Page 41 of Echoes From the Void
The chamber erupts in outraged mutters, power crackling through the air like static before a storm.
“You would break your oath?” Commander Stone demands, her words carrying the weight of centuries. Each syllable falls like ice. “The same oath your father died upholding?”
My Father?
Shock ripples through me, making my carefully maintained posture falter. I fight the urge to look back at my mother, but it takes everything in me to keep my gaze forward as frost spreads beneath my feet.
I straighten my cuffs—another habit learned at my mother’s knee, a gesture of control when everything else threatens to shatter. “No.” Power surges through me—pack magic meeting Guardian tradition in a dance as old as shadow itself. The marble floor cracks beneath my feet as ancient power responds. “I would expand it.”
Before anyone can stop me, I invoke the ancient rite, words I’ve known since childhood taking on new meaning: “By shadowand shield, by blood and bond, I claim the right of pack protection. The hunt is justified, the cause is true, the pack is one.”
Shadow magic explodes through the chamber, shattering several of the enchanted braziers. When my vision clears, my Guardian marks have transformed, pack runes now permanently intertwined with ancient symbols. Through our bonds, I feel my mates’ awe at the display, their power merging seamlessly with Guardian magic until the very air thrums with possibility.
“What have you done?” Commander Stone whispers, real fear touching her voice for the first time. Shadows gather at her command, responding to her unease.
“Created precedent,” Luna announces cheerfully from the gallery, her pen scratching against paper. The sound echoes in the stunned silence. “Fascinating. This will make an excellent test case for modernizing Guardian law. The implications for supernatural family rights alone?—”
“The old ways remember,” a new voice cuts through the chaos. Council member Chen stands, her own Guardian marks shifting in response to mine. Ancient power ripples through her traditional runes. “The shadows remember what we forgot. Protection was never meant to be rigid. It was meant to adapt.”
One by one, other Guardians stand, their marks responding to the changed magic. A divide forms in the chamber—those remembering the true meaning of protection, and those clinging to control. Power crackles between the factions, making the air thick with tension.
“The Council cannot allow—” Blake starts, but his words carry less weight as more Guardians’ marks continue to change, answering an older call than mere tradition.
“The Council,” my mother interrupts smoothly, every syllable honed by decades of political warfare, “will adapt. Asit has for centuries. As it must now.” She turns to Commander Stone, and I see the chess master who raised me moving her final piece. “Unless you wish to explain to the Shadow Court why you’re interfering with a justified blood hunt? I’m sure they’d be fascinated by your... interpretation of ancient laws.”
Commander Stone’s face tightens, shadows writhing around her in response to her anger.
“The hunt is recognized,” she says finally, each word clearly costing her. “But Bishop...” my given name falls like a warning, “remember what happened to the last Guardian who chose pack over duty.”
I grind my teeth and nod, knowing they are once again referencing a man I don’t know.
The pack bonds surge with strength, wrapping around me like armor made of love and trust. In the gallery, Luna makes another note on her legal pad while my mother hides a smile that carries decades of vindication.
“If that’s settled,” I say, already turning to leave because my pack is waiting and we have a hunt to prepare. I resist the urge to adjust my cuffs again—some habits die harder than others.
The chamber erupts in discussion as I leave, Luna right behind me with her legal pad. The sound of political chaos fades as we walk through ancient halls, replaced by the steady pulse of pack bonds.
“So,” Luna says as we walk, her lawyer’s mind already spinning possibilities, “want me to look into supernatural hunting permits? I’ve been expanding into ritual law. The precedent we just set opens up fascinating avenues for pack rights and?—”
“Luna.”
“Yes?”
“You’re doing the thing Leo does when he’s plotting chaos.”
“It’s a family trait,” she says cheerfully. “You signed up for this when you let my brother claim you.”
Despite everything, I laugh. The Martinez chaos is apparently contagious. But then, that’s what family is—chaos and protection, love and duty, old laws and new paths.
“Bishop.” My mother’s voice stops me. The same voice that used to soothe away nightmares about not being a “real” Mercer, that defended my adoption against tradition and prejudice. “Your father would be proud.”
“Yeah, let’s talk about that.” The anger I’ve fought so hard to control slips through my carefully maintained facade. My Guardian marks pulse with suppressed emotion.
“Not here.” She cuts me off, her shadows extending to check for listeners as she leads us down the administrative wing at Shadow Locke. “Follow me.”
The walk to her office feels longer than usual, each step heavy with unspoken truths. Her office—a sanctuary I’ve known since childhood—comes into view. Ancient tomes line the walls in precise arrangements, magical artifacts hum with contained power, and centuries of Guardian history watch from portraits of past Council members. The familiar space feels different now, charged with secrets long buried.
My mother traces a complex silencing ward before turning to face me. For the first time in my life, I see real fear in her eyes.
