Page 16 of Echoes From the Void (Shadow Locke Shifters #3)

Chapter 15

Bishop

The Guardian Council chambers smell of old magic and older power—incense and oath-bound blood soaking into stone over centuries. Ancient runes pulse with faint light along marble columns that stretch into shadow-filled heights. Their grandeur feels smaller than it used to, diminished by what I now know about true protection. About pack.

About love.

My newly sealed pack bonds pulse against the formal Guardian magic trying to bind me as I stand before the Council. Commander Stone’s cold gaze assesses my divided loyalties from her elevated seat, frost gathering at her fingertips. The chamber’s enchanted braziers cast dancing shadows across her ageless features, though her expression betrays nothing. She’s played these political games longer than I’ve been alive.

But I learned from the best.

“Guardian Mercer,” she intones, each word weighted with centuries of tradition. The very air seems to thicken with power. “You stand accused of oath violation. How do you plead?”

I straighten my already perfect posture—a habit drilled into me since childhood. Through the pack bonds, I feel their worry pulsing like heartbeats—Frankie’s fierce protection wrapping around me like armor, Leo’s sunny support warming the chamber’s chill, Matteo’s simmering rage making the shadows dance, Dorian’s analytical concern scanning for weaknesses in the Council’s position. Their love flows stronger than any oath magic burning in my veins.

“I stand by my actions,” I say, choosing each word as carefully as my mother taught me. The same mother who adopted a shadow shifter child despite tradition, who taught me that sometimes breaking rules means upholding deeper laws. “The protection of the realm includes protecting its people.”

“The twins are not just people,” Council member Blake snaps, his aged frame leaning forward aggressively, guardian marks flaring with indignation. “They are assets. Weapons. And Valerie?—”

“Is a known kidnapper and torturer of children,” Luna’s voice rings clear and sharp from the gallery. Several Council members startle—they hadn’t noticed the lawyer’s presence among the ancient pillars. A rookie mistake. Luna Martinez never misses a chance to create legal precedent. “Or would the Council like me to present evidence of her experiments? I have quite the comprehensive file.”

The temperature drops as Commander Stone’s eyes narrow, shadows gathering at her fingertips like condensed night. “This is a closed session.” Frost creeps across her podium, a physical manifestation of her displeasure.

“Actually,” my mother says, stepping from the shadows in full Councilor regalia. Her ceremonial robes whisper against marble floors as she moves, every inch the political force that raised me. “As this concerns realm security and involves multiple supernatural factions, outside observation is not only permitted but required. Section 437-B of Guardian law.” Her smile could cut glass. “I’m sure you remember who wrote that particular amendment, Commander.”

Your mom is terrifying, Leo’s voice echoes in my head, somehow breaching formal Guardian wards. That’s new. I love it.

“Councilor Mercer,” Commander Stone grits out, ice crackling across her dais in delicate, deadly patterns, “this is Guardian business?—”

“No,” I interrupt, finally understanding something Frankie has been trying to teach me since that first day in my classroom. The pack bonds pulse with strength, warming me against the chamber’s supernatural chill. “This is pack business. Family business.” I hold up my arm where pack bonds have merged with Guardian marks, creating something new and powerful. Golden light ripples through the traditional runes. “And if the Guardians have forgotten the difference between control and protection, perhaps we need new traditions.”

The chamber erupts in outraged mutters, power crackling through the air like static before a storm.

“You would break your oath?” Commander Stone demands, her words carrying the weight of centuries. Each syllable falls like ice. “The same oath your father died upholding?”

My Father?

Shock ripples through me, making my carefully maintained posture falter. I fight the urge to look back at my mother, but it takes everything in me to keep my gaze forward as frost spreads beneath my feet.

I straighten my cuffs—another habit learned at my mother’s knee, a gesture of control when everything else threatens to shatter. “No.” Power surges through me—pack magic meeting Guardian tradition in a dance as old as shadow itself. The marble floor cracks beneath my feet as ancient power responds. “I would expand it.”

Before anyone can stop me, I invoke the ancient rite, words I’ve known since childhood taking on new meaning: “By shadow and shield, by blood and bond, I claim the right of pack protection. The hunt is justified, the cause is true, the pack is one.”

Shadow magic explodes through the chamber, shattering several of the enchanted braziers. When my vision clears, my Guardian marks have transformed, pack runes now permanently intertwined with ancient symbols. Through our bonds, I feel my mates’ awe at the display, their power merging seamlessly with Guardian magic until the very air thrums with possibility.

“What have you done?” Commander Stone whispers, real fear touching her voice for the first time. Shadows gather at her command, responding to her unease.

