Page 3 of Echoes From the Void

“Tell me, little Gray,” she purrs, reaching out to trace one perfect shadowy finger along my jawline. Her touch burns cold. “Have you figured it out yet? Why the curse manifests sodifferently in you than it did in your father? Why these delightful little cracks keep spreading despite all your... organizing?”

She gestures at my meticulously arranged shelves. “The light realm was always so obsessed with order. With containing things. But darkness?” Her smile shows teeth made of starlight. “Darkness flows. It seeps. It finds every crack and fills it. You’re fighting your own nature, little Gray. Just like your father did.”

“If you’re quite finished critiquing my family’s habits—” I begin, trying to sound bored rather than terrified.

“Oh honey,” she cuts me off, patting my cheek condescendingly. “I haven’t even started. But then again...” Her eyes track to the window where the void writhes closer. “Neither has the darkness.”

“Such precious little barriers you’ve all put up.” Nyx waves a hand lazily at the window, and the monitoring crystals shriek in response. “Like using paper to hold back a flood. Creative, I’ll give you that. Your father tried similar tricks.” She perches on my desk, somehow scatting even more of my carefully arranged papers without seeming to move them.

“If you’re here to help—” I start.

“Help?” She throws back her head and laughs, the sound like broken wind chimes in a graveyard. “Oh, sweet baby immortal. I’m here to watch. The void is meant to consume. To devour. To return all things to darkness.” Her midnight eyes glitter. “Including those fascinating twins upstairs. Especially the girl. Now she...” Nyx’s smile shows too many teeth. “She understands darkness in ways you can only dream of.”

The pack bond pulses at the mention of Frankie, sending a surge of protectiveness through me that has nothing to do with duty or obligation. “The twins are under my protection,” I say, my voice carrying more steel than I feel.

“Are they? And how’s that working out for you?” Nyx examines her shadow-nails. “Tell me, did reorganizing that shelffor the fourth time help stabilize the realms? Or were you just hoping if you color-coded the apocalypse, it might decide to follow your filing system?”

“Now see here?—”

“No, you see, little Gray.” All pretense of amusement vanishes as she flows off the desk, darkness rippling around her like a living cloak. “The void isn’t just coming. It’s already here. In every crack, every shadow, every dark little space you try so hard to organize away. It’s in your blood, in your bones, in those lovely little fracture lines decorating your skin.”

Above us, something roars—a sound that shouldn’t be possible this close to the school. The grimoire in my hand pulses with sudden warmth.

“Shadow beast,” Uncle Everett mutters, standing. “Near the medical wing.”

My heart stops. The twins.

“Oops.” Nyx’s smile returns, sharp and satisfied. “It seems your filing system missed one. Better run along, little Gray. After all...” She gestures at the darkness writhing beyond the window. “The void does so love to play with broken things.”

I clutch the grimoire tighter, mind racing. Everything I’ve researched about realm stability, everything I’ve learned about my family’s curse—it’s all connected. The diagrams of ley lines intersecting with notes about immortality weren’t just my father’s ramblings. They were warnings.

“Uncle,” I say, already moving toward the stairs. “Keep researching. I need to?—”

“Go.” He’s gathering my research notes, his movements deliberately casual despite the tension in his shoulders. “Try not to do anything stupid. And Dorian?”

I pause at the base of the stairs.

“Your father would be proud. Probably. He was kind of a jerk about emotional displays.”

Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch. “Must run in the family.”

“Along with the terrible timing and questionable taste in companions.” He glances at Nyx, who merely examines her nails with exaggerated innocence.

“Darling, I’m the best taste this family has ever had,” she drawls. “Now run along, little Gray. The void waits for no one, not even immortals trying to organize it into submission.”

Another roar shakes the building. I take the stairs two at a time, the grimoire pulsing against my chest like a second heartbeat. Behind me, I hear Uncle Everett say something sharp to Nyx, who responds with that shattered-glass laugh.

The pack bonds pull at me—Frankie’s distress, Leo’s warmth trying to comfort her, Bishop’s guilt, Matteo’s vigilance. The cracks in my skin spread further with each step, spider webbing up my arms. The memory of Frankie in the healing spring flashes again—how letting go of control that one time had saved her. Perhaps it’s time to stop fighting what I am, what we all are together.

This is going to completely ruin my organizational system.

But then, some things—like pack, like love, like the fierce need to protect burning through my carefully constructed walls—are worth a little chaos.

Even if my color-coding may never recover.

Chapter 2

Matteo

---