Chapter 641: The History That Refused to Stay Buried

Chapter 640: The History That Refused to Stay Buried

Ronan didn’t answer immediately.

He just looked at his father.

Daniel held his gaze without blinking, posture relaxed in a way that didn’t fool anyone in the room. There was nothing casual about him right now. Not the way his eyes sharpened, not the way his attention locked in like he was already dissecting whatever Ronan might say before he even said it.

Every gaze was fixed on Ronan now.

He exhaled slowly through his nose and opened his mouth to speak.

"Don’t even think about lying," Daniel said, almost lazily, but there was an edge beneath it. "I may not be Orion, but I raised you. And this pack runs on honesty. Apart from that, I’ll know if you lie to me."

Ronan huffed a quiet breath, something between a laugh and resignation.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I know you will."

And that was the problem.

Because there were things he couldn’t say—not yet, not like this, not without setting off something bigger than any of them were ready for.

He opened his mouth anyway.

Nothing came out.

For a moment, it almost felt like the room leaned in closer, waiting to see what he would do.

And then they heard footsteps as a familiar presence drew near.

All four of them turned toward the door at the same time.

It opened within seconds, and Eldric stepped in.

He paused just past the threshold, clearly not expecting to walk into a full gathering. His gaze moved from one face to the next, quick, assessing. Then he adjusted his glasses.

"Oh," he said, almost under his breath. Then, a little louder, "Thank the Goddess. You’re all here."

Madam Tyler straightened slightly. "I know I’m late for the meeting, but—"

"I’m not here for that," Eldric cut in, already moving further into the room.

Ronan glanced sideways at his father. Daniel hadn’t moved, but his attention had shifted, recalibrating.

Eldric stopped a few steps into the hall, turning fully to face them. He took a breath, like he was organizing his thoughts, and then spoke.

"Orion came to me recently," he said, "about something that didn’t sit right with him."

That got their attention.

"All of us know the prophecies," Eldric continued. "Or at least, we think we do."

He glanced between them, making sure they were following.

"In the South, they believe the Luna will have red hair and striking blue eyes. In the West, it’s black hair and green eyes. The East claims brown hair and golden eyes."

He paused, then adjusted his glasses again, slower this time.

"And we believe she has white hair and blue eyes."

Caspian frowned slightly.

Madam Tyler’s brows drew together.

Daniel didn’t react outwardly, but Ronan felt the shift in him anyway.

Eldric went on.

"That alone isn’t the issue. Variations in prophecy aren’t unusual. Interpretations differ across regions, especially when history gets... retold." He hesitated briefly on that word. "But Orion pointed something out."

He let that hang for a second.

"We are originally from the West."

No one argued that.

It was basic knowledge.

"Our lineage, our recorded origins—everything we have says we belong to the West. We are from there, after all," Eldric said. "So tell me... why does our version of the prophecy differ?"

Caspian was the first to speak.

"...You’re saying our records are wrong?"

"I’m saying," Eldric replied carefully, "that something doesn’t add up."

He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a piece of parchment.

It was half-burnt.

The edges were blackened and curled, parts of the text completely lost to ash. What remained was fragile, uneven, but still legible in places.

"I didn’t sleep last night," Eldric admitted. "I stayed in the library. I went through everything I could find—records, transcripts, old copies of rewritten histories. Anything that might explain the discrepancy."

He held up the parchment slightly.

"This is all I found that didn’t match what we already know."

Madam Tyler stepped a little closer, her eyes narrowing as she looked at it.

"What is it?" she asked.

Eldric exhaled.

"It claims to be part of the original record. Not the revised one we teach now. Not the one that’s been cleaned up and structured for continuity. This..." he glanced down at it briefly, "...this looks like something written before all that."

Ronan shifted his weight.

"Original, as in... before the pack was established the way we know it?" he asked.

Eldric nodded.

"Or at least before it was documented the way we’ve come to accept as fact."

Daniel’s gaze flicked to the parchment, then back to Eldric.

"And what does it say?" he asked.

"That’s the problem," Eldric said, frustration creeping slightly into his tone. "It doesn’t say enough."

He stepped forward and placed the parchment on the table between them.

"Parts of it are gone. Burned. Whatever context existed around the key details... is missing."

Caspian leaned in slightly, studying what remained.

"And the parts you can read?" he asked.

Eldric tapped a section of the parchment lightly.

"There are references to movement. Not just territory shifts—migration."

Ronan frowned.

"You mean like relocation?" he asked. "War, territory disputes, something like that?" 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Eldric shook his head.

"If it were that simple, it would’ve been recorded. Those kinds of events don’t just disappear from history."

"The implication here," he continued, "is that the pack didn’t originate where we believe it did. Or... at the very least, not entirely. And that’s why I’m here. What we know may not be the whole truth."

Ronan rubbed the back of his neck, eyes still on the parchment.

"Honestly, the question makes sense. How is it that none of us have ever questioned it?" he asked.

No one knew the answer to that. Perhaps it was because they had simply taken the prophecy passed down to them as fact and never saw any reason to question it.

Daniel’s expression hadn’t changed much, but there was a new sharpness in his eyes now.

"And you’re sure this isn’t a misinterpretation?" he asked, nodding toward the burnt parchment. "A damaged text leading you to connect things that aren’t actually connected?"

Eldric met his gaze steadily.

"I considered that. Repeatedly. But the wording—what remains of it—it’s too deliberate. It doesn’t read like speculation. It reads like documentation."

He tapped the parchment again.

"And this part..." he added, quieter now, "...it aligns too closely with the inconsistency in the prophecy. And so, though I hate to admit it, I know when my knowledge isn’t enough, and I’ll need to hear from you all—especially you, Caspian. You are the oldest. There must be something you have heard."