exist
Elías Varela had spent most of his life among books, but he had never seen one like this.
The library where he worked was old—so old that even the dust seemed to have settled in layers of forgotten history. It was the kind of place where time stretched and slowed, where the silence wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. He enjoyed the solitude, the scent of aged paper, the way his footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floors. This was his sanctuary, his refuge from a world that had never quite felt like his own.
On that particular evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the library emptied of its few remaining visitors, Elías began his usual closing routine. He moved methodically through the aisles, straightening books, ensuring everything was in order. But as he reached the farthest corner of the library—the section where the oldest, most fragile texts were kept—his fingers brushed against something that shouldn’t have been there.
A book, bound in deep blue leather, wedged between two crumbling volumes. No title on the spine. No author. It wasn’t in the records.
Elías frowned. He had worked in this library for over a decade, and he knew its collection intimately. He would have remembered seeing a book like this.
Curious, he pulled it free and turned it over in his hands. The cover bore no markings, but when he opened it, a shiver ran down his spine. The first page was blank except for a single phrase, written in elegant black ink:
“The Life of Elías Varela That Never Was.”
His breath caught in his throat.
It had to be a mistake, a coincidence. Yet as he turned the pages, he found moments described in meticulous detail—events that felt achingly familiar but undeniably wrong.
There were entries about his childhood, but with subtle differences: his mother had not died when he was ten; instead, she had lived, guiding him toward a different path. He had not abandoned his studies in philosophy; he had become a professor. He had not spent years alone in this library; he had married, had children, had built a life.
A life he had never lived.
His hands trembled as he turned the pages faster. The writing continued, describing events beyond the present—things that should have been, places he should have gone, conversations he should have had. But it was all fiction. It had to be.
Then he reached the final entry.
It was written in the same ink, but the words were different. Urgent. As if someone had scrawled them in a hurry:
“The Archive is watching.”
A sudden creak echoed through the empty library.
Elías snapped the book shut, his pulse hammering. The air had changed—thicker, charged, as if unseen eyes had turned their attention toward him.
From the shadows between the bookshelves, something moved.
For the first time in years, Elías felt truly afraid.
Elías took a shaky breath, forcing himself to think rationally. The mind could play tricks, especially in a place like this, where imagination was constantly fueled by the words of others. He peered into the dimly lit aisles, searching for the source of the noise. Perhaps a draft, a settling bookshelf—anything but the alternative his mind was beginning to construct.
Yet, the sensation remained. A presence. Watching.
Slowly, he slid the book under his arm and made his way to the librarian’s desk. The warm glow of the green-shaded lamp cast long shadows across the wooden surface. He hesitated, then opened the book again, flipping through its pages with a mixture of dread and fascination.
Some entries described moments he had no memory of but felt almost real. He saw himself in places he had never visited, speaking to people whose faces were unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. The inked words blurred at the edges as if the book itself was shifting, adapting, rewriting.
His fingers traced the last entry again. “The Archive is watching.”
What was the Archive? And why did it seem to know him so intimately?
A sharp knock at the library door made him jump.
The library had been closed for nearly an hour. No one should be here.
Elías hesitated, then placed the book inside the desk drawer and locked it. Swallowing down the unease rising in his chest, he walked toward the entrance. The knock came again, more insistent this time.
He unlocked the door, opening it just enough to peer outside.
A woman stood there, wrapped in a dark coat, her face partially obscured by the dim streetlight. Her eyes, a piercing gray, locked onto his with unsettling intensity.
“Elías Varela?” she asked, her voice smooth yet firm.
He gripped the doorframe. “Who are you?”
The woman exhaled, as if she had expected resistance. “My name is Liora Esquivel. I believe you found something tonight. A book.”
Elías felt his stomach tighten. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Liora’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “Lying won’t help you, Elías. If you have the book, you’re already in danger. And if you’ve read it…” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “Then the Archive has already marked you.”
The wind howled through the empty streets. Elías’ pulse pounded in his ears.
“Tell me,” Liora said, stepping forward. “Did you hear it move?”
