Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instrument series. Everything recognisable belongs to Cassandra Clare.
Jonathan knocked on the door to one of the many rooms in the Institute. He didn't know exactly what he was expecting, but after learning what had happened the prior day, a set of emotions ran through his system. Grief, bewilderment, happiness and resentment. He had not seen his parents since they had left their manor last morning and he wanted to know if they were both well. Last night's incidents had kept him awake and he could not wait any longer for the chance to get back to the Institute and greet his mother.
When he had learned that his mother had been attacked he wanted nothing else than to see her as soon as possible, but something had happened after the attack that made it difficult to open a portal for him to get back to New York.
"Come in." a voice called out from the other side of the door. Jonathan walked into the small room to see Jocelyn and Luke sitting on the sofa, they were both pale faced and their expressions shone of anxiety.
Jocelyn stood up the moment she met her son's worried gaze, but she didn't speak. Jonathan swallowed hard before closing the door carefully behind him.
He studied them both; they did not appear to be hurt, and for some reason that worried Jonathan even more. "Is.. eh is everything okay?" Jonathan spoke softly as the approached them.
"Yes." Jocelyn answered, as much as she tried to mask her nervousness, Jonathan caught it. "Everything is fine."
He met the eyes of the person he had grown up to call his father. Luke gave him reassuring smile before he quickly looked away. Luke looked tired, with his usual ragged look and slightly stooped posture. His blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses as they met Jonathan's dark green eyes, but they lacked the greatness he so often possessed. His brown hair was uneven and it looked like he hadn't been sleeping much.
"I've been so worried mum, when they told me you had been attacked I didn't know what to make out of it. They could've bothered telling me you were fine, they are unbelievable. Next time I come across… " he muttered trailing off, not knowing exactly where he was going with that sentence.
Luke shot him a half-amused glance. "Easy there John, we wouldn't want you to get completely out of hand." he joked, trying to ease the tension in the air surrounding them.
John shot him a glare, but his lips cracked into a careful smile. "Very funny." he sighed, before watching his mother take a few steps toward him.
"Jonathan." She began. Again her voice left him with a concerned feeling.
"Can you please sit down?" asked Jocelyn, guiding him to the nearest chair and she took the seat next to him.
He did as he was asked and sat down.
"There is something I need to tell you, but I don't know exactly how to begin." Jocelyn explained. Jonathan shifted uncomfortably in his chair as she spoke.
When Jonathan didn't reply, Jocelyn tried finding the right words that would explain something Jonathan had never expected he would ever hear.
"You remember the girl you brought back to the Institute a few days ago, right?" she asked, Jonathan could clearly hear she struggled to find the right words to form the right sentences.
"Of course, it's quite hard forgetting someone falling through a roof." he replied.
He had not meant for the comment to be amusing, but Jocelyn sent him a stiff smile even though her eyes did not show any sign of entertainment.
"Well." she started. She looked over her shoulder to find Luke coming up to her side. He sat down and inhaled deeply. Jocelyn sent him a grateful glance as he began the explanation.
"Fifteen years ago of the day of the Uprising, your mother and I went against your father and fought against him to bring down his plans of eradicating the whole downworld population."
Jonathan had already heard the story. They had told him about the Uprising when he was five years old. He was three when the Great Hall had been attacked and he remembered some parts of the aftermath. He remembered the way his mother had cried for days, how they had moved from their home without any explanation. Without his father and sister. Which at the age of three he had not questioned, he was not able to understand what had happened, but as he grew older, he became curious as to what had happened to his baby sister and his father.
He could still not think about that day without anger blossoming inside him. He despised the actions of his father, seeing as he grew up with his father figure being werewolf he had never held the same prejudicial, supremacist, condescending and evil ways of thinking as his father and some of the elder Shadowhunters had. The world had changed and after the Tenth Accords was written many of the once so biased Shadowhunters had opened the thoughts of a more harmonious way of living side by side with the Downworlders.
Jocelyn took in a deep breath, closing her eyes slowly. "You were only three on the day of the Uprising, and I know we've already explained what happened to..to your sister and my mother." Jocelyn hesitated.
"But the truth we once told you..that truth is no longer relevant." Jocelyn shook her sadly, desperate for a few more words helping her explain what she was about to tell him.
Jonathan sat still in his chair. He tightened his jaw and looked at his mother in bewilderment. "What do you mean 'the truth is no longer relevant'?" he asked, repeating her words slowly.
