Chère Diane,

J'espère que cette lettre—

Oh, what was the point? She shoved against a pile of books she had on her desk but would never read. She liked to pretend she would, she even read a few lines of that novel all the girls from the Manor kept telling her to read. The main character was so bland, she had a hard time staying awake through the first chapter. She had even asked Ed to read it and it worked for a while — well, she did not pay attention even half the time, but she had the ability to say she heard it. She asked him to stop when the vampire started to glow like a fucking disco ball when he walked under direct sunlight.

She picked the letter again. Maybe she could complain about her inability to read any book that was apparently so worth it. Perhaps her sister had read the book. Perhaps, she liked it, like the twins at the Manor. When she finished the letter, she walked to the study where Renarusé was still talking with Benoît, the head of Montpellier's institute. The one who took her and Ed in.

"No, Mélodie," he told her in French. "I'm not leaving the premises. We cannot abandon mundanes and downworlders alike! Run like the cowards they want us to be!"

"Benoît, listen to me, we are outnumbered-"

"I'm not leaving either," Ari interrupted. "It's not like Sebastian Morgernstern will have much care about our Institute anyway. There's only three of us."

"He may not be only coming for the sake of filling his ranks, Ari," Benoît told her not unkindly.

He was a kind man from Martinique, whose accent Ari found soothing especially when she was still a young girl. She would love the stories he told her by the fire in what used to be a ballroom, they reminded her of her mother's. He did not seem inclined to tell her any story about whatever Morgernstern might be after in their humble abode.

"Nevertheless, we can't forgo our duty based on fear of our own," she told him with the determination that came with her kind.

"The forsaken are not our own," Mélodie admonished. "They are all far gone."

"Might be so. But they were Nephilim, no matter what happens to them, we can't abandon them. Not that I'd expect you to understand, Madame Renarusé. Now, if you would not mind, I'd like you to give that letter to Diane, please," she said handing her the piece of paper with her chin up in defiance. The woman's eyes softened in a way they had no right to.

"I'm not sure-" Ari pushed the letter against her hand, her insides twisting in an uncomfortable cold knot. She took it. "I will, but I cannot guarantee she will be able to read it."

"She's fifteen, she should be able to decide whether or not to read her own letters."

Ed's voice and English speech surprised them all. He had showered and had exchanged his gear for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. His strawberry blond hair was still wet and his hazel eyes redrimmed due to the lack of sleep. He walked inside the room to grab Ari's arm and pull her out of the study.

"I'm sure they want to continue arguing over whether or not we're leaving. Come on, we need to train."

They did not need to train. He certainly should not train, he barely stood upright. She was about to tell him, they should sleep. She could manage a day of Renarusé without needing to eviscerate anybody — which was growth in itself — but the woman's interruption would have made it a lie.

"So you are planning to stay as well, Mr Longford?"

He scoffed with that is-she-serious-? twist to his lips and looked at Ari.

"Wither thou goest I will go," he recited. "I'm sure you remember the parabatai oath, despite not having one yourself, madame."

He smiled at Renarusé politely and excused him and Ari, pulling her away in the process. She was not sure if the anger she felt from him was a reflection of her own. He was no longer pulling her by the hand, she was walking ahead of him in a blur of determined anger.

"She has the audacity to tell me she cannot make sure she'll read the letter. This is my one opportunity to make sure she does. One, Diane is old enough to make her decisions. Two, if she gave her the letter en main propre, then she would know for a fact that she read it. And three, the Fleurose can no longer use her grief and her need to adapt as an excuse anymore. They've been dead over ten years, she has not seen me in eight!"

She reached the training room without a glance behind her to check he followed. She had recounted this maybe a thousand times, but he never complained. He handed her a couple of knives that she threw against her targets.

Ari would always remember the blood on the carpet at their home in Aix. Her mother's eyes cold, her father's throat slashed, her three-years younger brother's hand clutching a knife in his trembling hand. And then, suddenly they were three orphans: Christophe, eight years her elder, Arianne and Diane five years younger than her.