“Created precedent,” Luna announces cheerfully from the gallery, her pen scratching against paper. The sound echoes in the stunned silence. “Fascinating. This will make an excellent test case for modernizing Guardian law. The implications for supernatural family rights alone?—”

“The old ways remember,” a new voice cuts through the chaos. Council member Chen stands, her own Guardian marks shifting in response to mine. Ancient power ripples through her traditional runes. “The shadows remember what we forgot. Protection was never meant to be rigid. It was meant to adapt.”

One by one, other Guardians stand, their marks responding to the changed magic. A divide forms in the chamber—those remembering the true meaning of protection, and those clinging to control. Power crackles between the factions, making the air thick with tension.

“The Council cannot allow—” Blake starts, but his words carry less weight as more Guardians’ marks continue to change, answering an older call than mere tradition.

“The Council,” my mother interrupts smoothly, every syllable honed by decades of political warfare, “will adapt. As it has for centuries. As it must now.” She turns to Commander Stone, and I see the chess master who raised me moving her final piece. “Unless you wish to explain to the Shadow Court why you’re interfering with a justified blood hunt? I’m sure they’d be fascinated by your... interpretation of ancient laws.”

Commander Stone’s face tightens, shadows writhing around her in response to her anger.

“The hunt is recognized,” she says finally, each word clearly costing her. “But Bishop...” my given name falls like a warning, “remember what happened to the last Guardian who chose pack over duty.”

I grind my teeth and nod, knowing they are once again referencing a man I don’t know.

The pack bonds surge with strength, wrapping around me like armor made of love and trust. In the gallery, Luna makes another note on her legal pad while my mother hides a smile that carries decades of vindication.

“If that’s settled,” I say, already turning to leave because my pack is waiting and we have a hunt to prepare. I resist the urge to adjust my cuffs again—some habits die harder than others.

The chamber erupts in discussion as I leave, Luna right behind me with her legal pad. The sound of political chaos fades as we walk through ancient halls, replaced by the steady pulse of pack bonds.

“So,” Luna says as we walk, her lawyer’s mind already spinning possibilities, “want me to look into supernatural hunting permits? I’ve been expanding into ritual law. The precedent we just set opens up fascinating avenues for pack rights and?—”

“Luna.”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing the thing Leo does when he’s plotting chaos.”

“It’s a family trait,” she says cheerfully. “You signed up for this when you let my brother claim you.”

Despite everything, I laugh. The Martinez chaos is apparently contagious. But then, that’s what family is—chaos and protection, love and duty, old laws and new paths.

“Bishop.” My mother’s voice stops me. The same voice that used to soothe away nightmares about not being a “real” Mercer, that defended my adoption against tradition and prejudice. “Your father would be proud.”

“Yeah, let’s talk about that.” The anger I’ve fought so hard to control slips through my carefully maintained facade. My Guardian marks pulse with suppressed emotion.

“Not here.” She cuts me off, her shadows extending to check for listeners as she leads us down the administrative wing at Shadow Locke. “Follow me.”

The walk to her office feels longer than usual, each step heavy with unspoken truths. Her office—a sanctuary I’ve known since childhood—comes into view. Ancient tomes line the walls in precise arrangements, magical artifacts hum with contained power, and centuries of Guardian history watch from portraits of past Council members. The familiar space feels different now, charged with secrets long buried.

My mother traces a complex silencing ward before turning to face me. For the first time in my life, I see real fear in her eyes.

“I always knew this day would come,” she says softly, shadows gathering around her like a protective shroud. “I just hoped... I hoped I’d have more time.”

Through our pack bonds, I feel their support—steady and sure despite the distance. But this... this I need to face alone.

“More time for what?” I demand, struggling to keep my voice level. “To tell me about the father I apparently had? The one who died upholding his oath?”

She sighs, moving to an ornate cabinet I’ve never been allowed to open. Ancient wards shimmer as she unlocks it. “Your father was... complicated. A brilliant Guardian, but also a visionary. He saw the flaws in our system long before others did.”

“And you never thought to mention him?” The hurt in my voice surprises even me. A nearby artifact vibrates in response to my turbulent emotions.

“It wasn’t safe,” she says, withdrawing a small wooden box covered in protection runes. “Your father made powerful enemies with his ideas about reforming the Guardians. When he died... I had to protect you.”

Anger surges through me, making my Guardian marks flare. “Biological or?—”

“Biological.” The word falls between us like a stone. She sets the box on her desk with trembling hands. “Your father... was my brother.”

My knees buckle. I collapse into a chair, nausea swimming through me as decades of careful lies unravel. The room seems to spin as I struggle to process her words. “Your... brother?”

“Yes.” She steadies herself against her desk, shoulders bearing the weight of long-held secrets. “Your father was my older brother, Elias Mercer.”

“But... how? Why?” Each question feels inadequate against the magnitude of this betrayal.

