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I hold up an index finger. “Nope. Donotanswer that.” We start walking again and I find myself grinning at his playful nature. “I can’t believe you just said that,” I whisper. “Dead man walking. Who does that?”
“Someone who needs a laugh? I mean…” He starts to change tactics. “My goal here is to ensure your success with humor, not to send you down in flames.”
I shake my head again with a smile. “You are something else, Shayde Drargokin.”
“And you love every bit of me, Teagan Osborn,” he returns.
I slip my hand back into his and interlace our fingers. “That I do.”
Soon, we stand before a closed door, the same one we rushed out of before when we stood before the prior leaders with Davanna Frangidi. Now, on the other side are my allies and supporters. How time changes one day to the next where it involves the same buildings and doors.
If only these walls could talk.
“Are you ready,” he asks one more time.
“No,” I answer honestly. “But once we get started, it’ll be like riding a bike, right?”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never ridden a bike.”
I stare at him and blink. “What kind of support message is that? You suck at this.”
He grins. “It’s the truth, but I’ll tell you this; it’s like beasting out. You never forget how once youlearnhow.”
“Okay, that’s better.” I turn back to the door. With a rigid exhale, I say, “Let’s do this.”
As I stand before the gathering, anticipation and nervous energy fill the air. The walls of the building are adorned with dark banners with the necromantic crest as well as my family’s crest. The elders who remained faithful, clothed in their ceremonial robes, watch me with expectant eyes.
They believe in me, but do I believe in myself?
I glance at Declan Powell, my trusted advisor and friend, who approaches to stand beside me. Declan is a formidable warrior with the ability to conjure magic as needed, but he possesses no knowledge of necromancy. This makes my decision more perfect for what I wish to announce.
Stepping up to the podium, the microphone before me screams with feedback and I take a step back. I step forward once more and loosen the mic from the stand and step around the platform.
“Thank you all for being here today,” I begin. “I am Teagan Osborn.” Before I can say anything else, a roar of applause, yelps from supporters, and grins from the audience engulfs me. It warms my heart to see the encouragement of our people. “There are a few things I need to say before the coronation is made official.”
I turn to look at Declan and wave him over to stand beside me. “For those who do not know who this man is, he’s Declan Powell, my most trusted advisor. He found me when I needed him most. He knew my parents and supported them beyond their death. He continues to carry on their belief today. He’s helped me so much these last few weeks and I wouldn’t be here today, before you, without him.”
The spectators break into applause once more. As they begin to calm, Declan leans over to give his thanks.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I mumble to him.
He blinks but remains quiet.
“One thing I can tell you today, though, is even through my bloodline declares I’m next in line to reign doesn’t mean I’m ready to take on the role of doing so.” I stop to listen to the hushed whispers of the crowd and potential outcries of naysayers. When all seems well, I continue. “Until I feel I’m ready for the responsibility to rule a community, I’m going to place Declan Powell in charge to lead the necromantic community.”
As I announce my decision, a flicker of surprise dances across Declan’s eyes, and he opens his mouth to object. “But Teagan, I’m not the right fit,” Declan argues, his voice softens with uncertainty. “I am not a necromancer. How can I lead?”
I meet his gaze with unwavering confidence. Holding the microphone away to keep the conversation private, I answer. “Declan, you possess qualities that go beyond the realm of necromancy. You are a natural leader, strong-willed, and compassionate. You know the struggles our community has dealt with and understand the importance of unity. You are the perfect fit to guide us.”
As my words hang in the air, the crowd stirs with murmurs of agreement and disagreement. It is a democracy, and not everyone will be satisfied with my decision, but I stand firm, knowing that this is a crucial step in rebuilding what was nearly lost.
Bringing the microphone back up to use it again, I begin again. “We are all here to learn and grow,” I address the gathering, my voice resonating with determination. “Our community has endured the trials set upon us by past leaders who sought to ruin us. Today, we begin the process of healing and rebuilding. I place my trust in Declan, and I implore all of you to do the same.”
With those words, I turn my attention to the individuals who will assist Declan in his new role. “I would like to introduce you to the others who have stood by, steadfast, and ready.” I step toward a middle-aged woman with olive skin and black hair who has the most beautiful hazel eyes. “Briley Duran, a wise and experienced mage, known for her ability to navigate intricate spells.”
Next to her is a female who once attended Blackstone Academy herself and graduated. She’s part bird and part human. Her frame makes her taller than most and her wings give her the appearance of an angel. “Gisele Paiva Pedroso, a diplomat skilled in the art of negotiation.”
Next I smile to a dark-skinned young lady from France. Looks can be deceiving as she’s over three hundred years of age and is a mage. “Tiphaine Riqueti, a master of strategy and planning.”
