Page 84 of Echoes From the Void

Unlike Cass, who at least tempers her Guardian formality with genuine friendship, this one radiates pure institutional power. Commander Stone’s personal insignia burns on his chest, the ancient sigils a clear threat to those who know how to read them.

“Guardian Mercer.” His tone carries that particular blend of respect and warning that the Council has perfected over centuries. “The Commander expects you within the hour.”

“Understood.” I keep my voice neutral, professional, everything a proper Guardian should be. Everything my mother—no, my aunt—trained me to be. Inside, my newly strengthened pack bonds scream warning, Frankie’s shadows stirring with concern.

Cass lingers as I dress with mechanical precision—each button aligned, each fold perfect, my tie a study in geometricaccuracy. The familiar ritual usually calms me, like organizing tactical charts or creating comprehensive lecture outlines. Today it feels like strapping on armor, each layer of formal robes heavy with protective magic that reminds me of everything I stand to lose.

“Your research,” she says quietly, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “About the twin programs, about what happened with your father...” She hesitates, an echo of our shared grief crossing her face. “Some of the older records are missing from the archive. Files I know we both studied during training.”

My hands still on my tie as understanding hits. “How many?”

“Enough to be concerning.” Real fear crosses her face now, something I haven’t seen since the day my father died. “Bishop, they’re systematically erasing something. And after what happened with your father?—”

“My maps,” I cut her off, not ready to face those implications, “are securely stored. In a location the Council doesn’t know about.”

She nods once, sharp and decisive. The same way she used to when we discovered something particularly damning during our investigation of my father’s “accident.” “Good. You might... you might want to make sure they stay that way.”

Through our pack bonds, I feel Frankie stirring with increasing concern at my growing unease. Feel Leo’s weakened presence reaching out in question. Feel Matteo’s protective instincts rising. Feel Dorian’s temporal energy fluctuating with shared anxiety.

I send back reassurance I don’t feel, straightening my already straight tie one final time. The Guardian marks on my chest pulse with barely contained tension.

“Cass,” I say quietly, “if something happens...”

“I’ll make sure your pack knows.” No hesitation now. Just the steadfast loyalty of a friend who helped me piece togetherthe truth about my father’s death. “But Bishop? Try not to let anything happen. Some of us still remember what your father died trying to prevent.”

The words hit like a physical blow, but I maintain my careful composure. Through my Guardian marks, I feel the Council’s magic already reaching for me, demanding my presence. Control is all I have left as I head toward whatever storm is brewing in the Council chambers.

The Council chambers smell like old power and stale tradition—centuries of Guardian magic soaked into stone. Ancient wards pulse along the walls, shadow-script flowing like dark water. Commander Stone sits at the center of the raised platform, flanked by other Council members whose formal robes catch candlelight, creating shadows that writhe unnaturally.

“Guardian Mercer,” she intones, her voice carrying that particular weight that makes younger Guardians flinch. I’ve known her too long to show such weakness, especially now that my father’s death sits heavy between us. “You understand why you’ve been summoned?”

“Enlighten me.” I keep my tone perfectly respectful while letting my new oath marks pulse visibly. A reminder that some loyalties—pack loyalties—run deeper than Council politics.

Her eyes narrow at my subtle defiance. “The twins represent our best chance at stabilizing the realms. Their recent display of power with Leo Martinez proves they can absorb and neutralize corruption.”

“They nearly died doing it,” I point out, though I already know where this is heading. Feel it in the way the other Council members won’t meet my gaze, in how their shadows twist away from mine.

“Individual lives must sometimes be sacrificed for the greater good.” Council member Blake’s voice carries false sympathy.“Surely your father understood that before his... unfortunate decisions.”

The mention of my father makes my Guardian marks flare hot against my skin. Through our pack bonds, I feel Frankie’s sudden attention, her shadows reaching for mine despite her exhaustion.

“The twins are under my protection,” I say carefully, each word measured against decades of Guardian training. “As is my right as both Guardian and pack member.”

“Your pack bonds are precisely the problem.” Commander Stone stands, her own shadows spreading across the chamber floor like spilled ink. “You’re too close to see what must be done. The void grows stronger every day. The realms fracture further. And now we have proof that the twins can absorb that corruption.”

“By dying in the process,” I snap, control slipping. “You’re talking about sacrifice like it’s some noble choice when really you’re just?—”

“Following precedent,” she cuts me off, her Guardian marks flaring with warning. “This isn’t the first time such measures have been necessary. Your father’s rebellion proved costly last time. Don’t make his mistakes.”

The implications hit like a blade between ribs.

Through our pack bonds, I feel Frankie’s growing alarm at my emotional state. “Last time,” I repeat, voice hollow. “How many times have you tried to sacrifice twins, even knowing they couldn’t fully stabilize the realms?”

“As many times as necessary.” Blake’s tone suggests he’s discussing weather rather than systematized murder. His shadows spread across the floor, merging with Commander Stone’s. “Though none showed quite the promise these two do. With their combined power?—”

“You can’t have them.” The words emerge as a growl, my carefully maintained Guardian facade cracking. My own shadows rise to meet theirs, oath marks burning with defiance.

Commander Stone sighs like I’m a particularly disappointing student. Ancient magic crackles around her as she speaks. “This isn’t a request, Guardian Mercer. The Council has made its decision. We’re merely extending the courtesy of allowing you to say goodbye.”

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