(( CityofClockworkAngels: omg thank you so much! :DDD I hope you enjoy this chapter ~ let me know what you think! ))
There was a rune for this, Jace thought.
He closed his eyes, somehow feeling that the darkness around him wasn't enough to help him trace the rune by heart, even with the blooming light of his stele once he started moving the tip against his forearm. Taking in a slow breath, Jace waited for the rune's effects to light his way. All he knew so far was that the ground which broke his fall was made of dirt and rocks, compact and stale. Not much oxygen traveled down here, wherever 'here' was.
His eyes began tingling, and Jace knew the rune had worked. Nothing around him changed, rather his own eyes glossed over with cat-like slits, enabling him to see clearly through the solid darkness around him.
"Queen Soraya?" His voice boomed, circling back in a sinking echo. "Hm," he kicked a rock out of the way, "this is going to be annoying."
He brought the stele back up to his arm and, this time able to see his penmanship, Jace traced a rather elegant rendition of a flying rune. Shaking himself off, he shifted his weight a few times, preparing to greet the rune's effects with a calculated leap into the tunnel of darkness above him. His legs started to tingle.
Jace bent down and sprang up, the years of Shadowhunter training making quick work of the distance between him and the faint blue glow of the sky. Bursting out of the darkness, which Jace had realized during his ascent was actually an old, brick well (not something one would see back at the Institute), he rolled into a landing. His eyes scanned the area. It was a glade of some kind, not the rooftop from moments ago, and rather cold for early June. From the crisping greenery Jace guessed that wherever he was, it was most likely early October.
No stranger to suddenly being transported from one place to another, Jace found himself less concerned with that than having been separated from Queen Soraya.
He called out again. "Queen Soraya?" This time his voice dispersed out across the glade, drowning in the crunch of leaves bouncing in the wind.
"Oh you are insufferable." A bored voice quipped from behind him.
Jace spun around, wagging his stele at Soraya. "I get now why no one likes my humor."
"Don't you dare even imply that we are anything ali-."
"No time for witty banter, clock's ticking." Jace, quick as lightning, pocketed the stele and caught Soraya by the shoulders, hauling her back towards the well with him. He noticed that the metal chains that had been wrapped around her torso minutes ago were completely gone. In fact, it seemed she was clothed in fresh warrior's garb, drenched in the signature midnight blue of the Wretched Kingdom.
He had expected more resistance. Soraya did not even flinch when he grabbed her. She was nearly his height, more curvy that she was muscled, with sharp brown eyes and a mouth that could hold a sneer longer than most empires hold on to power. He knew she couldn't physically overpower him, but he'd expected at least mild difficulty dragging her by the shoulders.
Stopping them abruptly, he shoved her to the ground, annoyed when she didn't resist that either. In fact, Jace noticed just then that she was concealing laughter.
"What? What do you know that I don't? And why are your clothes different? Had time to change did you? Don't think I don't know what those metal chains were for."
"Where exactly are you dragging me to, young Shadowhunter?" Soraya chuckled.
"I am not young, your Highness," Jace pantomimed an obnoxious bow. "I am tired and I miss my girlfriend. You know why I'm here. You can't do this alone. I won't even ask about your elaborate costume change if you just come with me."
"I've heard much about Shadowhunters." Soraya stayed on the ground, leaning over her knees, arms slumped by her side. "I will never accept help from those who are responsible for the Endarkened."
Jace twitched at her last word. "Oh, so that's your whole thing? Think you're too pure to accept help from Shadowhunters? Think we're some evil stain on the world that grew corrupt from its own power?"
Soraya pursed her lips, winding up a smile. "Sounds about right."
"Huh." Jace paused. "Thanks."
"What?"
"Well, now I know two things. One, wherever we are is your doing. And two, you've planned this out for a while and have likely thought of many ways to make sure we don't get out of here."
Her eyes slowly swiveled up to meet his, holding in them some mix of annoyance and disbelief. "Well, yes." She blinked, contemplating if she should let on that he was only half right.
"Great. Easy peasy." Jace nodded his head a few times. "Get up."
Soraya scoffed. "I am not a Downworlder. I am a Queen. I do not follow anyone's commands."
Jace stepped towards her until his knees were nearly knocking into her head as she remained on the ground. "And I am not just a Shadowhunter. I'm a Somewhat Intelligent Shadowhunter, and I know as well as you do that we're running out of time. The longer you keep us trapped...wherever this is...the less time you have to save your Kingdom. We can help you. At the Institute-."
