Chapter 39 The Forgotten Prophecy
Magnus’ POV
The door to my study closed with a soft click behind me.
I didn’t stop. My steps carried me forward down the long corridor at the same steady rhythm as always—calm, measured, unhurried. But my thoughts… weren’t.
“To your office,” I said without turning. “Activate the sound barrier.”
Behind me, Lorian’s footsteps stayed in sync with mine. No questions. No comments. Just a faint nod I could barely hear.
We walked through the main corridor of Ravenhall Dominion. Dim lights reflected off the black marble floor, casting long shadows that moved with us. No guards dared interrupt. No other sound filled the space except our footsteps.
Too quiet.
And that only made my thoughts sharper.
“Lysander… prophecy.”
The words lingered in my head. Irritating. It shouldn’t matter… and yet, it refused to be ignored.
We stopped in front of Lorian’s office door. Without wasting time, he opened it and stepped inside. I followed right behind him.
The door shut.
Click.
Lorian moved straight to the wall. His hand lifted, pressing his thumb against a small dark panel that was nearly invisible unless you knew where to look.
One second. Two.
A faint sound followed.
Then the room changed.
A thin, invisible vibration spread across the walls. The glass windows that had been clear slowly turned opaque, then darkened completely into one-way panels. Every sound from outside disappeared, as if the world beyond this room had been cut off entirely.
Sealed. Isolated. Safe for things that weren’t meant to be heard.
Lorian lowered his hand and turned to face me. “It’s active,” he said shortly. “What happened?”
I didn’t answer right away. I walked past him toward his desk and stopped beside it without sitting. My gaze dropped to the clean surface… but my mind was elsewhere.
“The old file,” I said at last. “The one I told you to lock.”
Lorian frowned, not immediately understanding.
“Which file?” he asked.
I lifted my gaze. “The Rivenhall prophecy.”
Silence.
For the first time since we entered, Lorian went completely still. Not because he didn’t know—but because he was remembering.
A few seconds passed before his expression shifted slightly. Not shock—more like uncovering something buried for too long.
“…the one you had encrypted and archived?” he said quietly.
I nodded once.
“The one you never opened again?” he continued.
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t need to.
Lorian let out a quiet breath. “The prophecy you dismissed because you don’t believe in things like that.”
His tone stayed neutral. But I knew… he remembered it clearly. I didn’t deny it.
“Open it,” I said.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
I nodded. “Completely.”
There was no point arguing.
Lorian didn’t waste another second. He moved to the gray case he had brought earlier. It unlocked with a soft click. From inside, he pulled out a device—different from his usual one. Smaller. Thicker. Completely isolated from any external network.
A device meant for things no one else should ever access.
He placed it on the desk, powered it on, and got to work.
The black screen lit up slowly, showing a simple interface with no external connections. His fingers moved quickly, entering multiple layers of access codes. Each layer required a different authentication.
Time passed. Every second felt longer than it should.
I didn’t sit. Didn’t move. I just waited.
Because if that file still existed… then the answer to everything happening right now would be inside it.
A few minutes later, the screen changed.
The file appeared.
And its title showed clearly:
Rivenhall Prophecy – Restricted Archive
Lorian paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the keyboard, as if double-checking.
“I’m opening it now,” he said.
I nodded.
Then he opened it.
Ancient text filled the screen. Not long—but dense.
I stepped closer immediately.
And we started reading.
Silence filled the room as the words began to form something… far too familiar.
A woman. No name. No origin. Only referred to as “the woman,” over and over again.
A woman carrying ancient blood—one who would become the beginning of destruction… and rebirth.
She would be brought into the center of power. Claimed… not by fate, but by ambition.
A woman who could see the future… and knew how to hide.
If controlled, absolute power would be born.
If she failed to be controlled, destruction would sweep through every Alpha bloodline that tried to possess her.
And at the center of it all, an Alpha would stand at the peak… or fall at the heart of the destruction he created himself.
Only the ancient Rivenhall ritual could bind her.
I didn’t blink.
The words… were too clear. Too close.
And worse… they fit someone far too well.
“This…” Lorian’s voice came out quieter than usual, “…isn’t specific. But the structure is clear.”
I stayed silent.
“A woman of ancient blood. Brought into the center of power. Claimed by the strongest Alpha,” he continued, his eyes still fixed on the screen. “And the outcome… either absolute dominance or total destruction.”
My hand clenched slightly without me realizing it.
“And this part…” Lorian scrolled down. “The Alpha who falls at the center of his own power.”
Silence.
I didn’t need to look anywhere else to understand what he meant.
Me.
Just like what Evra had said before.
No names were written. No direct references.
But there was no other Alpha in that position right now.
No one closer to that description… than me.
“This prophecy has existed for a long time,” Lorian said quietly. “Before the modern pack system was fully formed.”
I gave a faint nod.
I knew that.
That was why I locked it away back then.
Because I don’t believe in things I can’t control.
And prophecies… are exactly that.
Uncontrollable.
“But now…” Lorian trailed off.
I turned slightly toward him.
He was looking at me. And for the first time since we started, something in his eyes had changed.
Recalculation.
“Do you think this is a coincidence?” he asked.
I didn’t answer immediately.
My thoughts moved fast, connecting pieces that had stood alone before.
Evra. Ancient blood. The ability to see destruction.
And now… a prophecy that existed long before any of this began.
“A coincidence…” I murmured.
No.
I don’t believe in coincidences.
Not on this scale.
“If this is real,” Lorian continued, more serious now, “then we’re not just dealing with inter-pack conflict. We’re standing in the middle of something that was… foretold.”
I looked back at the screen.
Every word felt heavier than before.
The woman—unnamed, but symbolic.
And for the first time… I couldn’t deny the possibility.
That everything was already moving toward a single point.
Silence fell again. Deeper than before.
Then Lorian finally spoke, quieter this time. Careful. As if he wasn’t sure whether he should even say it.
“Magnus…”
I didn’t turn. But I heard him.
“What if…” he paused, “…the ‘woman’ in this prophecy… is Evra?”