Instead of answering, he stood and pulled a small crystal from his pocket. "First, we need stronger wards. What you have is good for privacy. What I need requires something more... ancestral magic."
He pressed the crystal against the wall. It flared with silver light, and suddenly the room felt different. It felt heavier. Like the weight of centuries pressing down. And it's also familiar.
"What is that?"
"Ravana bloodline wards. Only family can activate them. Only family can hear what's said within them." He pocketed the crystal. "What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room. Not to your faction. Not to your allies. Not to anyone without Ravana blood. Understood?"
I nodded, throat suddenly dry.
Victor returned to his seat and pulled out a leather-bound journal. It was old and ancient, the pages were yellowed with age.
"Our family has been keeping records for three hundred years," he began. "Not official histories, but secret records and observations of patterns."
He opened the journal. The handwriting was cramped, old-fashioned, but legible enough to read.
"Every hundred years, give or take, a hero appears." He flipped through pages. "Different name each time. Different background. But the pattern is always the same. They rise rapidly. Gain power and influence. Defeat a great evil. Then..."
"Then what?"
"Then they either become tyrants themselves, or they die under mysterious circumstances." He turned the journal toward me. "Three cycles documented, with hree heroes and three tragic endings."
I looked at the pages. It contains bames, dates and observations spanning centuries.
Aldric the Golden. Hero of the Second Cycle. Defeated the Shadow King. Became Emperor. Ruled with increasing tyranny until his own generals assassinated him.
Seraphine the Pure. Hero of the Third Cycle. Banished the Demon Lords. Mysteriously died three years later. Official cause is natural illness. Thornheart records that it's suspected poison.
Marcus the Brave. United the kingdoms. Vanished without a trace five years after his greatest victory. Never to be found again.
"Your father noticed something," Victor continued. "Each cycle's great evil was actually the previous cycle's hero. Or someone connected to them."
My blood ran cold. Of course I knew some of it but I never did finish the book to learn most of the secrets, infact I barely scratched it!
It also aligned with what Professor Iris had hinted at. What the system had implied. But seeing it documented, proven across centuries...
The Council of Fates.
"The Demon King is...."
"The previous hero. Yes. We believe so. Which means the current Demon King everyone currently fears? And that all the academy are preparing a 'special' hero for is probably the last cycle's hero who learned too much. Who became labeled as evil, maybe for luck or he learned something he shouldn't. We don't know why but that's what is happening."
"The Council of Fates," I said quietly.
Victor's head snapped up. "You know about them?"
"Only pieces and dragments, enough to know someone is manipulating everything." I met his eyes. "They create heroes and villains like chess pieces. We're all just playing roles in their game."
Playing the roles in the book. But....how do I fit into all of this?
A chill touched my lower back. Are the Council of Fates just as real back home or it's just the book I read? Come to think of it, where did I even see that book in the first place. I remember that someone sent me the link?
"Your father believed that too. He was investigating, trying to find proof. And then..." Victor's hands clenched. "The carriage accident. Your parents, dead. The investigation conveniently closed."
"You think they were killed."
"I don't think. I know." His voice was hard. "The carriage had been sabotaged. The guards who should have been with them were reassigned at the last minute. The route they took wasn't their usual one, they received a message that claimed emergency business or meeting, I cannot tell. But they got a message that let them behave in a strange way!"
"From whom?"
"Unknown. The messenger disappeared. The message was destroyed. Everything was done neatly and far too convenient. We don't even know where the traitors are!"
I felt anger building in my chest. Not just for the Hadeon whose body I inhabited, but genuine rage at the injustice for myself! I've been thrown into a mess that I never asked for.
Somewhere I can die. Just like that, forgotten between the scroll of pages.
These people, the Council, or whoever they sent, had killed two people whose only crime was asking questions. What would they do to me?
"Why didn't you investigate further?"
"I did start to do so carefully and slowly. And I learned that others who asked too many questions also met unfortunate ends." He looked at me steadily. "I stopped investigating publicly. But I never stopped looking for answers and I never forgot."
"So why tell me now?"
"Because you're asking the same questions your father did. Making the same enemies. Walking the same dangerous path." He leaned forward. "And because you need to know what you're up against. This isn't just academy politics, Hadeon. This is centuries of manipulation. Powers that crush anyone who threatens their control. This isn't just about that Adrian. Although he's also probably at the center of it all.
"That boy... he might be the one set up as the Hero of this time."
"I know." It was written in the book. He's the fucking protagonist!
"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're preparing to challenge them. The assassination attempt would be just the beginning. Once you reveal yourself as a real threat, they'll come at you with everything."
"Good." I met his gaze steadily. "Let them come. I'm ready."
"Are you? Because your father thought he was ready too. He had allies. Resources. A plan. And he still died, and he was much more powerful and prepared than you."
The words hung heavy between us.
"My father wasn't ready because he didn't know what he was facing," I said carefully. "He suspected and investigated, yes but he didn't have the full picture."
"And you do?"
"More than he did. Enough to know what's coming and enough to prepare for any storm." I paused. "Enough to win."
The opposite of winning isn't something I want to accept.
Victor studied me for a long moment. Then he reached into his coat again and pulled out a key, an old iron worn with age.
"The family vault," he said. "Beneath Ravana Castle. Inside are three hundred years of records. Evidence and research from every Ravana who fought this fight. Your father's final notes. And..." He hesitated. "Weapons. Artifacts. Things our family has collected specifically for fighting this enemy."
He held out the key. I took it, feeling the weight of history in my hand.
"Everything you need is there. The full truth about the cycles. About the Council. About what they've done and why. The one we were able to gather ourselves at least." Victor's voice was quiet but firm. "Use it. Prepare. And when you're ready to truly fight them, really fight, not just to survive, the Ravana family will stand with you."