Ch. 79 - The Election (End of Book 1)

Also - this is the last chapter of Book 1. I can't believe how far this story has come, I'm all emotional just writing this lol. Thank you so much for your support throughout this first volume. Of course, Book 2 will start immediately, but I wanted to recognize the end of this milestone :)

--

Watching as certain death slithered towards her, Momo figured she had about thirty seconds to save herself.

She heaved her body upwards, stilling her breath as she crawled silently towards Valerica. As the sisters continued bickering, Momo sidled up to Valerica’s legs, and then wrapped her arms around her middle. Sera was wrong – the missiles weren’t full of Holy Magic. It was pure Nether, armed by Valerica herself.

And thanks to Morgana, Momo still had a fighting chance against them.

She gripped Valerica tightly, and whispered, “[Nether Immu–]”

“She’s still alive!” Nia exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger towards her. Momo’s mouth halted, the spell dying on her lips. She swore she saw relief wash over the assassin’s face. Vivienne’s, too. The two sisters exchanged a glance, and made no move towards her.

Momo looked upwards. The missiles had to cover a large distance until they made it to the city square, but they did so at extreme speed; the black trails were rocketing towards them, growing larger and deadlier by the second.

“Look up!” Momo squeaked, directing their attention away from her and towards the skies. “I don’t think you want to bother with me right now.”

The trio gazed towards the sky.

“Oh Gods,” Vivienne muttered. “Are those…?”

“Nether missiles,” Nia said, her voice going hoarse. “Shit. Sera, the [Nether Inversion] she cast on you...”

Sera’s face had drained of color. She looked from the sky to Momo, her eyes burning with venom. Momo had yet to see her drop her cool façade – and this went far beyond that. She was smoldering. Momo could feel her rage in the Nether surrounding them. The pavement began to float upwards tremulously, guided by shrieking blobs of black.

“You…” she spat. At her words, Nether bricks rocketed towards Momo and Valerica. Momo reached out, screaming as she countered Sera's Nether energy with her own. The bricks halted in space, caught between equal and opposite forces. They trembled as Sera and Momo fought for control over them.

“You will not hurt her,” Momo choked out, a migraine the size of Mars taking over her skull. Sera spent only a fraction of her power to fling the bricks, yet it took every atom in Momo’s being to keep them where they were.

Sera’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “It’s her you’re worried about?”

“She's the only thing I'm worried about,” Momo repeated, gritting her teeth. Her palms were sweating pure black, Nether seeping out of her. Her mana was beyond its limit, yet she kept pushing – straining her very veins to keep the barrage of bricks in stasis.

“A necromancer who cares more for the lives of others than her own,” Sera remarked, disgusted. “We are harbingers of the dead – not protectors of the living. Morgana is wrong about you. You are not worthy of her. You are nothing but a weak sheep.”

Behind Sera, the black missiles grew so close that they nearly eclipsed the sun. Momo could hear an internal clock tick in her head – and it was dawning on the last few seconds.

“Vivienne and Nia don’t have your power! You have to protect them somehow, or they’ll die.” Momo choked out. The sisters looked at Sera obediently, but Momo’s warning put terror on their faces.

“She’s right,” Vivienne cried. “Do something.”

Sera screamed, and the Nether bricks imploded. They splattered everywhere, obfuscating the plaza with ash and Nether dust. Completely blinded, Momo tightened her grip around Valerica’s stomach. Even through the ash, she could see the maw of the missiles glint. A bright, violent blacklight ripped through the dome.

“[Nether Immunity]!” Momo screamed, and buried her ears into Valerica’s cowl.

—

Black rain pattered against the pavement. It dribbled from window panes and umbrellas, long brimmed hats and coats of feathers. Fog hugged the remnants of the city square as Nam’Dal’s citizens stood, trembling and wet, watching with bated breath as the dome of Nether finally receded.

Ash and smoke escaped the fading enclosure, puffing like a cigarette into the surrounding city. Thieves and knights alike huddled together, holding their breath as the putrid smog cleared. Allegiances had fallen to the wayside, replaced with an overwhelming curiosity. The spell had finally receded, and everyone was eager to know the result – or more accurately, the victor.

The sun, dawning just then, shed a sliver of light to illuminate a scene of utter destruction.

It also happened to illuminate Valerica. Standing at the center of the giant crater that was once a fountain, the Necromage wore a smile as bright as daylight. A smaller girl – who might be mistaken for a cloak, or an accessory, if one did not look close enough – was wrapped around her waist, head pressed firmly into her back.

