Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instrument series. Everything recognisable belongs to Cassandra Clare.
Passages taken from City of Glass and City of Heavenly Fire.
So the last chapter. Thank you so much for getting here, it means the world to me. I feel like I should apologise for using so much time on this last update, but I wanted it to be the way I had planned from the beginning of this story, so it took a bit more time than other chapters.
THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR AMAZING, WONDERFUL REVIEWS.
It felt like the walls were closing in on her. Pushing her around. People were going mad. Some, like the guards on duty, were already fighting off the large shadowy creatures. Others tried to push their way towards the large doors. Clary pressed harder towards the walls as people stormed out of the building. Her eyes searching after someone familiar.
She spotted a woman with red hair at the other side of the room. But before she could even open her mouth to yell her mother's name, the woman turned and revealed herself as someone else.
Clary tried to avoid following the crowd outside, giving in to the large masses of people. She cursed herself for not having any sort of weapon with her. But how could she have accomplish bringing a large sword inside the Gard without anyone noticing. That would be a feat to big even for Clary.
"Everyone! Stay calm!" someone who sounded like Imogen Herondale yelled. Clary turned around to watch the grey-haired woman sweep across the floor. Imogen managed to compose at least twenty of the nearest Nephilim gathering around her. They could still hear the yells from panicked mothers. The fighting grunts from Shadowhunters trying to hold back the rest of the demons trying to get inside.
"Everyone who is ready to fight, you do so, everyone else will follow Mr. Wayland outside to safety as soon as we can clear the back doors. There is no need for any of you to panic." Imogen spoke with such calming words, even Clary, who knew this was definitely a moment for, if not panic, sharpness and focus.
Clary tried again to move her eyes around the room, her back pressed against the wall. She couldn't catch a glimpse of Jocelyn, Luke or even Jonathan. How could they have all disappeared, she'd not even ten minutes ago embraced her mother. She'd felt the warm arms of her mother press against her back. Now they were all gone.
Clary's emerald eyes caught sight of someone in the back of the crowd. He wore a black fighting gear, like most of the others in the room, but something had caught Clary's attention. She noticed a small bronze-coloured rune on the left side of his jacked.
Clary looked down on her own black fighting gear. The rune Maggie burned into the leather of her jacket shone in orange colours, more specific saffron. Identical to the man's rune, but the colour had a different shade.
Clary recalled the children's rhyme she'd read in one of the books she had found in the Morgenstern manor's old library;
Black for hunting through the night
For death and mourning, the colour's white.
Gold for a bride in her wedding gown,
And red to call enchantment down.
White silk when our bodies burn,
Blue banners when the lost return.
Flame for the birth of a Nephilim,
And to wash away our sins.
Gray for knowledge best untold,
Bone for those who don't grow old.
Saffron lights the victory march,
Green will mend our broken hearts.
Silver for the demon towers,
And bronze to summon wicked powers.
Clary closed her eyes to keep her shock invisible. Bronze to summon wicked powers. She remembered the day when she had asked for the rune on her own gear. Maggie nodded proud and took the jacket as soon as Clary had told her what she wanted. A small, painful sting pressed on Clary's chest when she remembered Maggie. How she remembered that she would never be able to see the beautiful woman again.
Clary opened her eyes again, focusing on the small rune. She felt sick to her stomach. Out of all the ways her father could send her a message, out of all the ways he could treat her like shit, and he had to do it this way. Not only using Maggie's death to get to her, but utilize Clary's own pride and dignity to mess with her head.
The Circle member walked closer to the crowd of people, if not for the little bronze rune, he looked like any other Shadowhunter. To the Nephilim of the Clave, he wouldn't strike as anything dangerous or unfamiliar. Clary started moving too, her feet stepping towards the man in black.
Clary saw something shine between his long, curled fingers. A circular ball of metal. Clary stopped breathing. She didn't know how loud she yelled, but she knew some sort of sound had escaped her lips. Not that it would help anything. Most people ran away when they heard Clary's warning voice, but the Circle member was not going to harm them. He threw the ball of demon acid at the grey woman. The splinters of the exploding metal caught Imogen in the chest.
Most of the people had run away. Ignoring the dying woman's last order to keep calm.
"No." Clary mumbled behind the hands she'd pressed to her lips.
