Page 9 of Echoes From the Void

“Mind your tone, Bishop. Ceremony maintains order.”

“The shadow realm is literally unraveling, Mother. I don’t think proper ceremony is going to fix it.” Another tremor rattles the windows, emphasizing my point. The shadows inthe corners of my office writhe unnaturally, responding to the destabilization of their home realm.

She sighs, the sound heavy with decades of Council politics. “Just... try to remember what we discussed. The Commander is watching you closely since?—”

“Since I chose to protect Frankie instead of following orders? Since I put pack before duty?”

“Since you showed independent thought,” she corrects. “Something the Guardian Command has never handled well.”

Before I can respond, Cass appears in my doorway, her back rigid with formality, but her eyes betraying something more—worry, perhaps. The latest tremor makes her steady herself against the doorframe. “Professor Mercer. The ceremony begins in ten minutes.”

“Understood.” I end the call, straightening my formal robes as another quake sends the shadow essence readings wild. Everything perfectly regulation, perfectly controlled. The way I was trained. The way I trained others, before Frankie crashed back into my life and shattered all my careful certainties.

The walk to the underground training grounds gives me too much time to think. Cass walks beside me, her posture as stiff as ever, but her eyes keep tracking the way shadows slither unnaturally across the walls. The collapse of their home realm making them restless, hungry.

“Any word on Valerie?” I ask, keeping my voice low. The tremors are worse in this part of campus, closer to where the shadow realm bleeds through. “She knows more about the collapse than she revealed.”

Cass hesitates, a rare crack in her professional mask. “No. She slipped into the shadow realm, Bishop. I tried tracking her through the unstable areas, but...” She gestures at the flickering reality around us. “She knows paths we can’t follow. Not with the realm falling apart.”

I nod, processing her words. “It wasn’t your fault. She knows our protocols better than anyone. Still...”

“Still,” she agrees, her voice carrying an edge of frustration. “But I won’t stop looking. Not until she’s found.” A particularly strong tremor makes us both pause. “If there’s anything left to search once the shadow realm finishes collapsing.”

I give her a sidelong glance, catching the determination in her eyes. “I know you won’t.”

Then the silence stretches between us again, heavy with everything unsaid. About choices and consequences. About a frightened girl in a foster home, and how I left her there, following orders. About finding her again, watching her build something beautiful despite everything we put her through.

About how many other lives we’ve ruined in the name of balance.

The ancient oath candles cast dancing shadows across the training grounds, their black flames consuming shadow essence instead of oxygen. Each tremor makes them flicker dangerously, the shadows they cast writhing like living things. Cass and I step into the chamber, the heavy door closing behind us with an echoing thud that’s almost lost in another quake.

I take my place among the other Guardians, each of them certain of their purpose. Their path. The underground chamber should feel safer, more stable, but even here I can feel the shadow realm’s deterioration. The very air seems to shiver between realities.

The Commander gestures for me to step forward, her gaze heavy with expectation. The tremors have left fine cracks in the ancient stone floor, dark energy seeping through like blood. “Bishop Mercer, come forth,” she calls, her voice echoing through the chamber. I take a deep breath, stepping into the center of the ritual space, all eyes fixed on me.

I hold my palm steady as the Guardian Commander makes the ritual cut, watching my blood mix with liquidized shadow. The droplets don’t fall—they float, swirling in patterns older than the university itself. But even this ancient magic seems unstable, the patterns wavering as another quake shakes the foundations.

“Blood of the Guardian,” the Commander intones, her voice echoing with centuries of power. “Shadow of the Realm. Bound in service, sealed in sacrifice.”

The words should feel familiar. They used to fill me with a sense of belonging, of purpose. But now they scrape against my growing awareness of Frankie and the others like steel on stone. Beside me, other Guardians undergo their own oath renewals, each of them certain of their place. Their purpose. Even as the ground trembles beneath us, warning of worse to come.

A memory surfaces: Frankie in my classroom that first day, shadows curling beneath her skin, untrained but so powerful. How many others have we left vulnerable, all in the name of control? Through our potential bond, I feel her responding to each quake, her innate connection to the shadow realm making her more sensitive to its collapse.

“Bishop Mercer,” the Commander continues, “you have upheld our laws, protected our secrets?—”

Protected secrets that should never have been kept, I think, remembering Frankie’s face when she discovered her twin. My blood swirls faster, agitated by my doubt. The tremors increase, as if the shadow realm itself responds to my uncertainty.

“—and maintained the balance.” The Commander pauses, her ancient eyes fixing on mine as another tremor rattles the oath candles. “Even in the face of... unexpected attachments.”

I feel it then—not quite a pack bond, but the potential for one. Like shadow essence before it takes form, waiting to be shaped. Through this tentative connection, I sense Frankie’sdistant distress as another quake rocks the medical wing, Leo’s chaotic energy as he tries to protect his sisters from the unstable barriers, Matteo’s protective focus, Dorian’s growing concern about the manuscripts disappearing into the shadow realm. These ghost-bonds feel more real than the oath magic trying to bind my soul.

“The balance,” I repeat carefully, years of political training evident in my measured tone, “takes many forms.”

“Indeed.” She gestures, and an initiate brings forward the Prophecy Codex—a book I’ve seen exactly twice in my life. The leather binding seems to absorb light, the way the void consumes everything it touches in the collapsing shadow realm. “As do threats to it.”

My mother’s warnings echo in my mind. Watch yourself. The Commander fears change more than chaos. Another tremor emphasizes the point, making shadow essence leak through the chamber’s ancient stones.

“Commander?”

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