“Momo, you can open your eyes now,” Valerica said softly.

At the sound of her voice, Momo’s eyes fluttered open.

“Valerica?”

“The one and only,” the Necromage grinned.

Momo reluctantly separated herself from her, and took a shaky step backwards. Her ears were ringing like hell, as if the explosion had detonated inside of her skull.

“The spell must have worked,” Momo whispered, looking down at her unharmed hands. Valerica, too, seemed untouched by the blast. Her sleeves were still perfectly frayed, her collar flush. “Did it… work on you too?”

“Did what work?” she batted her eyelashes cluessly. “The plan? Yes, obviously.”

She gestured to the giant crater they were in.

“No, um – how are you so… alive?”

“Oh,” she laughed, waving a hand. “I made sure to drink up on my [Nether Resistance IV] potions before this whole ordeal, just in case. Not to mention that my innate Nether defenses are nearly at 90%. Although, I suppose, it should have still left a mark…”

She peered down at her dress, inspecting the material.

“Ah, here we are.”

She lifted up a layer of fabric, revealing a mid-sized hole.

“That is all a fleet of missiles did to you?” Momo gaped.

“I know. An unforgivable casualty, isn’t it? This is expensive fabric…” she frowned, toying with the rip. “No matter. I’m sure the tailoring equipment is better here at our new castle. Lorvis will be just delighted.”

Momo stared at her blankly. As Valerica spoke, the reality washed over her. They were… alive. They had done it. Momo had completed two coup d’etats in under a month. She imagined she might fit in somewhere in the Alois version of the Guinness World Records.

Momo paused, looking around her. There was nothing but dirt and broken pavement. “But what about Sera? Vivienne? Nia?”

Valerica smirked. “Look behind you.”

Momo turned her body a complete 180, eyes widening when she saw her. Laying like a sleeping pig, with her arms and legs protruding awkwardly from her body, was Sera. Her robes were wildly cut, her face and arms bruised, her cheeks unnaturally pale. She looked like a shell of her former self, completely robbed of all magical authority.

“But…” Momo blinked slowly, processing the sight. “The sisters?”

“It seems the coldhearted witch cares more for her disciples than she lets on,” Valerica shrugged, beginning to walk towards Sera’s unconscious form. “She used the last of her mana before the missile hit to cast them out of the Enclosure. Not sure how, or to where – breaking through a [Nether Enclosure] should be impossible.”

Momo swallowed, but she felt relieved. She was just happy to know they weren’t dead, even if they were floating around in some endless void.

“What are you going to do with her?” Momo asked.

Valerica squatted, shoving her hands underneath Sera and then heaving her upwards. She held her like a cradled baby.

“Oh, just what any sensible new leader would do,” she grinned.

—

“I can’t believe that’s the same woman who nearly destroyed Nam’Dal,” Radu said, pointing in disbelief. His gaze led to the center of the newly renovated Judgement Room – now renamed The Tea Room for Illustrious Guests – where a bald woman, wearing a brightly colored purple tunic, a belt of jingling bells, and two pointed shoes, sat in an invisible cage. A permanent scowl had etched itself into her face, so unmoving that it remained even when she slept.

“I think this qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment,” Momo grimaced. She had thought court jester had been a euphemism, but it had instead been incredibly literal. Imprisoned inside some never-ending Enclosure enchantment, Sera had become the centerpiece of Valerica’s new entertaining quarters.

The room had been cleansed completely of Nether, returning to its naturally gray, cobbled state. High banners of skeletal koi fish were hung from the ceiling, bone charms and baubles decorated the perimeter. One bauble in particular stood out amongst the rest – sitting high on its own throne of stone, the newly returned Excalibur was given the prestigious title of Bauble Chancellor.

Momo could tell that Valerica had zero experience being a monarch. She threw out titles like they were amusing jokes – Dusk became High Meow, Fromage’s son, Rudolph, became her Economic Advisor for Cheese Related Endeavors, Teddy was assigned Spymaster and Joketeller. She even gave Radu the title Highest Lizard amongst Lizards when she heard about his loyalty to Momo.

Momo, to her credit, had remained Valerica’s Assistant.

She didn’t mind it that way.

“How long do you think until the King hears about this?” Radu asked, anxiously tapping his finger on the longtable. He and Momo sat at the far edge of the room, amongst twenty or so other members of Valerica’s newly-appointed court. The motley group of established Nam'Dal citizens had all been summoned there for the crowning of their new ruler – a ritual Momo imagined would be as ridiculous as it sounded.

