Page 6 of Echoes From the Void (Shadow Locke Shifters #3)

Chapter 5

Frankie

My shadow wolf curls around Finn’s hospital bed as another tremor shakes the medical wing. Dawn creeps through the windows, but the shadows in the room don’t follow natural laws anymore. Not since I found my twin. Not since everything I thought I knew about my powers turned sideways.

The wolf’s ears perk at approaching footsteps— multiple sets, one with Leo’s familiar bounce. Through the window, I catch glimpses of reality flickering as the shadow realm’s collapse bleeds through, making the medical equipment readings spike.

“Special delivery for my favorite shadow queen,” Leo announces, shouldering through the door with a coffee carrier just as another small quake rattles the monitors. The wolf doesn’t react to the tremor, focused entirely on Finn. “Today’s puns are particularly shadow-tastic.”

I eye the cups suspiciously. “Do I want to know what you wrote on them?”

“You mocha me crazy,” he reads with a flourish, handing me the first cup. “Life without you would be un-bear-able— that one has a little shadow bear drawn on it. And my personal favorite: You’re spec-tacular.”

“That last one’s not even a pun,” I point out, but I’m already reaching for the coffee. The familiar banter helps steady me as another tremor makes the medical equipment whine in protest.

“Ah, but I drew little glasses made of shadows.” He grins. “Get it? Specs? Spectral?”

“It’s too early for this,” Dorian mutters from his corner, surrounded by ancient texts and monitoring equipment. Dark circles under his eyes match the spreading cracks in his skin. His research materials keep shifting between realities as the barrier weakens, making him increasingly irritable.

“It’s never too early for coffee puns,” Leo declares, setting a cup beside Dorian’s flickering books. “I even made yours extra dark. Like your soul.”

Matteo’s mother enters then, her healing energy a gentle counterpoint to my restless shadows. She eyes the coffee parade with amused tolerance, though her professional gaze catches every detail of how the room’s shadows respond to the realm’s instability.

“Your aura is splitting,” Dr. Sharma observes, checking Finn’s vitals as another tremor makes the monitoring crystals chime in warning. Her hands glow with healing energy, but she studies my shadow wolf with professional curiosity rather than fear. “Like light through a prism, but with shadow. The realm’s instability seems to be affecting how your powers manifest.”

“Is that... bad?” I try to hide how much the strain is affecting me, but I can feel their concern— Leo’s playfulness dimming, Matteo tensing by the door, Dorian’s grip tightening on his pen. The wolf paces restlessly, responding to both my anxiety and the unstable reality around us.

“It’s unprecedented,” Dr. Sharma replies diplomatically, adjusting Finn’s IV as the equipment flickers between realms. “Though the shadow realm’s deterioration makes everything unprecedented these days.”

“Great.” I take a long sip of coffee, letting the warmth ground me as another small quake rattles the windows. “Because my life wasn’t complicated enough already.”

Finn stirs in his sleep, and my shadows respond instantly, reaching for him. His face contorts with memories of his time in Blackwood’s custody. Cold rooms. Endless tests. Needles filled with my stolen shadows.

The medical equipment groans as my rage makes the shadows writhe. My wolf growls softly, and Leo’s hand finds my shoulder just as the room shudders with another tremor.

“Deep breaths, Echo,” he murmurs, using his nickname for me. “Your brother needs healing more than he needs vengeance.”

“For now,” Matteo adds darkly from his post by the door, echoing my thoughts exactly. His own shadows curl protectively around the room’s perimeter, responding to each reality fluctuation.

“His light signature is adapting to match your shadow frequency,” Dorian observes, not looking up from his notes even as his books phase in and out of reality. “It’s rather fascinating, from an academic perspective. The realm’s instability seems to be accelerating the process.”

I shoot him a look. “Less fascinating from a my-whole-body-feels-like-it’s-being-torn-apart perspective. But please, continue taking notes while I suffer.”

“Your sarcasm remains intact, at least,” he says dryly, though concern flickers across his face as he steadies a toppling stack of ancient texts.

Through the observation window, I see Leo’s sisters in the waiting room. Lena—the psychology student—watches me with uncomfortable insight while Liliana dozes against Luna’s shoulder. The younger girl’s breath hitches whenever a tremor shakes the building, her asthma responding to the unstable barrier between realms.

“You’re fighting it,” Lena calls through the glass, making everyone turn. Another tremor punctuates her words. “The twin bond. Like you fight everything else.”

“I don’t—” I start.

