Shadow Serpents: The Ordinary

Chapter 29: Aftermath

<Third Person POV>

The storm raged on; the battle following the order. But up on the tower the wind was whistling, and the raindrops were thundering onto the roof; they were all silenced by the heavy and eerie atmosphere. 6 people stood on the top of the tower. 3 dead and 3 alive. Dawn broke through the windowpanes, making a glistening teardrop visible as it rolled down Marcus' cheek before dropping on the floor. Once it began the tears wouldn't stop. One by one the salty drops of water fell.

He remained protectively in front of Clary as the shocking tableau spread across his sight. The wind was beginning to recede, and now all that could be heard was the soft whispering wails of Lady Isabella, leaning onto Clary's shoulder sobbing her eyes out. The woman was still crying, Clary patted her on the back, and she was for once powerless. However, it was in that instant when Marcus moved ahead and kneeled that Clary realized that something was amiss.

There she saw that her father, whom she had met just 30 minutes ago, lying dead with a sliver daggered piece of glass jutting out of his abdomen, with Marcus kneeling beside him in a sign of respect. She gently lifted the weeping woman and rested her on a pillar, before joining her brother.

Down Below the war that had raged for hours beneath the Shadow Towers finally reached its cataclysmic end. The Ilithid Colony, once hidden in the shadows, faced its reckoning. Lord Jasper Kaspersky's crimson-clad soldiers— Captain Matthew, Iron Fighter, Hairy Henry, and Kresta Bone—stood battered and broken, their loyalty to their fallen leader unwavering even in defeat, snarled as they melted into the shadows.

Marcus and Clary managed to drag the corpus of Mr. Kaspersky down to the battle and to the Silent Nexus base. The eyes of the unsuspecting agents grew wide. Marcus pulled Clary away from the base toward the tower where the wiping Isabella stood in the embrace of their mother who had appeared in the middle of the chaos.

With Kaspersky's demise, chaos erupted among his ranks. Captain Harris, the loyal lieutenant, knelt beside his fallen master, blood staining his hands. The once-feared mafia king lay lifeless in front of him, what was he to do retreat? Yes, it would be best to since the crimson crown is now a twisted mockery of power. The soldiers, their eyes hollow, dropped their weapons. The Ilithid, sensing their vulnerability, emerged from the shadows, their tentacles probing the minds of the defeated.

Meanwhile, somewhere amidst the chaos, Evelyn Voss—the enigmatic beauty who had infiltrated Kaspersky's inner circle feeding the wrong information—stepped forward, frustrated that her act of revenge was demolished. She had finally stepped into the battlefield, much to her repulsion. Her eyes blazed with determination. She had lost her brother, but her resolve remained unshaken. Luis, the brooding assassin with a haunted past, stood by her side. Together, they rallied the remnants of Rodriguze's forces.

Somewhere near them, Marcus pushed through the swamping crowds to Evelyn, his gun in hand. He was quick to release the shot, but Voss was faster, she ducked behind an unsuspecting Luis; who finally died after giving his loyalties to the wrong ranks, while Evelyn took the chance to flee from the scene. Marcus tried to force his way through to her when a bomb hit the round 10 feet away from him. The last thing he saw before he felt the conciseness slip into darkness.

<Clary's POV>

I stood by Mum trying to figure out where Marcus was. My answer came to me soon, I heard Aly scream his name seconds before a bomb went off. My feet took off running to see a dead Luis and an unconcise of

~Three Days Later~

6 lives were mourned that day. Four agents—Alessandro Rodriguez, Sofia Shades, Leo Fritzoy, Julia Armendarez, and Nova Molina—had fought valiantly against the Ilithid. Sofia, with her unwavering courage, sacrificed herself to protect a young girl caught in the crossfire, and Leo, with his sharp intellect, had fallen caught in a bomb. Alessandro died in glory at the hands of Kaspersky. Their coffins, draped in the crimson flag of the Royal Nevus, lay in solemn repose. The sixth casualty was Nico; she too was caught in the crossfire. Her name was whispered among the mourners: Nicole 'Nico' Sarkozy.

The memorial service took place at the heart of London, St. Paul's Catedral, where stained glass windows cast colored fractured patterns upon the cold stone floor. Agents, their badges gleaming, formed an honor guard. A riderless horses stood nearby, symbolizing the fallen comrades who would never ride again. A pipe and drum corps played a mournful dirge, echoing through the cathedral.

Agent Christopher Wray eulogized the life of the war heroes. He spoke of their dedication, their sacrifice, and the void they left behind. Tears flowed freely as their families clung to folded flags—their loved ones' final salute. Clary and Marcus stood among them; her grief etched into every line of her face.

<Clary's POV>

~7 months later~

The sun rose above the horizon, casting its golden veil upon the ancient stones of the headquarters. The air crackled with anticipation as the elite gathered—the underbosses, capos, and enforcers—all dressed in tailored suits that concealed weapons more lethal than their smiles.

The courtyard had been transformed. Black banners fluttered, bearing the Rodriguez family crest—a serpent entwined with a dagger. Torches blazed, illuminating the path to the makeshift dais. Marcus stood there nervous I think, his eyes as cold as the marble beneath his feet, watching as the procession drew closer to him at the dais.

I led the procession, holding on to the crimson crown. My crimson gown flowed in the gentle early November wind. After me, Mattheo and Xymara followed with the crimson swords. After them, mum followed with my sisters. Then at last the capos, each representing a district, marched in lockstep. Their loyalty was unwavering, their knives sharper than their wit.

I stopped on the first step to the dais. Mattheo and Xymara took their places on either side of Marcus. While mum went behind him. The capos stood on the second step creating a half circle around him.

Marcus knelt before the ancient altar; the Book of Warence opened before him. His voice echoed through the courtyard as he swore allegiance to the family, the legion, and to the shadows that bound them. I stepped forward to the altar to face him, my arm stretched out onto his head with the crown. "By blood and by honor," I intoned, "you are crowned King of the Royal Nevus." With that, I slipped next to Mum.

A crown of crimson and rubies descended, resting upon Marcus's raven hair. It bore no gold or silver—only darkness and desire. Luca stepped forward, drawing a dagger. He nicked Marcus's palm, blood welling. "May your reign be as sharp as this blade," he murmured. I watched as Marcus reached up and shut the Book of Warence, sealing his reign. Only one more thing to do.

Mum dipped her fingers in a silver chalice. She anointed Marcus's forehead, whispering words of encouragement. Power surged—a legacy passed from parent to child. The crowd held its breath as Marcus rose from the altar and faced them. His eyes glowed as the rays of the morning sun hit him—it's true after all it's the people who chose the king when they do a king is reborn.

One thing I didn't notice but now wished I had was as, the ceremony reached its crescendo, a cloaked figure, that emerged from the shadows, sat on the roof of the main hall. A verger, they said it was, but whisperers spoke of that it was Death himself—a silent witness to power's price.

The priest present stepped forward. His voice echoed through the courtyard. "Marcus Rodriguez, The Crimson King, may your reign be blessed and just." To what the crowd echoed, "Long live the king."

And so, Marcus ascended the throne—a crown of crimson, and a scepter of secrets. Clary watched, torn between pride and fear. For shadows had their price, so did power

However, in the Library of Shadows, a new book had been opened. A quill ran over the cover page, scratching as it wrote:

                                                          The Golden Empire