"No! I don't want to hear about your Institutes or your rules or your conditions." Soraya pushed herself by her palms off the ground, putting a few feet of distance between them. Jace felt himself momentarily thrown off by the image of her graceful silhouette, rising and in some way seeming to pull the earth up with her, the sleek, adamantium-plated warrior's garb of the Wretched Kingdom making her glow like a coveted weapon. Jace had to remind himself that, if she truly wanted, she could literally move the ground out from under them. The realization eroded his sarcastic attitude, replacing it with quiet urgency.
"What if I can actually make it worth the risk?" Jace raised both hands, as if to make himself vulnerable.
"How do you mean?" She narrowed her gaze, skeptical of his raised arms.
"What if I told you that Shadowhunters could help you finally achieve the one thing you've always wanted?" His voice was cautious, but there was a spark of desperation in it that reminded Soraya of her own voice but days ago, when her Kingdom fell under the Wretched Curse. It blasted through cities, holding an entire society hostage while its last remaining ruler, Queen Soraya, scrambled to find a solution. She suspected he would offer that very solution, and she had learned from experience that it would likely be a lie. Soraya had already trusted three other strangers bearing promises of salvation for her people, only to take something from her and leave.
The anger from these abandonments bubbled up. "Ah yes, the savior, promising to save a dying society from its own rotten core. The modernist's hero. " she spat.
"Actually," Jace blinked, not even sure what the word 'modernist' meant, "no."
Soraya had been slowly stepping farther away from him, but at this she stopped. "Well then, what are you offering?"
"To help you get rid of your powers. To help you become normal."
Unprepared for the bitter taste of her own prayers, muttered every day under the lamplight of tears and early morning moments stolen before the Kingdom wakes, Soraya stumbled back. She stammered out, "You...you…. You're lying. You can't do that." For years she had begged her parents, back when they were alive, to take her to the farthest mountains in the Kingdom where the Kill Folk lived. They were the only ones who could take away the Wretched gifts, one given to each descendant of the throne. When Soraya was six, her parents were slaughtered and as a result a Wretched gift was bestowed upon her. The ability to move the earth with her molecules. To everyone else, it seemed the ultimate weapon to grow her borders and survive her power, but to Soraya it was a prison of mild manners and avoiding complex emotions, lest she raze the ground with the pain of a strong feeling. She ached to be free to feel, to grieve and to love and to hate and to fear.
Jace seemed to notice his opportunity. Cracking a smirk, he gestured towards the well in the center of the glade. "If you can transport us to another world or something, it's not so unbelievable that I've got some tricks up my sleeve."
A long pause passed between them. Soraya seemed to be calculating her words, while Jace tapped his foot impatiently, distantly aware of the gnawing sensation in his chest that ebbed and flowed with the miles between he and Clary. He wanted to go back home and be done with this mission.
Just as Jace couldn't handle her deliberation any longer, opening his mouth to poke at her with his signature sarcasm, she suddenly stepped towards him and put out her hand.
"Make it binding."
"I don't know what that means." Jace eyed her extended hand suspiciously.
Soraya knew that she had to be careful with her words, for everything hinged on their specificity.
"You are proposing that in exchange for taking us back to the Wretched Kingdom, from this place we've ended up, you will help me get rid of my gift?"
"Yes," Jace looked bored, as though she'd repeated the most obvious thing all day.
"In my Kingdom, we have a ritual. Make your promise binding. If either of us fails, the Wretched may have our soul for its own. It's the highest form of agreement." Soraya's chin slowly moved up as she spoke, as though she suddenly remembered the pride she felt for her people's traditions. Though, there was a lilt of sadness tucked somewhere inside the nostalgia, like someone dreaming of the way things used to be.
Jace stared at her, contemplating if he should laugh or toss her down the well.
It seemed they were at a stalemate. There wasn't time for a stalemate.
"Oh, alright." Jace stuck his hand out to meet hers.
As soon as their skin touched, black ribbon erupted from her palm and, snaking through the air at the speed of a sword cutting flesh, wrapped itself around Jace's arm and sent a pulsing cloud of black smoke into the sky above them. The last thing Jace heard was a mocking whisper.
"You must not know much about the Wretched Kingdom. Enjoy your new life Jace Wayland, Shadowhunter."