Annnnnnnd let the sequel begin guys ^-^

Cynthia wasn't strong enough to even sit up for next month, just lying there burning. She vaguely wondered why she was trapped inside a Malachi Configuration, but then she understood- she was a threat. Not only did they hate her, they were scared of her.

The first time she'd seen her eyes, she'd gasped and dropped her glass of water, just staring at the emerald hues. She didn't know what to say, so she simply cried. And it hurt. It hurt so bad. And that was good. She'd never felt so human, so helpless.

And Jonathan. She missed him so much that it was a constant ache in her chest.

There were Silent Brothers outside her door at all times, and she wasn't at all bothered. They'd been through her mind, and then reported that all trace of demon blood was gone. She'd been given a second chance.

Jace had left his bed next to her. They hadn't spoken once. Cynthia was left wondering if he was angry at her, or sad. If he hated her or just anything. She didn't want him to hate her. Not at all. That boy was special. Too special to lose.

So Cynthia just lay there curled up upon her bed, fingers tracing the ragged scar that was upon her stomach. No more wearing bikinis she thought in amusement, pulling the covers more over her.

As she slept, she dreamed. Dreamed of Jonathan stood garbed in red and black, stood atop a hill staring down at a bone city. And then Cynthia realized that it was Alicante. Or at least, what had once been the Glass City. It was the Blood City now, the canals running red.

His shirt wasn't red, she suddenly understood. It was white, but simply drenched in blood. The smile upon his face was dark, no light in those midnight eyes at all.

That was the night she woke up with her back drenched in cold sweat. And someone was sat there just outside the configuration upon a chair, dozing lightly. The moonlight hit his hair, making it shine like spun gold. Jace.

She reached forward, calling gently, "Jace?" he woke with a start, tired aureate eyes gazing at her, blinking a few times to clear the haze.

"Evening," he sighed, running a hand through his tangled locks. Cynthia smiled faintly. "You survived."

"So did you," he noted, leaning back in his seat, groaning gently. They sat there in silence for a moment until Jace broke it by saying in a low voice "I read that letter."

Cynthia froze at that, her eyes widening slightly. Jace opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. He rose to his feet, trying once more to speak but failing. With sad eyes, the girl just watched him stalk out of the Infirmary. Everything was different now.

Jonathan's mourning of sorts didn't last long. After so long, it turned to rage. Pure and utter rage. And now, a month later, his anger hadn't dissipated one bit. He'd returned to the cottage of his and Cynthia's childhood, ramming the Morgenstern blade that had belonged to her into the ground before the place, eyes burning like a fire at midnight. His fingers had curled around the hilt to a point it hurt.

"I swear my love," he breathed out, eyes fixed upon the heavens, "that they will pay. And with their lives." His head dipped down and his lips pressed a kiss to blade, resting his forehead against it for a moment. Jonathan sighed, fingers slipping from the sword as he rose to his feet and turned away from the house.

He didn't plan on ever returning.

Cynthia returned to full health a few days later, and soon being trapped was wearing thin on her patience, but still she sat on the bed or curled up. Jace hadn't visited again. No one had. She didn't blame them.

When she was visited, it was from Clave officials. The Inquisitor she didn't know the name of. In his hand though, she recognized the Mortal Sword. Cynthia sat there quietly as the Inquisitor spoke. "Cynthia Darkstone, raise your hands."

She obeyed, raising her hands, palms flat up. It made no difference if she resisted or not. They'd force her otherwise… and that would hurt. Like hell. Once the Malachi Configuration was down, the Mortal Sword was placed onto her palms, causing Cynthia to close her eyes, memories of the Silent City and her father coming to mind. The last time she'd tried to hold the sword.

"Do you know anything at all about Jonathan Morgenstern's plans?" she was asked, and the truth was forced from her. "No. I know nothing."

"You are his lover?"

"Yes I am."

A pause. "Does Jonathan know you are alive?"

Cynthia glanced up now, arching a brow as she spoke, the truth spilling from her, and not because of the sword. "Do you truly believe that Jonathan would leave me here if he knew I was alive, Inquisitor?"

He fell silent at that and Cynthia thought the questioning was over. But there was one more as he asked, leaning down until their noses were very nearly touching. "Would Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern do anything for you?Anything?"

"Without hesitation," she answered instantly. The Inquisitor was smiling in a way she didn't like. He turned away and she heard him say, "we can use her. Lure Sebastian in. A trap."

Cynthia stood up at that, Sword still in her palms. "No!" she just yelled, eyes blazing. "Don't you dare touch him."

Her words were ignored, even when they snatched the blade from her hands. Cynthia stood rooted to the spot with fear in her heart- they were going to use her to get to Jonathan? Not while she was alive. Never. I'd rather truly die she just thought, hands curling into fists. Tears were burning in her eyes. It was then that Cynthia realized just how human she was now. She hurt. She was in agony.

She wanted Jonathan.

"It's been a month," Jace muttered to his reflection as he stared at his bare chest, running his fingers over the ragged scar. It was as red and disgusting as always. "Why hasn't he attacked yet?"

Jace met his reflection's aureate eyes, answering his own question. "I don't like it. He's up to something." In silence, he yanked his t-shirt back on over his head, groaning out to the ceiling, "something big."

There was a knock on the door, a voice calling, "someone in there?"

Jace froze at that voice. He knew it anywhere. Cynthia.

He stepped forward and tugged the door open, staring at the girl stood there. She looked thinner than he last remembered, and her eyes were a beautiful emerald. Cynthia blinked a few times, lips forming the words, "oh, sorry. I thought no one was…" she trailed off, laughing out weakly, "I just miss the showers."

Jace stepped out and aside, indicating that she should go right ahead. With a frown, Cynthia caught his wrist, letting him go almost instantly as heat flared up between them. It didn't hurt, but it startled her. They were both full of heavenly fire to a certain extent.

"Do you hate me Jace?" she asked quietly. The boy paused before answering slowly, "I don't know. And I truly mean that."

"You said you read the letter? Did you read the… you know what part?" Her voice was no more than a whisper. Jace's face drained of colour as he just muttered out, turning away, "never mention that again." He hurried down the corridor and was gone. Cynthia swallowed hard to force back a sob. She wasn't weak. Even now, the demon blood gone, she was strong. She wouldn't give Jonathan away. She refused to get him hurt.

As Cynthia took a shower, groaning lightly in delight- it had been next to a month, she heard the voices outside. She switched off the shower, listening intently

"Do you think he'll take the bait?"

"As soon as he knows Cynthia is alive, he'll come."

"True. Remember the SilentCity? What if he does something like that again?"

"Let's hope."

"Inquisitor, the news has been leaked into the Downworlder community. That Cynthia is here and alive. Do we need to remove her before the last stand?"

"No. She must stay here."

"As you wish."

Cynthia just stood there with ice spreading through her body.

She really was the key to capturing Jonathan.

The key to his destruction.