Page 40 of Echoes From the Void
Failed experiments. Children like us who didn’t survive her quest for power. Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s memories of hearing their cries, of reaching out with his light to comfort them in their final moments.
“She’s there,” I say, my voice steady despite the horror of the memories. “And she knows we’ll come.”
“Then she’s a fool.” Matteo moves to flank me, his protective energy wrapping around us all. “She forgot what family means.”
“What pack means,” Tori adds softly, then flushes when we all look at her.
Bishop nods, his Guardian marks blazing as he completes our circle. “The pack protects its own.”
“And family,” Lyra calls from behind her barrier, violin at ready. Her shadow marks pulse in time with our merged power. “Don’t forget family.”
Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s resolve matching mine—and underneath, that flutter of something warmer when Tori’s shadows unconsciously reach for his light again.
“She made us,” he says quietly, standing straighter. “But she doesn’t own us.”
“No,” I agree, feeling pack and twin bonds pulse with shared strength. The sealed connections with my mates flow like rivers of power, preparing us for what’s coming. “We own ourselves.”
Some memories have teeth.
But we have something stronger.
We have each other—pack, family, and maybe something new forming between light and shadow.
And we’re done being afraid.
If they want their perfect vessels, they’ll have to face what they created first.
Chapter 15
Bishop
The Guardian Councilchambers smell of old magic and older power—incense and oath-bound blood soaking into stone over centuries. Ancient runes pulse with faint light along marble columns that stretch into shadow-filled heights. Their grandeur feels smaller than it used to, diminished by what I now know about true protection. About pack.
About love.
My newly sealed pack bonds pulse against the formal Guardian magic trying to bind me as I stand before the Council. Commander Stone’s cold gaze assesses my divided loyalties from her elevated seat, frost gathering at her fingertips. The chamber’s enchanted braziers cast dancing shadows across her ageless features, though her expression betrays nothing. She’s played these political games longer than I’ve been alive.
But I learned from the best.
“Guardian Mercer,” she intones, each word weighted with centuries of tradition. The very air seems to thicken with power. “You stand accused of oath violation. How do you plead?”
I straighten my already perfect posture—a habit drilled into me since childhood. Through the pack bonds, I feel their worry pulsing like heartbeats—Frankie’s fierce protection wrappingaround me like armor, Leo’s sunny support warming the chamber’s chill, Matteo’s simmering rage making the shadows dance, Dorian’s analytical concern scanning for weaknesses in the Council’s position. Their love flows stronger than any oath magic burning in my veins.
“I stand by my actions,” I say, choosing each word as carefully as my mother taught me. The same mother who adopted a shadow shifter child despite tradition, who taught me that sometimes breaking rules means upholding deeper laws. “The protection of the realm includes protecting its people.”
“The twins are not just people,” Council member Blake snaps, his aged frame leaning forward aggressively, guardian marks flaring with indignation. “They are assets. Weapons. And Valerie?—”
“Is a known kidnapper and torturer of children,” Luna’s voice rings clear and sharp from the gallery. Several Council members startle—they hadn’t noticed the lawyer’s presence among the ancient pillars. A rookie mistake. Luna Martinez never misses a chance to create legal precedent. “Or would the Council like me to present evidence of her experiments? I have quite the comprehensive file.”
The temperature drops as Commander Stone’s eyes narrow, shadows gathering at her fingertips like condensed night. “This is a closed session.” Frost creeps across her podium, a physical manifestation of her displeasure.
“Actually,” my mother says, stepping from the shadows in full Councilor regalia. Her ceremonial robes whisper against marble floors as she moves, every inch the political force that raised me. “As this concerns realm security and involves multiple supernatural factions, outside observation is not only permitted but required. Section 437-B of Guardian law.” Her smile could cut glass. “I’m sure you remember who wrote that particular amendment, Commander.”
Your mom is terrifying, Leo’s voice echoes in my head, somehow breaching formal Guardian wards. That’s new. I love it.
“Councilor Mercer,” Commander Stone grits out, ice crackling across her dais in delicate, deadly patterns, “this is Guardian business?—”
“No,” I interrupt, finally understanding something Frankie has been trying to teach me since that first day in my classroom. The pack bonds pulse with strength, warming me against the chamber’s supernatural chill. “This is pack business. Family business.” I hold up my arm where pack bonds have merged with Guardian marks, creating something new and powerful. Golden light ripples through the traditional runes. “And if the Guardians have forgotten the difference between control and protection, perhaps we need new traditions.”
