Page 56 of Dark Bonds

“The council believes they’ll be safer here, where we can protect them,” Cass explains, but I can hear the doubt in her voice. “Plus, we need to maintain some sense of normalcy.”

I think of Frankie and the power growing inside her like a storm about to break. Maybe being here, surrounded by the protective wards, is the safest place for her… or maybe we’re leading lambs to slaughter.

“We should implement a buddy system and mandatory check-ins for all returning students,” I suggest, my mind already formulating plans. “It’ll help us keep track of everyone and respond quickly to any incidents.”

“Good idea.” Cass nods. “When can you start?”

“Immediately,” I reply, the weight of responsibility settling over me like a mantle. “I’ll need to coordinate with the professors and set up additional safety protocols.”

As we walk back toward the main campus, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re on the precipice of something monumental. These symbols, the energy signatures in the city, and Frankie’s growing powers—they are all pieces of a cosmic puzzle that could either save or damn us all.

I just need to figure out how.

“Oh, and Bishop?” Cass calls as we part ways. “Be careful. Whatever this is, it’s bigger than anything we’ve faced before.”

I watch her go, her words echoing in my mind like a death knell. As I head toward my office, I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Dorian and the others.

I create a group chat, my fingers hovering over whether or not to include Tori. I want the chat to be the pack I dream of building, but I fear that will only push Frankie further away. With a sigh, I add Tori to the list.

Bishop:Returning to island tomorrow. Be ready. Stay alert. Implement a buddy system upon arrival.

Pocketing my phone, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what’s to come. I head toward the warded room I led everyone to earlier, the weight of secrets and unspoken fears pressing down on me with each step.

As the heavy door creaks open, the scents of leather and old books tickle my nose. I toss everything on my desk and sink into my chair with a sigh that seems to come from the very depths of my soul.

It’s so quiet, it’s suffocating, like the silence itself is trying to choke me out. I almost wish the others were here, their presence a balm to the loneliness that gnaws at my insides. It’s as though my shadow shifter has already accepted the pack, craving their presence with an intensity that frightens me.

Instead of allowing myself to dwell on the aching emptiness inside, I grab an ancient text from the bookshelf above me and throw myself into my work. Hours blur together as I go over the symbols, my office walls slowly disappearing beneath a tapestry of sketches and notes. The soft glow of my desk lamp casts long shadows, a constant reminder of Frankie’s newfound powers and the danger they represent.

I rub my tired eyes, reaching for my cold cup of coffee. The bitter liquid is a poor substitute for sleep, but it’s all I have to keep the encroaching darkness at bay.

“Come on, Bishop,” I mutter to myself, frustration coloring my words. “Think. What would Turing do?” I chuckle softly, imagining Leo’s reaction to such a nerdy reference. Alan Turing, the father of modern computing and a code breaking genius, faced seemingly insurmountable puzzles during World War II. He once said, “We can only see a short distance ahead, but we can see plenty there that needs to be done.” The words echo in my mind, a mantra against the encroaching madness.

I lean back, letting my eyes unfocus as I try to view the symbols from a new perspective. Maybe I’ve been too caught up in the minutiae. Turing often approached problems by breaking them down into simpler components and finding patterns in chaos. Perhaps that’s what I need to do now—step back and see the forest for the trees.

My gaze drifts across the room, landing on a map of Shadow Locke Island pinned to the wall. It’s an old thing, the edges frayed and yellowed with age, but something about it calls to me. I pull it down to the desk with trembling hands and overlay my sketches of the symbols on top.

The symbols seem random at first glance, shifting like living organisms, but there has to be an underlying order. There always is, even in the darkest chaos.

Suddenly, it clicks. The realization hits me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I remember reading about ancient cartographers who used ley lines—mystical alignments of land believed to hold spiritual energy. What if these symbols are marking something similar?

With shaking hands, I grab a red pen and start connecting the symbols on the map. My heart races, each beat a thunderous reminder of what’s at stake. Lines crisscross the city in an intricate web of power and possibility. It’s not just a code—it’s a map of ley lines in the city, pulsing with ancient, terrible energy.

What sends ice through my veins, however, is the realization that Shadow Locke Island sits at the epicenter of these lines.

“Is this why they built the school here?” I whisper to the empty room, my voice hoarse with fear and awe. “Were the other east coast schools built over crisscrossing ley lines as well?”

I pause, the pen poised over the map as another horrifying thought strikes me. At each intersection point, there’s an energy signature matching the eredar beast. My mind reels with the implications, each new realization more terrifying than the last.

The ley lines aren’t just geographical markers—they are conduits of energy linking these creatures across vast distances. Shadow Locke isn’t just an isolated target, it’s a nexus of power that attracts these entities like moths to a flame.

“Oh God,” I whisper, the words barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “It’s a network. They are all connected.”

This changes everything. The eredar beasts aren’t just randomly appearing, they are following these lines, drawn to the energy concentrated at the intersections. We’re not just facing isolated incidents—we’re standing at the threshold of an invasion.

I lunge for my phone, my fingers shaking so badly I can barely dial Cass’s number. It rings once, twice—each second feels like an eternity as I silently plead for her to answer.

A deafening roar shatters the night, so powerful it rattles the windows in their frames. The sound freezes the blood in my veins, primal fear gripping me with icy fingers. I rush to the window, my body moving of its own accord even as my mind screams at me to run.

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