Imogen had crashed to the floor, her body twitching. A large crimson stain grew thick on her chest, blended together with the black liquid of demon acid. Clary had seen what Maggie's invention had done to people, only a small cut could be deadly if not treated fast.
The older woman's eyes rolled back in her head, showing the white parts of her eyeballs only.
Clary froze, only able to watch the life run out of the older Shadowhunter. Clary turned fast on her heels. The crowd still blocked the doors, but they had opened a little bit and she managed, still in shock, to press herself through the doors.
Clary didn't turn around to look at the now dead woman; she couldn't bring herself to do so.
The massive stone floor clicked hard against her shoes as she tried to orientate herself back to the main gates. Out on the open, dark land of Angel Square. People outside had collected their minds enough to start fighting back. She could see Shadowhunters in black, dance around the square. They were swinging their glowing weapons at the black creatures of the night. She hadn't even realised it was dark outside.
Something came flying past Clary, wind brushing against her face like a cold slap on the cheek. She saw the demon crash into a person, his body falling to the ground as he grunted angry.
She recognised the man as Stephen Herondale. Clary froze again. Watching, praying that he would get up and start fighting. The demon, a hydra, was one of the weaker types of demons in the world. If Stephen only gathered enough strength to get up, he wouldn't struggle much with finishing it off.
And to Clary's relief, he did. The demon disappeared into thin air.
Jace's father didn't notice Clary as she ran past him, and for that, Clary was grateful. If she failed her already fatuous plan, it would be best if everyone just thought she died in the fight. Her plan was a full on suicide mission, she knew that, she'd known that for a long time. Hoped it wouldn't come to this, but the second she saw the Circle members spread across the room, she knew it would be inevitable.
Clary stumbled over something on the ground. Looking down, it was the lifeless body of the same red-haired woman she'd caught sight of inside the Gard. Her eyes wide open, a baby blue colour. Clary pressed her lips together and to her own surprise the three words left her lips, "Ave Atque Vale." She didn't know the woman's name.
Clary was about to walk away when she noticed the silver handle in the red-haired woman's hand. Almost hidden behind a steel grip. Clary felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she picked the sword up. Then, she walked away.
She'd told Jon earlier that day that she'd not had a plan B, and maybe she'd not been completely honest with him nor herself at that point.
Clary seemed to be impervious by the cold air brushing against her body. She could hear the leaves crumble under her feet as she ran with odious steps. The battle she was running away from, still a faint sound detected by her ears.
xxxx
The pain began to undulate in increasing degree, his head aching like he'd got hit by bus.
Groaning annoyed, Jace moved away from the demon, and he did so with great speed. He raised his illuminated Seraph blade, striking the Scorpios demon's side. The demon hissed, from both pain and abhor.
Jace saw Alec move up behind another demon, his steps undetectable. His movements as graceful as any other Shadowhunter. Alec's sword went through the demon like butter. Leaving an oil clump on the ground where the Moloch demon had readied itself for an attack.
"Nice one, Lightwood." Jace shouted, a grin on his lips.
Alec turned in surprise, "Oh, hey." He nodded his head short, he studied his parabatai for a few seconds, "Trust only a Herondale to smile in a situation like this." He sighed, before running up to him, grabbing his shoulder.
"Where are we going?" Jace asked confused, but he followed behind Alec anyway.
"We're finding Max and Iwan of course." Jace could hear the intense eye-rolling going on ahead of him.
"OH SHIT!" Jace exclaimed.
"Please tell me you'd not forgotten about them." Alec turned to look at his best friend, a disappointed look on his face.
"No, of course not, not exactly forgotten." Jace answered out of breath.
xxxx
"I see you've fled." His words were dancing on the edge of a malicious smile as he turned around. "The fight got a bit too intense for you, my dear?" Valentine asked her, his voice sending visible chills down Clary's arms and spine.
"You would love that, wouldn't you?" she replied, trying her best to keep her voice as monotone as possible.
"Oh, no." he shook his head, a surprised look on his face. "Not at all, my sweet Clarissa."
Clary stood with her feet planted on the ground as he began walking towards her. Valentine stopped just moments before he crashed into her. He put one gentle hand on her cheek as his dark eyes pinned her gaze to his.
