The darkness was consuming her – swallowing her as a whole. Clarissa felt every inch of her muscles screaming and her lungs contracting, but she lay there in silence as she pleaded that this would all go away. That when she woke up it would have all been a dream. But the darkness was still consuming her and it was dragging her down with it. And the piercing pain didn't stop. Her heart pace quickened at the deafening noise around her. The sound of metal clanging, the sound of chaos, and most importantly, the screams of her name. She recognized the voice. It was Jocelyn. She felt dread and desperation at her mother's voice.
No! Clarissa! Get 'off' me! Clarissa! I need to- I need to get to her! Clarissa! She needs me!
But she couldn't do anything. She tried forcing her eyes open, ignoring the excruciating pain she felt whenever she tried to move, but without success. She felt like crying, but most importantly, she was scared. She was scared of what she would become. Would her forest green eyes go away and replace itself with dark black ones the shade of midnight, like the ones Jonathan has? Would she feel the urge to plunder and kill and bathe in blood like Jonathan? Would she even remember the people she love? Her mother, Isabelle, Alec, Simon, Magnus, and... Jace. She whimpered at the thought of his name. She wanted to cry - it was all her fault. If she hadn't stopped him from turning himself in. If she had just listened to him. Listened to what he wanted - what her Jace wanted. He told her he'd rather die than become the other Jace again. And she... A broken sob broke out despite the stabbing pain. It was all her fault.
... To love is to destroy Clarissa. It's all your fault. Yes. You were blinded by love. A foolish mistake.
She recoiled at the velvety whisper in her mind. It wasn't her.. but it was her. Clarissa felt dread. She was turning into a demon - like Jonathan. She could feel her angelic blood fighting against the demon ichor, against the foreign blood, but to no avail. The demon blood Jonathan made her drink was no ordinary blood. It was the blood directly from Lilith. And Clarissa felt the demon ichor surging through her body slowly as the seconds passed. She clenched her teeth and felt a tear slowly fall down from her cheek. She will not give in. She will not become another Jonathan. She had to stay strong. She had to.. She had to save Jace - her Jace. But her will was faltering, and she felt her eyes rolling up and she was falling into the pitch black abyss once again.
Simon stared at the ground. Maryse and the others were searching the cave for demons or other dark shadowhunters but it seemed like they were all dead now. That didn't matter to him. He clutched Glorious's hilt and blamed himself. He couldn't stop them. He couldn't stop Jonathan from feeding Clary that black ichor. He couldn't stop Jace escape with Clary and Jonathan. And more over, he couldn't stop blaming himself for not being able to get to Jonathan. He felt his eye sting and he managed to blink down the tears as Isabelle approached him. She didn't say anything but lock her hands in his pale cold ones. Her eyes were wary, but the warm brown irises seemed to soothe Simon. But his emotions plunged down again as he saw Maia trying to calm down a deranged looking Jocelyn.
Streams of tears fell from Jocelyn's eyes and she couldn't stop her hands and knees from shaking. Her knees finally gave in and before she knew it she collapsed on the floor. Maia grabbed her, firmly, and kept telling her it was alright. But even Maia knew that nothing was alright. Nothing. Her heart broke at the thought of Clary and what she would become. She glanced at Jordan, who was at the far end of the cave with Maryse and the other werewolves from his clan. Though she was relieved he was fine, she couldn't help but feel impotent and weak, and she was sure everyone was feeling those emotions right now. They have lost Jace again, and they have lost Clary.
Alec was with Magnus, helping Magnus clean up his bloody wounds. Like Maia, though they were joyous to see each other again - alive, but there was no time for a jubilee. Simon couldn't get to Jonathan and use Glorious, and they have lost Jace again, now with Clary. Alec closed his eyes and shuddered at the image of Jonathan forcing the Mortal Cup on Clary's lips. Clary struggled hard, but her arms were locked in Jace's. She couldn't have done anything. Magnus was thinking of the same thing, and his eyes saddened at the thought.
Simon flinched at the thought of Clary and what she would become. But he pushed the thought away. She was still Clary. She was his friend. Nothing could change that.
