He nods slowly, confirmation accompanied by a slight smile that suggests an appreciation for quick understanding.
My attention shifts to the draconic presence dominating the background.
"Dragon...a protector of the kingdom?" I suggest, connections forming with increasing certainty. "Mortimer?"
Zeke's smile widens, though he tempers absolute confirmation with slight qualification.
"Possibility," he acknowledges, suggesting alternatives might exist though Mortimer represents a logical candidate given known information.
The figure standing beside the throne draws my attention next, the position suggesting authority second only to the ruler while attitude conveys a perfect balance between independence and loyalty.
"Someone who will always be on the right-hand side," I note, Atticus immediately coming to mind with his protective determination and ancient power carefully contained beneath the seemingly ordinary exterior. "Could Atticus do?"
Zeke considers this suggestion with thoughtful expression, assessment appearing to weigh factors beyond my current awareness.
"If he pledges alliance in aiding the royal who sits on the throne," he finally responds, "then yes."
Satisfaction at this confirmation flows through me as the remaining pieces fall into place with increasing clarity. The two kneeling figures at the composition's base present obvious correspondence to my remaining bond mates.
"These can be anyone who also pledges allegiance to the one who sits on the throne," I observe, already envisioning Cassius and Nikolai in these positions – their royal backgrounds providing perfect preparation for roles requiring both strength and diplomatic understanding.
Zeke nods agreement, adding qualification that suggests a deeper requirement than mere physical presence in required positions.
"They would need to have a strong bond with one another," he explains, emphasis suggesting a connection between participants represents a fundamental requirement rather than merely desirable addition.
I smile with growing confidence as visualization completes itself – bonds already established between us creating a foundation for arrangement depicted in the ancient illustration.
"I and Cassius can fit perfectly," I state, certainty growing as pieces arrange themselves into a coherent whole. The dynamic between us –established through blood exchange, strengthened through shared experiences, complicated yet ultimately strengthened through recent reconciliation– provides exactly the foundation required for the position depicted.
My eyes finally drift to the central figure – the throne itself and its occupant, crown hovering rather than resting directly upon their head. The position clearly requires someone of particular significance, power flowing both to and from this central figure in the illustration.
"The throne," I murmur, tracing the ornate depiction with a careful finger. "It has to be a born royal, doesn't it?"
I look to Zeke, sudden realization forms as an obvious candidate presents itself. "Can Nikolai...or I guess Nikki work?"
Zeke considers this suggestion with a thoughtful expression, weighing possibilities with evident care before responding.
"As a royal... yes. He can sit upon the throne," he finally acknowledges the confirmation carrying peculiar hesitation that suggests qualification rather than a wholehearted endorsement.
"But?" I prompt, recognizing the unspoken reservation behind his careful phrasing.
A slight smirk forms on Zeke's lips, an expression carrying a knowing quality that suggests assessment based on deeper understanding than mere theoretical possibility.
"But does Nikolai have the will to sit upon the throne?" he challenges gently. "Or the confidence in carrying such responsibility into Year Three?"
The question strikes with unexpected precision, forcing consideration beyond mere eligibility to a deeper question of suitability.
Nikolai certainly possesses royal lineage and training required for such a position, but his behavior since entering the academy has demonstrated a complicated relationship with responsibility and authority. His transformation into female form within Faerie's realm adds additional complexity to the already uncertain equation.
"What happens if we set the souls free and enter Year Three?" I ask, mental focus shifting from specific candidates to larger implications of successfully implementing arrangements depicted in the ancient illustrations. "What would Year Three center on?"
Zeke's expression turns contemplative, hinting at knowledge limitations even his remarkable information-gathering capabilities cannot overcome.
"I don't know," he admits with a refreshing directness that suggests complete honesty rather than strategic withholding. "All I know is that the next world revolves around the Duskwalkers."
His gaze turns distant, as if envisioning a realm we have yet to encounter.
"Desolation, darkness, uncertainty, and unpredictable circumstances," he continues, painting pictures with words that carry the weight of genuine concern rather than mere academic description. "We would break the cycle, yes, but whatever challenges come next, I wouldn't be able to unlock those until I enter the sameness and discover the library designated to it."
