*Clary Fray is an orphan. Together with her friends Simon and Isabelle they sabotage King Valentine's fire demon workforce who was entrusted to create his weapons of war. Now a prisoner she escapes the guards and ventures over the mysterious wall that has stood solitude for hundreds of years only to find herself at the mercy of another. The guardian of the forest is strong, powerful and wants her dead. Can she survive long enough to solve the mystery that plagues the forest? All the mysteries seem to be connected to the handsome man she met in the forest. Will the handsome stranger help her or will they all perish at the hands of the mad king?

Prolog

I always wondered what it would feel like to die. I had been surrounded by death for most of my life but this, this was different. This was more painful than I could have ever imagined. Looking down at the man I love dying in my arms. I had lost count how many times I had screamed. Screamed out loud to the heavens with my pain. It was useless though. I knew no help was coming. We were out here in the middle of the forest, all alone. It was an intimacy that we both had grown to enjoy. Now it seemed it would be the source of our demise. I lowered him into the water, his honey blonde hair laced with blood. His eyes were shut in a cold sleep while his chest rose and fell with each staggered breath. "Please," I whispered looking up at the moon. "Please save him. I, I love him." I begged. "TI can't bear to live in this world without him. Please, please take me. Take me instead!"

Chapter 1-Prisoner

It was a calm peaceful night. The type of night that makes you want to stop, relax and look up at the stars; but not all had the luxury of enjoying a night such as this. Cries broke out as the soldiers walked the group of prisoners down the narrow path, towards the capital and most likely their death. They were mostly peasants that had wronged the king in some way or another. The details didn't matter nor did their innocence. The king would kill them or imprison them without a second thought. That is how things worked in this kingdom, the Morgenstern kingdom. The Mad king or the dark king as he was sometimes called ruled high and mighty over the people. This is how he controlled them, through fear. His demons would attack them during the night if they resisted. Though many feared the demons most feared the king more. The mad kings cruelty knew no bounds and his son was equally as wicked. Among the poor poverty ridden bunch of prisoners walked a small petite redhead. The girl's green eyes were hidden under her long crimson wavy hair. Her skin was pale and creamy with light freckles on her cheeks. She was beautiful and elegant. Her dress, which once was very pretty was torn and made her stand out against the scantly clothed inmates. It was clear that she wasn't a peasant and the guards watched her with lust that could only be cured by a night of company. She was uncomfortable but she knew that none would touch her. The king, for some unknown reason, had requested her. The moment he saw her during a crowded meeting he made it his mission to have her. Though for what reason she couldn't fathom.

"Clary." The women beside her whispered after they had walked a few miles. The small redhead turned her head slightly towards the older women. Gertrude was a sweet old lady and a prisoner like herself. She had long gray hair and bright blue eyes. She reminded her of her adoptive mother. "Look at the sky my child. Have you ever seen such a beautiful night?" she asked. Clary looked up at the dark sky. Gertrude had the uncanny ability to read people and it was plain to see that Clary was troubled. She was trying to get the young women's mind off of whatever clouded her thoughts. If only she knew what pain the petite redhead had been through.

It was a beautiful cloudless night which was so rare. Being brought up in Ignis the sky's were often filled with smoke from the burning demon pit. Ignis was once a large beautiful city before the king sent his demons there. The fires burned nightly making way for the iron, cannons and other instruments of war that were built and shipped back to the capital. The city was run by Lord Blackthorn, a kind man who kept on the king's good side allowing the people to prosper freely from his watchful eye. His children were kind but all were born out of wedlock from a mother who ran away after the last one was born. Clary couldn't help but feel that she hadn't run away at all. Rumors always surfaced that she was murdered. Clary tended to lean towards their side of thinking. Why would the women leave her child when she had stayed for the others. It was upsetting but not the most outlandish thing that has happened. Still due to the law when the lord died his children would not inherit a single coin. Though through the king's pleasure, his children did inherit his rank, which angered many a court and countess. With rank they could at least hope to marry into prospering families.

Clarissa couldn't care less about riches or nobility. Clary was for all intensive purposes a commoner. She had been raised by Lady Herondale most of her life. The kind women took her in after her mother died when she was five. She remembered her mother though and looked just like her. Jocelyn had been sick for a long time and left her in Lady Herondale's care. It was painful but she loved the women. Imogen Herondale proved to be a wonderful caretaker and treated Clarissa as her own daughter. Imogen had always talked about making the trip to Idris, the nation's capital and having her met her grandson. The old women had only seen him a handful of times but not since Clary had come to live with her. Her son Stephen was the head of the king's guard and Imogen hated the king. It was never to be though. A few years later the women had lost her son and grandson to a fire so Clary quickly became the daughter she never had.

That was after the Fairchild war. When the Wayland country attacked the capital. Clary remembered the day that the letter arrived and Imogen's tearful face. She had never seen her so heartbroken. The Wayland army had somehow managed to bypass the security checkpoints and attack the capital directly. No one knew how they had accomplished that but their assault proved to be useless. The King unleashed his secret army and destroyed the army. The Wayland kingdom still stood but it was only a matter of time. Everyone knew the king was biding his time, making weapons and planning his attack. Taking a deep breath Clary sighed and focused on the calm night's sky. They were on the break of war and here she was. A prisoner being handed to the king on a silver platter. She could only hope that her death would be quick and that she wouldn't be handed over to his son. She had heard many of the young girls brought to the capital had been given to him for his amusement. What she wouldn't give to see her friend Isabelle again. How she missed the raven haired lady.

