The end is in sight! There's like 30 pages left in my master doc so that roughly will be about four chapters, give or take. Thank you all for your kind words of encouragement. I'm glad that many of you are as attached to this story as I am! Please enjoy!

The Shadow Wars

Chapter 21: Burn Baby Burn

Songs:

Part 1: The Other - Lauv

Part 2: I See Fire - Ed Sheeran

Part 3: Born To Die - Lana Del Ray

Part 4: Don't Go Home Without Me - LIGHTS

"I'm going, and you can't stop me," she hisses, securing blades to her belt as she stomps away from him and up to their bedroom. He knows she's purposefully avoiding his gaze because she knows this is the wrong choice. She knows it's dangerous and stupid, but in her own, twisted way, she needs this—the facedown, the fight. She needs to show Valentine that she's unafraid, that he can beat her down but she will never fall into submission. She's strapping a sword across her back as Jace catches her hand, pulling her to a stop and gripping her hips, a bit too tightly as he positions her before him.

"I'm coming with you." Each word is punctuated with determination, indicating that this is not up for discussion, that he can either fight beside her or behind her, but he will be there. He's surprised when she doesn't even move to protest. Instead, she silently nods, shaking from his hands to continue her whirlwind movement about the room, collecting weapons from various locations. Jace readies himself for battle, every so often casting glances at his tormented wife through his golden lashes. Her grief is etched into her face, into every worried line in her forehead, into her lips pressed tightly together with stress.

He doesn't protest as she stomps her way to the hanger, buckling herself into her seat and insisting he move at hyperspeed. Maybe it's because he needs to kill Valentine, too, to see his head lopped from his shoulders, that his death might ease the pain of his family's. He knows it's ridiculous, that vengeance blinds a warrior, but he can't help but be guided by this need for revenge, for justice. The distant look in Clary's eyes is so familiar, like separating oneself from reality can avoid any heartbreak, any hurt. He should turn the ship around and refuse allowing her to make decisions without emotions. He should lock her away so she can never confront Valentine again. But he doesn't. Because she'd never forgive him. And for that, he'd never forgive himself.

He knows Valentine is stronger than them, that this day might end in more death and destruction. He also knows that Clary would have happily waltzed into her death without him. So here he is, launching her bird into Lake Lyn to deliver them both to what might be their demise. No sooner than they land is Clary dropping gracefully from the hatch, brandishing a blade in each hand. Jace scrambles to follow her, catching up to her just as the first wave of demons appear. He watches in awe as Clary slices through one after another, no hesitation in her motions, each as steady and strong as the last. It's when they don't stop coming that he falters.

"It's an ambush!" Jace cries, sweeping his arm over Clary's midsection to push her behind his body as the demons approach from in front. He's launching knife after knife at them, cutting them down steadily but not quickly enough. Clary's fighting his grip, but he won't let their ichor-soaked tentacles reach toward her, won't let her stare down their vacant throats and snapping teeth. Arrows zing by his cheek, loosed from the bow Clary had removed from Jace's back. The two of them dropping the demons is still not enough as they become surrounded, forced to their knees before the rows of black, slimy creatures.

"Maaaaaster wants them aliiiiiive," a demon at the front hisses in a voice that pierces Jace's eardrums. Clary shrinks into him, petrified by the forked tongue that flicks from the beast's mouth to form the words.

"Close your eyes, Clary," Jace whispers in a hushed tone as the demons surge forward to apprehend the pair. "Don't look at them." He can feel her heart hammering against the back of his arm, her muscles flexing as she squeezes her eyes shut. Jace stands strong and unwavering for the both of them, refusing to let go of Clary even when the beast's claws dig into his arm to detach the pair, tearing through the muscle and painting the floor in his blood. Eventually, they move them together, all while Jace rubs circles against Clary's back with his good arm, at least until the demon ichor blurs his vision, his body going slack as it finally takes over.

X.O.X.O.X

Black eats at the edges of her cell, seeking purchase on something that would grant it access. It mocks her, flickering like the devil itself as it bides its time. Hellfire is the largest type of demon, though it's not really a demon at all. It feeds on people, using even the charred remains to grow, spreading its darkness through all dimensions. Where earthly fire brings light and warmth, hellfire sucks out all the light, replacing it with sweltering heat strong enough to melt even flesh. Clary's toes are closest to it, blistering even though it's struggling to get closer than six feet away.

