Page 12 of Echoes From the Void
“His light signature is adapting to match your shadow frequency,” Dorian observes, not looking up from his notes even as his books phase in and out of reality. “It’s rather fascinating, from an academic perspective. The realm’s instability seems to be accelerating the process.”
I shoot him a look. “Less fascinating from a my-whole-body-feels-like-it’s-being-torn-apart perspective. But please, continue taking notes while I suffer.”
“Your sarcasm remains intact, at least,” he says dryly, though concern flickers across his face as he steadies a toppling stack of ancient texts.
Through the observation window, I see Leo’s sisters in the waiting room. Lena—the psychology student—watches me with uncomfortable insight while Liliana dozes against Luna’s shoulder. The younger girl’s breath hitches whenever a tremorshakes the building, her asthma responding to the unstable barrier between realms.
“You’re fighting it,” Lena calls through the glass, making everyone turn. Another tremor punctuates her words. “The twin bond. Like you fight everything else.”
“I don’t—” I start.
“You do.” Matteo cuts through my protest, moving closer as his shadows steady a rattling piece of medical equipment. His presence grounds me even as the room shimmers between realities. “You’re trying to shield everyone—pack, twin, even the realm—instead of letting the bonds stabilize naturally.”
Leo squeezes my shoulder. “He’s right, you know. You can’t protect everyone by hurting yourself.”
“Watch me,” I mutter into my coffee.
Dr. Sharma makes a sound suspiciously like a suppressed laugh as she adjusts monitors that keep flickering between worlds. “You remind me of someone else who thinks carrying the weight of the world alone makes him stronger.” She glances meaningfully at her son.
“I do not—” Matteo starts.
“You absolutely do,” Leo interrupts cheerfully. “Remember the time you tried to wrestle during championships with a broken arm because you didn’t want to burden anyone?”
“That was different.”
“Sure it was, tough guy.”
A stronger tremor shakes the room, and Finn’s consciousness stirs. His dreams shift from darkness to something warmer, but before I can reach for him, alarms blare. Shadow beast warnings, closer than ever.
“They’re drawn to your combined power,” Bishop announces, bursting into the room with Luna right behind him. His new oath marks spiral up his arm, still smoking faintly. “Frankie, you need to?—”
The rest of Bishop’s warning drowns in a wave of power as Finn’s eyes snap open. Light blazes from his skin, meeting my shadows in a display that definitely violates several laws of physics. The shadows respond instinctively, reaching for his light instead of fighting it. For a moment, the tremors stop completely, as if the shadow realm holds its breath.
“Sister,” he whispers, reaching for me. The word carries years of loneliness, of knowing something was missing but not understanding what.
My coffee cup trembles in my hand as another quake hits. Leo smoothly takes it before I can drop it, while Matteo moves closer to my other side. Even Dorian sets down his precious books as reality flickers around us.
Choice time.
I could pull back, try to control this, protect everyone from the chaos of merging powers. The responsible thing. The safe thing. The thing I’ve done my entire life because being alone was better than risking others.
“Let go,” Matteo says softly, his voice carrying that quiet certainty I’ve come to rely on. His shadows steady a swaying IV stand.
“Trust us,” Leo adds, his usual grin softened with understanding. “We’ve got you, Echo.”
“The readings are actually quite promising,” Dorian offers, which from him is practically a declaration of support. “The combined energy seems to temporarily stabilize the barrier breaches.”
Bishop moves to guard the door, new oath marks gleaming. “Whatever happens, we’ll handle it.”
But before I can decide, brilliant light bursts from Finn’s skin. Where my shadow wolves emerge from darkness, ethereal foxes made of pure light leap from his aura. They’re beautiful and clever-looking, with tails that leave trails of starlight in theirwake. While my wolves are all predatory power, his foxes dance with quick, playful grace. The tremors pause again, as if the shadow realm itself stops to watch.
“Well,” Leo breathes, “that’s new.”
“Fascinating,” Dorian mutters, already scribbling. The pages of his notebook stop phasing between realities. “The oppositional yet complementary nature of the manifestations suggests?—”
“English, please,” Luna calls from the doorway, legal pad ready.
For a moment, wolves and foxes circle each other cautiously. Then, to everyone’s shock, a tiny fox kit darts forward and nips at a wolf’s tail. The interaction creates an almost musical resonance, like striking a tuning fork. Each time light and shadow meet, the note grows stronger, steadier, as if their powers are remembering an ancient harmony.
