17. Bishop

Chapter 17

Bishop

The Grotto’s a mess of panic and fear. You can practically taste the terror in the air. Students huddle in groups, their eyes darting nervously around, as if they are expecting shadows to come alive and devour them whole. I nurse a cup of coffee—black and as bitter as my thoughts—my gaze fixed on Frankie as she works behind the bar.

Her movements are a dance of controlled chaos, fluid yet brittle. I catch the slight tremor in her hands as she pours drinks, a betrayal of the storm raging beneath her calm exterior. Even under the crushing weight of recent events, her resilience shines through, a beacon in the darkness that threatens to consume us all.

I love her. The thought burns through me, equal parts salvation and damnation.

My fingers itch with the need to delve back into the forbidden tomes hidden in my office on Shadow Locke Island to unravel the mysteries of the shadow beasts that haunt our nightmares. Perhaps I could convince Dorian to grant me access to his secret library, where knowledge and danger intertwine like lovers. Normalcy is a distant memory now, a fading dream overshadowed by the nightmares of eredar beasts and Frankie’s burgeoning powers.

I can almost hear Matteo’s strategic mind whirring, plotting moves in a game where the stakes are our souls. Leo’s forced cheerfulness grates against my nerves, a brittle mask barely concealing the terror beneath, and Dorian… His brooding intensity is a black hole, threatening to pull us all into the abyss of his cursed existence.

They’ve all gravitated to the bar, like moths to Frankie’s flame, all except Matteo, who lingers behind the counter, a silent sentinel watching for any who dare approach her. His possessiveness is a tangible thing, a dark current running beneath the surface of our fragile peace.

“Mr. Mercer?”

The voice cuts through my reverie like a blade. I turn to find Cassandra Vega, a senior shadow guardian I’ve known since my own academy days. Her silver uniform gleams in the dim light, a stark contrast to the Grotto’s rustic interior that only emphasizes how out of place we’ve all become in this new reality.

Cass. It’s been an eternity since I’ve laid eyes on her. I glance at Frankie before looking back at Cass, drinking in the sight of her. Tall, with silver blond hair and eyes like pools of midnight, she’s ethereal and lethal in equal measure. A lifetime ago, I harbored a desperate crush on her, only to learn she preferred a different kind of companionship. After that revelation, she became one of my closest confidants, a bond forged in shared secrets and unspoken understanding.

“Cass.” I nod, forcing my voice into a semblance of composure. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”

Her lips quirk in a half smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Perceptive as ever, Bishop.” She slides into the booth across from me, her gaze sweeping the room before locking onto mine with predatory intensity. “Your expertise is required on-site, Mr. Mercer. Priority level: urgent.”

I raise an eyebrow, my mind already racing through a thousand possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. “I was under the impression the island was still off-limits.”

“It is,” she says then pauses, weighing her next words as if they could tip the scales of fate. “But we found something that requires your… unique skill set.”

Cass reaches into her pocket and pulls out a sleek, black communication device. She slides it across the table to me, the movement smooth yet laden with unspoken gravity. “We need you back on Shadow Locke, Bishop. Now.”

I pick up the comm, its weight heavy with the promise of secrets that could shatter our world. My gaze drifts back to Frankie, who’s laughing at something Leo said. The sound is like music in this discordant nightmare we’re living, a reminder of the light we’re fighting to preserve.

As I watch her, my mind drifts to our first meeting. I remember thinking that this girl is going to change everything. I just hadn’t realized how prophetic that thought would be nor how completely she would upend our world.

“What about the students?” I ask, turning to Cass. “When can they return?”

“Soon,” she promises, but the word sounds hollow. “But first, we need to ensure it’s safe. That’s where you come in.”

I nod. The die is cast, and I can only hope we’re not too late to change the outcome. “Let me tell the others I’m heading out. I’ll meet you at the docks in ten.”

As Cass leaves, I make my way to the bar. Frankie looks up as I approach, her smile faltering as she reads the tension in my eyes. Everything between us hangs in the air like purgatory, unresolved and achingly raw.

“Bishop?” Her voice is soft, a question and a plea wrapped in a single word.

I lean in close, keeping my voice low and steady. “I’ve been called back to the island. Shadow guardian business.”

