Page 124 of Echoes From the Void
“About family,” Leo adds, his shadows curling contentedly around us all. “Chosen family.”
Recovery brings changes for everyone.
Matteo and his mother open a clinic for shadow beasts who need help remembering their original forms. I visit sometimes, watching his fangs flash gentle reassurance as he helps ancient beings heal. His predator nature has found its true purpose—not hunting, but protecting those who need it most. Leo assists often, his natural warmth making even the most corrupted creatures feel safe enough to transform.
Bishop revolutionizes Guardian training, teaching them how to protect balance through partnership rather than force. His new oath marks blaze with pride every time another Guardian chooses to adapt, to understand, to grow. Commander Stone has become his strongest ally, her own shadows learning to nurture rather than intimidate.
Dorian catalogues everything, of course. His frost-covered texts will guide future generations in understanding what willing sacrifice can accomplish. Though he still insists his meticulous documentation is “purely for academic purposes,” we all pretend not to notice how he smiles when young shifters come to him for guidance.
Finn and Tori grow closer each day, their powers merging in ways that remind me of our parents’ love story. The first shadow shifter and light shifter to choose partnership over division in their generation. Her shadows dance with his foxes while they rebuild the archive together, creating something new from ancient knowledge. Sometimes I catch them practicing shadow-songs in the garden, their voices carrying hope for future generations.
My father splits his time between forms—sometimes the magnificent beast of legend teaching transformed creatures their true purpose, sometimes the man making up for lost time with his children. Both versions equally real, equally loved. He’s taken to having weekly dinners with us all, learning modern customs while sharing ancient stories.
“You know,” Leo says one evening as we all lounge in the pack house living room, his shadows creating playful patterns on the ceiling, “we never did figure out who’s the best kisser.”
“Still not answering that,” I tell him, feeling Bishop’s quiet amusement, Matteo’s playful growl, and Dorian’s feigned indifference through our bonds.
“Probably for the best,” Finn adds from where he’s curled with Tori. “Some mysteries should remain unsolved.”
“Says the one who blushes every time Tori looks at him,” I tease, earning a flicker of embarrassed light from my twin.
Through all our various bonds—pack, twin, family, love—I feel everything we’ve built:
Trust freely given.
Power willingly shared.
Balance properly chosen.
Home finally found.
Night falls over Shadow Locke, but darkness holds no fear anymore. My wolves patrol with their transformed kin while Finn’s foxes dance with starlight. Above us, the barriers pulse with willing strength—light and shadow in perfect partnership.
The pack house has expanded to accommodate everyone—extra rooms for Finn and Tori, space for my father in both his forms, quiet corners where light shifters and shadow beasts can rest. The walls practically hum with belonging, every room filled with evidence of our shared life: Leo’s baking disasters in the kitchen, Matteo’s training gear by the door, Bishop’s texts spread across every surface, Dorian’s careful notes on everything.
“Tell me again,” Finn says softly, his head resting on my shoulder as we watch the others bicker over movie choices. “About the first time you felt the pack bonds forming.”
I smile, remembering each moment: Bishop’s careful distance crumbling, Leo’s sunshine nature breaking through mywalls, Matteo’s protective instincts recognizing something worth guarding, Dorian’s frost patterns learning to dance with my shadows.
“It felt like coming home,” I tell him, feeling their love pulse through our bonds at the memory. “Like finally finding all the pieces I didn’t know were missing.”
“Like family,” he says, understanding perfectly as always.
“Like family,” I agree, watching Leo try to convince everyone that horror movies are “educational experiences” while Matteo pretends not to be wrapped around his finger. Bishop maintains his dignity despite having clearly lost control of the situation ages ago, and Dorian catalogs everyone’s viewing preferences “for research purposes.”
My father watches us all from his armchair, ancient eyes soft with love. Through our various bonds, I feel every connection that makes us stronger:
The pack that chose me.
The twin who found me.
The father who protected me.
The home we built together.
Some prophecies aren’t about endings at all.
Some sacrifices transform everything they touch.