"There's a lesson in all this, sweetheart." He began, letting his fingers brush over the pink scar on her cheek. "You've played with fire for too long, you've let victory go to your head. But have I not told you, those who play with fire.." Clary didn't let him finish his sentence, instead, she did it for him, "They always get burned."
"Exactly." Valentine laughed with acrimony in his voice.
Clary decided to look up at him again, her lips parting, as if she was ready to speak.
"Yes?" Valentine's acerbic tone rang in her ears.
"I have a question." Clary replied.
"Ah, finally." Valentine laughed, "Ask away, my dear."
"I've been wondering for a while now, if, you know, you've always been this way." Clary drew a deep breath before continuing, "because… I remember you, I remember what you used to be, and it wasn't this, this.. this monster." Clary watched a vague display of emotions running across his face. "So I was wondering, have you always been one? A monster I mean, or did this hatred, this constant hate for the world we've been living in, did it shape you?"
Valentine didn't reply, at least he used his time well, watching her with intense black eyes. He started to shake his head, "I am not the monster, darling." He smiled calm, "All I've ever wanted for you, is that you're safe, out of the claws of the people that will hurt you."
Clary rolled her eyes, "You mean- you." She gave him a slight nod with her head in his direction.
"If that's what you think, oh Clarissa, you're even more foolish than I originally thought." He replied.
"You know, you can insult me all you want, it is not going to exactly help your case, Valentine."
"Are we really going there, Clarissa?" Valentine smiled.
Clary didn't answer him, just watched as he started to turn around. "Now it's my turn to ask you a question." He announced, "How did you know where you would find me?"
Clary laughed a haunting laugh, "It wasn't that hard. I knew you would keep yourself out of the real fight. I also knew you wouldn't let your people, or should I say, your demons in this case, fight without you observing them. I knew you had the sword, which meant you still controlled the demons, the rest, it's all your doings, father."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, much more serious this time.
"Once upon a time.." Clary began, her voice low, "there was a girl, and she had a mother, a father and one older brother. They lived in a big, beautiful house, surrounded by the people they loved. This family was a powerful one. Their main goal was to protect those who were unaware of the dangers that surrounded them. The mother and father were deeply in love, or at least that was how the fairy tale version of the story went. The truth," Clary chuckled, "Oh, the truth was nothing like a modern fairy tale. The true story goes something like this; the father of the family he was a brilliant, cunning and over-all a powerful man. But oh, how the family had secrets.. This man, he was the true definition of how too much power can lead to corruption. I think he stopped loving people, not only his friends, but his family. His own wife-" "SHUT UP!" Clary knew he'd hit her, her cheek burning hot.
"What? You can't handle the truth?" Clary ignored the red mark she knew had begun to form over her already pink scar.
"I asked you a question." He replied angry.
"I know, I was answering it." Clary laughed bitter, "If you'd let me talk, instead of trying to knock me unconscious." She said. "You might have your answers already." Clary continued, watching Valentine's angry expression grow. When he didn't answer, Clary flashed him a cunning smile and continued.
"As I was saying.. This man, he stopped loving people, he started hurting them instead. Breaking the world his people had used ages to build. He manipulated his way to the top, until the only thing standing in his way of complete power, was a war. For years, he hid. Humiliated by his failure. And to make a long story short, he used to tell his daughter about this lake, a lake so glittering blue it could fool even the brightest. And I have to say, father, it is living up to the expectations." Clary finished short.
"Hmm.. The Lake of Dreams." Valentine sighed as he turned around to look at the water. "I wouldn't think you remembered that." He told her.
"I remember everything you've ever told me, father." Clary replied, gripping her sword, "Which means I also remember you telling me I had to pick a side to fight on. And I think we both know I didn't pick yours."
Clary saw the weapon buffet towards her. It looked like a desperate last try to shut her up.
She drew her own sword, blocking the next attack.
She had to get out of this defensive state. She had to be the one to attack, but Valentine was angry, and for some reason his anger provoked more collected fighting from his side. He struck with graceful, lightning-fast moves. Once managing to smack Clary with the blunt side of his sword.
The fight continued like an endless dance. A fight between people who knew each other like they did. It was already doomed to fail. Valentine knew everything Clary knew, he had after all been the one to teach her. And in return, she knew all his secret moves. Nothing went unnoticed by the adversary. Of course her father had always been the best, he was fast and Clary had always had trouble keeping up with his proficiency.
