The purpose of this story is to expand the world that Cassandra Clare created and at the same time, add a little bit of my own creativity by adding an original storyline. The story will follow through with the book, and features inside stories about what was currently happening in the invisible world while the original cast is out doing their thing. (I'm also experimenting on how the two stories will interact with each other and how all the characters, both from the series and my own, are all connected so forgive me if I happen to change a few things from the book.)

PROLOGUE

1998

7:14 am

"We found another one over here!" shouted an officer, half-groggy from lack of sleep.

Detective Galloway stood up, uneasy about this morning's unfortunate turn of events. He was kneeling beside a body, female, possible in her early 40's, identified to be a Mrs. Ruby Bloodriver. She is horribly mutilated, torso cut open, her insides missing from where they should be, a collar bone protruding from her skin, eye sockets like echoes in the night, her head bent at an unnatural angle. The living room was glowing a dark neon crimson. Blood splattered and painted on walls forming an intricate graffiti of devil symbols and antichrist markings. The officer stood rigid in front of Galloway.

"There's another one in the dining room. We believe this one is the husband." He said

"So tell me what happened here officer." Galloway replied, his grim tone evident.

"Autopsy reports that the family was attacked at around 10:30 last night. It appears that the woman was attacked first. The attackers seem to have inflicted disabling injuries via knife wounds to the chest to reduce breathing capabilities, followed by a severe blow to the face with a blunt to further disable the victim. The husband was next, with each of his limbs fractured and some broken ribs. Strangulation soon followed. Death wasn't meant to come quickly, or a gun or knife to the throat would've sufficed. It seems that the attackers intended to turn this place into a shrine for devil worship. Also, the body of their two sons Trane, age 10 and Senel Bloodriver, age 4, have yet to be found."

The detective took note of this as they arrived at the body of a Mr. Michael Bloodriver, whose hands and feet impaled to a wall. Positioned as an upside-down cross cross on the wall, the headless body had what was now dried blood protruding from the base of his neck leaving permanent stains on the wall. Beneath it lay the severed head of Michael Bloodriver, bathing in a river of his own blood, his empty eyesockets, literally crying blood.

Galloway wanted to throw up. There had been cases before involving devil-worship associated murders, but last time something like this happened was after the death of a traitor in his home country four years ago. He wasn't looking at a murder, he was staring into a massacre. Even worse, the room had a different atmosphere. There was something that didn't feel human. It emitted a very familiar aura as that traitor who nearly sparked a civil war only for years ago, it wreaked with a familiar smell, the smell of someone who was once his friend, that he was there, it smelled of Valentine.

New York, 2010

Demi slouched towards her desk, trying hard to fight her drowsiness.

The last 10 minutes of school are usually the longest. She thought to herself. Keep it together Demi.

Junior year did not start well for sixteen-year-old Demelia Valens. After all, it's never easy being a transfer student in the middle of the school year, especially in high school, where your reputation and popularity stays at zero unless you do something amazing, or equally embarrassing.

Demi mouthed another yawn, doodling and fiddling with her pen in an effort to stay awake. Her eyes feel heavy, her arms are getting numb. She glanced sideways hoping that maybe something exciting might pop-up at the window to wake her up. Nothing. History class had always been a favored nap time for students under Mr. Brown, it's a miracle how they all even pass history. Her eyes scanned the room, Mr. Brown was in front and as usual, oblivious to the half-dead teenagers drooling in their desks (not literally). While everybody else is in dreamland, some students seem to be making an effort to stay awake. She notices a small red-haired girl sitting a few seats in front of her, doodling in a notebook. She tried to remember her name, but apparently the girl was just as invisible as she is. Sitting beside her is a boy seemingly drooling on his textbook, his dark hair covering most of his face, his glasses resting just inches from his feet. It's pretty clear that he lost the war over staying awake. The girl drives her elbow into his side, he jolts up, wiping his drool over his mouth. She pondered for his name. Simon was it? They seem close.