"Clarissa is not dead Jonathan." Luke said; his voice no louder than a whisper.
Jonathan's bottle green eyes went very wide and round. He looked at his mother and then at Luke, trying to determine if they were really telling him the truth or if this was some sick joke. But he knew his parents and they were not very mischievous, he could see from their broken features alone, they weren't lying to him.
"W-what?" he spluttered shocked.
"The girl you brought back to the institute, it was...it was Clarissa." Jocelyn pressed though her trembling lips as she looked up at her eighteen year old son's shocked and bemused expression.
Jonathan didn't reply. A million questions ran though his head. Where had she lived all these years? How had she managed to escape the burning manor? Why had she not tried to find her family? What if she had tried to find them, but had not succeeded? Where the hell had she learned to fight like she had fought the four of them at that roof?
He looked into his mother's pearly green eyes and asked quietly, "Did she attack you?" it was not the question he had intended to ask first, and it shocked all three Shadowhunter.
"W-what?" the question had escaped Jocelyn's lips this time.
"Was she the reason you got hurt yesterday?" he reformulated his previous question.
Jocelyn didn't reply.
"Clarissa possesses powers we have never seen before Jonathan. We don't even know if she meant to hurt your mother." Luke lied, interrupting the awkward silence.
"Where is she?" he asked.
There was another long pause, "She's in a bedroom on the third floor." Luke replied.
Jonathan nodded, he had no answer. He looked towards the door and rose from his chair.
Puzzled Jocelyn asked, "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to see my sister." he replied shortly and walked up to the door.
xxxx
Clary looked from side to side. She was standing barefoot on cold, green grass. She didn't quite understand what had happened. She remembered being in the Morgenstern Manor with her father. She remembered relief flowing through her as she realized she had actually managed to escape the Institute. Clary had walked over to her father and greeted him with one of her trademark snarky comments. A smile formed on Clary's lips as she thought about the way he had called her 'Clary'. He never called her that. The smile faded, and she went back to studying her surroundings.
She did not understand how she could be standing on an open meadow. The sun was burning her skin. Clary tried walking a few steps, but as soon as her feet moved, a sharp pain flared up inside her.
She began analysing her short encounter with Valentine. They had talked about something, something about fire.
Clary touched her cheek and again the same burning sensation streamed through her body. She let out a shaky breath and continued staring around her.
What was going on?
Clary turned around as she heard a loud sound coming from behind her. Large red flames burned in the cold grass. As the flames ran towards her they turned the grass around them a russet colour.
"No, no, no!" She whispered under her breath. She tried to run from the flames, but the more she struggled to get away, the more she found herself hauled towards them.
The flames connected with her skin. A suppressed scream faded in her throat. The pain that erupted on her skin should've been unbearable, but the flames did not hurt her. There was no smell of burning flesh. No pain at all. Then Clary realised it, she was dreaming. She must have fallen asleep.
She looked around in desperation. She remembered everything that had happened after she jumped through the portal in the Institute library. She had to wake up! Was there any way she could wake herself up?
She didn't have to. She was suddenly plunged into darkness again.
Clary could feel the hot tears clinging to her face and she was about to wipe them away when a voice spoke inside the head.
'Clarissa?' He said sternly. It was weird. She couldn't hear where the sound came from. It sounded like it was speaking inside her head.
'Clarissa!' His voice was louder this time. Without knowing exactly what she was supposed to do, she tried the only thing she could think of.
'Yes?' There was no reply. At first she thought she had only imagined her father's voice speaking to her.
'You are back in the institute, am I right?' He asked her.
Again Clary tried answering; she inhaled and thought of the words she wanted him to hear. 'Yes father. I have no idea what happened, one second I was with you and the next..' She didn't finish her mental sentence, but he would understand what she meant.
'Father. How are you talking to me?' Clary asked, hoping there would be a voice inside her head answering her.
'It's your necklace Clarissa.' She felt the metal of the necklace around her neck heat up and she wanted to reach out for it, but she never got that far. She heard the door open and someone stepped inside. 'What happened? Why did my portal not work?' she begged for him to reply, she did not have a lot of time.
'My guess is that they've gotten a warlock to put up an anti-teleportation ward around the Institute, it's supposed to keep intruders out, that's why you got away for as long as you did. The ward is not mainly designed to keep someone inside of the Institute, but it seems to be strong enough to keep you there anyway.' she could swear she felt his anger inside her head as he spoke.
