ZEPHYR RAVENSWOOD

“Did you know, Brother…?” Thaddeus called out to Zephyr, leaving his mother and Flynn behind as he closed the gap between him and his brother while they approached the doorway of the royal hall. 

Zephyr turned his head slightly, looking below at Thaddeus who strolled gracefully beside him, inquiring as he did, “know what?” 

A mischievous smirk played at the edges of Thaddeus’ mouth, as if he was about to cause some trouble. “How the witches look?” he said softly, in a way only Zephyr could hear. 

Witches? Zephyr’s curiosity heightened. He had already speculated the existence of magic in this world; his transmigration was enough evidence of that. 

“Heh. I knew you didn't know,” chuckled Thaddeus. 

Intrigued, Zephyr thought to enlighten himself further by asking, “Those…witches. What do you know—” 

Stop!

A faint voice bellowed through Zephyr’s head, instinctively forcing his hand to his temples as a sense of unease suddenly fell upon him, creeping over his entire being and halting him from speaking as he struggled to form a sound. His chest tightened, and a strange sensation began to fill his throat, as though a thick, choking fog closed in on him. His tongue and lips grew numb and uncooperative, as if a tight suffocating gag had been shoved down his throat, rendering him unable to speak or even make a sound.

“Brother?” For the first time, Thaddeus wore not his mischievous grin as he called out to his brother, pulling him out of the daze he swayed in.

Zephyr gasped. “Huh?” He then noticed how heavy his breathing had become. And immediately he thought no more of asking the question, his chest felt as though a giant rock had been lifted from it, and he gasped no more for air. 

“What is the problem? Wait, do not tell me you are scared of the witches.” Thaddeus’s smile returned as quickly as it left, but this time, it was one of mockery. 

Zephyr gave a light exhale as he finally stabilised his breathing, before saying to Thaddeus, “we should speak no more of this.” 

What was that? Zephyr’s intuition immediately whispered to him that speaking about the witches was a bad idea, a very bad one, and one he did not wish to entertain—at the moment. 

“Say, the witches attack during the enthronement, maybe spew their poisonous venoms on us,” Thaddeus giggled as he continued. “In honesty, I wish to see them. Feast my eyes on their rat-like tails bulging out from beneath their black cloaks.”

Zephyr grimaced, visible anger and frustration spread all over his face as he glanced fiercely at Thaddeus. “I said we should speak no more of this!!” 

Zephyr fumed, startling Thaddeus, which in return, shut his mouth, letting not a single word further escape the confinement of his lips, and causing Flynn and Thalia to close the gap between them.

“Is there a problem, my lord?” Flynn asked warily, bowing as always. 

“Does your brother anger you, Zephyr?” Thalia questioned as she gently pulled the shaken Thaddeus into her grasp. 

“No, no. Forgive me. I just have a headache,” Zephyr apologised, the tension built up in his body relaxing bit by bit. “Let’s get this enthronement over with, I need to rest,” he said as he turned around and resumed approaching the royal hall’s door. 

“Yes, my lord.” Flynn followed. 

Thaddeus looked up at his mother solemnly. “I’m sorry mother. I did not mean to anger my brother.” 

She gently rubbed his hair as she said, “it’s okay. You heard him, he’s just tired. Once he rests, he’ll be fine.” Even though she had said that, she was just as shaken as her son. This was something neither of them had seen from Zephyr before.

Anger, wrath and hostility. These were emotions that neither in this life as Zephyr, or in his past life as Jon, were ever associated with him. But for some reason, all three suddenly consumed him, crashing in like a tidal wave. Why? What happened? This was all Zephyr could think about as the two royal guards positioned in front of the royal hall pushed its large door open, chanting as they did, “Crown Prince Zephyr Ravenswood has arrived!”

As the large heavy wooden doors flew open, a blinding light spilled out from within it, calling Zephyr out of his reverie. The warm glow beckoned him forward, inviting him to step into the hall as he instantly recovered from his state of thought, and now focused on the matter at hand; his enthronement.

The royal hall, grand and imposing, adorned with tapestries designed with the sigil of House Ravenswood—the same as the one which hung from Zephyr’s room—was long and spacious, so long, it felt as though it had no end, but the raised dais beyond the aisle where the throne sat, broke that sense of feeling. 

At both the western and eastern sides of the hall stood guards of the royal household, caped in distinguished black, and in the gallery above them were a few people, both men and women, adorned with beautiful clothings and jewellery, showcasing that they were no less than nobility. But despite their status, they stood with their heads lowered as Zephyr walked down the long hall, and towards the throne; his mother, Thalia, and his brother, Thaddeus, along with Ophelia, and her children, Damon, Dante and Aria, and his royal advisor, Flynn, following closely behind. 

His chest tightened, and his heart raced rapidly, but this time it was of excitement and fascination, it was nothing of the unease he had felt before. He held his head high, trying his best to maintain his balance as he had not yet fully adjusted to the clothing which covered his body.

And after what felt like a long time, Zephyr arrived at the end of his journey down the hall, the throne of Ravenwing. Made of dark bronze stone, It was neither cushioned nor upholstered, nor designed with gems of any sort, it was dark and grim, but despite that, still beautiful to the eyes of whoever looked at it.

Unknowing of what next to do, Zephyr halted at the foot of the dais as he glanced behind him, watching his family branch into opposite sides of the hall as they climbed the steps of the gallery, and Flynn branching to the side of Thalia and Thaddeus. 

“The enthronement shall now begin,” a hoarse voice said, pulling Zephyr’s gaze to the wrinkled old man, whom dressed in long white robe made of silk, and around his neck hanging a large gold chain, approached the dais from Zephyr’s left side; in his hand a golden crown designed beautifully with glowing gems of different kinds to be seen. 

He slowly climbed two steps of the three step dais, then turned over to Zephyr saying, “I, Grand Savant Aelred, filled with the wisdom and the eyesight of the ravens, crown you, Zephyr Ravenswood, son of the late king, Sargon Ravenswood, King of Ravenwing. May you reign for many years with the wisdom and justice of the ravens, upholding the laws of the land and protecting the people from harm, and may your rule bring further prosperity and peace to the kingdom.” He adjusted his step, then placed the crown on Zephyr’s head as he said, “may the ravens watch over you.”

In unison, the people who filled the hall chanted in return, “may the ravens watch over you!!!”

Grand Savant Aelred came down from the dais and gestured for Zephyr to take his place on the throne as the new king of the kingdom of Ravenwing. 

Zephyr gave a slight nod as he advanced up the dais. 

Tap! Tap! Tap! 

He stood, facing the throne, allowing his eyes to embrace it for a moment, before he turned around to face the people still chanting, he then slowly sat down, settling himself against the throne, feeling the weight of the crown on his head, and the coolness of the polished stone against his back. 

As he let his fingers run through the armrest of the throne, caressing it, he breathed out a deep exhale. 

This… It feels superb. Now I understand why people fight and kill for the throne in the movies. It holds so much power… and now, I wield such a power.