“You do.” Matteo cuts through my protest, moving closer as his shadows steady a rattling piece of medical equipment. His presence grounds me even as the room shimmers between realities. “You’re trying to shield everyone—pack, twin, even the realm—instead of letting the bonds stabilize naturally.”

Leo squeezes my shoulder. “He’s right, you know. You can’t protect everyone by hurting yourself.”

“Watch me,” I mutter into my coffee.

Dr. Sharma makes a sound suspiciously like a suppressed laugh as she adjusts monitors that keep flickering between worlds. “You remind me of someone else who thinks carrying the weight of the world alone makes him stronger.” She glances meaningfully at her son.

“I do not—” Matteo starts.

“You absolutely do,” Leo interrupts cheerfully. “Remember the time you tried to wrestle during championships with a broken arm because you didn’t want to burden anyone?”

“That was different.”

“Sure it was, tough guy.”

A stronger tremor shakes the room, and Finn’s consciousness stirs. His dreams shift from darkness to something warmer, but before I can reach for him, alarms blare. Shadow beast warnings, closer than ever.

“They’re drawn to your combined power,” Bishop announces, bursting into the room with Luna right behind him. His new oath marks spiral up his arm, still smoking faintly. “Frankie, you need to?—”

The rest of Bishop’s warning drowns in a wave of power as Finn’s eyes snap open. Light blazes from his skin, meeting my shadows in a display that definitely violates several laws of physics. The shadows respond instinctively, reaching for his light instead of fighting it. For a moment, the tremors stop completely, as if the shadow realm holds its breath.

“Sister,” he whispers, reaching for me. The word carries years of loneliness, of knowing something was missing but not understanding what.

My coffee cup trembles in my hand as another quake hits. Leo smoothly takes it before I can drop it, while Matteo moves closer to my other side. Even Dorian sets down his precious books as reality flickers around us.

Choice time.

I could pull back, try to control this, protect everyone from the chaos of merging powers. The responsible thing. The safe thing. The thing I’ve done my entire life because being alone was better than risking others.

“Let go,” Matteo says softly, his voice carrying that quiet certainty I’ve come to rely on. His shadows steady a swaying IV stand.

“Trust us,” Leo adds, his usual grin softened with understanding. “We’ve got you, Echo.”

“The readings are actually quite promising,” Dorian offers, which from him is practically a declaration of support. “The combined energy seems to temporarily stabilize the barrier breaches.”

Bishop moves to guard the door, new oath marks gleaming. “Whatever happens, we’ll handle it.”

But before I can decide, brilliant light bursts from Finn’s skin. Where my shadow wolves emerge from darkness, ethereal foxes made of pure light leap from his aura. They’re beautiful and clever-looking, with tails that leave trails of starlight in their wake. While my wolves are all predatory power, his foxes dance with quick, playful grace. The tremors pause again, as if the shadow realm itself stops to watch.

“Well,” Leo breathes, “that’s new.”

“Fascinating,” Dorian mutters, already scribbling. The pages of his notebook stop phasing between realities. “The oppositional yet complementary nature of the manifestations suggests?—”

“English, please,” Luna calls from the doorway, legal pad ready.

For a moment, wolves and foxes circle each other cautiously. Then, to everyone’s shock, a tiny fox kit darts forward and nips at a wolf’s tail. The interaction creates an almost musical resonance, like striking a tuning fork. Each time light and shadow meet, the note grows stronger, steadier, as if their powers are remembering an ancient harmony.

“The shadow-song,” Dorian breathes, his pen stilling. “It’s not just legend. When balanced powers work together...” He trails off as another fox joins the first, their movements creating intricate patterns that make the very air hum with stability.

“Like the old matriarchal packs,” Bishop adds quietly. “Before the Guardians decided control was more important than harmony. Before we started separating twins, breaking bonds, forgetting what our magic could really do.”

“Are they... playing?” Leo asks, delight clear in his voice as a shadow wolf gently carries a light fox kit by the scruff. “My mom would have loved this.”

There is a curious note to his voice and I’m just about to?—

“Balance,” Dorian explains, not looking up from his frantic notetaking. “Predator and trickster, strength and cunning. The perfect complementary forces. Notice how their combined presence affects the realm’s stability.”

Dr. Sharma watches the interaction with professional interest, checking readings that have suddenly normalized. “Like opposite sides of the same coin. Each enhancing rather than negating the other. The barrier between realms seems stronger where they interact.”

The fox in Liliana’s lap proves this point as its light chases away her lingering asthma, stabilizing the air around her. The girl’s delighted gasp brings a real smile to Finn’s face—the first I’ve seen from him.