"We'll get her back." Isabelle lightly put her hand on his shoulder and her eyes were gleaming as if she was trying hard not to cry. Simon put his hands on top of Isabelle's that was on his shoulder. "We'll get both of them back."
Clary fluttered her eyelids open and frowned. She didn't enjoy much of her sleep and she was irritated by her nightmares that she was getting so frequently these days. She knew what they were - the debris of her humanity still trying to get to her in her sleep in broken pieces in her dreams. Four years has passed and she still dreams about that day when she had her transformation. She sighed and went to the bathroom and stared at the mirror.
A pale faced girl with flaming red hair looked back at her. She was pretty, no doubt, and her mischievous black eyes gave her an exotic look. She stared into herself when she heard a soft velvety voice from behind. "Admiring yourself sister?" Jonathan drawled and flashed a cocky grin at her. He was leaning against her door frame with amusement on his face. She blinked in irritation and he drew near. And they soon looked at each other through the mirror, standing side by side. "We look so alike." Jonathan rolled his eyes at the comment and sighed, "of course. We're brothers and sisters. And we're made for each other." Jonathan wrapped his arms around her waist and looked at her reflection with a dangerous glint on his eyes.
He was about to peck her cheek when she said - "Get off me." And She stomped on his feet, none too lightly, and exited the bathroom to put on some clothes. Jonathan smirked at the gesture. "Where's Jace?" She questioned, struggling to clasp her bra. "On an errand." He said as he deftly locked the clasp in place. For some reason, after her transformation, she had no trouble with Jonathan being around her even when she was almost naked. Being comfortable around him was one thing, not submitting to the demon blood entirely was another. She didn't feel compelled to do whatever Jonathan wanted her to, and she was glad at that. She frowned at the thought of Amatis, after her transformation, calling Jonathan master. She shuddered at the thought and tucked the thought away to the corner of her mind.
"He's not your dog you know. Stop compelling him to do every little thing for you." She snapped in irritation. Even after her transformation, she still had lingering emotions for Jace. While the demon inside of her recoiled at the emotion of love, her remaining angel blood struggled to maintain the emotion. She tried to stay indifferent so Jonathan wouldn't notice. "Clary! That's impossible! Me? Treat Jace as a dog? He's practically our brother. What do you think I am?" Jonathan widened his eyes and smacked his hands over his chest, feigning hurt. An arrogant, evil, selfish, evil AGAIN, demon. She muttered quietly in her mind without facing him. She was now dressed in a comfortable shirt with black leggings. "Let's go." Clary murmured as she went out of the room. Jonathan smirked and yelled out the door, "Can't wait to slam you on the floor again Clary!" Clary rolled my eyes at the comment and made her way through the training room.
Clary arrived at a large spacious room, the walls were white with images of the angel Raziel, the mortal cup, the sword... She looked around with boredom and sighed how the room screamed Valentine. The house she, her brother, and Jace were staying in was a house left, surprisingly, for herself by Valentine. She didn't know Valentine even bothered to leave anything for her since they've never actually shared a decent conversation without all the tears and bloodshed, but Jonathan had told her. After her transformation, the three arrived at this house using a portal. The house could sift through dimensions, much like Jonathan's house Clary had destroyed.
She walked over to the weapons room and picked up her favorite dagger. Though the dagger was small, Clary could still inflict serious wounds on the opponent with it. It was also a family heirloom, one left by Valentine, another shocking surprise. Jonathan gave it to her a week after she transformed, with a note that him and Jace have similar daggers given to them by Valentine. She snorted at the thought of Valentine as a caring and giving father. After all, she killed the man herself for Christ's sake. Well, Raziel did.
Clary worked on her stretches and flips when Jonathan entered the room humming You are my sunshine. She narrowed her eyes and threw a dagger with inhumane speed. The dagger swooshed past Jonathan's cheek and stuck on an image of Raziel's eyes. All the while, Jonathan didn't even flinch an inch. "Well, sister I know that you are on the urge to kill me every morning. But do note that if you kill me, you kill Jace." He shrugged lightly as he walked over to the weapons room. She knew his threats were unnecessary, because even if she threw a dagger towards his heart with all her might, she knew that Jonathan could simply catch the dagger all the while humming You are my sunshine and reading the Encyclopedia of Downworlders and Demons.