Clary swung her sword once more, this time managing to scrape his skin.
"You should just give up already, darling. We both know which one of us will last the longest." Valentine's breath was heavy.
Clary's eyes flickered as she noticed the shining sword lying in the cold, dead grass.
The second of distraction played in favour of Valentine, who struck his daughter hard in the leather jacket.
Clary grunted loud, her jacket taking most of the real damage, but she knew it would be a real, ugly looking bruise there later. Another blow came faster than she'd expected, kicking her to the ground.
Clary tried to get up, but Valentine's foot kicked her in the side hard, forcing her down again. She cried out in anger.
Valentine acted, out of the same wrath he'd shown towards the people Clary had seen him with under his interrogations. While he'd been the warrior side of himself. He grabbed Clary by the collar of her jacket, using all his strength to lift a struggling girl from the ground. He didn't show any emotions as he was about to throw Clary hard against the stone-ground.
"Why?" Clary yelled, distracting her father.
"Why did you come here?" she explained her earlier sentence.
Valentine smirked, "I think you answered that a few minutes ago, sweetheart. Now you're just stalling." His eyes were as black as coal as he stared into her emerald ones.
"Even if I am, you've never told me why you like it so much." Clary never let go of his vexed gaze, a smirk forming on the edge of her bloody lips, "but then again, maybe it's because it's like you. You feel like you fit in when you're here, after all it is poisonous." Clary watched him; the smallest of reaction escaped his anger. Discomfort, maybe even pain.
"Whatever makes you sleep at night, sweetheart." Valentine answered abrupt.
Clary laughed at the irony of it all. Here she was, minutes away from losing the fight with her father, and they were having the most casual conversation they'd had in months. It might not be a heart touching conversation, but it was something Clary had longed for. Just a few words. And this, this was the closest she would ever get to that again.
"It's called the Mirror of Dreams for a reason, Clary." Valentine looked away for a millisecond, not letting Clary get away.
She looked up, eyes wide, "The what?"
"The lake." He answered irritated, done with Clary's attempts of keeping herself alive for a few minutes longer.
He didn't waste any more time, Clary got thrown against the stone, her head exploding from the unexpected crash. She had to roll away; her feet wouldn't be able to get her up and standing fast enough to get her to safety.
Valentine slammed his sword hard down, the tip of the sharp blade stuck in the ground as Clary managed to dodge the deadly blade.
xxxx
Jace followed Alec with long steps. They were running through the burning buildings like their lives depended on it. And if Jace had to be completely honest, their lives did depend on their speed at this moment.
There were at least five demon attacks they'd managed to escape just from running. After remembering that Iwan was in the City, he'd cleared his mind of anything else occupying his thoughts. No matter what, his brother came first.
"We're not far away; we should've seen her now!" Alec yelled behind him, his words getting caught in the wind, making his voice a soft whisper.
"Are you sure she heard you right? You don't think she's inside waiting?" Jace managed to ask between deep breathes.
"No, she said, quoting; I'll meet you by the Armory in ten." Alec exclaimed.
"Ok, fine. I.." Jace looked around, trying to spot the raven-haired girl. "I am sure she's fine." He said, not only to comfort the brother of the girl, but to comfort himself as well.
"You don't know that!" Alec spat a bit harsher that he'd planned. Jace noticed how his parabatai bit his lip short. "I'm sorry." He brushed his fingers fast through his unkempt black hair. "I didn't mean to.."
"I know." Jace smiled.
"I also know that standing here won't do any good, what do you say we find Izzy and go save so Novices?" Jace slapped Alec brotherly on the back, his smile disappearing as soon as he was out of the other boy's sight.
xxxx
Clary had never been a believer. Never believed in the stories she'd been told as a child. Not that there were that many. She'd never believed the in the story about how Shadowhunters were created. Angels didn't exist. She didn't know why she refused to believe, but something about living with Valentine and his evil influence for almost fifteen years might have something to do with it.
She remembered the demon, Moloch, told her something about an greater amount of angel blood flowing in her veins. That, she did not believed. She did not believe something before she could see it with her own eyes. Never trust a word a man tells you, not unless he's willing to show you.
Clary did not believe I miracles either. At least not until now.
Clary kicked out from where she was lying on the cold ground. She managed to force her father out of balance, buying herself a few more seconds to get up.
