Part 1/2

The battle is all around her and so is the storm.

The Black Volume sits atop the old seelie throne, a remnant of a lost era, its position hidden to almost everyone but her companions. Still, the battlefield is prime for a fight, and the Cohort is not backing down. Neither are the faerie warriors sent by the Seelie Queen. Caught between it all is Emma Carstairs and everyone she holds dear.

Right now she's cutting through the soft underbelly of some demon sent by the Unseelie King to retrieve the book. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma can see her companions: Ty, Kit, and Dru to her left, Clary and Jace to her right, and Julian across from her. Cristina, Mark, Diego and Kieran are still unaccounted for, but she can't think about that right now. All she knows is the rain pouring down on her as she slices through flesh.

She has to get to the Black Volume before anyone else. Not only to keep it from the Cohort's hands, but also because she is the only one who can figure out how to destroy it. Though she hasn't told anyone yet, not even Julian, her father came to her in a vision again, this time letting her know that she holds the key to everything.

In your time of need, when all hope turns to ruin, you will know what must be done, the ghost of her father had told her. And remember, Emma, Cortana can cut anything.

She's getting closer to the throne, and she can sense that Julian is with her, matching her advancement. He's a part of her now, more than he was before. It's strange to feel him so acutely. She can hear his thoughts as he can hear hers; she can feel his heart beating as if it lives inside her own chest. She knows, of course, that the power will soon turn on them if they don't separate, but having him connected to her doesn't feel like a bad thing at the moment. In fact, it's exhilarating.

Emma loses herself in the fight, in the familiar pattern of blocks and blows, Cortana slashing with grace like an extension of her arm. She finds herself so close to the book that she lets herself look back at Julian. He's kicking a demon in what looks to be its rib cage, forcing it down so that he can plunge a seraph blade into its side, effectively killing it. As it disintegrates, he reaches for an arrow to shoot but finds none. Immediately, he begins looking for a spare and sees one in a faerie body next to him. He goes to get it.

Meanwhile, Emma is just a step away from the Black Volume. Another demon comes at her, and she slashes it with ease. She turns around to check on Julian once more, a smile on her face. There's a moment of blind hopefulness when everything seems like it might work out in their favor, and she just has to share it with him.

That's when she sees the darkened, hazel eyes of Zara Dearborn, standing right behind Julian, who is on one knee with his back to her. In her mind's eye, Emma can see what is about to happen, can sense the impending doom hanging over them. Emma tries to warn him, tries to cry out, but there's no time. Her mind is filled with him, and she can tell that he senses it because he looks up at her just then, a worried look on his face.

Emma, she hears in her head, his voice softly caressing her.

Julian, she thinks, hoping he hears her. But it's not enough to save him. Not this time.

With malice in her eyes, Zara plunges a seraph blade into Julian's back.

Time freezes. The battle around her ceases to exist. Emma feels it like a punch to her stomach, pain searing through her every cell. Her parabatai's ocean blue eyes gaze at her with confusion, the edges crinkling into waves of pain. All of the lies, all of the plots and the deaths and the pain, they seem to leave him in one fell swoop. No longer do his eyes hold anything but the truth. And the truth is agony. As if from a distance, she hears herself yelling his name.

"Juuules!" The name of the boy she grew up with, the one who played with her when they were too little to fight and fought with her once the world had turned into something dark and hopeless. The boy who took her in and cared for her even when she was broken, even when he already had so much on his plate. The boy whose soul had been crushed by an evil war, a war that left him parentless by his own hands. The boy who had grown into the man she now loves.

She watches him deflate, his rigid spine loosening like a balloon slowly expelling air. There's too much space between them, too much distance. His eyes leave hers for just a moment to look down at the blade embedded in his torso, and when he looks back up, there is a single red tear falling from the corner of his mouth.

The storm rages on around her, droplets clinging to her gear, water sliding down her cheeks to mask the tears. Hot tears of anger and grief. She thinks of all the things she never got to say to him, all the things they never got to do together. Memories flash in her mind: Julian wrapping her up in his arms as she cried; Julian slashing at a demon that had her pinned beneath its claws; Julian crashing into her like a wave, his lips hot and desperate against her own. Zara pulls her blade out of Julian's body, leaving him to fall onto the ground, mud splashing like a dirty halo around his soaked form.

Emma can't think straight, can barely stand, as she watches Zara smirk down at him. Rage like she's never felt before takes over.

"Aaaaahhhh!" she yells, the scream torn from her throat as she charges wildly at Zara. She slashes Cortana, the metal meeting Zara's blade with a familiar clang, but Emma is filled with anger and hatred, and her swing easily knocks the girl's blade to the ground. Without hesitation, Emma kicks her into the mud, watching as her smug grin transforms into a look of fear.

