Page 81 of Echoes From the Void

“She knew one set wouldn’t be enough.” Nausea rises as the full horror of it hits me. “The void is too big, the corruption too widespread. They needed armies of twins. Pairs and pairs of us, all working together to...”

“So Valerie wasn’t just experimenting,” Leo says, voice hardening with each word. His shadows coil with rage. “She was trying to identify which twins could absorb corruption, breed them to make more. Like some kind of twisted shadow farm.”

“While eliminating the ones who couldn’t handle it.” Dorian’s frost spreads in sharp, angry patterns. “That’s why so many died or became corrupted. They were treating it like a eugenics program, trying to breed the perfect pairs.”

Through our various bonds, I feel their collective horror at the revelation. Matteo’s shadows writhe with protective fury, Leo’s essence pulses with remembered pain, and Dorian’s frost patterns fracture like broken glass.

“But Mother knew better.” The memories surface like bruises—her gentle hands during training, her soft songs in shadow-speak, her desperate need to keep us safe. “She knew you couldn’t breed for this. Couldn’t force it. The balance had to be...”

“Natural,” Finn whispers. “Like us. That’s why she protected us so fiercely. We weren’t just an experiment?—”

“You were proof,” Matteo growls, his alpha energy flooding our bonds. “Proof that their whole breeding program was wrong. That true balance can’t be manufactured. Can’t be forced.”

Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s horror matching mine. How many pairs died in their attempts? How many were bred like cattle, trying to recreate what happened naturally with us? The weight of it settles in our shared essence like poison.

“But we’re not enough,” I say quietly, watching my shadows dance with Finn’s light. Even working together, our power barely contained Leo’s corruption. “Are we? Even together, we can’t absorb enough corruption to stop the void.”

“No,” Dorian confirms, frost patterns shifting anxiously across the walls. His temporal distortions ripple with barely contained fear. “Which means...”

“We need to find the others,” Finn finishes. “The twins who survived. The ones they’re still keeping. Mother’s research mentioned other facilities, other?—”

“Wait.” Leo pushes himself up despite his weakness, shadows trembling with effort. His eyes narrow with sudden understanding. “In all of Valerie’s files, in all of Blackwood’s research... in everything we’ve found so far... has anyone actually seen records of other surviving twins?”

The silence that follows weighs like death. Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s realization mirror mine, horror building with each passing second.

“We’re it,” he whispers, light flickering with dawning truth. “Aren’t we? The only ones who survived. The only ones who could handle the corruption without breaking.”

Dorian’s frost spreads as he checks data on his phone, temporal distortions creating echoes of past moments. “Every other pair either died or became corrupted. Your mother’s notes... she wasn’t trying to create more twins. She was trying to figure out why you two were different. Why you were the only ones who could naturally balance shadow and light.”

“The only ones,” I repeat, the truth settling like lead in my stomach. Each word tastes like ash. “Which means...”

“It’s just us,” Finn says, his voice hollow. “Against the entire void.”

Through our pack bonds, horror ripples at the implications. Matteo’s shadows curl tighter around me, protective even though we all know what this means. I feel Leo’s essence reach for us both, trying to deny what we all know is coming.

“You’ll die,” Matteo says flatly, his shadows coiling with barely contained rage. “Trying to absorb that much corruption... it would destroy you both. Tear your essence apart.”

“Or save everyone,” I counter softly. Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s agreement—not eager, not noble, just certain.

“No.” Leo’s voice cracks, his shadows reaching for us desperately. “There has to be another way. We can’t just let you?—”

“Sacrifice ourselves?” Finn’s hollow laugh echoes with remembered pain. “Isn’t that what we were made for? Why Mother protected us for so long? Why she trained us separately, kept us hidden, made sure we’d be strong enough to?—”

“She protected you because she loved you,” Dorian cuts in sharply, frost crackling with intensity. “Not to turn you into martyrs. Her research was about keeping you safe, not preparing you for sacrifice.”

But through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s resignation matching mine. Feel him understand what we have to do. What we’ve always been meant to do.

“So that’s it?” Leo demands, pushing himself up further despite Matteo’s warning growl. His shadows lash out with fear disguised as anger. “You two just decide to sacrifice yourselves and we’re supposed to what... watch? Let you die?”

Through our pack bonds, their fear and fury pulse like a living thing. I feel Matteo’s desperate need to protect, Leo’s terror of losing more family, Dorian’s temporal essence fracturing with possibilities.

But through my twin bond with Finn, I feel something else.

Peace.

Not because we want to die. Not because we’re embracing sacrifice. Not even because we think it’s right.

But because for the first time since we were separated as infants, we understand exactly what we were meant to be.

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