As she stumbled to her feet, she noticed blood running down her torso. Thick and red. A very dark colour.
"Oh god." She whispered scared. She wasn't ready for the end. She'd known it would be today, but it couldn't come this soon. She wasn't finished.
Smoke rose from the City of Alicante. Red burning flames covering the view. Clary could no longer here any screams. Maybe the fight had died out? Maybe Valentine had already won? Or lost, she forced her mind to think.
But deep inside, she knew the war was still going strong. It was just the chaos that had died out. They had managed to organize themselves enough to maybe stand a chance.
Clary thought of Jace. Was he alive? Jon, Jocelyn, Luke, Alec and Isabelle.
She saw Valentine raise his sword one more time. Ready to make the final, deadly cut.
But Clary wasn't ready. She'd never believed in miracles. But right now, she needed it. She needed to believe. She had no other choice than believing she was right.
If angels did exist, if she did have more angel blood inside her, she should be able to stop her father for a little longer. She had to gather the strength to keep fighting.
She blocked the pain out, jumping to the side. She was not dying yet.
"Just give up already, my darling."
Valentine's words were like acid to her brain. Burning the provocative words in her subconscious.
Clary knew her father was better than her when fighting in a confined space. She needed to expand her limits if she wanted to keep herself alive.
An idea popped into her head, a crazy idea. If it didn't work, she was already dead. But if did, she could do what she needed to do, and have her father off her back for more than at least ten minutes.
Clary ran. Her feet threatening to crumble under the pressure of moving. She ran towards the shining metal lying a few feet away from them. Picking it up with incredible speed. The heavy sword felt just as painful to hold as the last time. Valentine hadn't expected her changing her fighting methods, he'd not seen any of it coming.
He turned, surprise shining on his face. But it didn't last very long. Clary twisted her hand in the grip of the sword, so that the handle would be her weapon and not the blade itself.
She'd gotten her space for as long as she needed. Now they would fight on his level again. And she had to believe she would win.
As he moved closer, Clary was ready. He had a calm, but still bemused expression planted on his old face. This was her father. She couldn't kill him. It was like the demon had told her. This was her weakness. The fear of killing her own father.
Her hands were shaking as she watched the grin on Valentine's lips grow. "What are you doing, Clarissa?" he asked.
"Finishing something I should have done a long time ago." Clary whispered, she didn't even know if he could hear her.
The hilt in Clary's hand was buffeted towards him. Another move that shocked even her. He fell to the ground gasping, and before he could get up, Clary did what he'd tried to do to her.
The blade of Maellartach bored through his skin. Valentine screamed. A sound that surprised Clary. She didn't think she'd ever heard him make such a sound before. The blade went down into the hard ground. Making it impossible for her father to get it out of his bleeding shoulder.
"That's what I'm doing, father." She spat at him before she kneeled down next to the heavy breathing man.
Clary found his stele faster than she could even hope for.
Running down to the lake with shaking hand, she inhaled, collected her mind and forced herself to see. A million pictures flashed before her eyes as she started drawing. The cold ground underneath her fingers started to glow.
xxxx
"No, no, no!" Alec yelled. His voice shaking like crazy between his short words.
"DAMNIT!" Jace brushed his hands through his hair, the shadows of someone on the ground had caught their eyes. Frightened, they ran side by side towards the person lying on the ground. Her cries could be heard from a few feet away.
Muffled moans echoed in the alley. Isabelle laid on her back, her breathing rapid.
Alec kneeled next to his sister, the panicked expression in his eyes started to form small tears in the corners of his eyes. "Hey, Iz. Iz," he repeated her name until she looked up at him, "You're going to be okay." He whispered in horror.
"Jace, your stele!" he wrapped his hands around Isabelle's pale, blood-stained fingers. She was shaking, her teeth chattering.
"It-" she tried to speak, "It was a bloody Hellhound." She laughed in panic.
"Shh, try not to speak." Jace told her as he placed his silvery twig on the side of Isabelle's wounded skin. Her whole leg was pretty messed up. Five large cuts, crimson blood pouring from the Hellhound's bite.
"I'm sorry I sabotaged you guys." Isabelle whispered sincere.
Alec laughed short, "What are you talking about?" Jace could hear his thick throat, he was forcing his words out.