"This isn't how it's supposed to be," she grits out, her chest heaving up and down. The shackles around her wrists are becoming increasingly hot, spreading pain down her arm and into her shoulders. But she suffers silently, her screams weighed down by the knowledge that this is all her fault. "We were supposed to—" she chokes on her own words, unable to force the air out of her burning lungs when her eyes finally rise to Jace's.

He's strung up just like her, his back pressed against the jagged edges of the stone wall. His head is lolled to the side, but his eyes are open, lazily trailing her motions as she scrabbles to her feet. In the dying light, she can see every gash on his marked skin. Crusted blood stops his older wounds, but the fresh ones still weep, crimson rivers running through the crevices of his muscles, the same ones her fingers have come to know. She doesn't know how long they've been here, starved, beaten, all because they won't side will Valentine, all because they won't go dark.

Every time Jace takes the knife, the whip, the demon sting, Clary feels like caving, feels like giving her soul to Valentine simply to save Jace's. The moment that thought crosses her mind, she can feel Jace's fear, his anguish, at losing her to the pits of hell, the guilt he would feel for not being strong enough. So she's left to grit her teeth and hold his gaze as each drop of blood falls.

Valentine's footsteps echo through the room, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. He's standing between them before she can register which side he's appeared from, a malicious glint in his demonic eyes. "Have you had enough, yet, dearest daughter? I've grown tired of this dance." A blade flashes in the dim light, reflecting his black irises at her.

"I will never be your daughter," she hisses, rattling her shackles as she snaps her teeth in his direction. "No matter how many times you take that knife to my skin, I will not call you father." She finds a scream tearing up her throat as Valentine strikes, not impaling her own chest, but rather Jace's burying the knife to the hilt in his marriage rune.

The scream is not her own, though. It is throaty, echoing the sound of her own name. It is a remnant of Jace's. His last thought before their connection is severed. Loneliness presses down on her like a heavy blanket. She can't feel his emotions, can't recognize his life force. "What have you done?" she cries in horror, her tears evaporating instantaneously.

"I've removed anything tying you to Earth. You will take your rightful place beside me in the Lake of Fire."

"Why have you forsaken our angel?" she yells. "We are not made heavenly to sink to the depths of Hell!" But she is only met with Valentine's sickening smile, his cloak brushing against the hellfire as he sweeps from the room, leaving her eyes to land on Jace's.

He's still watching her, his golden eyes burning darker and darker as the inferno nears. They're flickering, but not from the flames. He's clinging to his last shred of life, the warrior in him refusing to die an easy death. It can sense the life leaving him, can predict his very last breath.

"I…I love you," she manages, but it is so weak in the winds of Hell that she is uncertain it's able to reach him through the void. It's the first time she's said it to him. The first time she's allowed this vulnerability.

"My love," he breathes softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. His once strong, steady voice is as soft as a whisper, but it floats easily to her ears. She allows herself to sob once, watching his entire body slump against the wall, the knife handle still protruding from his chest.

She doesn't need their connection to know that he's gone. His muscles have ceased to quiver, the inky runes wrapping up his arms beginning to fade in the last of the light. His golden eyes are glazed, yellowing as they stare blankly at the space to her right.

She squeezes her own shut, not wanting to see him that way. Jace is not weak. Even in the face of death he is strong. But death has the ability to make anyone look pathetic. It reminds her too much of her mother's last moments.

It's all in vain, though. The hellfire will soon reach them both. She will cease to exist just as he has, moving on to neither heaven nor hell because those places are for people who pass on from the earthly dimension. Luke will never know what has happened to her, her body merely becoming one with the hellfire as it absorbs her. They will mourn. They will forget. Idris will never know the conditions of her demise. It will be a memory in the back of their minds by the time the hellfire decides to release her few remains.

She hopes maybe there is consciousness in the hellfire, that maybe she can feel Jace once more as they drift on for infinity, traveling the circles of Hell with the demon as their guide. The heat is becoming unbearable as her death closes in on her. Biting her lip, she flutters her eyes open, wanting to meet her demise with dignity as a true Shadowhunter would.

