Page 10 of Echoes From the Void

She opens the Codex to a marked page, and my breath catches. There, in ink that still moves after centuries, is an illustration of twins—one wreathed in shadow, one in light. My mother had shown me this page once, late at night when I was still learning what it meant to be her son, to be a Mercer without sharing her blood.

The image brings another memory: Frankie and Finn in the medical wing, their powers dancing between them, beautiful and terrible and natural as breathing. Nothing like the sterile traditions we cling to. Each tremor makes their combined power pulse stronger, as if they’re unconsciously trying to stabilize the failing realm.

“When shadows bleed and veils decay,” she reads, the prophecy’s words carrying more weight as the ground shakes beneath us. “Two souls torn shall find their way. Born wherelight and darkness meet, Twins divided, now must complete.” Her eyes meet mine. “Your potential pack bonds are noted, Guardian Mercer. But your oath came first.”

Understanding hits like a physical blow, coinciding with the strongest quake yet. The chamber groans, ancient stone protesting as more of the shadow realm’s collapse bleeds through. My mind reels, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. Everything I thought I knew—my training, my purpose, my loyalty—feels suddenly uncertain. The words of the prophecy echo in my head, each line a reminder of the impossible choice before me.

I think of Frankie, of the fragile hope she carries, the brother she fought so hard to find. How could they demand this of me? The oath I am about to take feels like chains tightening around my chest, binding me to a fate I don’t want to accept. Another tremor shakes loose ancient dust from the ceiling, the very foundations of Shadow Locke protesting as more of the shadow realm bleeds through.

“You can’t possibly?—”

“It is right here,” she cuts me off, pointing a finger at the book before her as the ground shudders. “When eclipse devours day’s last breath, and shadows dance between life and death, Their powers merge in sacrifice sweet, As light and dark at last complete.”

“The shadow realm is dying, Bishop.” My given name falls like a hammer. “The barriers between realms fracture. Shadow beasts slip through the growing cracks. The void consumes more of our world each day.” She traces the illustration of the twins with one aged finger. “And now we have twins of prophecy, one of whom may need to be... removed... for the greater good.”

The shadows around us writhe as another quake hits, responding to my fury. I think of young Frankie, alone and scared in that foster home. Of how I left her there, followingorders like a good Guardian should. Of finding her again years later, watching her build something beautiful despite everything we put her through.

Of Finn, newly rescued, learning to trust after years of captivity. Of the way the twins’ powers dance together, healing the very fabric of reality around them. Each tremor seems to make their combined energy stronger, as if they’re unconsciously fighting the realm’s collapse.

“They’re barely understanding their powers,” I say, fighting to keep my voice level as the chamber groans around us. “Frankie just found her brother. You can’t?—”

“I can. And if ordered, you will assist.” She closes the Codex with finality. “The Guardians believe that if the twins are sacrificed, it may appease the void, buying us time to restore the barriers. Unless your unfulfilled pack bonds mean more than generations of duty.”

The oath candles flicker wildly with another quake, casting her face in harsh relief. In their light, I see what we’ve become—not protectors, but jailers. Not guardians, but executioners.

Before I can respond, a familiar voice carries down the stone stairs. “Actually, according to Shadow Realm Legal Code, Section 937-B, any prophecy-based execution order requires full Council approval and a hearing with all affected parties.”

The Commander whirls as another tremor shakes loose more ancient dust. “This is a closed ceremony. How did you?—”

“I let her in,” my mother says, stepping from the shadows in her full Councilor regalia. Even without a pack, she commands the darkness like it’s an extension of her will. The same way she’s commanded boardrooms and Council sessions while raising an adopted son alone. “Along with notifying the Council of this... interesting interpretation of Guardian duty.”

Luna Martinez stands beside her, legal pad in hand, looking entirely unfazed by both the ancient magic swirling around herand the way reality flickers at the edges. Trust Leo’s sister to treat supernatural law like just another day in court.

I’ve never loved my politically ambitious mother more than in this moment. Every sacrifice she made, every tradition she bucked by adopting a shadow shifter child without a mate or pack—it was all leading to this.

“Councilor Mercer,” the Commander grits out as another quake rattles the chamber, “this is Guardian business.”

“No,” I say, finally understanding something Frankie has been trying to teach me since that first day in my classroom. “This is family business. Pack business.” I turn my palm, still dripping oath-bound blood. “And if the Guardians have forgotten the difference between protection and control, perhaps it’s time for new oaths.”

My mother’s eyebrows rise, but I catch the pride in her eyes. Luna scribbles something in her legal pad, muttering about “precedent-setting ceremonies” and “progressive interpretation of ancient law” even as the ground trembles beneath us.

“You would break your oath?” the Commander demands. “For potential pack bonds that aren’t even sealed?”

“No.” I reach for those tentative connections, feeling their promise of belonging. Through them, I sense the twins working together, their combined power somehow steadying the tremors around them. Not sealed with Frankie’s bite yet, but chosen. Earned. “I would expand it.”

The ghost-bonds pulse with approval—Frankie’s determination, Leo’s pride, Matteo’s fierce support, Dorian’s reluctant admiration. Even without the bite, they’re there. Waiting. Hoping.

Ready.

Before anyone can stop me, I press my bleeding palm to the ancient oath stone. Shadow essence meets potential pack magic, and power explodes through the chamber. For a moment, thetremors stop completely, as if the shadow realm itself holds its breath. The force of it drives everyone but my mother back a step. When my vision clears, new marks spiral up my arm—the traditional Guardian sigils now interwoven with runes of choice and family.

“What have you done?” the Commander whispers, horror and fascination warring in her voice as the quakes resume.

“Created precedent,” Luna announces cheerfully, pen flying across her legal pad despite the shaking. “Fascinating. This will make an excellent test case for modernizing Shadow law. The implications for non-traditional family structures alone—” She pauses, glancing up as dust rains down. “Oh, and technically, according to Section 394-C of Guardian bylaws, this counts as a formal protest against the execution order.”

My mother actually smiles. “Perhaps it’s time for the shadows to evolve.” She moves to stand beside me, her own shadows merging with mine in silent support. “The Council will expect a full report. After we’ve ensured both twins’ safety, of course.”

“Of course,” the Commander echoes faintly, staring at my altered oath marks like they’re a personal betrayal. The black flames of the oath candles flicker wildly as another tremor hits. “You have twenty-four hours to return and plead your case for their lives. After that, we will take action without further delay.”

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