Page 64 of Echoes From the Void
“You had a PowerPoint,” Tori adds helpfully. “With animations.”
“Some of us appreciate thorough research,” Bishop sniffs, though his shadows betray his amusement.
“I particularly enjoy,” Dorian comments dryly, “how running upstairs is apparently the universal human response to danger. As if height advantage means anything when you’ve cornered yourself.”
“To be fair,” Leo points out, bouncing slightly, “some of us actually could jump from a second-story window.”
“Yes, but they can’t,” Matteo reminds him, his arm tightening protectively around me. “Which makes their decision-making even worse.”
Through our various bonds, I feel the contentment, the simple joy of being together. Even Dorian has abandoned his phone, occasionally offering devastatingly accurate predictions about which character will make the next poor life choice.
“Wait,” Finn says suddenly as the tension builds in a scene. His light flickers with genuine concern that makes my shadows want to soothe. “Are they... are they really going to split up? After everything that’s happened?”
“Oh this is my favorite part,” Leo sits up eagerly, his shadows dancing with anticipation. “Watch how they all somehow forget how to use their phones the moment it would actually be useful.”
“That’s an insult to basic human competence,” Matteo mutters, though his shadows curl contentedly around us.
“Wait, did anyone grab snacks?” Bishop asks during a lull in the movie.
“Forgot them,” I admit, then grin at their disappointed faces. With a dramatic flourish, I reach into what looks like thin air, my arm disappearing up to the elbow into shadow space. “Just kidding.” When I pull my hand back, it holds a massive bowl of popcorn, still warm.
“Show-off,” Matteo mutters, but there’s fondness in his voice.
“Something I figured out after Mom died,” I explain, reaching into the darkness again to retrieve sodas. “She had all these theories about Martinez shadows being different—how we could access what she calledthe void spaceif we practiced enough. I’m still working on anything bigger than a beach ball.”
“Who wants more hot chocolate?” Leo bounces up during a particularly tense chase scene. “And no, Dorian, I won’t measure the marshmallow-to-chocolate ratio.”
“Your lack of precision physically pains me,” Dorian calls after him, but his usual sharp edges have completely softened.
“Everything pains you,” Bishop points out. “Yesterday you spent twenty minutes lamenting about how the library’s ancient texts weren’t alphabetized by original language and publication date.”
“They had a 12th century grimoire filed next to a 1980s shadow theory textbook!”
“The horror,” Matteo deadpans, but his shadows curl protectively around Leo as he returns juggling fresh mugs.
Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s quiet amazement at this – at how natural it all feels, at how easily we shift between fierce protection and gentle teasing. His light reaches unconsciously for Tori’s shadows as she accepts her refilled mug.
“Hey,” Tori nudges him gently. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just...” Finn’s light pulses softly. “It’s nice. Being normal. Or whatever counts as normal for shadow shifters watching people make terrible life decisions.”
“Normal is overrated,” Leo declares, distributing hot chocolate with his usual flourish. “Though seriously, if I ever become a serial killer, please know I would have a much better plan than this.”
“That’s concerning,” Bishop mutters, accepting his mug while his shadows betray his amusement.
“Says the man who color-coded his murder board for lecture purposes,” I remind him, feeling his mock indignation through our bond.
“It was a forensics demonstration!”
“You had little red string connecting all the potential suspects.”
“That affects visual learning and you know it.”
As they bicker, I notice Tori’s shadows have completely entwined with Finn’s light, creating subtle patterns neither seems aware of making. Through our twin bond, I feel his contentment, his growing understanding that he belongs here.
“They’re kind of adorable,” Leo whispers, having migrated to sprawl across Matteo and me. “In an awkward baby-shadow-shifters way.”
“Like you were any better,” Matteo rumbles fondly, his shadows curling around us both.