She closed her eyes and smiled remembering the first time she had met her frined. It was on a clear night like this during a ball. Lady Isabelle Lightwood was breathtakingly beautiful with a slender frame, sun-kissed skin, long raven hair and chocolate almond eyes. She walked into the ballroom that night with a sense of pride and purpose. The other lady's avoided her out of jealousy yet seemed to flock around her during these functions. This was no doubt due to the men who swarmed her like a hive of honey bees. Still Lady Lightwood was cold, distant and unmoving. Clary thought she was polite but her conversations never went beyond formality. With that in mind, Clary was happy to leave the girl to her flirting expecting to never see her again. Imagine her surprise when Lady Imogen announced to her in the library after the party that Lady Lightwood would be living with them for an unprecedented amount of time. The beautiful young women reminded Clary of a china doll and just stood silently staring at her across the library. Clary at a loss for words finally collected herself, closed her gaping mouth and curtsied.

"As you wish my lady," Clary said surely. Isabelle's gaze remained firm yet her eyes held a sort of sadness in them that pierced Clary's heart. The girl just nodded and excused herself to go to her bedroom, which was beside Clary's. Although raised by Imogen she was not a lady and would now have to watch herself. It was most unbecoming for lords and ladies to converse with commoners, even one raised by nobility. Imogen didn't care and treated her like a lady. The girl was not a servant, was educated by a governess and was well dressed. She had given her everything and Clary didn't want to seem ungrateful. She looked up and met the old women's tired pale eyes. Lady Herondale looked at her for a moment before speaking. "Clary, you may not be my blood but you are the closest thing to a daughter I have ever had. Since your mother's death, I have raised you as one of my own as I plan to do with Isabelle. Like me, she has lost all of her family to war and has no one left. Please do not think yourself beneath her Clary. She is just as lost as you are and needs a friend, not a servant." Imogene had explained softly.

Clary obediently nodded her head. If she was to be treated with the same formality as a lady Clary couldn't fathom why Imogen didn't give her the Herondale family name. Why still have her keep the surname Fray? What also puzzled her was the way the old women would flaunt her but hide her away anytime royalty arrived in town. She couldn't help but feel that Imogen might be ashamed of her. Why else would she not permit her to attend the king's addresses or formal balls while she practically pushed her into attending every other ball? It just made no sense. She stressed manners and education for someone who was a commoner. Clary shook her head in confusion. She never had the heart to ask the women these questions. She was too afraid of rejection. When Clary had begged to go to see the king Imogene would firmly tell her no and that she would explain everything once she got older. She didn't want to befriend this new girl but the Lady didn't ask very much of her. If she wanted her to become friends with Lady Lightwood then she could at least try.

It was late and Clary quickly walked to her room deciding to peruse the Isabelle matter after breakfast the next day. She had quickly gotten changed into her night dress and was crawling into her bed when she heard the first sob. Looking around the room she hadn't realized what the sound was until she heard it again. It was coming through the wall from the bedroom beside hers. Clary remembered the first night she had spent in the house. Imogen had cradled her in her arms and sung her to sleep as she cried into her lap. The Lady told her her that Isabelle was twelve, just a year older than herself. That made things even more difficult for her. Clary was five when she came here but Isabelle being almost thirteen wasn't supposed to cry or appear sad in public. She couldn't help but pity the girl. She had lost her mother, father and brothers in one sweep. Then she was not allowed to even mourn them. The king had kept her in the castle for a month after the fire insuring her security. Clary doubted that was the real reason though. After all, there was always something off with how the Herondales and Lightwoods died the night. Given Imogen's hatred for the king she would bet money on it that they had assisted the attack against the crown in some way. Imogen had wrote the king, begging him to allow her to take in Isabelle. A desire that the king quickly agreed upon performing the girl out of the capital. All through this Isabelle held her head high and never showed less than a composed facide. Shaking her head Clary willed herself out of bed and quietly wrapped her robe around her.

She quietly closed her bedroom door before opening the raven-haired girl's door down the hall. She was surprised to find it unlocked and tiptoed in without an invitation. The sobbing was louder now and she was pretty sure the girl didn't hear her enter. The bedroom was flooded with dim moonlight as Clary saw Isabelle lying on her stomach crying into the pillows. It was a pitiful sight and Clary's heart went out to her. Taking a deep breath, she closed the door and walked quietly over to the bed. Isabelle's head bolted up as Clary lowered herself down onto the bed beside her. "What do you think you are doing?" The brown eyed girl sobbed with blatant distaste. A shiver ran down Clary's spine as she chose to ignore the question. "Lady Imogene took me in when my mother died. I'm all alone too." She whispered.

Isabelle sat up. "I don't need your pity." She snarled. Clary looked away trying to be brave. "No, and I have no intention of giving you pity. Pity is not what you need. You, you need a friend and I need a friend too….. " she whispered as her eyes watered. Isabelle looked back at her with fear and sadness. "If we stick together Isabelle, then neither of us will be alone anymore." She replied looking the girl in the eyes and touching her shoulder sweetly. Isabelle's eyes shifted as tears streamed back down her face. The small redhead looked at her in silence before wrapping her arms around the girl. Isabelle allowed Clary to pull her into her arms cradling her head in her lap. Clary rubbed Isabelle's shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair as she hummed lullaby's. Isabelle continued to cry, abate quietly before sleep overtook both of them. After that the pair were inseparable and the best of friends. They had slept in the same bed for months as Isabelle slowly began to open up. It had been a long process but they had each others backs. She didn't know what she would do without her friend.

Clary opened her eyes coming back to reality. She gazed back down at the heavy chains that laced her hands wishing her friend Isabelle was here with her now. She sure could use her advice right now.