Julian woke to the sound of muffled screaming in the night. Moving carefully so as not to wake his sleeping parabatai, he slowly untangled his limbs from hers and climbed out of bed.

Soft moonlight poured through the crack between the curtains of Emma's bedroom window, leaving an eerie blue stripe on the dark wood floor that seemed to ripple like waves. A light breeze caressed his skin as he crossed the room and reached for the door to the hallway. Perfect weather, he thought as he glanced back toward Emma's shadowy form on the bed. It was September, and the nights were finally cooling down. Maybe tomorrow I'll see if she wants to sleep out on the roof like we used to do.

They hadn't meant to fall asleep outside. Well, not at first anyway. It had started when they were twelve, both newly orphaned. Emma hadn't been sleeping well since she had moved to the Institute, so they'd made it their mission to stay up all night. She had claimed it was because the place felt unfamiliar to her, but he had known it was more than that. He'd known that she was afraid to fall asleep because of the things she would see and hear, the scenes she would be forced to relive time and again in her dreams.

He hadn't blamed her for wanting to avoid the nightmares. After all, he'd had his fair share of experience with them as well. Over and over he had watched himself raise the blade, driving it deep into his father's chest and snuffing out his life. Each time, in the dream, he was a spectator, powerless to stop himself. Always, he awoke choking on a silent scream that seemed to be trapped in his throat.

Over the years his nightmares had become less and less frequent, slowly fading into distant memories. But Emma was still tormented by them fairly often when she slept alone. Julian was proud of the fact that she didn't get nightmares when she was with him at night. It was one of the ways in which he felt he was truly useful to his parabatai. She was, after all, the better Shadowhunter. More aggressive, more intuitive, and clearly a more natural fighter, she outshone him in training and in the field. But that was ok with him. She burns bright enough for both of us. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. As long as she needed him by her side, he was content to be the fuel that kept her burning.

He walked down the corridor toward the room from which he knew the sound had come. Stopping at the bathroom, he filled a glass with cold water and carried it to the door in question.

Knock, knock.

No answer.

"Mark, it's me," he hesitated. "I'm coming in."

His brother sat up and pushed sweaty blonde hair back from his forehead as Julian entered the room. He was wide-eyed and still breathing heavily in the aftermath of his nightmare.

"I brought you some water," he said, extending a hand to offer the glass.

Mark took it gratefully and gulped it down quickly, then set the glass down with shaky fingers on the bedside table.

"What was it tonight?"

"Gwyn, torturing me again. Whipping me, telling me it was for the best, that whenever filthy Nephilim blood was spilled, it was cause for the fey to rejoice." Mark's face twisted with pain, and Julian wasn't sure if the reaction was emotional, or a memory of something physical. He continued. "And...this one was different. After he beat me, I saw him torturing Kieran. He was accusing him of helping me escape, of betraying the Hunt..." He squeezed his eyes shut and reached up to cover them with his clenched fists.

Mark had mentioned Kieran before, and said he had been his only friend among the faeries of the Wild Hunt. He guessed that maybe there was more to their relationship, but he didn't want to make any assumptions. Mark would tell him when he was ready. At least he was opening up to him a little about what life had been like with the Hunt. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry. But it was just a dream. Everything is okay."

Slowly, Mark dropped his hands from his face and looked up at him with a haunting, sorrowful expression. "Do not be so sure, brother. The Hunt has been too quiet about my desertion. They will come. They will demand recompense. Make no mistake about it."