Page 52 of Echoes From the Void

“They’re trying to confuse us,” Leo notes, but his tone carries certainty. He knows I won’t be fooled.

A branch snaps ahead—clumsy, panicked movement. Amateur. The scent sharpens—fear sweat and antiseptic, like the facility’s labs. Like Frankie’s memories of pain.

“One of Valerie’s assistants,” I growl, feeling my fangs lengthen. “Female. Injured.” Blood scent carries on the wind, making my shadows writhe. “Afraid.”

“Good,” Leo says, his usual warmth hardening to something dangerous. Even his sunshine can cast deadly shadows when needed.

Bishop appears on our right, moving soundlessly with Guardian grace. “Got confirmation from my mother. The Council wants them alive for questioning.”

“Alive doesn’t mean unharmed,” I remind him, earning a grim nod. Through our pack bonds, I feel his own rage at what we found in those labs.

“More movement at your two o’clock,” Leo warns, shifting to flank wider. “Multiple targets.”

Perfect. More prey.

“Formation three?” Leo asks, but I’m already moving. Years of training together, of protecting each other, make words unnecessary. He knows my hunts like I know his heart.

The assistants break into a run, crashing through underbrush with pure prey behavior. My shadows hunger at their panic, at their amateur attempts to throw us off.

“Amateur,” I mutter. “Running uphill.”

“Thinking height means safety,” Leo agrees, his power pulsing in time with mine. “Want to show them how wrong they are?”

Through our bond, I feel his fierce joy in the hunt matching mine. This is what we’ve always been—my darkness and his light, perfectly balanced in pursuit of justice.

The prey cluster together—four of them now, backs against a rocky outcrop. One pulls out something that makes Bishop swear.

“Essence injectors,” he warns through gritted teeth. “Like the ones from the facility.”

The memory of Frankie’s screams in that place hits me like a physical blow. My shadows lash out before conscious thought, smashing the injectors. One assistant screams as darkness coils around her throat.

“The children,” I say, letting them see my fangs. “Tell me about the children.”

“You don’t understand,” one babbles, blood trickling from her nose where my shadows grip too tight. “The essence trials were necessary. The realms are collapsing, we needed?—”

“Wrong answer.”

I reach for their blood the way I learned to sense pressure points and energy flow in my mother’s clinic. But where she uses it to heal, I use it to extract truth. My shadows slip into their veins, tasting copper and corruption and?—

Images flood in: laboratories, essence trials, Blackwood’s growing instability. A hidden temple deep in the shadow realm. And something else. Something worse.

“No,” I breathe, the revelation staggering me. “That’s not possible.”

Leo steadies me instantly, his hand warm on my back. Through our oldest bond, I feel his question, his concern.

“Matteo?” Bishop lands beside us, Guardian marks blazing. “What is it?”

The assistant laughs suddenly, more blood trickling down. “You think Valerie’s working alone? It wasn’t just her father. Ask the Guardians about Project Sunrise. Ask them about?—”

My shadows move before she can finish, silencing her. But the blood has already shown me everything—decades of experiments, children twisted by corrupted essence, a program that goes deeper than just Valerie’s madness.

“There are more facilities,” I tell Leo and Bishop, my voice rough with rage. “Not just the asylum. They have... they have whole compounds. Hidden in both realms.”

“How many?” Bishop demands, his Guardian training taking over.

“Too many.” The blood tells me numbers, locations, horrors beyond counting. “And they’re not just experimenting anymore. They’re...”

“Succeeding,” the assistant chokes out. “The merger of light and shadow... it’s finally working. The next phase is?—”

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