She sighed and lifted herself up as Jonathan walked out of the weapons room with his favorite 8-inch long dagger dangling lightly on his sheath. She braced herself and stared at Jonathan. He stared back in amusement, and then it started. The demon in him started to rear its ugly head and force demon blood pounding through his veins. He loved the feeling of that. Though he didn't feel like himself, he still liked his demonic side take over whenever he was having a fight. He loved submitting to the black shadow inside of him and the feel of the adrenaline boost giving him energy. Clary made a soft sigh as she saw her brother's eye turn three shades darker. Every inch of her muscles were screaming danger but it's not like she could do anything, but fight. She could submit to her demon self too, if she wanted, but her demon self proved be more difficult to submit to than she thought. She frowned and gave up and tried to concentrate. She knew that the person standing in front of her wasn't Jonathan anymore. He already submitted to the evil inside of him.
They were observing each other, slowly going around in circles. Trying to detect the smallest hint of weakness. Jonathan was growing restless, and Clary knew it by the suffocating rage Jonathan was emitting. She was growing impatient too. She had to admit - even in his demon form, Jonathan was a professional fighter. He didn't let Clary find any of his weak spots. She frowned in frustration.
Then, as if on cue, both launched towards each other's direction. Clary threw a punch, without success, as Jonathan moved behind her back in inhumane speed. And in a second she was on the ground with Jonathan's hand slamming her body and head grinding on the floor. She snarled. "1-0" Jonathan whispered to her ear before getting himself up.
She felt her rage build up as she unsheathed her dagger. Uriel, she murmured, and the dagger flared up, emitting light. She saw Jonathan do the same, and he faced her, pointing the 8-inch dagger towards her. She launched herself towards him again, got low to the ground, and swiped the back of his legs with her feet, trying to make him fall down. He seemed to lose his balance, but he didn't fall. With an animalistic growl, he shoved her into a wall and landed a savage blow to her chest and ribcage with his dagger's hilt. Clary felt a crack and gasped from the pain. She clenched her teeth and she struggled to maintain conscious.
She was in a dangerous situation and she knew it. Jonathan had her pinned to the wall and was continuously pummeling brutal blows to her side. In desperation she saw Jonathan's blind spot and she swirled and elbowed him in the chest while smashing her fist on his face. He staggered backwards, and she kicked the wall and landed another punch below his ribcage using the momentum. She heard a loud crack and allowed her self a brief smile in satisfaction. Jonathan tried to maintain balance but Clary was faster - she twisted his arms and in seconds, she drove them both on the floor, her in top of Jonathan's chest. Jonathan black eyes glinted in fury and anger as she smirked ruthlessly down upon him. "1-1" She whispered while struggling to stand up.
Then, Jonathan grabbed her arms and pulled her down, driving her on the floor with him. She hit the wooden floor face down, and blinked furiously and tried to register the pain. Before she could flip herself around and get up, Jonathan was on top of her, pinning her wrists down. She growled at the pain Jonathan's weight was inflicting on her. Her bruises and cuts screamed in protest. He let out a soft chuckle at her feeble struggles. "2-1. I win sister." He purred, his lips on Clary's ear while his dagger was drawing blood on Clary's cheeks. His eyes had a malevolent glint as he licked Clary's blood that was now dribbling off her chin. Clary snarled, unbelievable of what just happened. She let him win again. And he wasn't going to let go of this victory for days - or possibly weeks. Jonathan gently stroked her hair before getting off of her. "It was a close one though. Almost let you win." he smirked before going out of the training room, leaving Clary on the floor.
Clary stomped upstairs to her room and bolted the room shut. She got her stele out and started drawing runes around her door that set up wards around her room. She was embarrassed and ashamed, and she wasn't going to let Jonathan just slink into her room and laugh at her. Or worse, Jace. She then registered her pain as she slowly walked into the bathroom. She shuddered at her reflection on her mirror. She looked horrible. Bruises were blossoming all over her body as if she was surrounded by blue flowers, and both her elbows had angry red swells. Even worse, she felt like she cracked a rib or two, as well as sprained both her wrists. She glared at her reflection furiously before turning away to fill the tub with hot steaming water. She decided that she wouldn't heal herself until she was capable of winning her brother. Which was not, she noted, definitely wasn't today.