'Make sure you will always wear the necklace Clarissa, I cannot speak with you often, it drains you of your powers, but when I have news, you will know.' Clary wanted to say something, but she didn't know what. She wanted to protest, he could not leave her here. He would never do that.
'Fine.' the words formed inside her head, she did not know if he got it, because there was no reply. Her head was completely hers again.
With that realization she opened her eyes and stared up at a tall white-haired boy with dark green eyes.
xxxx
He rose from his chair, looking down at the red haired girl. Her eyes were closed and she looked extremely peaceful lying on the infirmary bed; which was actually quite funny, seeing as she was the complete opposite of peaceful.
He had managed to get his parents to let him inside his sister's room. At first, they had refused; they told him it was not a good time. She was hurt and needed time to rest. But after promising to keep quiet and not wake her up, they let him in.
As Jonathan walked into the room he had had a small hope in the back of his mind that she might be conscious and able to speak with him, and when he saw her still body lying on the bed, he felt disappointment filled his body.
Jonathan thought briefly of what life had been like fifteen years ago – even though he could not remember much – it had been easy, his mother had been much happier back then, and even as much as she hid her sorrow and grief, Jonathan saw it in her eyes from time to time.
Jonathan turned and was about to walk toward the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as a teeny groan escaped his sister. And then Jonathan froze. He turned his head back to Clarissa and stared at her as though he couldn't believe his eyes. She was most definitely awake – or about to wake up.
He walked carefully back to the bed. His eyes moved slowly up Clarissa's face and he looked down at her bruises. She had a small cut on her forehead – healing from the iratze they had drawn on her skin earlier – it was no longer bleeding, but it still looked red and swollen. Jonathan's eyes moved further down her face, she had a few small scars, which wasn't unusual for Shadowhunter. She looked so much like Jocelyn, and if she hadn't had the youthful features tracing her face, he was sure he wouldn't be able to tell them apart.
Jonathan was still studying Clarissa when his eyes fixed upon another thin scar on the side of her face. The scar went from her right ear in a straight line over her cheek ending where the corner of her mouth began.
He wondered how she had gotten all the scars. And again the questions flooded his mind. Where had she lived all these years? Did she remember him? How had she escaped the fire? Why on earth would she attack their mother?
But before he could begin to puzzle over all his unanswered questions, a pair of bright emerald eyes opened and met his bottle green eyes.
Jonathan stood staring at Clarissa for a long time before she opened her mouth to speak.
"Who the hell are you?" said Clary.
"Hello.. Eh I'm, I'm..eh.." began Jonathan, he was taken aback when he heard the vexed voice of his younger sister.
"Incompetent?" Clary finished the sentence for him. Her voice was filled with irritation, - if it hadn't been for the fact that her father had just explained she was incapable of escaping the Institute and she wouldn't be able to get back home – she would've done something more injurious to the boy.
Jonathan cracked a small smile and a chuckle escaped his mouth. The deathly glare the red-haired girl sent his way stopped him.
"No. I'm Jonathan." said Jonathan.
"And I am supposed to know you?" she asked him with a glint of irritation in her cold voice.
Jonathan sighed disappointed; he had hoped she would remember him.
"Well, yeah. I'm your brother." he told her, one corner of his mouth turning up in a half-hearted smile.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the fire that erupted in the green orbs staring at him was not at all what he thought would happen.
Clary got up from the bed and stood face to face with the blond boy. She could feel how tired she really was, but in that moment she ignored her trembling legs.
Some of the anger Clary had been feeling for days seemed to burst through a dam in her chest. For a split second the two siblings looked into each other's eyes, and it seemed like both were about to act on the tension. Clary didn't know what he was about to do, but she knew she would be able to throw in a pretty hurtful punch if she really wanted to.
Jonathan saw the way his sister looked at her, and then it hit him. 'She really had meant to attack his mother.'
"You should sit down." said Jonathan.
"Don't tell me what to do." she hissed back at him.
"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just suggesting that-"
"Well, don't!" Clary replied. "In fact, get the hell out." she didn't want him to be there. He was another Fairchild, and maybe he wasn't like the others, but she didn't want anything to do with them.
Jonathan looked toward the doors. "Nah.." he smiled.
"What?" she asked surprised.
"I'm not leaving until you listen." he explained, ignoring the hateful glaze she shot him.
"I'm not listening to anything. In fact I don't think I have anything to listen to, so why don't you just leave me alone before I-"
"Before you what?" Jonathan asked, "Attack me?" he had a small smile plastered on his lips while he spoke, because as they talked Clarissa just proved him right.