He froze. The weight of her question pressed down on him like an unseen force.
Behind him, deep within the library, another book fell from the shelves with a heavy thud.
Chapter 2: The Rules of the Archive
Elías felt the air around him grow heavier. His breathing quickened as he looked at Liora, whose expression remained unchanged. Behind him, the echo of the book falling still resonated in his mind. Something or someone inside the library had reacted to their conversation.
“We need to go,” Liora said in a tone that left no room for argument.
“I can’t leave,” Elías replied tensely. “This is my library.”
“Not for much longer if you stay here. The Archive already knows you’ve read the book. And that changes everything.”
Elías hesitated. He didn’t trust this woman, but he also couldn’t ignore the sensation that something unseen was watching him, lurking in the shadows of the shelves. Before he could decide, the library lights flickered. A chill ran down his spine.
“The Archive is more than just a place,” Liora continued. “It is an entity that exists between possibilities. Its purpose is to preserve what never was. But there are rules. And you have broken them.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Elías insisted. “I just found a book.”
“Found is not the right word. The Archive showed it to you. Because it wants something from you.”
Elías felt a knot form in his stomach. Liora extended her hand.
“Come with me if you want to live long enough to understand.”
He hesitated for another moment. Then, with the weight of the book still pressing on his mind, he followed her out of the library, unaware that in the dimness between the shelves, a pair of golden eyes were watching him intently.
Elías followed Liora through the deserted streets. The night’s cold seeped into his bones, but his mind was too occupied processing what had just happened. He glanced sideways at the woman walking confidently beside him. There was something unsettling about her—her certainty, her knowledge of the book… and, most of all, the way she always seemed one step ahead of him.
“Where are we going?” he finally asked.
“Somewhere safe,” Liora replied without looking at him.
“Safe from what?”
“The Archive.”
Elías clenched his teeth, frustrated. He didn’t understand anything, and it exasperated him.
“If you want me to trust you, you’re going to have to explain what the hell is going on.”
Liora stopped abruptly and stared at him. Her gray eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.
“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” she whispered.
Elías shivered. It wasn’t just fear—it was the growing suspicion that, indeed, he had made a terrible mistake by opening that book.
Liora turned and continued walking. This time, Elías followed her without question.
After a few minutes, they arrived at an old stone building. Liora pulled out an ancient key and turned it in the lock with a metallic click. She pushed the door open and gestured for him to enter.
Elías hesitated, but the feeling of imminent danger pushed him across the threshold.
Inside, the place resembled a hidden library. Shelves lined with old books stood against the walls, and a large wooden table dominated the center of the room. Lit candles cast flickering shadows along the stone walls.
Liora shut the door behind them and leaned against it.
“Listen carefully, because I won’t repeat this,” she said gravely. “The Archive is not just a repository of stories. It is a living entity. It feeds on the lives that never were. And you… you have given it access to yours.”
Elías felt his head spin. He collapsed into one of the chairs.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “What does that mean?”
Liora sighed.
“It means you are now an anomaly. The Archive does not allow someone to see their own alternative life without consequences. Because the mere knowledge that it existed… can alter reality.”
Elías buried his face in his hands. All of this was madness. And yet, something inside him told him it was true.
“So, what do I do?” he finally asked.
“First, survive,” Liora answered. “And second… learn the rules.”
Elías looked up. At that moment, a cold wind swept through the room, making the candles flicker violently.
A new presence had joined them.
“Too late,” a deep voice murmured.
Elías slowly turned his head.
In the darkest corner of the room, a tall and slender figure emerged from the shadows. His face was pale as wax, and his golden eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity.
Cassiel.
“Welcome to the Archive, Elías,” the figure said with an icy smile. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter 3: The Threshold
Elías could barely breathe. Cassiel’s golden eyes locked onto him with an unsettling intensity, as if he were reading not just his thoughts but the very essence of his existence. Liora stepped forward, placing herself between them.
“He doesn’t belong to you,” she said firmly.
