A few more days past without him being able to feel anything other than rage, occasionally bursting into tears. He was training day and night. It seemed like it was the only thing he could do to rid himself of the doubt. To stop his mind from racing to far. He could still feel the hope that Ari had, the fear she felt, the burning, searing pain the demonic liquid was causing to her body. Everything in him screamed for it to stop except his heart. If it stopped, it meant Arianne was dead.

Her soul struggles to subsists until the right moment. He rather hoped to avoid thinking about what that meant. They had sworn to protect each other, and so he would find a way to do that. Right?

"It's not like you," he told his mother. "She's still walking around, she's in pain. She needs to be free of that pain."

The paleness of his mother's skin made her look like she was dead. Ed supposed she was… In a way. Death took many faces, none of which were ever pleasant. He could only hope it was more of a portal than a cul-de-sac. Something to walk through. Something he could find his loved-ones once he ended on the other side of it. He sighed.

"I wish you could know her, but maybe-"

Shouts, alarms, chaos. Shadowhunters were called to arms. Ed rushed out of there, put his gear on and strapped several seraph blades around his body. A crowd of Shadowhunters walked together towards the battlefield. He recognised a few famous faces that did not matter. They would all risk the same thing. His gut clenched at the thought of what might happen once he made it by the Citadel where the fight was currently taking place — there were many things worse than the most final face of Death.

Metal clashed against metal, determined shouts pushed hearts forward into battle, and he was no exception. Two Adamas blades in his hands, his movements were precise, graceful and accurate. Each attack was anticipated, each opponent spotted, and each blow avoided. Edward felt his blood pump through his veins, his heart pounding in his chest, and his weapons were extensions of his arms. He was a fierce warrior fighting for his life, fighting for his ideals, dangerously slashing his adversaries, cutting them down as they came. Fey and Endarkened alike, they were no match for him in that instant.

He could smell the seething skin, blood and sweat. He could hear screams, blades tearing through flesh and weapons whipping through the air. He could feel the sticky blood of feys on his gear, the dirt that had splashed on his body and the sweat trickling down his temple.

With one swift movement, he impaled a faerie with his seraph blade, and used her body as shield against a passing arrow, before pushing her against another opponent ready to charge at him. The first sword remained embedded into the stomach of his enemy, but he was able to stab the other with the second. That's when the worst that could have ever happened occurred. As he was left alone to pant loudly for only less than a second. He saw her.

Ari.

He had not even realised that the bond that had been pulled so tight it physically hurt during their separation, had eased. The only pain left was the scorching, bubbling bleed on his rune. He instinctively reached for it, touching it through the protective fabric of his gear. His Parabatai was standing in front of him, even through that cruel mask he would recognise her.

It was as if time had stopped around them and all he could see was Arianne's face. Her pretty and amused smile distorted into a cruel one. Her eyes that had once been green like home now looked horribly dark and blood thirsty. Yet, a glint in her eyes, that simple spark coupled with the fear he felt — which he knew was not his own — told him, his Ari was still there. She was not like the other Endarkened. All her angelic runes had not disappeared, for she still bore her Parabatai rune, which meant there was still hope.

Just as he had been entranced by her, it seemed she had only eyes for him. His heart stilled, and his ragged breath felt fresh and new, as if he had been dead but he were alive again. In the midst of battle, the two of them were alone. In the midst of chaos, and a cacophony of sounds that would tear one's mind, their words were spoken and resonated clearly as if they had been standing by the calm waters of the Esplanade.

"Ari," he barely a whisper.

For a moment, he saw his childhood friend, the one that had been there for him. The one he had shared a life with. The one that he carried with him, wherever and with whomever he was. The one that was part of him, his other half. Her cruel mask dawned on her traits again.

"I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed to find you hoping, Ed," she said. Some part of him bristled at the coldness of her voice, yet he noticed her brother's blade in her hand. It made no practical sense to use it, which meant it was an emotional choice. She was still in there.