She shot him a haughty look and tried to find a way to flee from his company. "Maybe." she replied and walked passed him towards the en suite.
She didn't usually walk away from confrontations, but she had no idea what to do with the person behind her. She locked the door and waited for him to leave.
Her hatred notwithstanding, she had to admit Jonathan was pretty smart. He had provoked her in a way people could usually not. Clary did not often attack verbally rather than physically.
As she walked out from the bathroom again she saw that in fact he had not left. "I thought I told you to leave me the hell alone." she exclaimed.
"And I did. Seeing as you actually left, I've been standing here completely alone for quite some time."
She shot him another deathly glare and was about to attack him with another round of rather harsh words when the door flew open and both teenagers spun around to face the newcomers.
Clary recognised the woman standing in the door. She was wearing a long, old-fashioned dark moss green cloak that fell to the tops of her boots. She was also wearing a fitted slate-coloured suit with a mandarin collar beneath her cloak. The old woman had four roughly built Shadowhunters on either of her sides and she stared at Clary with flinty grey eyes.
"Inquisitor Herondale." said Jonathan surprised. "What's going on?" he asked her with a sceptical voice.
Clary's green eyes widened when Jonathan spoke, inquisitor, that couldn't be a good sign. Not at all.
"Jonathan." The inquisitor replied with a stiff smile forming on her lips. Jonathan nodded waiting for an explanation.
He did not like the thought of Imogen Herondale close to his sister; Clary had in fact attacked Stephen Herondale, Imogen's son and they all knew that the Inquisitor was very protective of her family and did not let people get away with crimes easily.
Imogen had always been devoted to The Clave and The Law. She developed a deep hatred for Valentine Morgenstern after he persuaded her only son to join his circle. She had not held a grudge towards Jocelyn and Luke for being circle members, but she had always held a stiff and even uncanny attitude toward Jonathan.
Her bitterness directed at Valentine had diminished with time, and they had begun to tolerate each other. But still, her presence concerned him.
"You need to come with us right now." One of the Shadowhunters said. He was standing on the right side of the Inquisitor with his fingers grasping around the silver dagger in his hand. "If you resist, we've been told to take you by force." His voice was emotionless; he stared straight at Clary as she spoke the cold words.
Anger exploded within Clary as she stared back at the Shadowhunter who had just spoken. His brown eyes met hers and Clary found herself startled by how calm he seemed.
"Why would you need her to come with you?" asked Jonathan. The Shadowhunter who'd spoken arched an eyebrow, but it was the Inquisitor who replied.
"Clarissa Adele Fairchild we –" "Morgenstern." Clary snapped at her.
"We are here to take you to the Silent City."
"What?" said both Jonathan and Clary in unison, Jonathan in shock and Clary in fear.
"Why would you need to take her there?" asked Jonathan in surprise. Clary straightened her back and smirked to hide the uncertainty she was feeling. Her body was filled with tension and menace now, but this didn't keep the Shadowhunters walking inside the room from grabbing both her wrists.
"Don't make me repeat myself: Come with us quietly, or we will make you come."
Clary found herself letting out a small laughter. She had not done anything, she'd merely been standing still while they talked. "Okay." Clary smirked. She wanted out of the Institute, and so far, this was her best shot.
"No! That's crazy! You're not taking her anywhere until you tell me why you-"
"Because Clarissa is under arrest for high treason. We are under the suspicion she has been cooperating with Valentine Morgenstern." Clary's eyes went wide. 'No, no, no. They could not know her father was alive. It was impossible, he hadn't made an appearance in the Nephilim world in fifteen years!'
xxxx
After telling Clary why she was being taking to the Silent City, Clary had held out her hands – which they were actually already holding rather ruthlessly – as they clamped another pair of the pale blue handcuffs onto her wrists she shot the only other female Shadowhunter in the room a hateful gaze and took a deep breath.
Everything after that had been some kid of a blur, Clary had left her room and been dragged through the Institute hallway by a dozen Shadowhunters. Jonathan hadn't said anything after the proclamation, and had finally left her alone as he had stormed out of the room.
Now she was standing in front of a statue of an angel. The statue was tall and made of white marble. In its hands it held the Mortal cup; the rim was covered in different coloured gems. On the statue's pedestal was the words:' Nephilim: Facilis descensus averni' written along with the year 1234.
Clary let a silent laugh escape her lips, it was quite funny, 'the descent into Hell is easy.' Yes she would say it was quite easy.