Her eyes widen, a maelstrom of concern and curiosity swirling in their depths. “Is it safe? What about?—”

“I’ll find out,” I assure her, squeezing her hand briefly. The contact sends electricity through me, a reminder of all we could be and all we might lose. “Stay here, stay safe. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

Frankie nods, her resourcefulness shining through the cracks of her carefully constructed facade. “Be careful. And Bishop? If you need any help decoding whatever you find, you know where to find me.”

I smile, appreciating her offer even as my heart aches with the knowledge of what might come. She loves puzzles. I make a mental note to bring her more, as if solving the mystery of ancient symbols could somehow make up for the danger I’m about to plunge her into.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Take care, Frankie.”

As I walk toward the door, I catch a glimpse of my reflection. The set of my jaw and the glimmer of determination in my eyes all speak to the weight of responsibility settling over me like a shroud. The sun streams through the windows, casting a golden light on the dusty floorboards, a cruel reminder of the beauty that still exists in this world teetering on the brink of chaos.

I take one last look at Frankie’s worried expression before stepping out into the bitter winter air. The cold bites at my skin, a shock to the system that grounds me in the moment. Fog billows from my lips with each exhale as I silently follow Cass to the boats. The bridge is out, a casualty of the evacuation, and no one is allowed back on the island, which makes Cass’s choice of transportation all the more intriguing.

“Won’t security allow us to drive?” I tease, a pathetic attempt at levity in the face of looming disaster.

She glances over her shoulder, her eyes hard. “We aren’t working with local law enforcement,” she whispers, the words carried away by the wind. “Besides, where we’re heading, we can only get there by boat.”

Curiosity burns under my skin, lighting me up from the inside out. This is what I live for, mysteries that dance on a knife’s edge between enlightenment and oblivion. My mouth is dry, and adrenaline pumps through my veins in a heady cocktail of fear and anticipation.

The boat ride to Shadow Locke Island is tense, the silence broken only by the gentle lapping of waves against the hull. Cass sits across from me, her posture rigid as she scans the misty waters as if expecting monsters to emerge at any moment. My mind races, already formulating potential decryption algorithms, desperate for any foothold in the chaos that threatens to engulf us.

“Sitrep,” I say, breaking the silence with a term I know Cass will appreciate.

Cass’s gaze snaps to mine, sharp as a blade. “We found something on the north shore—symbols unlike anything we’ve seen before. They… They seem to be changing.”

I lean forward, intrigued despite the dread coiling in my gut. “Changing how? Any discernible pattern or cyclical nature to the transformations?”

“Negative,” she says, frustration evident in her voice. “We can’t predict the pattern. It’s like they are alive, Bishop.”

As we approach the island, I see the increased guardian presence. Silver uniforms dot the shoreline, their movements precise and coordinated, but even from here, I can sense the fear radiating off them in waves.

The island looms ahead, shrouded in a thick mist that seems to cling to its edges like a living thing. The trees, normally lush and green, now appear dull and lifeless, as if the very life has been sucked out of them.

The boat rocks and sways as we navigate the rough waters, heading toward the rocky shoreline. Cass expertly maneuvers the small vessel, her steely expression never faltering, but I can see the tension in the set of her shoulders and her white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

My heart races with a mixture of excitement and terror as we draw closer to our destination. I can feel the weight of my backpack, laden with equipment and tools for deciphering the mysterious symbols, but will it be enough, or are we arming ourselves with toothpicks to fight a leviathan?

As we near the island, the mist thickens, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. The trees stand over us like sentinels, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, ready to snatch us from the world of the living.

Cass slows our approach, guiding us between two large rocks with expert precision. We come to a stop on a small patch of sand, the boat’s hull scraping against the shore with a sound similar to a death rattle.

We quickly disembark, our feet sinking into the wet sand. As we make our way onto the north shore, I notice scorch marks on trees and deep gouges in the earth—remnants of the eredar beast’s attack. A shiver runs down my spine as I remember Frankie’s face when she created that shadow shield, the raw power and terror etched into her features.

“Here,” Cass says, stopping abruptly.

I follow her gaze, and my breath catches in my throat. There, etched into the sand, is a complex series of symbols. They shimmer faintly, as if viewed through heat waves, and pulse with an otherworldly energy. As I watch, one symbol seems to morph, its lines rearranging into a new configuration. It’s beautiful and terrifying, a dance of creation and destruction playing out before my eyes.

