A/N: Super short, semi-depressing Maia/Jordan one-shot. FYI, never really liked them too much. Either together or apart. It's told from Maia's point of view. Hope you enjoy? :l~ Izzi

Disclaimer: All characters and events belong to the lovely Cassie Clare. The bolded, italics are quoted directly from City of Heavenly Fire.

Brand

The Shadowhunters liked to think that they knew everything about the Downworlders. But they were wrong. The moment a werewolf was infected, they were also branded, marked by some otherworldly force. Some thought it was a gift from the Maker as repayment for the terror of the Change. Others thought it was just one more cruel piece of their miserable existence. Maia Roberts didn't know, but at the moment, she was inclined to agree with the latter. At the moment, her Brand was breaking her heart.

She had covered the brand with her butterfly tattoo, the words were barely visible as they coasted along the edge of one of the wings. Without looking in a mirror, she couldn't read the words, but had memorized them in the years since her change.

I promise, Maia, you'll be okay.

A lie, certainly, if they were the last words ever to be spoken to her by her soulmate.

Her soulmate, who was not the boy whose blood was staining her clothes. The boy who was killed to send a message, who died in her arms, who died believing that she loved him.

Even worse was that she knew the words of his brand.

"Maia," Jordan whispered, "Don't stay-run-"

"Shh, you'll be all right."

She had held him while he died, while his heart stopped beating and he bled out. His last words did not match her Brand. But her last words to him, unplanned and involuntary, matched his.

She was his Soulmate, but he was not hers. This paradox could've only ended this way, but that didn't make it any easier. Not when Jordan had died believing that he was her only. Maia kissed his head, and laid him on the sand. She walked fifty paces down the beach and picked up her phone, calling Bat in New York, to tell him of the Praetor's fall. Then, trying not to look back, she got into Jordan's truck and drove to the city.

She left the boy behind, burning on the sand. Left behind the boy with her words woven into his Sanskrit prayers.

Shh, you'll be alright.