Page 78 of Echoes From the Void

Frost spreads beneath us, each crystal formation a perfect replica of time breaking down. Through our pack bonds, I feel them register the change—even Frankie, barely conscious, her shadows reaching curiously toward my temporal distortions.

“The void,” the words tear from my throat as I watch frost patterns dance with lingering traces of their combined power. “It’s not just darkness or corruption. It’s time itself breaking down.”

The temporal fractures around me pulse, my curse responding to their raw power. For one terrifying moment, I feel it weaken. Feel time flow normally again. Feel myself become...young.

Terror rips through me as memories flood back—not centuries of knowledge, but twenty-two years of pretending to be more than I am. The curse doesn’t make me ancient and wise. It just lets me pretend.

“I need to—” Frost crackles violently around my feet as panic claws up my throat. Time splinters in my vision, showingmultiple versions of myself—the scholar I pretend to be, the student I really am. “I have to?—”

“Dorian?” Bishop steps toward me, Guardian marks flaring at my obvious distress.

But I’m already backing away, Uncle Everette’s warnings echoing in my head: never let anyone close enough to break the curse. Never let them see the truth. Never let them know you’re just playing at being immortal.

I don’t turn around, watching frost crystallize ancient knowledge. “Not now, Uncle E.”

“Oh right, because your existential crisis clearly outweighs centuries of preserved knowledge.” His reflection appears in the ice, distorted through temporal fractures. He’s carrying a golf club, of all things, its metal gleaming against his rumpled tweed.

“Why do you have?—”

“Thought I’d get some putting practice in while waiting for you to finish your dramatic breakdown.” He studies the frozen floor like it’s an interesting course challenge. “You know, most people your age just get drunk and make questionable decisions about their hair.”

“Most people my age,” frost spikes form with each word, “don’t have to worry about accidentally breaking reality.”

“No,” he agrees, positioning his ball. “They just think they do. Being twenty-two is basically one long panic attack about the future anyway.”

Through pack bonds, I feel Frankie stirring, her shadows reaching instinctively for my temporal distortions. Even unconscious, she tries to fix what’s broken.

“They can break my curse,” the words taste like frost and fear.

“Probably.” The golf ball skids across perfect ice. “Question is—why does that terrify you more than staying cursed?”

Time splinters around us as truth hits: “Because the curse makes me special. Makes me matter. Without it, I’m just?—”

“A remarkably intelligent, incredibly uptight young man with concerning organizational habits?” His ball sinks into a crack in the ice. “The horror.”

I watch my fractured reflections—scholar, student, liar, fraud. “You don’t understand. If they try to neutralize my curse, the temporal backlash could?—”

“Could what?” His voice sharpens like ice. “Hurt them? Like the corruption they just absorbed? Like the void eating reality while you hide in my library having a quarter-life crisis?”

Frost spreads faster as panic rises. “That’s different?—”

“Is it?” He turns to face me fully, power crackling beneath his disheveled exterior. “Those twins just proved they can absorb and neutralize corruption itself. They might be our only chance at stopping the void. And you’re worried about losing your special snowflake status?”

His words hit harder than any temporal shift. Ice cracks beneath my feet as decades of carefully constructed identity fracture.

“If something happens to them because of me...” My voice breaks as time splinters around the truth.

“Something’s going to happen to all of us if the void isn’t stopped.” Everette’s reflection multiplies across the ice, each version showing a different temporal possibility. “The question is—are you going to help them figure this out, or are you going to hide in my library pretending your personal crisis matters more than reality falling apart?”

Frost patterns shift with my silence, forming equations I’ve spent years pretending to understand. Through pack bonds, I feel Frankie fully awakening, her confusion at my absence a physical ache.

“They’ll have to absorb so much corruption.” The words emerge like broken glass. “The void, my curse, everything that’s breaking... it could destroy them.”

“Probably.” Everette’s eyes soften though his voice remains sharp. “But that’s their choice to make, isn’t it? Just like staying cursed would be yours. If you ever stop having panic attacks in my library long enough to actually talk to them about it.”

Time fractures settle slightly as understanding seeps in. The curse doesn’t make me special—it just lets me hide from being ordinary. From being young. From being afraid.

“When did you get so wise?” Frost recedes from the nearest bookshelf.

---