This is a story about what would happen if Clary had saved Jonathon after all.

He was burning. Why was he burning?

Despite the fact that there was visions flashing in front of him, memories that seemed vivid and familiar yet not real at all, he was lost in this brave new world. It was as if, for the first time, he had woken up. And then, just as he was about to raise his head, everything stopped. The flames, like frightened beings, evaporated the moment he had finally taken in the scene. He laid on wherever he was, forgetting - if he had ever known in the first place - how to move. He realized he was breathing.

He could feel himself breathing.

I've never been able to feel that before, he thought to himself. He always felt distant from his body. As he glanced around, the objects and beings around him seemed unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time. Something told him, as if words at the tip of his tongue, he knew them. He knew them well. Yet he didn't ever feel this alive, so how could he know them? How could he?

He wanted to cry for help. Make a noise. Do something. Because he felt like he could. Like he could breathe. But then a figure, thin yet lively, dove next to him. Her legs gave out. He knew her. He knew her well. Then it came to him. He understood now.

"You," he whispered, looking at her with feared admiration. Did she see him? Did she know he could feel that he was breathing? But when she looked at him, he no longer wondered. He knew that she saw him. He realized suddenly that maybe everything wasn't a dream. He had flashes of her, memories, and he felt like he distantly knew her, despite the fact that they have never met. Her eyes dawned on him worriedly, hint of regret swirling in her eyes."You put...the heavenly fire...into the blade of the sword. It was...cleverly done." Despite the shaking, he felt the words on his tongue. He felt it. He had never felt anything like it. He felt like he was truly there.

"It was a rune, that's all," she told him, kneeling over him, her eyes wandering against him as if she was just as intrigued by his sudden consciousness as him. "Sebastian..."

Suddenly, a memory of Sebastian. Hitting hard like ice. Like everything else until now, until he could feel, the memory was as if he watching at a distance. Never feeling. A hatred.

"No. I'm not him. I'm-Jonathon," he tried to say loudly, aching to tell the world, but he knew it only came out as a whisper. "I'm Jonathon." He heard someone scream behind him, a terrible noise calling out to him, as if trying to bring him to his past state. Screaming his, the demon inside of him who stopped him from feeling, name.

"Kill the girl!" Suddenly, his eyes hit the woman - no, it was a girl - who hovered over him. Clary, a voice had answered. As if on cue, memories of her started to hit him. A million of them, colliding into his head. He wanted to scream, the amount of memories hitting him becoming maddening. But when his eyes stayed on Clary, his sister, he regained sanity.

"NO!" A wild fire hit his chest, but this time it was of emotion. "Get back!" He heard the shuffling feet, the Endarkened, cease. There was a breath exhaled beside him. It was his sister. She was breathing too.

But his mind, as he thought of her breathing, was interrupted. Clinging rang against his ears. Someone, he realized, was running towards them.

"I will not let him die!" Her voice rang in his eyes. He wanted to sooth her. "I've seen too many go to waste today! Too many souls! Magnus, look at me! Don't tell me there isn't a spell that can't save him." Only a moment later, a new figure hovered over him. The figure held an hour-glass shape, an older energy beaming off it. He squinted his eyes, until he could decipher the figure. Red hair, bright eyes, but older. Like a mother.

"Mother?" Jonathon said. The longer his eyes held onto her, the more he felt like he couldn't see her vividly. A gurgle hit his chest, and when he coughed a thick goo splattered out of his mouth. He could barely breathe.

He watched as his mother knelt down next to him, at first cautiously, but then slowly drew his head into her lap. Despite everything he had done - what Sebastian had made him done, and forced him to watch - she still had the strength to love him.

"I am sorry," he said, his eyes burning with tears, "I am so..." His eyes hit his sister again, feeling her gaze. "I know there is nothing I could do or say now that would allow me to die with even a shred of grace. And I would hardly blame you if you cut my throat. But I am...I regret. I'm...sorry." Her eyes widened, like the words had forced her eyes to enlarge in order to understand them. At first he saw the anger swirl in her eyes, but then it went away. A soft, comforting gleam replaced them. And he was sure she was wondering how and why and trying to understand, for the first time, what kind of God would let a soul be so corrupted.

"Don't," he said, his eyelids feeling heavier. "I see you trying to puzzle it out, my sister. Whether I ought to be forgiven the way Luke would forgive his sister if the Infernal Cup released her now. But you see, she was his sister once. She was human once I-" A monstrous cough interrupted him. He cursed his body. Would it be on his side for at least a moment? "I never existed at all. Heavenly fire burns away that which is evil. Jace survived Glorious because he was good. There was enough of him left to live. But I was born to be all corruption. There is not enough left of me to survive. You see the ghost of someone who could have been, that is all." He heard sniffling beside him, as his mother's fingers clutched his head harder, as if she was feeling him fall away from her all over again.

"I must tell you," he coughed. "When I die-the Endarkened will rush at you. I won't be able to hold them back. Where's Jace?"

"I'm here," he heard him say. He felt Jace's steps vibrate against the floor.

"Take my sword," Jonathon continued. "Cut-cut it open?" Jocelyn murmured something in confusion.

"What is he doing?" Clary demanded louder. But when Jace obeyed his request, Jonathon could tell the entire room had finally breathed. Like they were drowning in their own fears until Jace had done the deed.

"T-tell him," Jonathon stuttered, "Tell him to throw it into the ring of runes." Clary recited it to Jace, and he heard someone shift towards him.

"No!" She cried, and it was Amatis. "If the Cup is ruined, so shall we all be! Lord Sebastian! Do not let your army be destroyed! We are loyal!" He looked at Jocelyn, remembering something she had once said to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I should never have made you." His eyes started to go dark, he felt his body be released. He felt distance for a moment, like he was being pulled away finally, but by a being of light. Then, suddenly, he heard the scream. The voice made him jump back into his body.

"NO!" Screamed Clary. Jonathon didn't have the strength to open his eyes, he could only hear them.

"Clary, there is nothing-"
"I've seen too many innocent people die today because of Sebastian!" She snarled. "I will not let my brother die before he has a chance to live!" It was he was hearing her from a million miles away, but he still heard her. Only as a whisper.

"There's nothing you can do," a voice countered, "He's probably already dead. No rune can save him. No magic can heal him. And even if there was Clary Fray, I don't have the strength." But then he felt a sense of warmth. Someone was touching his body.

"His pulse," his sister said, "It's low. But - he has a Stele!" His body jolted, and he felt closer again. Something was pulling him back. Love? A voice? A purpose?

"Clary," a soft voice interrupted, "No rune can save him-"

"No rune that we know of can save him," she argued harshly, "He isn't just another shadowhunter. We share blood, Jace. There is a separate connection." At first there was a rattle, and he could hear sizzling. As if someone was using the Stele upon themself, creating Marks on their own body.

Suddenly, there was a pain. A pain, worse than anything he could ever feel. It burned through him, capturing him, making him scream. He was being pulled back, he could feel his consciousness start to come back to the surface. But the pain was horrible. Like fire was burning through him. No, something stronger than fire. Something stronger than anything fire could ever do.

But suddenly his eyes opened. Weak, but alive.

"You saved me," he whispered.

Okay, so the first chapter ALWAYS sucks. Plus, I'm basing the first chapter off the actual book so there isn't much I can change.

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