“Fascinating,” I murmur, crouching down for a closer look. My mind immediately starts cataloging the symbols, searching for familiar patterns in this alien language. “How long has this phenomenon been occurring?”

“We first noticed it shortly after the evacuation,” Cass replies, her voice tight. “It’s been changing ever since. We’ve tried everything—barrier spells, containment fields. Nothing stops it.”

I pull out a small notebook and begin sketching the symbols, my hand moving almost of its own accord. “Have you attempted any frequency analysis or applied Markov chain modeling to the transformations?”

Cass shakes her head, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. “None of our usual methods have yielded results. That’s why we need you, Bishop. If anyone can crack this code, it’s you.”

I nod, already losing myself in the puzzle before me. It’s a siren song, calling me deeper into its mysteries. “I’ll need access to the library and all the data you’ve collected so far. We might need to develop new cryptanalysis techniques for this.”

“Done,” Cass says. “Bishop, there’s something else.”

I look up, noting the concern in her eyes and the way she hesitates before continuing. Whatever this is, it’s big. Possibly world ending big.

“We’ve been picking up energy signatures,” she continues, each word falling like a hammer blow. “They are similar to the eredar beast, but… different and scattered across the city.”

My mind immediately goes to Frankie’s vision, a secret I guard as fiercely as a dragon guards its hoard. I don’t want anyone other than our small circle to know about Frankie and just how special she truly is.

“Have you informed the council?” I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral.

“Not yet. We wanted to be sure first.”

I stand, brushing sand from my knees. “We need to move fast, Cass. If there are more of these entities out there…”

“Agreed.” She nods, her face grim. “That’s why we’re preparing to bring the students back.”

I blink in surprise, momentarily stunned by the sheer insanity of the idea. “Is that tactically sound with all these unknown variables?”

“The council believes they’ll be safer here, where we can protect them,” Cass explains, but I can hear the doubt in her voice. “Plus, we need to maintain some sense of normalcy.”

I think of Frankie and the power growing inside her like a storm about to break. Maybe being here, surrounded by the protective wards, is the safest place for her… or maybe we’re leading lambs to slaughter.

“We should implement a buddy system and mandatory check-ins for all returning students,” I suggest, my mind already formulating plans. “It’ll help us keep track of everyone and respond quickly to any incidents.”

“Good idea.” Cass nods. “When can you start?”

“Immediately,” I reply, the weight of responsibility settling over me like a mantle. “I’ll need to coordinate with the professors and set up additional safety protocols.”

As we walk back toward the main campus, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re on the precipice of something monumental. These symbols, the energy signatures in the city, and Frankie’s growing powers—they are all pieces of a cosmic puzzle that could either save or damn us all.

I just need to figure out how.

“Oh, and Bishop?” Cass calls as we part ways. “Be careful. Whatever this is, it’s bigger than anything we’ve faced before.”

I watch her go, her words echoing in my mind like a death knell. As I head toward my office, I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Dorian and the others.

I create a group chat, my fingers hovering over whether or not to include Tori. I want the chat to be the pack I dream of building, but I fear that will only push Frankie further away. With a sigh, I add Tori to the list.

Bishop: Returning to island tomorrow. Be ready. Stay alert. Implement a buddy system upon arrival.

Pocketing my phone, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what’s to come. I head toward the warded room I led everyone to earlier, the weight of secrets and unspoken fears pressing down on me with each step.

As the heavy door creaks open, the scents of leather and old books tickle my nose. I toss everything on my desk and sink into my chair with a sigh that seems to come from the very depths of my soul.

It’s so quiet, it’s suffocating, like the silence itself is trying to choke me out. I almost wish the others were here, their presence a balm to the loneliness that gnaws at my insides. It’s as though my shadow shifter has already accepted the pack, craving their presence with an intensity that frightens me.

Instead of allowing myself to dwell on the aching emptiness inside, I grab an ancient text from the bookshelf above me and throw myself into my work. Hours blur together as I go over the symbols, my office walls slowly disappearing beneath a tapestry of sketches and notes. The soft glow of my desk lamp casts long shadows, a constant reminder of Frankie’s newfound powers and the danger they represent.

I rub my tired eyes, reaching for my cold cup of coffee. The bitter liquid is a poor substitute for sleep, but it’s all I have to keep the encroaching darkness at bay.