Jace drew three iratze's on her pale skin, waiting for the wound to close.
"Nothing is happening!" he whispered to his parabatai.
"What do you mean?" Alec looked at Isabelle's leg.
"I mean, it's not healing." Jace raised his voice to much, because the next person to speak up, was Isabelle. "It wasn't its teeth. It was the tail."
Alec looked at his sister, his eyes blank from panicked tears. "SO? It should've healed anyway!" he snapped at her.
"It's too poisonous." Jace whispered, taking the words from Isabelle before she managed to gather the strength to speak.
"No!" Alec slammed his fist in the ground. "I'm not letting you die." He sounded scared.
"Of course we're not letting her die." Jace agreed. If it hadn't been such an emotional moment, he would've laughed at his Parabatai's stupidity.
Jace saw Isabelle closing her eyes, "Hey, Iz, you stay awake okay? No sleeping during a war." He tried to wake her up again.
"Mhm.." Isabelle answered to Jace's relief.
"We're going to get you out of here." He mumbled as he carefully picked up the girl from the cold ground. "Please don't die in my arms, that would be too much of a cliché." Jace whispered into the girl's ear, receiving something that sounded like a small grunt back.
xxxx
Clary didn't know what she was doing. Her hand was moving at its own. Marks she'd never even studied for real. She knew they were summoning runes. Binding runes. Much like the runes around the fake Moloch-demon her father had showed her all those years back.
When she was done drawing the runes on the ground around her, she took out the small card from her pocket.
The beautiful, hand-painted card. She didn't know if it would work, but she had to try.
She placed the twig down on the tarot card. "Please don't let me down now." She whispered to herself. A few lines flashed before her eyes. She scribbled them down.
She inhaled. Exhaled. Brushed her fingers over the card. No, she didn't. Her fingers disappeared. Entering the card. She felt her fingers touch something solid and a chill ran down her spine.
Pulling her hand out, she was staring at the most beautiful object she'd ever seen with her own eyes. The gilded, glassine chalice was resting in her firm grip. The Mortal cup carved from adamas and dipped in gold. She was actually holding it. This was something she'd wanted for so long, she didn't know if it was real or not.
She had to believe it was.
Clary was careful when she placed the cup on the ground beneath her. Turning around to watch her father struggling to get free.
"Not so fun to be on the losing side?" Clary asked with a malicious smile on her lips.
"I don't know, never been on it before." Valentine answered, his voice sounded nonchalant as he spoke.
"That's brave words for someone with a sword speared through their body." Clary replied.
"You're not going to kill me, darling." His words sunk in on Clary. Was she?
"We'll see about that." Clary told him, placing his own stele on him. Drawing a binding rune on his left leg to keep him from moving.
"This might hurt a little bit." Clary told him. She gripped the hilt of the Mortal Sword and pulled.
Valentine grunted angry, trying to keep his pained expression from showing.
Clary didn't spare him much attention, her eyes glanced over at the city in flames. A clump formed in her throat.
Stepping back towards the runes on the ground, she picked up the cup with shaky hands. Clary began whispering. She'd studied summoning spells when she was fourteen. She still remembered every word.
She threw the golden cup into the lake. Watching as it started shining for a few seconds before it hit the silvery water of the lake, sinking. Clary felt the heat of the runes she'd placed on the ground starting to warm up her frozen body. They too, were giving off a bright, blinding light.
Clary fastened her grip on the sword in her right hand. She lifted the heavy Mortal Sword over her head, and as she let go, she watched the sword spin in the air.
Everything went silent for a few seconds. Clary didn't know why, but she felt disappointed. It wasn't before a great plume rose from the silver and black water before her. She gasped surprised.
She watched as the lake exploded, a large tidal wave crashed right before her. At first she saw nothing. Then a brilliant, blinding light caught her eyes and she jumped back.
"Oh, my." She whispered terrified.
Her eyes burned, tears starting to gather behind her stinging eyes.
Raziel. It was the most beautiful creature Clary had ever seen. His elegant wings, the same gold as the colour of the Cup Clary had thrown into the now vanishing lake. Gold and silver overwhelmed her as she looked at the angel.
The angel spoke, sending another cold chill down Clary's back. Making the hair on her arms and neck stand.