Clary watched longingly as one of the Shadowhunters drew his stele, it had some sort of warm glow around it, and as he drew the dark rune Clary stared at the swift marks appearing on the pedestal.
She was so fixed on the rune that she almost overlooked the marble angel as it opened a gaping black hole in the ground around.
Clary was forced down a granite staircase by two of the Shadowhunters that followed her down. She had not seen the Inquisitor in a while, but she knew the other black dressed men took orders from her.
She was led down the stairs by the large torches hanging along the steps. She felt a chill run up her arms as she stared into the blackness at the end of the stairs.
When she got to the bottom of the staircase the first sight that hit her eyes was the great marble archway in smooth ivory colours. On the floor it was engraved the same runes as her skin possessed and she inhaled slowly.
"Where are you taking me?" asked Clary. She had read about the Silent City. Found on the two upper levels of the city were its archives and the council chamber, where the Mortal Sword hung above the Speaking Stars.
At the lowest depths of the city were a series of levels that held the necropolis of the Shadowhunters, where the bodies of those who died in battle were buried, entombed, and sometimes they were burned and used to fortify the great marble arches of the city. Clary felt a cold sensation creep onto her skin.
The very lowest levels of the Silent City held the prisons, known to hold both the dead and the living. Here were several cells; its main purpose was to hold the worst and most perilous of Law-breakers and criminals guilty of great wrongdoing. They would be confined and incarcerated; this was where Clary was led. She was sure of it, but still felt the need to ask the Shadowhunters.
"Soul-Sword." He grunted, not even casting Clary a short glance.
"WHAT?" her shrieking voice asked dumbfound.
"I said –" began the dark haired Shadowhunter, but Clary cut off his stupid attempt to repeat himself. "I heard what you said, but why would you feel the need to take me to the Mortal Sword?" she had not thought of this possibility, it had slipped her mind as she already had quite a few things to ponder.
"You know why you're under arrest right?" he asked, and if Clary had not seen the stern face of the man who spoke, she would've assumed he was making fun of her.
"Stop talking to her." The same stiff female voice rang through the hallway as archway as they all stopped in front of a large tunnel. They led Clary through it and she could smell the smoke surrounding them. As they walked into the light Clary saw they were all standing on a large square pavilion.
Behind a table, on the dark walls of the pavilion hang the enormous silver sword. The Mortal Sword. Maellartach. It was something different seeing the sword in real life. It was beautiful. The sword hang with the tip down. It was a straight double-edged blade with a one-handed hilt made with the silvery white heavenly metal adamas. The hilt included an elaborate design of outspread wings, emerging from the point where blade meets handle.
She looked around the room and suddenly she saw the rune-marked men with stitch or shut eyes and mouth. It disgusted Clary that someone could do that, they looked horrible, but what disturbed Clary the most was the ones who had simply had these removed entirely from their face, leaving blank spaces where the flesh once were.
The Silent Brothers all wore a parchment-coloured, hooded robe that they belted at the waist. The robes held intricate runic designs and decorative marks along the cuffs and hems of their regalia; these were – probably to make them look even more gruesome – painted in blood red ink.
"Good day Brother Jeremiah." The Inquisitor spoke to one of the horrid looking men. She nodded her head and spoke again. "No, we did not. There was no time left." She told him, Clary guessed he spoke directly into the Inquisitor's head.
Clarissa. Please stand in front of the council. A voice rang in her head – first she had thought it was her father; it sounded like when he had contacted her earlier – the Silent Brother pointed towards a square in front of the large table, it was made out of black marble and decorated with small silver stars.
Clary obeyed the Silent Brother's request and walked into the square. The other Shadowhunters did not follow; they had apparently heard the same thing as Clary.
The council greets you, Clarissa Fairchild. The voice called out in her head again. With an irritated sigh Clary corrected him, "Morgenstern." She wouldn't be associated with the Fairchilds. Not after everything that had happened.
State your name. He told her.
Clary laughed a mocking laughter. "Really? You just said my goddamn name?" There was not answer. "Fine! Clarissa Adele Morgenstern." said Clary with a heated voice. Something had made her head ache, and she did not want to find out what these Brothers could do if she angered them.
We are going to ask you a few questions. The voice in her head was dry and cold.
A Silent Brother came up to her with the silver sword in his hands. You will be holding this, seeing as we cannot trust you will answer truthfully otherwise.
Clary muttered something under her breath and stared up at the hooded Brother. "If you think I will submit to your stupid-" again her head ached painfully.
