The Last Dragon Shifter

Chapter Thirty

W.W.D.D.

A.K.A. What Would Dija Do?

Naomi recited the question inwardly as the rest of the trial contestants fretted around her. Backstage of the Legacy school theater, Oliver and Olivia consulted in hushed tones and Quinn paced the room. Meanwhile, Malcolm sat next to Naomi, tapping his foot incessantly. Everyone around her was on pins and needles, but Naomi did her best to steady her breathing and simply think on her dragon shifter goddess.

To be fair, she was as nervous as everyone else. But her mom had always taught her to reflect on the divine, on the universe at large, when Naomi's current problems started to seem just as big. Recognizing that there were more powerful, and benevolent, forces at large made a school competition seem minuscule in comparison. She wished she could impart this wisdom to her friends. However, given how Tragon had twisted people's perception of Dija and the other gods, it wasn't a good idea.

Instead, she got fed up with Malcolm's bouncing knee and placed her hand over it.

"Seriously, you need to relax. You're only stressing yourself—and me—out more with your jitteriness. Just take a few breaths."

"A few breaths won't win us this contest," Malcolm grumbled as he studied the notes he'd gathered. After they'd been informed the first trial would involve a debate, he'd been consulting different topics and talking points. While he didn't have more specific intel than that, apparently his plethora of scribbles meant the world to him at this moment.

Thus, she moved on... to spotting Soraya looping her arm through Quinn's. Maybe she meant to ease Quinn's restlessness but Naomi's eyes squinted at the flirtatious hint of her smile. While the girl seemed nice, Naomi certainly didn't appreciate her pawing all over him. Although, technically, Soraya didn't know about Naomi and Quinn.

Then again, was there even a "Naomi and Quinn?" Not officially.

Before she could mull over that particular conundrum, her attention redirected to Dean Wellington as she stormed into the arena with two men in tow. The tall, red-headed man strode in beside her, while his stout, pale companion flailed behind. It was no wonder he couldn't keep up as he lugged an immense, long case in his wake. His tribulations went unacknowledged, by everyone but Naomi, as Dean Wellington and the other man surveyed the room.

"Okay, kids," Dean Wellington clapped her hands to gather their interest. "I have a few announcements to make."

Naomi suppressed a sigh since Dean Wellington ALWAYS had announcements to make.

"First of all, the first trial will begin in twenty minutes, so please prepare accordingly. Secondly, our RC team has finally arrived."

"RC team?" Naomi accidentally questioned out loud, garnering Dean Wellington's displeasure.

"Yes, Naomi. Our recording team for the Summit Trials."

"Why do we need a recording team?"

"To record. The Trials." Dean Wellington snipped. "Every step in the competition has to be recorded so the footage can be transmitted for future viewing."

"Future viewing?" Naomi swore she saw a blood vessel on Dean Wellington's forehead throb to life. One more question from her and it might explode.

"IF you and Malcolm win, your accomplishments would air for the High Council at the World Summit. However, with your lack of knowledge on the trial process, that achievement seems unlikely."

When Naomi opened her mouth for one last retort, Malcolm pinched her arm.

"Just stop," he hissed to her, then refocused on the headmistress. "Please continue, Dean Wellington."