She crossed the room to pry her knives from the bullseye and crossed it back to take her place.

She wrote a letter a week to Diane; letters she was not allowed to read. By fear that the Fleurose might open the missives before giving them to her, Ari did her best not to include certain things. However, she had a letter tucked away, one that she kept on her person until she could give it to her.

Chris… Brother Havilah, had joined the brotherhood of the silent City. There was little she could do about contacting him. He did not even come when she was sick. She did not blame him for his choice of life. He was cut away from his family too, and found purpose elsewhere.

She threw a knife and another, barely taking the time to adjust her aim. Precision lied in the eye.

The one who broke what was left of her family was Mélodie Renarusé. She had claimed that keeping the siblings together would prove too difficult for any member of the Enclave. Well, fuck her. She was the one that split them up, the one who insisted.

Her final knife struck dead center with such a force it split the wood all across the pannel.

"D'you want to talk about it?"

"No."

She had barely acknowledged his presence. She had not needed to look his way to know he had not gone anywhere. It was like she felt it in her bones. She could feel her stance relax slightly when he was near, although her muscles still tightened under the rapid and strong movements of her training, as always. Her whole body worked into the throw: each muscle was elegantly highlighted as her arm extended, her back gave her motion, her core steadied, and her legs tied her to the ground.

"I don't want to see her," she then blurted out when he crossed the room to place a calm anger rune on her shoulder.

"You don't have to," he told her.

"But I wanna know why she's here," she added, crossing her arms and pouting. He raised an eyebrow.

"Benoît will tell us anyway," he said. She sighed and sat on the ground, her gear wet with sweat. She untied her hair to tie them again, this time slightly more neatly, as Edward let himself drop by her side with a grunt.

"All right there old man?" She teased.

"Shut up."

He shoved her shoulder affectionately as he settled in the patch of sun shining through the window. She chuckled, looking through the window and feeling the exhaustion of the day before stretching her mouth wide open.

"There must be something we don't know," she said. "There's no reason they should be asking us to evacuate. I mean, we're well situated despite the castle being remote from any mundane activity. Geographically we're in the middle of everything: we have one of the oldest Vampire Clans right in the old Montpellier and the biggest European pack in the Gévaudan which is not so far North. Also, the Warlocks of Montmaur are right next door, and you can't forget all the mundane coupeurs de feu are mostly from the Cévennes."

She picked up a large shard of wood which had probably flown by when she started attacking the targets as though they were demons.

"If he gets here, he's right next to everyone. Easy access to all communities."

"Not to mention that the Fey surround us," he sighed continuing her list. "Between the Leit du Grehsilou, la Conca and Taich Hill, they control the land."

She rested her head on his shoulder, looking by the window in front of her. The sun at its peak now, illuminated the woods around the domain. She sighed again.

"Do you still think they won't attack?" she asked after a second of silence. "This Institute solely survives because of the Accords and mostly because of the good faith of the Fair Folk."

"What's the point? I doubt they will bother to try to conquer a mostly empty institute."

"But he said they might come for something else than to bolster their numbers. D'you think it's got something to do with the thing?"

He chuckled like it was funny or something. His eyes were closed as he took in the sun like a lizard in the summer. He was cold blooded she was sure. He must have been a snake or something in another life.

"What thing?" He asked in feigned innocence.

"You know what thing. The one that came from the Los Angeles Institute in secret?"

"Oh, you mean the thing we know nothing about!"

"Precisely."

"Well, I surely do not know that he gave it to Malcom Fade this morning."

"Who?"

"High Warlock of Los Angeles or something," he replied.

What? Not that they should not trust a warlock but she had perused the Black Volume of the Dead. There was nothing allowed, no white magic, only the purest forms of darkness she had ever seen. That was the reason why it had appeared on Benoît's desk the morning after Andrew Blackthorn became an Endarkened. "A failsafe system we worked on," he had said. There was no fucking way some of these spells were not ever tempting, especially to an immortal she would think. It seemed too much of a risk.

"Why would he give such a dark volume to a Warlock?"

