chapter one: red

Idris. Full of life. Full of color. Wiped away, washed out. No more greens, blues, yellows. Everything is red. The black clothes of slain Nephilim stained red. Seeping over the streets of Alicante. Red behind the eyes of the last Shadowhunter standing. Red in his matted black hair, on his hands. Red in his head.

Voices, one sick voice, cut through the red. The boy falls to his knees, red splashing up to greet him. He plays dead and prays please, Angel, let it be over.

"Are any of them alive?" The boy's heart writhes in his chest like maggots at the sound of his voice. "No," the man answers himself, "there's no way. No possibility. Look at the blood."

Blood. Blood red, blood red, blood red—

Black.



i am so proud of this chapter. you have no idea. review.