It has been a thousand years since I was last summoned to this place. Jonathan Shadowhunter called on me then, and begged me to mix my blood with the blood of mortal men in a Cup and create a race of warriors who would rid this earth of demonkind. I did all that he asked and told him I would do no more. Why do you summon me now, Nephilim?
Clary was knocked backwards as she heard Raziel spoke a voice like the sweetest melodies she'd heard all at once.
Clary opened her mouth to speak, but fear overwhelmed her before the words left her mouth.
She looked up at the blinding angel, trying to find back to her words.
"The race you once created, the Nephilim, they are in grave danger. A war has risen, and it's between the shared blood of our kind. We are killing ourselves, and, and.." Clary didn't finish the sentence.
Why would I care if you throw my gift away? Are you asking me to salvage the race of the Nephilim, young Morning Star?
"No." Clary noticed the stiff tone in the angel's voice. "I'm asking you to stop it! You can do that, can't you?" She asked him, her voice shaking like a leaf.
Make it stop? the angel sounded amused as he spoke in Clary's direction. Of course I can, but why do you think I will help you, Shadowhunter?
Clary felt the tears of her panic brush over her cheeks. "I started this. Too many people have died because of me, I don't care if you kill me in the proses, but please, Raziel, don't let anyone else die because of the mistakes I have made." Clary felt her tears fall from face, landing softly on the glowing runes.
The angel didn't speak, he just looked at Clary. The thousand eyes of his wings watching her with intense gold.
You are bleeding, young Morning Star, why?
Clary looked down at herself, surprised by his words. "I.." Clary stuttered.
"As I said, we are at war. That's what happens when you fight."
And, do you mind telling me what side you are on? His voice had calmed, like something Clary had said had softened him.
Clary looked up at the angel. What side she was on? Wasn't that a ridiculous question?
No, not at all. Your father have formed a Circle of Shadowhunter, fighting for what they believe is right. It's a simple question, do you think he is fighting for the good of his people?
Clary didn't even notice the fact that Raziel read her mind, "I did. At one time, I did. But I learned the truth, saw the world of my people in a new way. The Nephilim might be tough and bold creatures. Hell, maybe even stupid." Clary covered her mouth, frightened for her live by her choice of words.
A sound rang in her head. At first Clary thought he was yelling, but the melody, it sounded like laughter.
"I, I'm sorry. What I'm trying to say is, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that my father was wrong, and he still is. I don't care how you do it, I just need to correct my wrongs."
It looked like the angel nodded his head at her, Clarissa Morgenstern, you've told me already that you are willing to die for the cause.
Clary nodded her head, horror filling her body. "Yes." She whispered.
From what I've seen, your intentions are pure. You seek a greater good, but are you willing to sacrifice what the end of such a war will turn out to be?
"Yes." Clary answered bemused.
A piercing scream filled her ears. Clary turned around, her eyes catching sight of Valentine's twitching body moving in pain.
"What are you doing to him?" She asked, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.
Testing you, Clarissa Morgenstern. I am willing to help you find peace for the people of Idris, but I want you to think carefully about the costs.
Clary understood what he meant. The cost was not her life. It had never been about her. She didn't start this war, it was all her father. He was the cost.
Was she willing to sacrifice his life? Did she have a choice?
Clary remembered what Agramon had told her;
"You are what I like to call the soldier. Fighting for what you believe is right, but come on dear, are you sure you're fighting for the right side?"
" What do you mean?" she'd asked back.
"Your fear." He said. "It's killing your own father."
Clary felt perspiration form on her forehead. Was she sure? Clary didn't know if she would be able to live knowing she'd killed him. She'd went into this thinking she would be the one to die. She'd been ready. Was she ready to let her own father go?
Clary looked up at the angel. His wings still spread, shining of gold.
"Yes." Clary replied for a third time.
Close your eyes, Clarissa Morgenstern.
Clary did as the angel asked of her, not daring to refuse. Her heart beating hard in her chest, letting all her emotions roar inside her.
The screaming had stopped a long time ago, everything had been silent, until Clary heard the loud snapping noise. She knew what had happened, but she willed herself not to look.
Clary waited a minute before she opened her eyes again. The angel was gone. The lake back in place.
She was the Mortal Cup and Sword lying on the cold ground, almost brushing the edge of the lake. She turned around, looking at Alicante. Her eyes welled up with tears again as she saw the silence over the city. Smoke was escaping from every corner, the glass towers had lost their glow, but at least the war was over.
