WARNING: Chapter contains signs of depression and displays of animal cruelty.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments, as it belongs to Cassandra Clare.
Interlude
They say time heals all wounds, but Jace can attest that is not true. It has been three years since they left Edom under armed escort, and every second tortured his shredded soul. Clary's betrayal felt as if Luke and Simon had decided to have a feast on him for eternity, and that was only the physical pain. The mental pain scales beyond any word made in any language.
After they all left, they appeared on a torn up plain not far away from Alicante. The Glass City, they could tell, was damaged, but it was not broken and could still be repaired. They could see the Nephalem raising a banner of victory from the few still standing Demon Towers, but to their group, no victory was worth the cost that had been payed.
All of them had seen Clary, the darkness that had corrupted her. And everyone of them knew it was Jace who was struck the hardest. True Jocelyn may be heartbroken, but she loved Clary as a mother does a daughter, while infinite, it still did not encompass the sheer magnitude of emotion Jace felt towards Clary. Now, after all they had worked for, all they had fought and suffered through, they lost what seemed to be their hearts, the light that shines hope upon their world.
After three years, Jocelyn was improving but still suffered, mostly at night. Luke was by her side faithfully through all the years, but Jace was alone in his torment. Alec and Isabelle did their best to help him, but the only time Jace was anything like his old self was when he was Demon Hunting. Though the Nephalem noticed the scarcity of demons after the war with the Morgenstern family. It was as if the demons no longer wanted to take over Earth. Either that or they were finally becoming extinct, but from what they knew they couldn't actually kill them, just send them back to Edom.
But little of that seemed to matter now at the New York Institute, where the two Lightwood children watched there adopted brother with dreary concern, wishing they had some way to alleviate his pain. Whereas the Herondale simply kept socializing to a minimum, and focused more and more of himself to his fighting, however little he actually got to use it nowadays.
Isabella watched her surrogate brother with a deep sadness in her dark eyes, which were clouded with worry and unshed tears. She watched with Alec as Jace slipped away day by day, still too damaged from the event that conspired in Edom to even begin a healing process. She turned toward Alec, and beckoned him out the door and into the hall. Church passed by with his usual careless gate, seemingly oblivious to the constant air of depression inside the Institute.
"Come on Alec," Izzy said softly, beginning to walk toward their rooms. "There isn't anything left to do."
Normally Alec would argue, persist on finding something to do for Jace, but years of his parabatai throwing himself into training and disregarding everything else had begun to deter him. So he followed his sister silently, a grim look upon his face as he left Jace to his training, alone.
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At last it has begun,
as fate is done.
For now we sing,
'till sword 'gain ring.
For those who fell,
can still rise from hell.
As light is forsaken,
foul darkness awaken.
Now angels sing,
as swords do ring.
The world is torn,
to be a soul, reborn.
At last has begun,
and now fate is done.
-Excerpt from the New Script of Edom Book 2, Shadow's Rise: 12-16, dated December 12, Year 7 of the Endarkened.
The sharp sound of heavy leather folding over itself resonated itself throughout the dark room with a thud. The crinkle of dry vellum accompanied by the aroma of old animal skin permeated throughout the room. A few candles lit the room, illuminating an ornate bookcase carved from the black wood of a corrupted elder tree. Books lined the majority of the shelves, the rest contained sketches, varying from a drawings of an obvious lover, to the gruesome disembowelment of a multitude of creatures.
In the middle of the room was a desk, carved from similar black wood, but this was from the Cypress instead of an Elder. Sitting at the desk, carefully moving drying sand into a small bowl before putting a stopper into the little red bottle of ink, was a young woman. She wore simple black blouse and pants, which revealed the intricated lines of runes that ran across her skin in an elegant dance, ending just before her neck and going slightly past her forearms. Some of the symbols shined in different colors, some a red so dark, it barely looked different. And then some were gold and silver, faded into her skin so that they no longer possessed any sheen, but still held power. Her wine colored hair was pulled up into a simple ponytail, with a few loose strands left to frame her flawless face. Her eyes, which held dashes of emerald, were primarily a deep, ebony color. Her face was pale; her cheekbones angular. Her slim eyebrows were seated delicately above her eyes.
The woman reached over and placed the inkwell down, picking up a simple black stele instead. Next, the woman stood. She picked up a candle in her hand and moved over to the corner, where two small, glass cases were. In one, was a mouse, and in the other was a small cardinal. The woman carefully placed down the candle and grabbed the mouse, who didn't squirm or make even a squeak. The woman the carefully began the trace a rune along the mouse's side. The rune flowed as one line in a wave towards a vortex drawn into the mouse. Carefully, the woman placed the mouse back in it's cage.
She then proceeded to retrieve the small cardinal, who, unlike the mouse, did it's best to get away from her. The girl simply grabbed it swiftly, capturing it in her deceptively strong fingers. She then ruthlessly used her free hands to break both of it's wings, to which it started to scream, before it was swiftly silenced when she applied pressure to its lower spine, paralyzing it without killing it. Last, she placed it in the same container as the mouse, where it whimpered pathetically.
The woman the watched with amusement as the mouse approached the bird, an appreciated hunger in its eyes. It pounced on the bird, ripping it's throat with ease, but that is not what the girl truly cared about. While the killing did amuse her slightly, she wanted to see what happened after.
Her eyes lit up at the same time the rune on the mouse's side did, and she watched with ever increasing glee as the mouse hunched over in pain. She also took note of the dead bird, which was turning black, as if being covered in ink. The bird then slowly began to dissolve into black sand, and then continued to move towards the convulsing mouse where it covered it. A few moments later the ball of sand began to expand, revealing a the mouse… only with a few small changes.
First off, the mouse had grown wings out of its back. Second, its claws had grown slightly more curved and sharp. Lastly, the mouse's eyes seemed more aware, more intelligent. The woman ecstatically dashed over to her bookshelf, grabbing a small, leather bound book from the shelf. Swiftly, she had sat down at the desk, opened the book and inkwell, grabbed the quill, and began writing down her observations.
Subject has shown the rune's true power. Not only did the subject survive, it utilized the traicio rune without any damaging symptoms. Observations will be made on daily basis to track any side effect the rune may have.
-C.A.M.
She quickly set that aside to dry, meanwhile grabbing another paper to begin to write again. She quickly pulled out a piece of parchment and began writing again, this time, a letter. When she finished, she applied a trace amount of the drying sand to pick up excess ink and avoid smudges. Finally, she folded the letter and placed it into an envelope. She then turned it over, and quickly wrote in a small, red flourish: Lady Lilith. She proceeded in then turning it over, grabbing a heavy metal stamper, and pressing the thick wax seal over the envelope, sealing it. She then went to a near invisible spot in the wall and slid it down a chute.
Smiling, the woman then sat in her desk, placed her feet upon the desk, and muttered to herself, "Well done Clarissa, well done indeed."