Cassiel tilted his head slightly, his expression unchanging. “Belong? Such an interesting choice of words. Elías made a choice the moment he opened the book. The Archive does not claim—it simply takes what is already offered.”
Elías clenched his fists. “I didn’t offer anything! I didn’t even know what I was doing!”
Cassiel’s thin lips curved slightly, almost amused. “Ignorance does not exempt one from consequence. You have seen your other life. And now, the Archive must decide what to do with you.”
Liora moved swiftly, pulling a small silver object from her coat—a key, but unlike any Elías had ever seen. Intricate engravings ran along its surface, shifting and shimmering as if alive.
“We’re leaving,” she said. “Now.”
Cassiel sighed. “You think a door can keep him safe? You know how this ends, Liora.”
“Not this time.”
She grabbed Elías’s wrist and yanked him toward the back of the library. Cassiel did not move to stop them, only watching with the eerie patience of something that existed beyond time.
Liora led Elías through a hidden passage, deeper into the labyrinthine halls. The walls pulsed with a strange energy, the very air seeming to hum with whispered voices. He struggled to keep up, his mind racing.
“Where are we going?”
“To the only place the Archive cannot reach you.”
They emerged into a vast underground chamber lined with towering bookshelves. Unlike the library above, these books seemed untouched by time, their bindings unmarked by dust or decay. In the center of the chamber stood an ornate archway carved from obsidian, its surface rippling as if made of liquid shadow.
Liora turned to Elías. “This is a Threshold—a passage between what was and what could have been. If you cross it, the Archive loses its hold on you.”
Elías hesitated. “And what happens to me on the other side?”
Liora’s expression darkened. “I don’t know. No one who has crossed has ever returned.”
Cassiel’s voice echoed through the chamber. “That is because they become part of the Archive itself. They do not disappear, Elías. They are rewritten.”
Elías spun around. Cassiel stood at the entrance to the chamber, his hands clasped behind his back. He made no move to stop them, but the weight of his presence alone was enough to send a chill down Elías’s spine.
“You have a choice,” Cassiel continued. “Cross the Threshold and lose yourself in possibility, or accept what has already been written.”
Elías’s mind reeled. The book had shown him a life he had never lived but desperately wished he had. If he stayed, he would always wonder—always question the choices that had led him here. But if he crossed…
Liora touched his arm gently. “The decision is yours, but choose quickly. The Archive does not wait.”
The obsidian archway pulsed, and whispers filled the chamber—thousands of voices calling out, pleading, warning.
Elías took a deep breath, then stepped forward.
As soon as his foot crossed the threshold, the world shattered around him.
Darkness engulfed him. For a moment, Elías felt weightless, as if floating in a void between existence and nothingness. Whispers coiled around him, threading through his mind like strands of lost memories.
Then, suddenly, he was standing on solid ground.
The world before him was… different. The sky was an endless expanse of deep violet, streaked with currents of golden light. Towers of books stretched infinitely in all directions, spiraling into the heavens. The air smelled of ink, old parchment, and something else—something alive.
A figure stood before him.
It was Elías.
Or rather, another version of him. Dressed in a dark scholar’s robe, his doppelgänger studied him with quiet curiosity, as if he had been expecting this moment for a long time.
“Welcome to the Archive,” the other Elías said.
Elías’s breath caught. “I—who are you?”
“I am you. The version of you that stayed. The one that never opened the book. The one that belongs here.”
Panic surged through him. “No. That’s impossible.”
The other Elías smiled faintly. “Is it? You saw what could have been. But did you ever consider what already was? The Archive does not simply store possibilities—it trades them. The moment you stepped through the Threshold, you surrendered your existence. Now, I take your place.”
Elías backed away, heart pounding. “No, I—I just wanted to see—”
“And now you will see everything,” the other Elías said. “From within the Archive.”
Elías turned, desperate to retreat, but the obsidian archway was gone. Only endless corridors of books remained, stretching beyond time.
Cassiel’s voice echoed from above. “A life for a life. A story for a story. The Archive must remain balanced.”
Elías screamed, but no sound escaped.
And then, the pages of his story turned.