Her fingers trace the intricate carvings on the box, protection runes glowing at her touch. “Elias and I were always close, even for twins. We shared everything—including our dreams for a better Guardian system. But where I worked within the system, Elias... he wanted to tear it all down and rebuild.”

The room fills with the hum of contained power as more artifacts respond to our emotional turmoil. Through the pack bonds, I feel their growing concern, but I push reassurance back. Not yet. I need to understand first.

“He believed the Guardians had lost their way,” she continues, her voice carrying the weight of old grief. “That we’d become more focused on control than protection. He wanted to return to the old ways, when Guardians and shifters worked together as equals.”

The irony of my recent actions in the Council chamber isn’t lost on me. “What happened?”

She shakes her head, tears gathering in her eyes. “The Council didn’t kill him. But they might as well have. They stripped him of his powers, his position, everything he’d worked for. He was exiled.”

“But you said he died upholding his oath.”

“He did,” she nods, opening the box to reveal a silver pendant thrumming with stored memories. “Just not in the way most think. Your father never stopped being a Guardian at heart. He continued his work in secret, protecting shifters from those who would exploit them.”

“Like Valerie & Blackwood,” I breathe, understanding dawning with horrific clarity.

“Exactly. Your father was investigating their experiments when...” She trails off, shadows gathering around her like a shroud of grief. “When they caught him. What they did to him... it was worse than death.”

The room feels too small suddenly, centuries of Guardian power pressing in like a tomb. “So where do I come in?”

She takes a deep breath. “Elias had fallen in love with a shadow shifter during his exile. When he realized Valerie & Blackwood were closing in, they ran.”

My newly sealed pack bonds pulse with shared pain as I grip the chair arms, anchoring myself. “My mother... my birth mother...”

“Died in childbirth,” she whispers, tears finally falling. “Your father’s last act before they killed him was hiding you in the human system. It took me years to find you.”

I sit in stunned silence, trying to absorb the weight of this revelation. My entire life, my very identity, suddenly feels like a carefully constructed lie. The artifacts around us vibrate with barely contained power, responding to my turmoil. And yet... the pieces fit. The unexplained gaps in my childhood, the whispered conversations that stopped when I entered rooms, the way my mother—aunt—always pushed me to question authority while still working within the system.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

She reaches across the desk, her hand hovering near mine but not quite touching. “I wanted to protect you. The enemies your father made... they’re still out there. And I needed you to form your own opinions about the Guardians, about our world, without the weight of his legacy.”

I laugh bitterly. “So instead, you let me believe I was unwanted. A charity case you took in out of the goodness of your heart.”

Pain flashes across her face. “Bishop, no. You were never unwanted. I loved you from the moment Elias placed you in my arms. You were—are—my son in every way that matters.”

“Except biology,” I mutter, unable to keep the hurt from my voice.

She opens the wooden box, pulling out the silver pendant. Ancient magic pulses from it like a heartbeat. “This was your father’s. It contains some of his memories, his hopes for the future. For you.” She holds it out. “I always planned to give it to you when you were ready.”

I grip the box in my hands, holding it to my chest as I stand. Like a ghost, I walk to the door, my vision swimming.

“Tori?” I question, because my mother tried so hard to get me to match with a pack.

“Safety in numbers,” she whispers.

I can’t look at her because betrayal turns my blood to venom.

Then a thought strikes me as swift as a viper’s bite. “Just how old is Valerie?” I ask as I spin back around.

My mother’s face tightens, shadows gathering around her protectively. “Older than she appears. Valerie has... ways of prolonging her life. Unnatural ways.”

The implications send my Guardian marks burning. “How long has she been experimenting on shifters?”

“Decades, at least. Possibly centuries. She’s remarkably adept at covering her tracks.”

“And the Council has done nothing?” The anger in my voice makes nearby artifacts shudder.

“It’s... complicated,” she says, rubbing her temples. “Valerie has powerful allies, both within the Council and outside it. And her research, while morally abhorrent, has produced results that some find... valuable.”

The room seems to tilt as the implications sink in. “You’re saying the Council has been turning a blind eye to torture and experimentation on children because it’s politically convenient?”

Her silence is answer enough.

“This is why Dad wanted to tear it all down,” I realize, the pieces falling into place. “Why he was willing to risk everything.”

“Yes,” she nods, a glimmer of pride in her eyes.

I turn away, my bite from Frankie throbbing with the intensity of my emotions.

“Bishop,” my mot—aunt calls after me. “I love you.”

I pause at the threshold, my hand on the doorknob. The words hang in the air between us, heavy with decades of secrets and love and pain. Part of me wants to turn back, to embrace the woman who raised me, who protected me all these years. But the betrayal cuts too deep.

“I know,” I say softly, not turning around. “But right now, that’s not enough.”

I walk away, the pendant burning against my chest like a brand of truth I’m not ready to face.