“Foxes,” Finn says softly, watching his manifestations weave between my wolves. His voice carries a hint of wonder. “All those years in Blackwood’s facility, I’d dream of them. Quick enough to escape, clever enough to survive, always finding light in the darkest corners.”

“While I went straight for tooth and claw,” I observe as one of my wolves nuzzles a fox. The tremors have completely stopped now, the room holding steady in reality.

“You worked with what you had,” Matteo points out, his tone protective. One of my wolves bumps his hand for attention, and he absently scratches behind its ears. The shadows around him settle, responding to the calm energy of the foxes.

“Different paths to the same survival.” Finn’s violet eyes meet mine. “You fought your way out. I had to be... craftier.”

The fox in Liliana’s lap proves his point by suddenly vanishing, only to reappear on Dorian’s stack of books, sending them toppling. My wolf abandons Matteo to help gather them, showing surprising gentleness with its shadowy muzzle. The air where they interact shimmers with stable energy.

“Traitor,” I mutter to my wolf.

“See?” Leo grins. “Even your big bad wolf knows Dorian needs looking after.”

“I do not need—” Dorian starts, but stops as both fox and wolf give him eerily similar looks of disbelief. A slight tremor shakes the room, as if emphasizing their point.

“Your readings are absolutely fascinating,” Dr. Sharma says, deftly redirecting before Dorian can work himself into a proper snit. “The foxes seem to stabilize the shadow energy, while the wolves anchor the light. A perfect symbiosis. And look—” She gestures to her monitors. “The barrier breaches are sealing wherever they interact.”

“Like they were meant to find each other,” Matteo adds quietly, his eyes meeting mine.

He isn’t wrong. Fate always finds a way.

“What about your mom?” I ask Leo during a quiet moment, remembering he whispered her name earlier. “You talk about your sisters all the time, but...”

Leo swallows hard, shadows briefly dimming around him. “She died years ago. Cancer.” The words still feel raw as he speaks them as though I can feel his pain. “She was... different. Not a shadow shifter, but she understood it better than anyone. Kept journals full of research, warnings, old family stories about shadow gifts.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, my own shadows reaching unconsciously toward his in comfort.

“She knew things,” Leo continues. “Had these moments of... I don’t know what to call them. Insights? Warnings that always came true? She’d leave these cryptic notes— avoid the beach today or check on Liliana at midnight’ They never made sense until after, when they always did.”

I can feel my brows pull low. “Like prophecies?”

“Not that dramatic. Just... knowledge she shouldn’t have had. Family gift, she called it. Martinez women’s intuition cranked to eleven.” His smile is sad but genuine. “Her last warning was about Shadow Locke. About all of you, I think. She made me promise to be ready when they need you. I didn’t understand then.”

“And now?”

He looks at the pack gathering around us, at the shadows we all share. “Now I’m starting to.”

A distant roar shakes the building—our father, drawing closer. One of Finn’s foxes perks its ears, while my wolves raise their heads in response. Not afraid, just... aware. Ready. The realm trembles again, but gentler now, almost like an echo.

“They’re not just for show, are they?” Bishop asks from his position by the door, his tactician’s mind clearly working. “The foxes’ speed with the wolves’ strength...”

“They’re protectors,” Finn says, then hesitates. “Just like your pack.” Another pause, more uncertain. “Our pack?”

“Our pack,” I confirm firmly, watching a shadow wolf curl protectively around a sleeping fox kit. The air around them stabilizes completely, reality settling into place. “Though we haven’t sealed the bonds yet.”

A smaller tremor ripples through the room, but the combined presence of wolves and foxes seems to cushion it. Through the window, I can see the shadows in the hallway behaving normally for the first time in hours.

“You know,” Finn says, eyes drifting closed as his foxes create a blanket of starlight while my wolves stand guard, “when I imagined finding my twin, I didn’t expect to gain quite such a... extensive family.”

“Yeah, well.” I watch Leo try to demonstrate proper shadow wolf etiquette to Luna while Bishop corrects his terminology, and a fox keeps replacing Luna’s pen with little sticks of light. The room holds steady, protected by our combined power. “Apparently I have a type.”

“Oh?” Finn’s voice carries knowing amusement.

“Yeah. Complicated, overprotective, and slightly terrifying.”

“Says the girl with the shadow wolves,” Matteo comments without looking up from his mother’s now-stable medical charts.

Looking around at my strange, wonderful, complicated family, I can’t help but smile. The tremors have stopped completely where we are, though I can feel them continuing elsewhere in the building. But here, in this moment, everything feels... balanced.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.