Except it's not the black flames of hell winking viciously at her. The fire before her is golden, eating away at the metalwork and stone walls. It works its way down the iron bars, turning them into red, glowing pipes before they melt away. It makes no motion toward her as it extends its reach to Jace's bars, pushing out the darkness and filling the room with bright, blinding light.

A hand extends from the whiteness, reaching for her with a blazing grip. But it is soft as it melts away the restraints around her wrists, warm against her skin as it lifts her from the sizzling ground. The light consumes her as she steps forward, finding herself encased in its embrace.

Inside, it's what she would picture the eye of a storm to be. Golden flames swirl endlessly around her, eating away at the depths of hell itself. The fluidity of its motions is mesmerizing, entrancing her as the struggles to find a single lapse in its perfect waves. It's molten, but sheer, allowing her a shimmering front-row view as it demolishes the dungeon, melting away all the bars. Jace's body has disappeared, captured by this heavenly fire as it cuts its way through the dimension.

A hand falls onto her shoulder, startling her as the fire continues to whirl. Steeling her nerves, she turns around to meet this potential savior, startled to silence as she's met with the most comfortable and unsettling set of eyes she's ever seen. They're pure, liquid gold, shining even brighter than the fire around them. Even lacking a pupil, she knows they are trained on her, gaging her wounds and her reactions at the same time. Her fears disperse because she can never be afraid under this careful gaze.

Because it belongs to Jace.

The runes she'd thought to be fading are glowing, shooting light out in all directions as his hand reaches for hers. She takes it, his grip familiar as she refuses to break the silence between them. He guides her away from danger the way he's done so many times in their short relationship.

His fire moves with him, not so much a power of his as an extension of him. It reduces everything it touches to ashes. Even the knife in Jace's chest as disappeared, only a crack of golden light indicating something had been there.

His steps are slow, deliberate, so unlike the first time he came to her rescue. That was all passion and confusion and desperation. This is total confidence, his flames dominating the fight as he presses forward.

"What is this?" Jonathon's voice demands as he appears on the other side of the curtain. His black eyes don't make it through the brightness, replacing them with all white. He is flanked by two demons, who charge on command. They barely touch the wall before disappearing into light, becoming one with the heavenly fire.

Clary refuses to feel guilty as Jonathon's face lights up with terror. He's backing away slowly, but Jace stalks forward with each one of the former's steps. Jonathon turns on his heel to sprint down the corridor, but the flames shoot out, catching the tail of his cloak. The howl he releases stands her hair on end, but Jace squeezes her hand, continuing to press forward.

They reach the edge of Hell and begin to move upward, between dimensions, and Clary finally finds her voice to ask the question they both are wondering. "Are—are you alive?"

Jace doesn't look at her as he speaks, his voice deep and smooth like Raziel's might be. "I don't know."

X.O.X.O.X

Jace had never noticed the golden flecks in Clary's eyes until this moment, as the setting sun streams through their shack's windows, his arms looped securely around her waist as her head tips upward in his direction. He'd never noticed the way the right side of her mouth pulled up just a little higher than the left or how her ears wiggle with the endless words flowing from her lips. He wishes he had more time to memorize every unruly curl, to find a flower the exact shade of red and tuck it behind her ear like a secret. His heart aches at the thought of her stomach swelling with new life, his hands smoothing over his unborn child, knowing he might never experience that with her. A yard full of children and then grandchildren, rocking chairs and graying hair, dances by firelight—his life with her plays out before him like a slow-motion movie. He'd taken those possibilities for granted, only to have them cruelly ripped away from both of them.

The princess has changed so much about him, so much within him. All the things that once scared him, he now yearned for. And those he once loved—combat, war—terrified him more than anything ever had. He can see it too, buried deep in her newly discovered speckled eyes, a fear rooted right into her core. Any sufferer of loss knows this feeling all too well. The one that never goes away, that nags and nags about the endless ways life can end, reminding her that in the blink of an eye anything and everything she's ever loved can be taken. He can see it in her quivering lip, feel it in her trembling hands, but her face is brave.

He'd managed to reach their ship, to fly them back to Idris, and to hole up in their shack. He'd refused to touch her at first, terrified that his power might explode from him once more, that he might lose control and do something he could never take back.

Never had his chest swelled with so much love for one person. They are two halves of a whole, fighting back with every inch of strength they possess. It leaves no time for fear. No time for sadness. Only stout resolution. There's no negotiating the terms, no skimping out. Both must do what has to be done to save Idris, though Jace knows he will do everything in his power to keep Clary from harm's way.

