Will stood in the doorway of Jem's room and looked down at his parabati's sleeping form. Jem was still in the clothes he'd worn to the Lightwood house, so dots of blood painted his shirt. On the table next to him sat the box he kept his yin fen in. Will despised the look of the box and what its contents were doing to Jem. Will could still remember the day he arrived: a small, black haired boy clutching his violin. Will, of course, had not been present for Jem's arrival, but he'd heard Charlotte's description of that day many times. The first time he'd seen Jem was in the training room, where Will said he didn't want to fight with someone who looked as if they were going to die. Will cursed under his breath for all the times he'd been unkind to Jem. Jem was the one person in the world who deserved a better life.

"You know how I feel about your cursing," Jem muttered. His eyes had been closed, but now they fluttered open. His silver eyes were much more pale than Will had remembered. It was probably from losing too much blood, he thought.

Will thought about retorting with some sarcastic remark filled with dry humor, but Jem's weak frame made him hold his tongue. Instead, he came and sat on the end of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Jem sat up more and rolled his eyes. "You were the one person I could count on not to ask that question. I am tired of telling people I am fine because that is a lie. I'm dying and I should have the right to not answer that question anymore."

"I should have the right to swim in the Thames naked, but alsas, society looks down on that sort of thing," Will muttered, not too keen on Jem declaring he was dying.

Jem laughed, which made Will smirk a bit. "That's the sort of thing I'd expect from you."

Will did his best to bow while sitting down. "Then I should not disappoint."

Jem's smile was interrupted with a fit of coughing. He doubled over in bed and sprayed blood all over his sheets. Frightened, Will made for the box on the table, but Jem's hand stopped it midway. He was silent as he sat up, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. Pain flashed across his face, but his eyes contained only sadness.

"There's no need, Will. It's all gone."

When they arrived back at the Institute, Clary looked upon the old church and instead saw a magnificent cathedral with towering spires and gleaming windows. Holding hands, she could feel Jace gasp. This was what cathedrals were meant to look like. The New York Institute was pretty, but this building was breathtaking. Magnus walked right up to the gates and rang the bell. He glanced back at the group and prayed this would all go well.

Cyril approached the gate and saw Magnus. He also eyed the shadowhunters and identified them as the ones from that morning. He hid his shock as he opened the gate to them. "Mrs. Branwell is expecting you in the library," he said. "I'm sure you can find your way Mr. Bane." Magnus nodded towards Cyril and continued up the front steps. Cyril eyed his guests as Magnus strode forward, particularly the women, both of whom were severely underdressed. Cyril shook the thoughts from his mind and went around the Institute to the stables.

Inside, Clary longed for her sketchbook and a pencil. But nothing she could draw would match the beauty of it. Elegant chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting witchlight down upon them. Tapestries and paintings hung from the walls, each consisting of shadowhunter history. Clary saw the familiar one of Raziel rising out of Lake Lyn with the cup and sword in each hand. She wondered if he could taste the vile and poison of the waters, or were angels so above tasting he hardly flinched.

Magnus led them through, walking with such a pace it was hard to keep track of their route. But Clary could sense this Institute was laid out in almost the same manner as the New York one. When Clary felt like they'd reached the library, Magnus veered left and opened a pair of french doors. He strode in, Clary and the others following close behind. Amid all the books was a cluster of sofas, and currently five people occupied them. Clary could see three men and three women, all adorning outfits like Magnus. Clary looked at the gowns the women were wearing and immediately felt naked under their eyes. The skirt and blouse didn't seem to cover up as much of her as she wanted.

Magnus approached one of the women, a small woman with dark hair. He bowed dramatically while saying, "You summoned me, Charlotte."

She smiled at his greeting, but her eyes wandered over Clary and the others. "Magnus, it seems you have found some very...interesting company." She neither asked a question or demanded an explanation. She merely stated a fact, but Magus looked a little nervous as he thought of how to tell her the truth.

"Charlotte, you know I would never lie to you," Magnus said darkly.

Charlotte looked a little confused, but said, "Of course not."

"What I am about to tell you must not leave this room, but I swear on my father it's true." Magnus could feel Alec stiffen in the back. He and that boy would need to have a talk later. He stepped back to gesture at Clary. "These people are from the future, the year 2007 to be precise."

A collective gasp went around the room, but Charlotte remained still and calm. The others, however, were rising from their seats to look at Clary and her friends.

"This can't be!" one man said.

"It's impossible," one girl, the raven haired one stated.

"Gabriel, Cecily, please, quiet down," Charlotte said. "Give them time to explain themselves."

After only knowing her for a few moments, Clary felt like they should trust Charlotte. The manner at which she held herself was the most responsible and important way Clary had ever seen. She knew back in the 1800s, or even 1900s, women didn't get chances to prove their worth was as great as the men's. When she saw Charlotte sitting there, Clary felt like she was born to lead and had to prove herself every day.