At least she has a friend. Demi thought.

The only person seated beside him was a boy named Senel Alderney, digging his face in an open textbook. Obviously he's as dead as everybody else. Demi made a smile

Facebook, she thought, you're doing it wrong.

As the final school bell rung, everybody seems to rise from the dead. Students flooded the hallways as the bell rung, signifying the beginning of a much awaited summer. Demi wriggles through the crowd. She wasn't looking forward to anything this summer. All she wants is to stay at home and blast her music in her headphones. A social life is not really something of a priority to her. She doesn't really have one since she has only spent a few months in New York.

As she went outside, a girl with short pink hair was handing out fliers to students in the school. Demi examined her as she handed her the flier. She was wearing a small black jacket over her tight pink shirt, with black leather skinny jeans and boots. Demi examined the flier. It read "Once in a lifetime chance: All ages party this Sunday at the Pandemonium." with pictures of gothic designs, vampires and werewolves in it.

She thought for a moment.

Maybe this won't be such a boring weekend after all.

2 Days Later

The sun disappears from the horizon, a single figure of a boy stands out on the veranda, overlooking the city below, his headphones rocking his head gently to the steady rhythm. Lights flicker to life out in the distance as darkness falls over Brooklyn. City lights outline the silhouettes of skyscrapers, idle chatter from random passers-by in the streets below. The bright lights and the noise is all so enlivening. Even in dusk, the life of a city never dies.

The boy looks out into the city, inhaling the smog of the city air. A silver cross hanging loosely around his neck, reflecting the lights of the city. He reached for the table and wrapped his fingers around his phone. Three missed calls and one message. He sighed. He walks back inside and stares at a large painting hanging just above the couch. He snapped his fingers, and his hands start to show a luminous glow. He reached out to trace his fingers around the large frame. The painting started to glow as it transformed from Leonardo Da Vinci's Last Supper and into an overhead map of New York. He zoomed in into the Manhattan area and focused on a few blinking red dots near the Pandemonium. He walked towards an old renaissance style drawer and places his hands over it. Soon it splits open and reveals a wide array of both modern and ancient weaponry.

He scanned the cache, thinking deeply about which weapon he might bring for tonight's hunt. He grabbed a pair of pistols and their respective magazines. They have been modified to run on magical energies, so that they will be harmless when a mundane happens to come across them. He whispered a small incantation and the guns seem to disappear, in their place came a pair of rings with gun engravings. He then reached for a sword: an old renaissance style weapon with a gold hilt and hilt guards, and a thin blade. A schiavona, he called it. He whispered another incantation as the sword began to glow, later disappearing and replaced with a silver bracelet with a miniature sword dangling from its chain. His eyes landed on something familiar, a trickle of nostalgia passed through him as he laid eyes on a familiar looking object. A stele. He hasn't used one in a long time, not since he left the Clave, not since he turned over to magic, not since he became a mage, Shadowhunter outcasts who were banished from the Clave because they believe that magic was not something of demon properties, but capabilities sealed in the mind after the banishment of Adam and Eve from Eden.

Moments passed, and the boy slips out into the hall. He was dressed neatly this time, his black hair less messy but more presentable. He wore a slick black polo with white stripes, he buttoned only three or four of it, revealing a black undershirt. He also had on a pair of jeans and sneakers, the silver necklace still hanging around his neck, the stele hidden in his sleeves. He put his hand in his pocket and began fishing out his phone as he walks towards the elevator. He waited for it to ring as he dialed a number, and was answered by an angry female voice.

"SENEL BLOODRIVER WHERE ARE YOU!" the phone shouted.

"Easy there Cass, I'm on my way," he answered, "And call me Alderney. Bloodriver isn't exactly something you yell aloud you know."

"Whatever," Cass answered "You better not leave us hanging like last time." and with that, she hung up.

Senel groaned. It's gonna be another long night. He thought, and in the city that never sleeps, long nights are something normal, but not for Senel. When he says it's a long night, long is still an understatement.