Good, Emma thinks. Let her know what it is to be truly afraid. But a part of her knows that no amount of fear or pain she inflicts will force this girl to understand the grief Emma feels. And that thought brings with it another bout of rage. Suddenly it's as if she can't control herself, a force taking over her body. She slashes downward with Cortana, sinking her blade into Zara's heart, the girl's eyes glazing over almost instantly.

When she raises the sword, it seems to be glowing, the edges set ablaze with golden light. Rage surges inside her once again, but this time it's different. It's directed at the Black Volume. So much pain has been caused over this book of destruction and death. With this thought in her mind, and some outside force pushing her towards it, she turns to the throne, the book sitting open atop it, and brings her sword down with all her might.

Instantly, she's thrown back, losing her grip on Cortana. When she lands, the storm around her stops, as does the battle. The blast seems to have knocked them all down - faerie, shadowhunter, and demon alike. Where the Black Volume used to sit is now a charred mess on the throne, smoke lifting from the ashes like darkened angels ascending to heaven.

Emma, she hears in her head, his voice just a faint whisper breaking though the ringing in her ears. Looking around, she spots her parabatai across from her, his hand outstretched. She crawls over to his limp body, trying not to notice the pool of blood in which he's lying.

"Jules," she whimpers, her voice reminiscent of her younger self: small and scared. Everyone around them is picking themselves up from the blast, but Emma can't think about them, can't focus on anything but the dying boy in front of her. She lifts his head into her lap, cradling him as he struggles to breathe.

"Oh god, oh god," she's mumbling. "No, no, no, no…"

"Em," he says, his eyelashes fluttering like the wings of a falling butterfly. "Take care of them." He gasps in pain, his features contorting in a way that stabs Emma's heart. "For me. Please." Tears roll down her cheeks and onto his already-soaked body.

"I will," she manages, nodding her head uncontrollably. His family is hers, too. "I will. I promise." People are starting to congregate around them now. On the edge of her vision, Emma can see Clary's vibrant hair and Mark's glistening, multicolored eyes. But nothing they can say or do will save her parabatai now, so she ignores them.

"I always thought it would be you," Julian tells her, blood coating his lips as he attempts to form them into a smile. "Thought I'd have to watch you die." That has always been his greatest fear: watching the people he loves die. He's had to live through that nightmare too many times already, and Emma can tell what he's thinking without having to read his mind. Maybe he should feel guilty or sorry, and he does, he does, but he's also relieved in a way because at least he won't have to go through it again.

And a part of him, she knows, believes that he deserves this.

Still, she wishes against all logic that they could be granted more time. There are so many hopes she never before acknowledged that are now swirling around in her head. True, he has always been with her, always been a constant fixture in her life. But, now that she realizes he won't be in her life any longer, she wants more than that, wants to come home to him and wake up with him and raise children of their own with him. The desire hits her forcefully, uncovering something long ago buried, like air caught beneath a cup in a bowl of water rising to the surface. She sees their life now, the one where they are no longer bound yet forbidden.

"Shhh," she cooes, running her fingers down his cheek. "I'm right here and I'm never going to leave." Her hands are trembling but she doesn't let her voice waver. "We're going to figure everything out, Julian. You'll see. We'll finish raising the kids and then we'll start our own family, just you and me." His lips twitch upward.

"Just like my dream," he wheezes.

"Yeah," she assures him, "just like your dream." She runs a finger over his bottom lip, then his jaw, tracing him, trying to commit him to memory. Not his features really, because she can remember those as if they are her own, but the feel of him, the warm of his touch. "And we'll get married on the beach next to the ocean I'm no longer afraid of. And I'll let you paint me whenever you want. And, when we least expect it, I'll get pregnant with our first child." She smiles down at him, letting go of a shaky breath.

"What will we name it?" he asks, a bittersweet mix of pain and joy written on his face.

"Olivia for a girl, I think," she tells him, a wave of warmth going through her when she realizes that this was the dream all along, whether she admitted it to herself or not. "But we'll just call her Livvy."

"And for a boy?" he asks, the light behind his eyes fading fast.

"Andrew after your father." The details are becoming more clear to her now. "But his middle name will be John, after mine."

"Good." He begins closing his eyes, but Emma shakes him.

"Don't go yet, Jules," she cries. "It can't end like this. I'm not ready." Now she's sobbing, her body aching, her face hot. There's no air. She can't breathe.

"My Emma," Julian whispers, reaching up to touch her wet cheeks. She can feel her lower lip trembling as she leans into his gentle touch. "My universe."

"I love you, Julian Blackthorn." His hand drops from her cheek, his eyelids fluttering closed for the very last time. "I love you more than starlight."

Part 2 will be coming soon