"Well, look who's up and about again." Jonathan looked at her with a smug smile then his smile vanished into nothingness as he stared at her. His eye had a dangerous black glint. "Why didn't you heal yourself?" He questioned, but Clary simply ignored him. She slowly made her way to the kitchen, refusing to show any sign of pain or weakness, and poured herself a cup of icy water. "Where's Jace?" She asked stubbornly and she felt Jonathan's anger rising. He scowled and within seconds he was back from his room to the downstairs kitchen again, this time with his silver stele. "Never mind Jace," he spat, "Give me your hand." Clary knew better. "No." She said, as she tucked both her hands in her pocket. She was still irritated that she lost today's sparring he thought, and he frowned in annoyance. "Clary.. . . Now." Clary turned to face her brother to glare at him but as she saw the churning unfathomable sea of darkness set in his midnight black eyes, she relented to his soft velvety voice. She sighed softly and gave him her hand letting him draw the iratze on her hand. And she immediately felt the pain subsiding, gently ebbing away. She closed her eyes in relief as she felt the cuts stitching back itself and her cracked ribs healing itself slowly.
"There. Wasn't so hard wasn't it?" He smiled wickedly and pulled her over to the sitting room, his hands interlocked in hers. We have the same hands, she realized. Long and White. Perfect for an artist. She rolled her eyes as she remembered what she said today morning in the bathroom: We look alike and when Jonathan smirked at the comment. We're made for each other, he said. She knew what intent he had when he said that - she knew his feelings towards her weren't purely towards a person who was his sister. She knew he loved her as a woman, as his mate, as his soul partner. The demon blood in her veins screamed for him, longing his embrace and the savage kiss he gave her the night before the war four years ago. But her angelic blood was in conflict with her new demon self, and prevented her from telling Jonathan about her needs towards him. Her angelic blood, her past self, still screamed for Jace. And until she was sure she could control this conflict, she wasn't going to do anything - she was going to act indifferent towards both of them.
Jonathan sat down on the leather sofa getting out a copy of Morbid Humors, ignoring Clary's snort. Clary retrieved her sketchbook on the shelf and flipped to a blank page while making herself at ease next to Jonathan on the leather sofa. She frowned, staring at the blank page, thinking of what to draw.
Hours passed and Jace was still not home. What's taking him so long? Jonathan scowled as he moved his fingers to turn a page of the book. Then he felt a soft thump and noticed Clary's sketchbook has fallen to the floor. He looked at Clary and realized she's fallen asleep. She was gently dozing off with her head in an awkward uncomfortable position. He sighed and put his book back on the shelf with Clary's sketchbook when he saw she was drawing.
There was Jace, he could see, with golden blond locks falling down his ears, pale golden eyes, his body in a majestic and proud posture. He saw himself and Clary, both with midnight dark eyes. His hair was of silvery blond, and Clary's hair was in fiery soft curls, coming down to her waist. The three all had white angel wings. He smirked at the illustration. We aren't angels, he wanted to tell Clary. We are the fallen angles. He took out a black colorpencil from Clary's pencil case and started to smudge the wings into black. He stared at the tainted image in satisfaction.
He then looked back at Clary, still sleeping in an awkward position. He sighed and wrapped his arms under her head and legs, gently carrying her upstairs into her room. She fidgeted and Jonathan froze for a second, afraid he might've awoken her. But she remained asleep, and he pushed Clary's door with his shoulders allowing himself inside. Her room was a mess, he noted. Color pencils were on the floor everywhere, her bed sheets unmade, her weapons were stacked in a messy pile, and there were bandages covered in blood on the bathroom floor. Jace is going to throw a fit, he thought. He took Clary to her bed and set her down gently.
He marveled at her beauty. She was beautiful. Her fingers that were so similar to his. Her long eyelashes. Her distinct cheekbones. Her pale face. Her red hair. They were his. She was his. And nothing could change that, he thought stubbornly. His lips curved into a smile as he lowered himself to plant a kiss on Clary's cheek. She stirred but remained asleep. He inhaled Clary's sweet scent and whispered into her ear. I love you Clary. I know you do too.