He doesn't tell her not to come with him because he knows he can't. She'd just leave without him, throwing herself into more danger than if they chose to fight side-by-side. Their short relationship has taught him that she is braver and stronger than any male Shadowhunter he's ever met. Himself included.

He just loses himself in the starry sky of freckles along her cheeks, pays attention to the way her breath hitches in her throat when he smooths his hand down her arm, drawing the strap of her tank top with it. He relishes in the feeling of her pulse against his lips as he butterflies kisses where her neck meets her shoulder, strands of hair tickling his cheek.

He lets her pull him to the bed but doesn't give her control as he lays her down, his mouth memorizing every patch of skin within reach. He pushes his hands beneath her top, helping her lift it over her head before it finds a home somewhere across the shack.

And then he's kissing her. Not in any way they've ever kissed before. It's a hands-ripping-at-hair, I-need-you-to-breathe kind of kiss. Her fingers pull deliciously at his golden locks as her tongue fights his for dominance. He's crushing her to him with bruising force, but the pressure pulls a moan from her throat. Her knees dig into his hips as her hands work at the buckle of his belt.

Their mouths break—not for air but so Jace can reach around and pull his t-shirt over his head—but Clary's hands never leave his skin. They follow the path of his muscles, up his abs and over his shoulders, hesitating momentarily on the shimmering marriage rune against his chest, her fingers skimming the smooth but marked area where Valentine had driven a knife.

His hand cups the back of her neck, dragging her face back to his before the fire inside him builds up, before he loses what little control he's found. She responds with vigor, wrapping her legs around his torso as his teeth latch onto her lip.

Their eyes are opened, trying to savor each fleeting glance, each emotion that crosses their partner's face. Neither wants to stop. Both refuse to speak in fear of ruining what could be their last moment together.

Jace doesn't need words to guide Clary's leggings down her silken thighs, letting them join the growing pile of clothes across the room. He doesn't need her to tell him what she wants as he removes the rest of his clothes, their heated and naked flesh fitted together like a lock and a key. Their chests rise and fall in synchronization—not able to tell where the golden one ends and the redhead one begins. They are unified, love amplified through this peculiar and amazing connection they have.

Clary finds his gaze, hers filled with so much lust and desire that he can't help but press her into the mattress, watching with satisfaction as her eyes slip shut with pleasure. His fingers tease her at first, gentle brushes on the insides of her thighs, sweeping from one side to the other, never lingering. He can't tear his eyes away as her mouth falls open, tongue coming out to wet her plump lips. His breath quickens even though he's the one working his fingers against her, watching her move with him in pure ecstasy. His thumb moves slow circles against her center, building momentum as her breaths grow shorter and faster.

She screams his name as he pulls her over the edge, the sound of pure bliss echoing off the walls as he watches her descend from her high. It's the only word they've spoken since their arrival, and it doesn't disappoint him.

Her fingernails dig into his biceps as she comes to, positioning him between her bent knees as he suckles at her neck, hard enough to leave blossoming purple marks. There are no words to describe the feeling of becoming one with the woman he loves, to have her supple body beneath his, rocking to meet his thrusts with hooded eyes that only leave his to screw shut in pure pleasure, to have his name fall from her pink tongue like a mantra, chanted in rhythm with their motions, to feel the sweat slowly coat their bodies, letting them slide together without even friction to slow them down.

Clary makes him feel whole. She makes him feel important. She makes him feel worthy of the love she's giving him. It's these feelings that drive them over the edge together, her fingers squeezing his as they whisper I love you into the heated air between them, like the looming sunrise isn't of concern, like they are just two people hopelessly and helplessly in love and nothing can ever drive them apart. It causes them to make love again and again until their bodies refuse to move another inch, sleep overcoming them as Jace holds her in the protection of his arms, like the years of weightlifting can fend off any enemy that comes their way.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. You know that, right?" Jace asks as the indigo sky begins to fade into light. She shifts in his arms, angling her neck to peer straight into his soul. He wonders what she sees. Does she see the unconditional and irrevocable love he has for her? Does she see the shielded dread he holds for the future? Does she see the uncontrollable inferno that's infused with his DNA, threatening to incinerate the planet with one loss of his temper?