Clary looked down at the dead body of her father. A cry escaped her lips like a bubble of imprisoned emotions. She ran over to him, still in shock, she kneeled next to the lifeless body.
Guilt burned beneath her skin as soon as her fingers brushed over Valentine's cold face.
"What have I done? Oh god, what have I done?" She repeated those four words over and over. Her tears came like someone had pressed a non-stop button.
"What have I done?"
xxxx
"Izzy?" Alec shook the girl carefully, "Hey, Iz?" One could detect the faint smile on the older brother's lips as he said the girl's name.
Max sat on the other side of his sister's pale form.
She'd been so close to dying. Alec had almost given up hope. They all had, until something happened. The demons outside the building disappeared, the fight died down in a matter of seconds. And Isabelle had started to heal.
If they didn't know better, they would call it a miracle. But miracles didn't happen in the world of the Nephilim.
xxxx
Clary had decided to draw a healing rune on her own skin, making sure she wouldn't bleed to death. She sat in silence, watching the skin on her father's face turn a cold, white colour. She didn't know if she was going into shock, or if she'd already passed that point, jumping right on the insanity train.
She didn't know how long she sat there, shifting her gaze between the Glass City and her father. What she did notice, was that it was long enough for someone to come towards her. A few voices reaching out to her, but their words got lost on their way over.
She felt a familiar voice breathe against her ear, trying to get her to move. She didn't.
"Clary, darling, you're ice cold, we need to get you back to the City." It was Jocelyn. Clary barely registered her words.
xxxx
Clary hadn't gone to any of the funerals. Too many people had died. She couldn't bring herself to show her face at any of them. Especially not her own father's, because they did have a funeral him too. Not a big one, like they'd had with the warriors of the Clave, but a small one. Clary didn't come.
The mood inside the Institute had been eating at Clary's guilt for a week now. Too many people had died. Imogen Herondale, as Clary had witnessed with her own eyes, Robert Lightwood had been killed by a herd of Hellhounds, Irina Cartwright, Jia Penhallow was the woman who'd declared Clary's freedom, she too had died in the Mortal War. Clary listed the names of the people who had died over and over in her head.
"Clary.." A voice came from the hallway. "Are you in here?"
Clary didn't answer to begin with, his voice was too soft and wonderful for her to have. She couldn't take him down with her. She wasn't worth it.
"Clary, that wasn't really a question, it was me telling you I'm coming in." Jace opened the door to her room, making the door hinges squeak.
"Okay. What's bothering you?" He asked, he already knew the answer, but this was his way of making her talk.
"What makes you think something is bothering me?" Clary replied.
"You're really quiet, and I've barely seen you the last week."
"I'm always really quiet," Clary defended herself.
"Not like this. You usually have some kind of sarcastic comment." Jace tried to smile, washing away his sad expression.
Clary let out an hollow laugh, "I'm just thinking."
"About what?" His voice brushed on Clary's skin like silk.
"It's none of your business." Clary started, but her feeling started to press through. "I'm never going to have a normal life."
"You're a Shadowhunter. No. Most likely not." Jace tried to smile at her.
"It's all going to follow me forever."
"Clary-" he looked at her with his dark, golden eyes.
"I'm never really gonna to be happy ever again, am I?" She looked back up at him.
"That's not true." Jace shook his head.
"It is." Clary felt her tears form in the corner of her eyes again. She'd cried more in the last week than she'd done in her whole life.
"Clary, look at me." Jace placed his hand on the side of Clary's cheek. Touching the pink scar on her face. "We all went through some major crap last week, nobody blames you for feeling the way you feel. Nobody blames you for what happened that day. And certainly, nobody blames you for the fact that we lost people that day. We're Shadowhunters, that's what happens." Jace looked into Clary's blank emerald eyes as he spoke.
"And just for the record." Jace smiled carefully, "I am one hundred percent sure you're going to live a very happy life." Jace let his lips brush Clary's with the power of a leaf. Not daring to ask for too much.
Clary didn't reply. Her eyes spoke everything he needed to know. Everything she wanted to say.
"Thank you." She whispered as she fell into his warm lips.
Thank you again for reading Undefined Darkness. Hope you liked the story. Tell me in a review what you thought, and do you want a sequel?