Page 123 of Echoes From the Void
As we were always meant to be.
Together.
Chapter 42
Frankie
Recovery comes in stages.
The first week after transforming the barriers, I mostly sleep—wrapped in the protective circle of my pack, my twin’s light pulsing steady reassurance nearby, my father’s restored presence guarding us all. My wolves drift in and out of manifestation as my power slowly replenishes, their forms flickering like stars at dawn.
The pack takes shifts watching over me. Bishop handles the Council’s endless questions while maintaining wards around our home, his Guardian marks pulsing stronger now with chosen purpose rather than enforced duty. Matteo’s predator nature keeps unwanted visitors at bay—though he’s gentler about it now, his new fangs flashing warning rather than threat. Leo makes sure everyone actually eats, his sunshine nature somehow brighter since the void. Dorian catalogues everything that happened, his frost patterns tracking the changes in reality itself while pretending not to hover protectively.
And Finn... Finn learns what family really means.
I wake sometimes to find him and Tori curled together on the window seat, her shadows dancing with his foxes while they read Jane Austen—her favorite, Pride and Prejudice, forthe third time this week. Or catch him in the kitchen with Leo, learning the art of stress-baking (though after the Great Cookie Incident, we’ve banned them from unsupervised oven use). Matteo teaches him self-defense while Bishop explains shadow theory, and even Dorian unbends enough to share his precious first editions, though he still insists on wearing gloves.
Our father drifts between his beast and human forms, equally comfortable in both now that corruption no longer forces him to choose. He spends long hours with the transformed shadow beasts and restored light shifters, helping them remember their original purposes. Sometimes I watch him from the pack house windows, this being who was supposed to be a monster showing ancient creatures how to be gentle again.
“The Council wants to establish new protocols,” Bishop tells me one evening as we all sprawl across the pack house living room. He’s more relaxed now, his formal Guardian posture softening as Matteo absently plays with his hair. “For managing the changed barriers.”
“Let me guess,” I murmur from my position curled against his chest, Leo’s head in my lap while Matteo and Dorian bracket us protectively. “More rules. More control.”
“Actually,” my father says from where he sits with Finn, looking younger somehow despite his ancient eyes, “they’re talking about partnership. About learning from what you showed them.”
Through our various bonds, I feel the truth of how much has changed:
The Guardians adapting to protect balance rather than enforce it—their traditional black uniforms now threaded with both shadow and light. Commander Stone herself leads training sessions on willing partnership.
Shadow beasts remembering how to nurture rather than hunt, their transformed forms flowing through campus likeliving night. Some have even started helping younger shifters learn control.
Light shifters choosing to support rather than sacrifice, their power freely given to maintain the barriers they once were forced to hold. My grandmother leads their council now, her violet eyes bright with purpose as she helps forge new connections.
Reality itself flowing rather than fracturing, the very air around Shadow Locke humming with possibility instead of strain.
“You did that,” Finn tells me softly, his light pulsing with pride. A pair of his foxes play with my wolves near the fireplace, light and shadow merging in playful patterns. “You showed them all a better way.”
“We did that,” I correct, reaching for his hand. “All of us. Together.”
They want to rebuild Shadow Locke, turning the damaged campus into something entirely new. Not just repair the physical destruction from the void, but transform it into a place where shadow and light can learn together, where balance comes from choice rather than force. The library—Dorian’s domain—will house both ancient texts and new discoveries, documenting how willing partnership changes everything it touches.
“And they want us to teach,” Bishop tells me, his fingers trailing patterns on my arm. His Guardian marks pulse with renewed purpose at the idea. “All of us. To show others what willing partnership looks like.”
Leo perks up at that, nearly dislodging my hand from his hair. “Does this mean I get to make PowerPoints too?”
“Absolutely not,” Dorian and Bishop say in perfect unison, making everyone laugh. Through our pack bonds, I feel their shared horror at the thought of Leo’s infamous presentation style unleashed on students.
Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s quiet joy at these moments—the casual affection, the easy teasing, the sense of belonging he was denied for so long. Tori’s shadows reach for his light automatically now, their own bond growing stronger each day. She’s been helping him adapt to modern life, though I suspect their Jane Austen sessions are more about cuddling than literature.
My father watches us all with ancient eyes that carry new warmth. In his human form, I can see where Finn and I get our features—the same sharp cheekbones, the same determined set to our jaw. But it’s his smile that feels most familiar, most like home.
“Your mother would be proud,” he tells us softly. “Of all of this. Of who you’ve become.”
The restored light shifters have begun teaching us about our heritage—the songs our mother sang, the patterns she wove, the love that made her brave enough to choose a different path. Our grandmother visits often, her violet eyes shining as she watches her family whole at last. She’s taken to bringing ancient texts for Dorian while teaching Finn and me the shadow-songs of our ancestors.
“The prophecy,” Matteo muses, his fangs flashing as he accepts a cookie from Leo—his third, we all pretend not to notice his sweet tooth—” was never about sacrifice at all, was it?”
“No,” I agree, watching my wolves play with Finn’s foxes while Dorian pretends not to be taking notes on their behavior. Through our bonds, I feel everyone’s contentment—this moment of quiet joy more powerful than any prophecy. “It was about choice. About being brave enough to try something new.”