"I can still feel you," he said pointing at the rune above his heart. "I know you're in there." Her laugh was a cold tint echoing through the air.

"Wishful thinking, chéri," she taunted. "The woman you knew is not there and she's never coming back." She grabbed another blade and with a single throw, cut into his shoulder. He grunted as he withdrew the weapon. She was not that intent on killing him: she never missed. "You're too slow." She smirked viciously.

"Please, Ari, listen to me!" He pleaded, despair egging at him. "Stay for me, for your sister and your brother! I know you are in there you can fight it!"

"Fight what? I've never felt freer in my life," she said. It was a lie, he knew it was. "There is no getting me back," she mocked. "You should let me go."

Before he could answer, she drew a longer sword out and with the aid of her brother's smaller blade attacked her parabatai. He parred her attack, their blades meeting in a spark. They were still for half a second.

"Entreat me not to leave thee. Or return from following after thee." He pushed her back.

"Is that why you are in the middle of this battle field, out of loyalty?" She sneered, before lunging forward in an attempt to strike him. Tears started to gather at his eyes, his throat to tighten.

"For whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge," he continued reciting his vows and pushing her back. She kept attacking and attacking.

"To save me?" She continued as though he were not even talking.

She was telling him something. He could feel her hope inside of him swell. With each blow, his wound in his shoulder hurt him, and she was relentlessly attacking him. He could not hold much longer. He grunted in pain.

"There is no saving me!" She shouted cutting through his defences as he was too slow to react and she knocked out his only weapon out of his hand.

His cheeks were flooded with tears. He had to protect her from herself. He had to free her from pain and hope to see her on the other side. Her hope pierced through him with his decision: Her soul struggles to subsists until the right moment. Because she doesn't want to be destroyed before being set free.

"Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God."

He attacked some more with his fists, but did not deal any blow that might truly hurt. As she attacked with her brother's knife, he grabbed her wrist and was able to take it away from her. He did not have a choice.

"You've go to let me go," she whispered with a wet, warm voice.

He heard her; the real her. She lunged again and yelled out in her attack. Raising her sword up in the air, her left side was open to him. He buried her brother's blade in it, dealing her a fatal blow.

Everything stood still, all sounds of battle fading into the background as her mouth opened failing to breath properly, and her eyebrows furrowed in pain. A small whimper escaped her lips. Her legs buckled under her, but he held her close, and laid her down gently, kneeling on the ground and bringing her onto his lap, leaning her head against his chest, cradling her in his arms. He was holding her body close to him, unable to control the amount of tears that streamed down his cheeks, the sobs that shook his chest as she looked at him.

"Where thou diest," he was interrupted by his own sobs, and in that moment in her eyes, he saw her. In her last moment, he could see his Ari, her green eyes truly her own — home.

"Eddie," she whispered.

The word sounded like a question, but he felt her certainty as his rune solidified into a dark line again. Relief from the scorch washing over him, like a wave. It stayed solid until her last breath escaped her lips in a sigh of relief. When her life faded away, so did his rune. It was but a scar now, ugly, raised white — testimony of his loss.

He held her close, as he heard her last breath escape her lips. He had killed his parabatai. He felt as though he had died as he clutched to her body, rocking it as though she was sleeping, sobbing furiously under the waves of sorrow and guilt and immense sadness he was feeling. He closed her eyes.

"Where thou diest," he repeated. "Will I die…" Because without her he was dead. His eyes scanned over her body and found her brother's blade still imbedded in her. He pulled it out with wet sound and made the only decision he knew made sense. "And there shall I be buried."

He said as he slit his wrists. His blood started to mingle with hers as it run down his wrists and on her body and onto the earth. He laid her down gently and let himself lie beside her.

"The Angel do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me."

Like the blood, his energy was drained, but before he closed his eyes, he chose to look at her face one last time. Despite the war raging on beside them, he felt at peace. He could almost hear the chant of the rooster from the farm near the institute. She looked like she always did when he woke up next to her: Gentle, soft and asleep. And so he closed his eyes and let himself fade away in a dream.