“Hopefully a long time,” Momo shuddered. “I haven’t figured out how to explain this whole double necromantic coup d’etat situation in a convincing way.”

“I give it two weeks,” he laughed.

Momo sighed. She went to protest, but the words died in her mouth as the doors flung open. A red carpet rolled out ceremoniously. Torches flickered into illumination. Sera buried her head miserably into her lap.

Here we go.

To her surprise, it was Dusk to enter first. The cat was dressed in a full suit of regalia, a chiming golden bell ringing with her every step. The cat sauntered forward, meowed politely, and then slipped towards Momo.

“Dusk,” Momo shook her head, scratching the cat behind her ears. “What was all that about?”

She got her answer in the form of Valerica.

The woman stepped boldly into the room, six-inch heel first, wearing an outfit that rivaled the worst of the Met Gala. The head of a Blacktip Shark, sewn entirely out of magical thread, adorned her head like an egregious hat. A gothic dress hugged her waist and trailed off for several meters, nearly drowning the carpet beneath it in a cape of black.

“Ladies and gentleman and cats of the court,” she greeted, clasping her hands together and bowing politely to each member. When she came upon Sera, she made a regretful face. “Oh, and jesters. My apologies.”

Momo was grateful the Necropriest’s invisible cage was soundproof – or else the proceedings would probably be interrupted by a stream of profanities.

Valerica did a small twirl, and sat herself on Sera’s former throne. A crouched over man shuffled out of the open doorway and hobbled towards her. Momo recognized him instantly. It was Lorvis, the Dawn’s tailor. He was carrying a large box, wrapped divinely with green paper. He placed it down on the table in front of Valerica.

He also removed his hat – a tall, black tophat – and placed it on top of the box.

“Thank you, dear,” she smiled. The tailor made no reaction to the praise, simply turning on his heel and grunting his way back out of the door.

Valerica rose.

“My delightful members of the court, this day marks a new dawn for Nam’Dal. This beautiful city of rats, ravens and thieves has seen many an unfit ruler. I know you have longed for someone who can represent you – a woman of the people, who understands the value of crime, sewage, cheese, and low taxes,” Valerica said, pointing to each appointee at the appropriate moment.

A soft murmur overtook the room, with each member discussing amongst their party. Valerica clapped once, and was met with immediate, obedient silence. She smiled, and continued.

“I know two government takeovers in a week can be tough on the nervous system. I don’t envy you. But I do know there is one singular person in this room fit to rule this island, and I’m sure you’ll agree with me. That’s why I’m putting it up to a vote.”

Gasps abounded in the small chamber, including Momo’s own. Valerica had been so insistent about making Nam’Dal the capital of their new kingdom – but now she was giving it up to chance? The fresh sense of competition in the room was obvious, heated glances flicking from one face to another.

Momo sighed, slumping into her chair. She knew at least once thing – she was not fit to rule a city. The other court members could battle it out all they wanted while she sat back and relaxed.

“That’s right,” Valerica giggled manically. “I am auctioning off the right to this city. There’s only one small condition – whoever is voted to rule will report directly to me. I will oversee your every action, review your every thought, and appraise your every daydream. I will become a permanent, everlasting fixture in your waking and sleeping life.”

With a plucky smile, Valerica dug her hand into the tophat. When she uncurled her fist, she revealed a flurry of paper slips inside of it. She placed the paper and an inked quill on the longtable.

“All I ask is that you write a name and place it in the hat. You can nominate yourself, or any of your fellow council members who you think will best serve this city. Oh, and you cannot vote for me, although I am delighted by the compliment.”

Silence enveloped the room as the members weighed the decision. Some scribbled quickly, while others took their time, sweating profusely as they etched their answer into the paper.

Finally, the question reached Momo.

She looked over to Valerica, who immediately met her gaze. Momo flushed. The woman had been seemingly staring at her the entire time, a knowing smirk written into her features. It was a familiar expression – the same one she wore months ago, when she carried Momo on her shoulders out of the labyrinth and into her new life.

The memory carried with it a feeling. That spark that Valerica had lit in her. At the time, Momo had thought her insane. Not for the skeletons or the necromancy or the fountains of blood, but for her even greater crime of believing in her. Her absurd and incessant faith that Momo was more than a failing, unsociable art major, despite all the evidence to prove otherwise.

“Who are you going to vote for?” Radu whispered, nudging her with a shoulder.

Momo inhaled, hanging desperately onto that feeling.

She wrote her own name down on the paper.