Page 88 of Echoes From the Void

“Absolutely not,” Matteo declares, his shadows already reaching for the industrial kitchen space. “I’m cooking. I refuse to let anyone’s potential last meal be expired cafeteria food.”

“My hero,” Leo clutches his chest dramatically, though his shadows betray lingering weakness from the corruption. “Saving us from food poisoning one meal at a time.”

As they bicker about menu options and proper food safety, I catch Bishop watching us all with an expression I can’t quite read. His Guardian marks pulse with something between grief and determination.

“What?” I ask softly, letting my shadows reach for his.

“Just...” he adjusts his already perfect tie, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as emotional deflection. “Appreciating how you can make even an abandoned cafeteria feel like home.”

Through our bond, I feel his love, his fear, his fierce determination to protect us all. Feel everyone’s emotions mixing with my own—Matteo’s protective devotion, Leo’s bright affection, Dorian’s carefully hidden warmth, Finn’s growing sense of belonging, even Tori’s cautious hope.

“Well,” I say, watching Leo attempt to convince Dorian to help him string shadow-lights across the ceiling, “home isn’t really about the place, is it?”

Bishop’s hand finds mine, his Guardian marks pulsing gently against my skin. “No,” he agrees quietly. “It really isn’t.”

Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s response to that truth—his wonder at finally finding what was stolen from him all those years ago. Not just a place, but people. Family. Pack.

And if the Council thinks they can take this from us...

Well, they clearly haven’t met our pack.

Matteo takes over the industrial kitchen with practiced ease, his shadows reaching for familiar tools while Leo perches on a counter, supposedly helping but mostly providing running commentary. Through our various bonds, I feel their comfortable rhythm—years of friendship turned to love evident in every interaction.

“Should we be concerned about food safety?” Dorian eyes the kitchen skeptically, frost patterns analyzing everything. “The power has been off for?—”

“The preservation wards still hold,” Bishop interrupts, Guardian marks pulsing as he checks the ancient protections. “And I believe Matteo brought supplies from the pack house.”

“Of course he did,” Leo grins. “My man comes prepared.”

“Someone has to keep you all fed,” Matteo mutters, but his shadows curl with pleasure at the praise.

Through our twin bond, I feel Finn watching everything with fascinated attention, absorbing these casual dynamics. His light pulses with wonder at how naturally everyone moves together, how even in crisis we find these pockets of normalcy.

“Here,” Tori says suddenly, pulling out her phone. Her shadows dance with nervous energy. “We need music. Real music, not whatever Leo’s about to suggest.”

“Excuse you,” Leo protests while his shadows dramatically swoon, “my playlist game is legendary.”

“Your playlist game is chaotic at best,” Dorian corrects, frost patterns tracing his disapproval. “Need I remind everyone of the dubstep incident?”

“That was one time?—”

“You traumatized an entire study group.”

Music fills the space before their bickering can escalate—something soft and indie that makes Tori’s shadows sway slightly. Her eyes meet Finn’s, and through our bond, I feel his light pulse with nervous anticipation.

“So,” Tori says, aiming for casual but missing by miles, her shadows reaching unconsciously for Finn’s light, “about that dance you never got to have...”

Finn’s answering smile could power the entire campus. He takes her offered hand with endearing uncertainty, letting her guide him to the cleared space between tables. Their combined power creates gentle patterns in the air around them.

“I don’t really know how,” he admits quietly, his light flickering with nervous energy.

“Good thing I do,” she replies, arranging his hands with careful confidence. Her shadows and his light twine together as she shows him basic steps, creating unconscious auroras above them.

“Well that’s disgustingly adorable,” Leo observes cheerfully from his counter perch. “Remember when we were that awkward, Teo?”

“You’re still that awkward,” Matteo responds without looking up from his cooking, though his shadows reach automatically for Leo’s. “You tripped over your own feet this morning.”

“That was because you distracted me with your general existence.”

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