"So the Spiral Labyrinth could store it safely," he told her. "We have trustworthy people there, that look over the contents of the Labyrinth. There's a warlock — I read about her — she's actually a shadowhunter too!"

"Fuck off!"

"I'm not kidding! That's why the Spiral Labyrinth is so trusted. Theresa Herondale, look it up!"

"All right, how about you tell me all about that imaginary half-warlock half-nephilim woman of yours after my shower? Maybe you'll manage to put me to sleep," she grunted mid-stretch. He did not waste time getting up after her, berating her the whole way until she closed the bathroom door.

"Dude, I swear she's real! I can even prove it!"

Heart pouding, Ari watched, unable to do a single thing, frozen. Her parents were lying on the floor and all she could think of was that she needed to get to them. If she got to them, they would be okay right? Her legs unfroze. She started to walk from behind the wall to where they were when a harsh hand grabbed her with desperate anger and fear.

"Where are you going?" Christophe asked in alarm. "They're already dead!"

His voice echoed with an eeriness she could not place. All she knew was that he was lying. She bolted and ran to her parents, in a never ending run. With each step she took the room seemed to grow longer, her parents further. No. She pushed and pushed without being able to get to them. A sharp pain sliced through her forearm, though she could not see the cause.

Her eyes darted across the room until they fell on the creature that did it. Again, her legs froze in a mortifying paralysis that felt like her body was trying to shiver with cold but was stuck in place. All movement or thought impeded by the single feeling drenched in ice: fear. The demon launched itself towards her, yellow eyes, and white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. An angry screeched made it out of its throat which opened on another row of teeth.

In that moment, Ari knew she was supposed to die. Its talon cut down through air, ready to slice through her chest. She closed her eyes.

"ARIANNE!"

It was her little brother, Yan. But it was not his voice. He was not supposed to shout. When she opened her eyes. A little boy that looked just like her, looked at her with wide eyes, a knife in hand and a grimace she had always thought annoying, almost laughable, for it meant tears. There was nothing funny now, he whimpered and fell when the creature disappeared in smoke. A little boy without even his first rune, but a real shadowhunter nonetheless.

"ARI!"

She was shaken awake with such force that her head bumped against the bedpost. Ed was there, looking rumpled and freaked out. A few years ago, he would have told her it was just a nightmare. Now, he knew better.

"I'm awake," she told him when he still did not let go of her, even as she was rubbing the back of her head. "Was I screaming?"

"No, but I felt your arm, so I rushed here. Come on, sit up, it needs cleaning."

She looked down at her arm, she was clutching her brother's knife — the one Yan had tried to protect her with, the one that Christophe taught her to use before leaving — the blade was aimed inward and imbedded in her forearm. Ari only noticed now that the sheets were drenched in blood.

"Oh," she said.

"Yes, oh," Ed replied, softly taking her knife away, and cleaning the blood away.

A faint crow of a rooster from a nearby farm, sunlight filtering through the cracks of the shutters of her window. The daze of sleep was gone to give space to the crashing peacefulness of the day. All was silent in the Institute, as it always was, but ever since Renarusé warned every other Shadowhunter in the Enclave to go, Ari could not help but think the silence had changed. Like everyone in the house had gone on Holiday. That was ridiculous. It wasn't like she could usually hear other Shadowhunters from miles away.

As he cleaned the blood off her arm and drew the stinging iratzes that would heal her wound, she looked around her quite small, quite messy room with a sigh. It was barely big enough for her double bed and a desk, which suited her just fine. A tower of books sat on her desk with enough writing supplies for more than a gazillion weeks worth of letters to Diane. Piles of photographs, rolls of negatives, and couple of actually organised albums were spread over the little floor there was. She preferred to sit on the ground to look through them and make her scrapbooks. She could not see her 'art supplies' bag which meant, it most probably was underneath the bed.

Everything was in its place. She liked the mess, it allowed her to see where her things were.

"There," he said, giving a last pat at the clean skin with his mother's handkerchief.