She looked up at the Silent Brother, his eyes were closed, but Clary had a strong feeling he could still see her. We are going to make you answer these questions whether you surrender or not, but force is not needed as long as you collaborate.
She felt her head began to burn, and her eyes watered. Clary blinked numerous of times to keep the salty water behind her eyes. "I would rather die than collaborate with such horrid creatures as you." She hissed. She couldn't keep the words from slipping through her lips.
The handcuffs that kept Clary's hands pressed together fell off and two Shadowhunters forced her hands open. "Stop!" Clary screamed as her head kept on hurting. It felt like it was about to crack open. Clary had once read that the Silent Brothers had the ability to crack a man's mind and send him into madness if they so desired, but Clary had never believed the statement until this moment.
Clary thrust her hands forward, palms up.
The Silent Brother laid the blade of the Soul-Sword flat across Clary's palms. One of the Shadowhunters on Clary's side made a small noise as the sword touched her skin.
The Silent Brother let the silver blade go and stepped back. Clary looked up at him in surprise. At this moment she was completely free. If she had a stele she would be able to draw the perfect Five-Dimensional Door and escape once and for all. But she didn't.
As I said, we didn't have to do this with force; we must employ the sword because you cannot be trusted to tell the truth otherwise. I will now ask you a series of questions and you will answer then.
Of course she would answer them, she had no other choice.
State your name.
Clary groaned, "Are you for real?" She asked irritated. "Clarissa Adele Morgenstern."
Where have you lived the past fifteen years?
As she heard the words in her head she cringed. She couldn't answer this question, she would ruin her father. She couldn't tell the enemy where he was hiding.
"I lived in the Morgenstern manor." She told him, happy that she found a way across the answer he really wanted.
With whom?
She waited. She couldn't answer this question either, but this time she found no loophole. She waited with the answer; her fingers grew white as she pressed them against the blade. She felt the strong silver cut into her fingers, but the pain kept her secrets hidden a few more seconds. She breathed heavy and now she felt the words running out of her mouth.
"My father." Clary told the Silent Brother.
The Shadowhunters on either side of Clary stiffened.
What is your father's name?
"Valentine Morgenstern." The words were pulled from Clary against her will. She knew a few tears had fallen from her eyes, the pain in her fingers and her head was unbearable.
The next question came fast. Did your father commit the slaughter of a werewolf pack and a vampire nest?
It was easy to answer, "No."
Did he have someone else do the killing for him, if so who?
This was not as easy. "Yes, he is not alone. But I don't know who did the killing" was ultimately the answer. He had been ordering his men to create fear amongst the Downworlders, make it look like the Shadowhunters had given up the Accords, but Clary didn't know which he had sent.
You are a powerful Shadowhunter Clarissa Morgenstern, we've seen that from the memories of our Nephilim, but tell me how. How did you get these powers?
Clary set her mouth, but her lips were trembling. A moment later a torrent of words burst from her mouth. She was shaking and she held her eyes closed from the failed attempt to pull away from the sword. A moment later her eyes darted open in shock as she could hear the words running on her lips.
"I've always been a strong Shadowhunter, and throughout the years I've been taught by the best. You can possibly just imagine the difference between one of your lousy trainees and the powers of a Shadowhunter like me. You have no idea what you are sending your Nephilim out to fight. We've always been a strong race, but even your strongest will not compare to me. The blood that runs in your veins is not as strong as the blood in mine. You will never defeat the darkness that someone like me possesses. Demon blood is a much more deadly weapon than your angel blood, and with my father's help, I became that deathly weapon." a smirk formed on her lips as she saw the horror-struck faces of the Shadowhunters. They had obviously not expected her to tell them demon blood ran in her veins.
She waited for another question, her whole body shook from the last question and she could see drops of blood on the silver stars on the floor.
The Silent Brother had apparently told the others what to do, because the blade was lifted from her hands and cuffs were forced onto her wrists.
"I hope you're not afraid of the dark little Shadowhunter. You'll be spending some time in the darkest cells this world has to offer." and with that Clary was led out of the room with strong hands gripping her arms as she walked.
This time she would definitely be led down to the very lowest levels of the Silent City. The prison.
So, this was quite a long chapter. I hope you liked it, because I really enjoyed writing it. Sorry for not letting Clary stay very long in the Institute, but I think the outcome of the Silent City will be just as good as if she had stayed at the institute.
Please tell me what you thought because I love reading your reviews. I'll update as soon as possible.