"I know." Her voice is quiet, resolute. It's not conceited how she says it. It's soft, in a way that tells him she feels the same, that though their lives are far from how they'd been before the marriage, it was all worth it for what time they had together.

They don't need to say I love you as they redress, helping each other do the snaps of their gear and collect weapons for their belt. They don't need to profess their undying love as Jace fires up the Giant Turtle, his right hand finding hers between the seats. They don't even need to say it as they reach the bunker, his airplane prepared for the flight ahead of them.

They can feel it. Even through the heat of the fire that fills Jace, even through the fear in each beat of their hearts, the love hits them in strong, unyielding waves, and Clary knows that for once the power of love will conquer all.

X.O.X.O.X

The stars streak by at a frightening pace, Jace's bird carrying them at hyper-speed through the depths of space, toward their future, toward answers, toward the inevitable. Jace won't look at her from the driver's seat, but his hand envelops hers as she reached out to him. He's afraid. She can see it. Over time she's found herself capable of peeling back Jace's walls, much like removing layers of an oil painting until only the raw structure is on display. The cues of his emotions are minute, one reason he's so difficult to read, one of his defense mechanisms. Had she not spent countless hours agonizing over his face, memorizing the planes of it, sketching all the angles, she'd never be able to despipher the difference between focus and annoyance, between anger and fear.

His emotions are housed mostly in his eyes, the way he averts his gaze, makes excuses not to meet her eyes. It's the slight downward slant of his mouth, the concentrated crease between his brows. "You're afraid," she states, wanting him to express his emotions. He's become so open with her lately, so vulnerable in his arms, refusing to hide in his shelter any longer, releasing the recluse that rejected his feelings, using them to fuel his fight rather than live his life.

"Yes," he responds, honestly and without hesitation. He still won't catch her stare, fiddling with the controls instead. She doesn't have a chance to ask him why before the words tumble from his mouth, explaining himself to her like these emotions need validation, like the warrior in him isn't allowed to be afraid. "I've become the very thing I've sworn to destroy, Clary. This…this…ability—it's unnatural. I am a monster." Clary squeezes his hand, and when he finally inclines his head, his golden eyes are bloodshot, staring distantly as he chews the inside of his cheek.

"You are not a monster, Jace." The words are curt, strong as she wills him to finally look at her. It's fleeting, but he does, his shoulders slumping from the tense posture. And in that moment, Jace Herondale, King of Idris, looks completely and utterly defeated. "The Silent Brothers will understand this power. They'll help you control you fire…help you use it!" Jace scoffs, dropping her hand. It hangs limply by her side, rejected, as he takes up the controls once more.

"So you're going to weaponize me, Clarissa? Turn me into an object? A means to an end?" He bites out the words, and they have the intended effect. They sting, piercing through the thin armor she's concocted like arrow tips, digging into her chest. She knows his game now, though, that he's doing this because he thinks it's the only way to keep her safe, from Valentine, from him. He'll push her away despite her protests, despite his desires. Old habits die hard.

"That is not what I meant." She considers her next words carefully, concoting the perfect sentence to diffuse the situation, to bring Jace back from the dark past he's slipping into. "Besides, you're already a weapon, what with being the best Shadowhunter to every grace this galaxy." Now he cracks a ghost of a smile, quirking up one eyebrow.

"This galaxy? Oh, how you insult me, princess." She allows herself to laugh, trying desperately to ignore how close they are to the silent city, how imminent the answers are. "I'm sorry, Clary. I just…I can't lose you. Not again." His eyes are downcast, but he's still able to stop her when she opens her mouth to respond. "And if the Silent Brothers believe I'm a danger to others, you have to leave me. I will not be your destruction."

Clary rolls her eyes, grabbing his chin a bit harshly to pull his face against hers. His lips are unyielding at first, but soon, he softens, returning her gently kisses. "You really do have an Edward Cullen complex."

"I don't understand how Twilight was able to make the migration with our ancestors," Jace says with a shrug. The bird slows its pace, a gray, desolate planet taking ship on the sun's horizon. "I love you," Jace tells her as Church initiates the landing sequence, and Clary can't help but feel that it sounds more like goodbye.

Not out of turbulent waters yet! Getting so close though!

Review?

All My Love

~BallinBlonde21