Page 8 of Echoes From the Void
“I will crash this car.”
I laugh, but her expression softens. “Not that. You’re not trying so hard anymore. To be her.” The ‘her’ doesn’t need clarification. Mom was everyone’s sunshine before she got sick. I just picked up where she left off.
I wince. Trust Luna to cut right to it. “Lena’s rubbing off on you, sis. Next you’ll be asking about my childhood trauma and daddy issues.” My shadows curl inward, betraying my discomfort.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m remembering how you handled everything when Papa left. Making Mama laugh during chemo, helping with homework, never letting the girls see you cry.” She takes one hand off the wheel to squeeze mine. “You don’t have to be the strong one all the time anymore. The pack... they make you actually happy, not just acting happy.”
My shadows form a small scene of all of us—pack and sisters together—before I can stop them. “They do. Even if Bishop definitely has a PowerPoint ready.”
“It’s not a PowerPoint,” Bishop’s voice comes through the bond, full of affronted dignity. “It’s a comprehensive visual guide to pack dynamics with appropriate shadow realm citations.”
I relay this to Luna, making her laugh. Then we spot Lucia’s broken-down car just past the bridge. I can hear Liliana wheezing from here, and my shadows surge forward protectively.
Lyra waves frantically as we pull up. “Leo! Something’s wrong—the air—it feels like when Mama?—”
I’m out of the car before it fully stops, scooping Liliana into my arms. Shadow energy crackles against my skin as I wrap her in protective light, the way Mom taught me before she died. “Deep breaths, pequeña. I’ve got you. Want to hear about how I accidentally set Bishop’s notes on fire trying to impress him? Or how about the time Dorian found my Netflix password and spent three days critiquing period dramas?”
She manages a weak giggle between gasps, which I count as a win. My shadows form little scenes from the stories, making her smile grow stronger.
“The pack bonds,” Luna murmurs, watching my shadows create a protective bubble around Liliana. “They’re not just about romance, are they?”
As if answering her question, my sisters’ nascent powers respond to the protective energy. Lyra’s shadows form delicate musical notes that weave through my protective barrier, while Lucia’s manifest as swift, darting shapes like her beloved Jorge’s scales. Even Lena’s analytical nature shows in the geometric patterns her shadows create. Each distinct, yet harmonizing with the pack energy in a way that makes the air itself feel steadier.
“The old stories Mom used to tell,” Luna continues thoughtfully, “about matriarchal packs and shadow-songs... they weren’t just stories, were they?”
“No,” I say, watching how our combined shadows seem to sing together, creating patches of stability in the deteriorating realm. “But someone wanted us to think they were. Wanted us to forget what shadow magic could really do when we work together instead of alone.”
“Though the romance part is pretty spectacular.” The shadows around Liliana pulse with warmth and safety. “Mom would have loved them, you know. All their weird, wonderful parts.”
After Dad left, Mom became obsessed with understanding shadow shifter abilities. Her research filled notebooks—ancient legends, family stories, warnings about what happens when shadow essence corrupts.“You need to be ready,”she’d tell me during late-night study sessions.“Your gift connects to the void differently than others. Remember that when your sisters need you.”She couldn’t manipulate shadows herself, but she understood them better than anyone.
“First things first,” I say, pulling out my phone to warn the others. “Let’s get Liliana some help. Then... then I’ll introduce you to my other family. Fair warning: Dorian’s probably going to judge your outfits, Bishop might actually have citations prepared, Frankie will try to hide in shadows, and Matteo—well, you know Matteo.”
“Other family,” Lyra repeats thoughtfully, holding Liliana’s hand. “Does this mean we get four new brothers?”
I choke. Luna laughs. And through the pack bond, I feel Matteo’s amused response to my sudden panic, followed by what feels suspiciously like Bishop organizing reference materials.
My shadows dance with joy, forming a family portrait that includes both sisters and pack. Because maybe that’s the point—love doesn’t follow expected patterns. It just is. Even in the shadows, even as the realms collapse, we find ways to shine.
Mom taught me that. And now I get to share it with both my families.
Through the bond, I feel Bishop’s indignation. It’s not reference materials, it’s a professionally curated introduction to pack dynamics with appropriate visual aids.
I laugh out loud, my shadows forming tiny fireworks of happiness. Yeah, this is going to be interesting.
And somewhere, I know Mom is laughing too.
Chapter 4
Bishop
“The void has breachedthe east barrier.” I study the reports spread across my desk, watching as another tremor makes the shadow essence readings spike. “Three more buildings have slipped fully into the shadow realm since dawn, consumed by the collapse.”
A low rumble shakes the foundation, making the monitoring crystals chime in warning. These quakes have been growing stronger as the shadow realm deteriorates, each one sending ripples through the barrier between worlds.
“And the Guardians’ response?” My mother’s voice crackles through the phone, sharp with political calculation.
“An emergency oath ceremony.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice as I steady a toppling stack of papers. Through the window, I can see the east wing buildings flickering like poor reception, phasing between realms as the shadow realm’s collapse bleeds through. “Because clearly, what we need right now is more ritual and tradition.”