“Come on, Bishop,” I mutter to myself, frustration coloring my words. “Think. What would Turing do?” I chuckle softly, imagining Leo’s reaction to such a nerdy reference. Alan Turing, the father of modern computing and a code breaking genius, faced seemingly insurmountable puzzles during World War II. He once said, “We can only see a short distance ahead, but we can see plenty there that needs to be done.” The words echo in my mind, a mantra against the encroaching madness.

I lean back, letting my eyes unfocus as I try to view the symbols from a new perspective. Maybe I’ve been too caught up in the minutiae. Turing often approached problems by breaking them down into simpler components and finding patterns in chaos. Perhaps that’s what I need to do now—step back and see the forest for the trees.

My gaze drifts across the room, landing on a map of Shadow Locke Island pinned to the wall. It’s an old thing, the edges frayed and yellowed with age, but something about it calls to me. I pull it down to the desk with trembling hands and overlay my sketches of the symbols on top.

The symbols seem random at first glance, shifting like living organisms, but there has to be an underlying order. There always is, even in the darkest chaos.

Suddenly, it clicks. The realization hits me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I remember reading about ancient cartographers who used ley lines—mystical alignments of land believed to hold spiritual energy. What if these symbols are marking something similar?

With shaking hands, I grab a red pen and start connecting the symbols on the map. My heart races, each beat a thunderous reminder of what’s at stake. Lines crisscross the city in an intricate web of power and possibility. It’s not just a code—it’s a map of ley lines in the city, pulsing with ancient, terrible energy.

What sends ice through my veins, however, is the realization that Shadow Locke Island sits at the epicenter of these lines.

“Is this why they built the school here?” I whisper to the empty room, my voice hoarse with fear and awe. “Were the other east coast schools built over crisscrossing ley lines as well?”

I pause, the pen poised over the map as another horrifying thought strikes me. At each intersection point, there’s an energy signature matching the eredar beast. My mind reels with the implications, each new realization more terrifying than the last.

The ley lines aren’t just geographical markers—they are conduits of energy linking these creatures across vast distances. Shadow Locke isn’t just an isolated target, it’s a nexus of power that attracts these entities like moths to a flame.

“Oh God,” I whisper, the words barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “It’s a network. They are all connected.”

This changes everything. The eredar beasts aren’t just randomly appearing, they are following these lines, drawn to the energy concentrated at the intersections. We’re not just facing isolated incidents—we’re standing at the threshold of an invasion.

I lunge for my phone, my fingers shaking so badly I can barely dial Cass’s number. It rings once, twice—each second feels like an eternity as I silently plead for her to answer.

A deafening roar shatters the night, so powerful it rattles the windows in their frames. The sound freezes the blood in my veins, primal fear gripping me with icy fingers. I rush to the window, my body moving of its own accord even as my mind screams at me to run.

There, illuminated by the sickly light of the moon, stands an eredar beast, but this monstrosity is twice as large as the one before. Its multiple eyes glow a pulsing red that speaks of hunger and madness beyond human comprehension.

And it’s staring directly at my office.

The beast’s mouth opens wide, like it knows I’m watching. All I see are rows and rows of teeth as dark as night. It lets out another ear-splitting roar—a call, I realize with dawning horror, to others of its kind.

The phone slips from my numb fingers as the terrible truth becomes clear. The island isn’t a sanctuary. It never was.

It’s a beacon, and we just invited all our students back into the heart of the storm.

My mind races, desperate to maintain some semblance of composure even as fear threatens to overwhelm me. I need to warn the others and stop the evacuation before we lead innocent lives into a slaughter. First, though, I need to survive the night.

I take a deep breath, centering myself as I’ve been trained to do. The familiar mantra falls from my lips as I pray to whatever gods might be listening. “Okay, Bishop,” I mutter, “time to put all that training to use.”

As the eredar beast’s roar echoes across the island, a sound of triumph and hunger that chills me to my soul, I rush outside into the twilight. The cool air hits my face, a shock to the system that momentarily clears the fog of fear from my mind.

I brace myself for battle, for the fight of my life, but as I burst through the doors, prepared to face the nightmare made of flesh, I’m met with…

Nothing.

The silence that greets me is more terrifying than any roar. My heart pounds against my rib cage, each beat a desperate reminder that I’m alive—for now. The night air, crisp and cold, fills my lungs as I scan the eerily still campus grounds. Nothing moves. It’s as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for the next horror to unfold.

