Hey everyone. I'm new to fanfic and writing but i was super inspired by a lot of talented individuals on here so i thought i'd try my luck at this story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks so much, DJ
DISCLAIMER: ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS ARE FICTIONAL AND BELONG TO THE MASTERMIND, CASSANDRA CLARE.
CHAPTER 1
She was going to die.
Clary had that thought countless times before in her life.
Usually in instances where she was walking home at night after a late shift at Java Jones and felt like she was being followed. It was New York city, who knew what creeps lingered the streets after 12 AM.
This time was different.
Clary was standing in the middle of a barren forest. The crackling of the harsh wind rung at her ears, layers of thick snow covered the floors and decorated the greenery around her. The sky was dark and thick with fog which made it difficult to see.
She took a few steps forward only to be greeted by a sharp feeling on the side of her stomach. Her hand absentmindedly applied pressure to the uneasy area which caused clary to cringe in pain. When she removed her hand she noticed the red stains that covered her palms.
Clary fell to the floor.
She didn't want to die.
She sprung her legs out in front of her, then reached for her scarf and quickly aided the wound, applying as much pressure her already weak hands could provide.
She couldn't recall how exactly she wound up at the location she was now, nor the injury that bled through the fabric of her thin shirt. All she could be sure of right now is that she didn't feel safe, she needed help and she was desperate.
She called out for help but rendered it useless for the crackling sounds of the wind cancelled out any noise that surfaced. She screamed at the top of her lungs only to realize that the pain of the wound was making it harder for her to breathe. Her cries turned into soft whimpers.
She was alone. And whoever, whatever did this to her, would be back to finish the job—that is, if she wasn't already dead before then..
Clary shut her eyes for a moment and rubbed her free hand against her numb legs in a distant hope that the concept of friction would be enough to save her life. She opened her eyes, surprised to find a dark figure approaching from the distance..
Clary made a noise that sounded like "I'm here" but even to her own ears the words sounded distorted.
The shadow was now moving faster. In a split second, Clary felt relieved just as fast as that relief turned into fear as the shadowed figure came into her line of vision.
It was a middle-aged man who approached her. Clary noticed that he had a grim look on his pale face just as she noticed the sword-like weapon he held in his hand.
Clary shrieked in horror.
Who was this man? More importantly, why is he trying to kill me? Clary was now breathing harsh, ragged breaths.
Clary scooted back, groaning as the pain from her injury jutted through her body.
It was no use, if she tried to get up, she knew she'd just fall over. She'd lost too much blood, the thought dizzied her.
Her eyes fought to stay open as the man was now standing a few feet away from her.
She caught an evil grin mask his face as he slowly pointed the sword to her own, which held a mortified expression. The look amused the man.
"Oh Clarissa, my sweet Clarissa…" he said so soft she barely heard it.
"A waste, it truly is" disappointment now weighing heavily on the man's face.
Clary closed her eyes. She thought of one thing only now. Her mother.
Tears began spilling down her face almost against her will. Memories of her mother flooded her mind and the man snorted out something that sounded faintly like "weak" but clary wasn't sure. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her heart ringing in her ears.
Clary shut her eyes tightly, prolonging the inevitable.
Just as the sound of the sword sliced the air, clary heard the man groan in anguish and the sword clanked right beside her.
Clary stared at the sword carefully. She noticed abnormal curvatures to the sword as well as the glowing symbols that were engraved atop the weapon.
Another loud groan brought Clary's attention back to what was happening. The groan sounded different this time, younger. And then a scream followed shortly after.
Clary's eyelids felt uncomfortably heavy but she managed to pry them open enough to see what was before her.
The dizziness from the blood loss didn't make it any easier but what she could see caused a pang in her chest.
A boy, not much older than Clary, with piercing gold eyes and blonde hair, stood no more than a foot away from her. He was breathing slow deep breaths. She couldn't make out his exact features but the one thing she did notice was that he was shirtless. His skin had intricate black designs covering the length of his body, at least what was visible to her..
She looked past him to see if the evil man was anywhere near, but she didn't see him. Clary assumed the man was scared off. She darted her eyes back at the boy. That's when she noticed the long feathered….wings? arching above the boys head.
Of course they weren't wings, Clary thought. She's just nearing death is all. She's seeing things. Or maybe she is dead and an angel is now before her to take her to heaven. If there was even such a thing.
The boy walked towards her slowly. She noticed a star shaped mark on the boy's left shoulder, it was lighter than the rest of the designs.
Clary's eye lids began to feel weaker; she fought to keep her eyes open to take in this "angel boy".
He knelt down in front of her and laid a gentle hand around Clary's wrist before soflty saying, "Clary…"
The touch sent shivers up Clary's side.
How had he known her name?
Clary's eyes searched his face but only saw blurred fragments of tan skin and blonde hair falling around his face.
Her eyes slowly drifting shut Clary muttered, "wh..who..".
