Page 85 of Echoes From the Void

“How generous,” I manage through clenched teeth. The chamber’s wards pulse with growing tension, responding to our clashing powers.

“You have twenty-four hours.” She sits back down, already dismissing me. “Use them wisely. And Bishop?” Her use of my given name carries warning as her shadows reach for mine. “Don’t do anything foolish. We’d hate to have another tragedy in your family.”

I bow with perfect mechanical precision, each movement controlled despite the rage building in my chest. Through our bonds, I feel the pack’s growing alarm at my emotional state. Feel Frankie’s shadows reaching to steady me, even from a distance.

“Twenty-four hours,” I repeat, voice steady even as my shadows writhe against the Council’s power. “Understood.”

I turn to leave, steps measured, posture perfect. The very image of Guardian compliance. My father wore the same mask, I remember, right before he died trying to save the last set of twins.

The heavy chamber doors close behind me with an echoing finality. I make it exactly three steps before my careful composure cracks, Guardian marks pulsing with barely contained fury.

“Bishop.” Cass’s voice, quiet but urgent. She falls into step beside me, her own formal robes rustling. “Not here. The archives.”

I follow her lead without question, trusting instincts forged through years of friendship. The archives, at least, are protected by older magic—wards that predate Council surveillance. Wards my father helped maintain.

“They’re going to kill them,” I say once we’re safely enclosed by ancient texts and protective spells. “Just like they killed the others. Just like they?—”

“Like they tried to do when your father interfered,” Cass finishes. She pulls a slim file from beneath her robes, its pages radiating old power. “I’ve been tracking the missing records. Every major realm disturbance in the past century corresponds with twin disappearances. Always explained away. Always covered up.”

My hands shake slightly as I take the file. “You’ve been investigating this?”

“Since freshman year.” Her voice carries a hint of our old shared academic determination. “Since I noticed how many historical documents mentioned twins but never explained what happened to them. Since I realized your father’s ‘betrayal’ coincided with another set of disappearances.”

Through our pack bonds, I feel Frankie’s growing concern. Feel her shadows reaching for mine, seeking answers I’m not ready to give. Feel the others stirring with shared unease.

“Why are you showing me this now?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer. The file pulses with contained power between us.

Cass meets my eyes directly, her Guardian marks dim with old guilt. “Because I was there when they killed the last pair. I watched them sacrifice children in the name of temporarystability. I...” She swallows hard. “I helped cover it up. And I can’t do it again.”

“You’ve been feeding information to my mother—my aunt,” I realize, pieces clicking into place. “All these years, you’ve been the one helping her protect potential twins.”

She nods once, sharp and decisive. “Your father recruited me before he died. Made me promise to watch, to record, to wait for the right moment.” Her lips twist. “I think this qualifies.”

I study my oldest friend, seeing her properly for the first time in years. The perfect Guardian exterior hiding steel determination. Just like me. Just like my father before us.

“They’ll kill you if they find out.”

“They’ll try.” She straightens her already perfect posture, her marks pulsing with resolve. “But right now, they’re focused on your pack. On the twins. Which means...”

“We have twenty-four hours to get them somewhere safe,” I finish, mind already racing with possibilities. “To expose everything.”

“Less than that.” She glances at the archive’s ancient clock, its shadow-marked face counting down with grim purpose. “They won’t wait the full time. Stone’s already mobilizing her personal guard.”

My Guardian marks pulse with fresh urgency. Through our bonds, I feel the pack responding to my rising tension. Feel Frankie’s shadows stretching toward mine with growing alarm.

“I need to warn them,” I say, already turning to leave. The archive’s protective wards swirl around us, older and purer than the Council’s corrupted magic.

“Bishop.” Cass catches my arm. “There’s more. About your father, about why he really died...”

“Later,” I cut her off. “Right now, I need to protect my pack.”

She nods, understanding in her eyes. “Go. I’ll keep monitoring the Council. Just...” She presses a smallcommunication crystal into my hand, its surface warm with contained power. “Be careful. And Bishop?”

“Yeah?”

“Make it count this time.” Her smile carries echoes of freshman year determination. “Make all the sacrifices mean something.”

I clasp her shoulder briefly—a gesture from our training days that carries volumes of shared history and trust. Through our pack bonds, I feel them gathering, responding to my silent call.

---