Page 71 of Echoes From the Void
“The pack can help,” I say quickly, feeling their fear spiral through our family bond. “Frankie and Finn understand corruption better than anyone. Bishop’s Guardian knowledge?—”
“No.” Luna’s shadows snap with authority. “Mom trained you to protect us, but she also taught us about Martinez pride. This is family business.”
“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Lena’s clinical tone returns, steadying us all. “When Dad visited. His shadows weren’t just corrupted. They were... hunting. Testing.”
Lucia holds up her sketchbook, showing a new image forming in real time: five female figures, their shadows reaching not toward corruption, but through it. Toward something deeper. Ancient. “He was checking if we could do this. If we could reach the void like he can now.”
My pancakes are long forgotten, burning to ash as my control slips. The kitchen fills with writhing shadows as five untrained gifts respond to mounting understanding. Through pack bonds, I feel their growing concern, their instinct to protect.
“Leo.” Liliana’s voice carries that same tone Mom used before her biggest revelations. “What aren’t you telling us? About what really happened to Dad?”
The shadows around us pulse with shared memory:
Dad’s last night home.
Mom’s frantic training sessions.
The moment Dad’s essence first touched the void.
“He didn’t just leave,” I admit, the truth I’ve carried alone finally surfacing. “Mom didn’t drive him away. She tried to save him. But the void... once it gets hold of Martinez essence...”
“It never lets go,” Lyra finishes, her shadow-notes forming the familiar pattern of Dad’s corruption. “Unless...”
“Unless what?” Luna demands, but her shadows already twist with understanding.
“Unless a stronger connection to the void overwrites the corruption.” The words taste like ash and prophecy. “Unless five pure Martinez shadow gifts combine to sever the connection. To...”
“To unmake what the void has claimed,” Lena whispers. “That’s what Mom was preparing us for. Not just to fight the corruption...”
“But to save Dad by destroying his connection to shadow essence entirely,” Lucia realizes, her artist’s hands trembling. “To burn out his gift before the void consumes him completely.”
The kitchen shadows turn viscous with our collective grief. Through pack bonds, I feel them responding to my pain—Matteo’s protective surge, Frankie’s understanding of the cost, Bishop’s grim recognition of necessary sacrifice.
“How long?” Luna asks, legal mind cutting to the heart of our crisis. “Before the corruption reaches the point Mom feared? Before Dad becomes something we can’t...”
She can’t finish, but Lyra’s shadow-song answers for her, twisting into a corrupted version of Dad’s last composition. The notes bleed darkness, forming images that make my stomach turn: Dad’s essence reaching through the void, calling to his children’s untainted power.
“Not long,” I admit, watching Lucia sketch the progression unconsciously. Each image shows the same pattern: corruption spreading, void energy growing, Dad’s humanity slipping away. “Valerie’s experiments are accelerating the process. The void’s getting stronger, hungrier.”
“That’s why our powers manifested now.” Lena’s psychology training gives way to shadow understanding. “The void’s call is getting stronger, pulling on our essence. On our blood.”
Liliana’s small hand finds mine again, her untrained shadows reaching for protection. “Mom knew this would happen. That’s why she made you swear that oath. Not just to protect us...”
“But to lead us,” Luna finishes, her legal documents swirling with shadows that remind me too much of Mom’s power. “To teach us what she taught you. To prepare us for what has to be done.”
Through our family bond—deeper than pack magic, older than blood—I feel their resolution building. Their grief. Their love.
“Los Martinez protect their own,” I quote Mom’s favorite saying, but now we all hear the darker meaning beneath it. Sometimes protection means sacrifice. Sometimes love means letting go.
“Even from themselves,” Lyra whispers, her prophecy finally fading as normal awareness returns to her eyes. “Even from the void itself.”
The shadows around us pulse with shared purpose, with inherited power, with the weight of what’s coming. Through pack bonds, I feel their unwavering support, their understanding of what family truly means.
“So,” Luna says, lawyer voice steady despite the shadows trembling around her, “what’s the plan, big brother?”
I look at my sisters—at our shadows dancing together like Mom taught me, at the strength she always said would come—and manage a small smile. Not bright, but real.
“First, we finish breakfast. Mom always said never face void corruption on an empty stomach.”
