Chapter 641: Ashes Beneath Old Truths

Caspian sighed.

It came out slow, heavy, like it had been sitting in his chest for too long.

"I never really thought about it," he admitted at last.

A frown creased his face as his hand moved to his back. Without a second thought, he pulled out a chair and sat down to ease the pain.

He leaned back in the chair, groaning softly.

Then he returned his gaze to Eldric, who was still focused on him... along with everybody else.

"Now that you’re saying it," Caspian continued slowly, "there was something."

His brows drew together as he tried to reach into a memory he hadn’t touched in years.

"But it was more like a tale people told around bonfires," he said. "A tale from when I was younger. I didn’t think much of it then. No one did either, I think. Things like that weren’t... important to people."

He gave a short, dismissive shake of his head.

"We didn’t care. So it got forgotten, or perhaps buried."

His gaze lowered briefly before lifting again.

"But my father’s father did tell me something once."

No one corrected his use of "father’s father." It would have been easier to say grandfather, but knowing Caspian... he wouldn’t care. He would likely argue that his grandfather was still his father’s father, so he wasn’t technically wrong. And so they let him be, instead focusing on the tale he was about to tell.

Caspian exhaled through his nose.

"He was drunk out of his mind," he added, almost as an explanation. "The kind of drunk where you can’t tell if he’s speaking truth or just dragging old thoughts into the open."

A faint, humorless breath left him.

"But he said the Nightshade Pack wasn’t originally from the West."

Silence tightened immediately.

Ronan straightened just a fraction.

Eldric didn’t move, but his focus deepened.

Caspian continued anyway.

"He said someone migrated into the West. Not the pack itself."

His jaw tightened slightly as he remembered.

"The history books say the Nightshade Pack broke away from another pack. A split. A division that created what we are now."

He paused.

"But according to him... that wasn’t true."

His eyes flicked briefly toward the table.

"He said the Nightshade Pack had always been the Nightshade Pack. We did not break out from any pack."

Eldric frowned faintly.

"The person who supposedly migrated into the West..." Caspian continued, "was originally a rogue. He did not belong to any pack. There was no structure. Just someone wandering from place to place."

He made a small motion with his hand, as though shaping the idea in the air.

"And over time, he started gathering others. Building something from nothing. People came together to assist him and join him in his journey."

His voice lowered slightly.

"And only after that... did the name Nightshade exist."

A pause settled again.

Caspian shook his head.

"I remember thinking it was nonsense," he muttered. "Just a drunk old man talking too much. He claimed the Nightshade Pack had always existed, and then claimed it only existed after the migrant had apparently built the pack."

His expression darkened slightly.

"But anyway, he kept going, and this time he spoke about the prophecy."

Caspian’s voice slowed.

"My father’s father claimed the man, this migrant, was the one who told people about the prophecy."

His gaze drifted slightly, as though he could still see the memory.

"He said the Luna would have white hair and blue eyes. Like the moon itself."

Madam Tyler’s expression tightened subtly.

Caspian leaned back again, exhaling.

"At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. It was just drunken rambling. Nothing more. Even my father had said the same thing. Everyone around me said the same thing—my father’s father was just drunk. And the man himself told me the same thing, saying it was just a tale passed down and that there were no facts or details proving it was true."

He paused.

"But now..."

His eyes flicked toward Eldric’s parchment.

"...it doesn’t feel like nothing."

Eldric adjusted his glasses slowly.

"And you’re saying this man connected the prophecy to the origin of the pack?" he asked.

Caspian nodded faintly.

"In his own way. Yes."

A silence followed, thicker than before.

Then Eldric spoke again, quieter.

"Then why was none of this recorded?"

Caspian’s mouth tightened.

"That’s what I kept asking myself after you showed me that parchment."

He gestured faintly toward the burnt document.

"Maybe it was recorded," he said slowly. "Maybe it existed somewhere in the original records. And maybe we all just neglected it. We should have asked questions. Perhaps if I were as sharp as you all are, I would have questioned it—tried to understand why everyone claimed it was a rumor and why no one was disputing the claims about the Luna."

Silence settled heavily again.

Then Madam Tyler spoke.

Her voice was quieter than usual, but steady.

"Sophia is the Luna."

All eyes shifted slightly toward her.

"And if we’re talking about prophecy now..." she continued, "is there any chance that what we think we know about her... isn’t complete? Perhaps her hair really is white?"

A faint tension tightened in the room.

Daniel spoke immediately.

"If Sophia’s hair were truly white, we would have noticed."

Madam Tyler turned her head slightly toward him.

"Would we?" she asked calmly.

Daniel didn’t hesitate.

"Yes. I doubt a dye would last that long without at least washing off, even slightly."

Madam Tyler didn’t back down.

"That is true, but some dyes do last longer than others," she said. "And besides, everyone knows the black of Sophia’s hair doesn’t quite fit her. It looks like it was placed over her instead of belonging to her."

Ronan gave a short, uncertain laugh.

"I doubt my sister-in-law would just dye her hair like that," Ronan said. "She doesn’t strike me as someone who would do that."

Madam Tyler nodded.

"And that’s the point," she said. "Maybe she didn’t do it. Maybe someone did it to her."