Page 87 of Echoes From the Void

“The main campus is still protected,” Bishop says, his tactical mind engaging despite his emotional turmoil. His Guardian marks pulse as he reaches out to check the wards. “My protections hold strongest around the central buildings. Including the cafeteria.”

I remember my first months at Shadow Locke, when I thought it was just a normal university. When the cafeteria was just a cafeteria, not another front in an eternal battle between realms. When Bishop was just my intimidatingly attractive professor, not a Guardian protecting ancient secrets.

“It’s strange,” I say quietly, making them all look at me. My shadows curl with remembered innocence. “I used to think that cafeteria was the most normal place on campus. Just students and bad coffee and Leo trying not to be obvious about watching Matteo during rugby team breakfasts.”

“I was very subtle,” Leo protests, his shadows flickering with attempted lightness.

“You knocked over an entire rack of trays,” Matteo reminds him, lips twitching. “Twice.”

“Tactical distraction,” Leo insists. “Very calculated.”

Through our twin bond, I feel Finn watching our exchange with that mixture of longing and amusement I’ve come to recognize. Everything that should have been normal—cafeteria drama, classroom crushes, awkward flirting—was stolen from him by Blackwood’s experiments.

“You know what?” I stand, decision made. My wolves materialize briefly before fading, responding to my resolve. “Leo’s right.”

“I am?” Leo blinks, shadows dancing. “I mean, of course I am. About what specifically?”

“About making these hours count.” I reach for Finn’s hand, feeling his light pulse with cautious hope. “About giving you at least one normal college experience before...” I trail off, but they all understand. Our bonds thrum with shared determination to make this moment matter.

“The cafeteria does have a decent sound system,” Tori offers, her shadows curling hopefully toward Finn’s light. “And plenty of space for dancing.”

The walk across campus feels surreal—our small group moving through abandoned spaces that should be teeming with students. The void’s corruption is visible at the edges of Shadow Locke’s borders, purple-tinged darkness eating away at reality. But Bishop’s wards shimmer with protective power, creating paths of relative safety between the shadows.

“Looks different at night,” Finn observes, taking in the gothic architecture. His light pulses with curiosity about this place that should have been part of his college experience too. Through our twin bond, I feel his mixture of wonder and regret.

“You should have seen it during finals week,” I tell him, letting my shadows dance with his light. “Students sleeping in every corner, mainlining coffee like it was oxygen.”

“The coffee cart guy,” Leo sighs nostalgically, his own shadows reaching playfully toward Matteo’s. “Remember him? Best cold brew on campus.”

“You mean the shadow shifter who was actually monitoring essence fluctuations under the guise of selling caffeine?” Bishop’s dry tone carries a hint of amusement. His Guardian marks pulse gently against the night. “Another detail you missed during your ‘normal’ college experience, Frankie.”

“Wait.” I stop walking, my wolves materializing briefly in surprise. “Jerry was a shadow shifter? The one who always gave me extra shots of espresso for free?”

“He was assessing your power levels,” Bishop explains, adjusting his perfect tie. “Though I suspect the free coffee was genuine appreciation for how you handled those fraternity boys who were harassing freshmen.”

“The ones who mysteriously tripped into the fountain?” Matteo’s fangs flash in a grin, his shadows curling with remembered satisfaction. “I may have helped with that.”

“We all did,” Leo admits cheerfully. “Though technically, I just provided dramatic commentary while Matteo did the actual intimidation.”

The cafeteria looms ahead—all glass and modern design that clashes beautifully with the campus’s older buildings. Through its windows, moonlight spills across empty tables and abandoned serving stations. My shadows stir restlessly, remembering countless meals here before I knew what I really was.

“The locks are warded,” Bishop starts, his Guardian marks pulsing as he reaches out to check the protections.

“Please,” Leo scoffs, shadows dancing around his fingers with familiar purpose. “I’ve been breaking in here for late-night snacks since freshman year.” At Bishop’s raised eyebrow, he adds, “What? I get hungry after rugby practice.”

“You know I had to file incident reports about those break-ins,” Bishop sighs, though his marks flicker with fond exasperation.

“You mean those very detailed reports that somehow always failed to identify the perpetrator despite multiple witnesses?” Leo grins. “Yeah, thanks for that, by the way.”

The doors click open under Leo’s touch, years of practice evident in his movements. The familiar scent of industrial cooking and artificial lemon cleaner washes over us as we enter. But now I can sense the layers of protection wards, the ancient magic woven into mundane spaces.

“Home sweet home,” Leo announces, spreading his arms wide as his shadows start crafting makeshift mood lighting. “Or at least, home of questionable meatloaf and truly epic crush-watching opportunities.”

“I still maintain I wasn’t that obvious,” Matteo mutters, though his shadows curl possessively around both Leo and me.

Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s delight at these glimpses of normal college drama—even the supernatural kind. His light reaches unconsciously for Tori’s shadows as she moves closer to him.

“Well,” I say, watching Leo’s shadows already starting to craft makeshift mood lighting while my own wolves prowl the perimeter protectively, “should we see what’s left in the kitchen? Give Finn a true college dining experience?”

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