I take a tentative step forward, then another. The crunch of gravel under my feet sounds obscenely loud in the unnatural quiet. My shadow shifter senses are on high alert, every nerve ending screaming danger, but from where?

“What the fuck is going on?” I mutter. The words hang in the air, unanswered and mocking.

A flicker of movement catches my eye. I whirl, instinctively gathering shadows at my fingertips, ready to defend, but it’s just a leaf dancing on a nonexistent breeze. I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

That’s when I see it.

There is a shimmer in the air, like heat haze on a summer day, but it’s the middle of winter, and this… this is something else entirely. I approach slowly, every instinct screaming at me to run. As I get closer, I feel a subtle resistance, like pushing through spider silk.

“A veil,” I murmur, realization dawning with horrifying clarity. “It didn’t disappear. It’s still here.”

The implications hit me like a freight train, threatening to bring me to my knees. If the eredar beasts can manipulate reality to this extent, concealing themselves from view, then we’re facing a threat far beyond anything we’ve imagined. My mind races, piecing together the puzzle with sickening speed.

The ley lines, the energy signatures, and the shifting symbols… It’s all connected by a vast, insidious network that we’ve been blind to, and at the center of it all is Shadow Locke Island, our supposed sanctuary.

A low, rumbling growl breaks the silence, sending ice through my veins. It’s coming from everywhere and nowhere, surrounding me. The veil ripples as reality itself seems to bend and warp.

I stumble back, my legs suddenly weak. I need to warn the others before we lead our students into a trap, but as I turn to run, a massive clawed hand materializes out of thin air, swiping at me with terrifying speed.

I dive and roll across the ground as the air where I stood a moment ago shimmers with displaced energy. The veil tears, splitting reality open like a wound, and the eredar beast steps through. It’s even more monstrous up close, its multiple eyes fixed on me with predatory intent.

Fear threatens to paralyze me, but I push it down, drawing on years of training and the raw power of my shadow shifter heritage. Darkness gathers around my hands, solid yet fluid, an extension of my will.

“Come on, you bastard,” I growl, dropping into a fighting stance. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The beast roars, a sound that shakes the very foundations of the island. It charges faster than something its size should be able to. I throw up a shield of shadow energy, bracing for impact.

The collision sends shockwaves through my body, nearly bringing me to my knees. My shield holds, barely, but I can feel the strain. This thing is stronger than anything I’ve ever faced.

As we trade blows, my mind races. I need a way to defeat this thing or at least hold it off long enough for help to arrive, but how do you fight a creature that can bend reality itself?

A massive claw rakes across my chest, tearing through my defenses. Pain explodes through my body as I’m sent flying across the ground. I taste blood and feel it soaking through my shirt, but I can’t stop. I can’t fail.

It’s not just my life on the line… It’s Frankie’s. It’s every student at Shadow Locke. It’s the entire fucking world.

I struggle to my feet, gathering what little strength I have left. The eredar beast looms over me, triumph gleaming in its eyes. As it rears back for the killing blow, a terrible thought strikes me.

What if this is just the beginning? What if there are more of these things, hidden all across the island, waiting to strike? And what if, in our arrogance, we just invited our students back into a war zone?

The beast’s claws descend, and I brace myself for the end, but in that moment, as death stares me in the face, I make a silent vow.

If I survive this, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Frankie, to protect all of them, even if it means becoming the very darkness I’ve sworn to fight.

In this world of shadow and terror, they are the only light left, and I’ll be damned if I’l let that light go out.

With a primal scream that tears at my throat, I unleash every ounce of power I possess. Shadows erupt from my body, a maelstrom of darkness that engulfs the beast. For a moment, everything is chaos—screaming winds, flashing claws, the acrid smell of otherworldly flesh burning.

Then, silence.

I collapse to my knees, gasping for air. The beast is gone, banished back to whatever hellish dimension it came from, but at what cost?

I look down at my hands, watching as wisps of shadow dance across my skin. I can feel the darkness inside me. It’s stronger now, hungry. Is this what Frankie feels? This constant battle for control?

A humorless laugh escapes my lips, tinged with hysteria. I’ve won the battle, but the war is only just beginning.

I fear the price of victory may be my soul.