Edward knew grief as well, the way she knew it. They did not talk much when he first arrived at the institute at the age of twelve, until they trained their anger away and broke into sobs, both telling each other what they were, what they did. She had bled, just like now, and he had cleaned her wound and knife, just like now: "our guilt is one now".

Her brother died protecting her from a demon, because she foolishly ran to her parents.

His mother died keeping her from drowning, because he foolishly fell into lake Lynn.

Well… She was not dead. She was all but dead, stuck in a forever sleep in the City of Bones with the silent brothers. He went to visit her weekly.

"You don't have to," he told her the first time. And even then, she replied:

"Thy people shall be my people."

He pushed onto the still sore skin of her arm, calling her back to the peaceful morning that contrasted greatly with her memories.

"Ouch! What was that for?" She pushed him away with a smile.

"For being an idiot! I told you to stop sleeping with knives," he smirked, laying nonchalantly on the bed despite the blood everywhere.

"I didn't think this one was still sharp enough to hurt."

She smiled with her lips pulled on the inside and a shrug.

"What do you wanna do today?" he asked. "We were supposed to have demonology studies with mrs Verlac, but she left for Idris, so…." he trailed.

"So, we're free."

She was still wearing that devilish grin of hers when wood clashed against wood in the middle of the Esplanade. Sparring and training was always good in the training room, but nothing was as exciting as doing so in the middle of a park at the center of town where mundanes played guitars, smoked and practiced slacklining.

Of course, they would not see Ed and Ari train, they made sure to wear mandolin runes to glamour themselves out of prying eyes. He drew it on her, and she held the stele as he drew it on himself. A rune placed by your parabatai was always stronger but Ari was not the best when it came to drawing.

She dived forward, wooden sword aimed at her opponent. He countered her attack, got the high ground on a bench and leaped on her other side. She jumped out of the way of his fake blade and they started to circle each other, with amused and cocky smirks playing on their lips.

"Your left side was open to me again," he told her. "You're gonna get hurt one day."

"You are literally the only one who could have noticed that," she shrugged, still carefully placing her feet on the grass to keep her balance as they circled each other.

"As I said, you're gonna get hurt one day." His eyes were alight with self-confident assholery.

"Before or after I kick your ass?"

She swung her sword before he could answer. He ducked, and with his own weapon hit her left side. He had one knee on the grassy ground, and his two hands gripping the handle of his sword tightly. At the contact, Ari grunted and froze, her arm stopped mid movement in her attack. She rolled her eyes.

"You were saying?"

"Fine!" she admitted, landing him a hand to get up.

Ed, in an attempt to surprise her, pulled on her hand and swung his leg hard against the inside of her knee to knock her to the ground. His sword was at her throat. He was happy, he was proud, the fucking idiot with his wide grin. She raised an eyebrow and looked down at her own hand with a smug smirk. She held her own wooden blade only a few centimetres away from his balls. Had he actually tried to kill her, had they had real weapons, he would be dead, castrated and then eviscerated by his own movements. She just had had to be quick enough to put the blade in the right position. His smile faded and he jumped away and rolled off her like she was actually going to try to hurt his precious package.

"You're slow," she smirked.

Both of them stayed on the ground, looking up at the bright blue sky, panting and sweating like pigs. The sun illuminated their skin, glinting with a thin layer of sweat. They stayed there for what may have been an hour and she came to wonder if he had fallen asleep. She put her sweater on. December in Southern France were quite mild — Ed would say they were hot which was far from the truth — but the chill was present enough that the wind would make her shiver.

Ed was still awake after all, and rummaging through her bag like he had every right to, that prat. He pulled out her instant camera, her latest fancy and wasted the last picture of the roll on her sorry ass.

"What are you doing?" She laughed. "You could have taken anything!"

"You look like such a mess with grass and pine needles and leaves in your hair and stuck to your sweaty clothes, I just had to document it!" He laughed.

She tried to make a grab for the picture, but he deftly held it out of reach until she gave up in a heap of laughter.

"You know, this is not what I had in mind when you said we were free."

"Oh? And what did you have in mind?"