Maryse told stepped forward and told Charlotte what she'd told Magnus. She told her about Jonathan, about the war, and about the council meeting in Alicante. She said Magnus was the one who created the portal that was supposed to send them to Idris. At the mention of the portal, the red haired man perked up in his seat. Clary was reminded of Max by the way this man seemed to love learning things. By his wire-rimmed glasses and slim figure, he was a reader more than a fighter. A part of her heart tugged at the memory of a small Max clutching a book to his chest as if it was a shield.

"A portal, you say?" the man asked.

"Yes, Henry," Magnus said. Clary looked at the man and realized this man was Henry Branwell, the creator of the portal. "I believe you have an idea of what we're talking about."

"I have a design for it in my laboratory, but I'm not quite sure how to get it to work." Clary felt her heart drop into her stomach.

"I'm sure they will be able to help you with whatever you require to get it to work," Magnus reassured Henry.

"They are going to help us?" the boy Clary assumed was Gabriel said. "We are supposed to believe this preposterous story without first knowing who these people claim to be?"

Magnus looked a little uncertain, but Maryse stepped forward and looked Gabriel down with a hard expression. "If it is names you want, then you will get them. My name is Maryse Lightwood."

Gabriel went white as a sheet and he took a step back to an older boy with sandy hair. He too was taken aback by the name. The sandy haired man stepped forward. "Forgive my brother. We just never expected the Lightwood name to be passed on…"

Maryse nodded, but a smile soon spread across her face. "These are my children, Alec and Isabelle." Both said children looked a little uncomfortable under the eyes of everyone in the room, but smiled at both Lightwood brothers.

Clary stepped forward. "Clary Fairchild," she said. Charlotte shrieked for a second, and the third woman ran to her.

"Are you alright Mrs. Branwell?" she asked in a kind and gentle voice.

Charlotte waved the girl away. "Fine, Sophie, but thank you. Just shocked," Charlotte said in a small voice, as if she still couldn't believe Clary's words. "I was a Fairchild before I married." A smile spread across Clary's face.

As a joke, Simon crept up behind her and poked her with his elbow. "I think I found the reason you're so short, Fray," he whispered.

Charlotte's joy turned into suspicion, as if she just noticed Simon in their group. "What is a child of the night doing on hallowed grounds?"

Simon awkwardly waved his hand. "I'd prefer Simon to 'a child of the night.' Sounds too ominous. I can walk on hallowed grounds because I'm a daylighter, meaning I can walk in sunlight." Gabriel looked like he was about to spit out a question, but Simon said, "It's a very long story, and most of it I wasn't even conscious for."

With that matter settled temporarily, all the attention went to Jace. Jace had always been known as Valentine's son or the angel boy or Jonathan Morgenstern's accomplice, but now that he was in a time where none of that had happened yet, he felt it strange he had to introduce himself. And that also left the question of what he would say. Would he still use the name Lightwood? Or should he say Morgenstern since Valentine practically raised him all his life. But after his talk with Simon about his ancestors in London, he decided he would stick true to the name he was born to.

"I'm Jace Herondale," he said.

Later, Clary would've said all Herondale's had perfect timing. Right after Jace said his name, the library doors burst open and another boy strode in. He was very handsome, his dark looks competing with Jace's golden ones. But he was still in torn gear and his delicate features were screwed up in a scowl that ripped across his face.

Clary thought she heard Magnus say, "Here it goes," before the boy realized they were in the room with Charlotte. He glared at them menacingly, but decided he had more important things to do. Facing Charlotte, he said, "Jem's gone and used up all the yin fen I bought for him."

"It's all gone?" she asked, horrified at the news.

"I went around to all the opium dens, but they're all out of it. They said Mortmain bought the last of it weeks ago." Clary heard the boy spit out the name Mortmain, so he was obviously an enemy to him or to all the shadowhunters.

Charlotte looked grim at the news and she hung her head for a moment in despair. "How is he faring?" she asked.

"Tessa is with him now, but not good. If he doesn't take some soon, he'll die." The boy turned to face Clary, but she saw his eyes drift over her to Magnus. "Is there anything you can do to help him?" Clary noticed he looked so much like Alec with his dark hair and intense blue eyes. But he was much prettier, more angular and… dark. This boy seemed dark and troubled to Clary. The way he held himself reminded her of Jace. Whenever he was upset, he too would tense his shoulders to the point of dislocation.

"Jem has been dying for years now and there hasn't been a cure for him in that time," Magnus said. "I might be able to help with the pain, but there is nothing I can do, Will."

A name flashed across Clary's mind like the runes she drew did. A name written in a book Jace read to her. With hope at last, Will Herondale. Was this the Will who wrote in that book? And didn't Alec say his name back at Magnus's house? This dark boy was Jace's ancestor. Without even having to look at him, she could tell Jace had froze, putting the pieces together as she had.

Clary felt chills run up her back and down her arms. The temperature of the room was dropping fast. All around her, the shadowhunters were getting into stances, but Clary saw no weapons except for a poker the girl, Sophie, held in her hand. Clary could see her breath now, a puff of white inside the library. A crackling sound came from the fireplace, a sound Clary had heard many times before.

"A portal's opening," she breathed. She didn't think anyone could hear her, but Henry stiffened just then, out of fear or curiosity, she didn't know.

"Who's coming through?" he asked.

A hand appeared out of the blue vortex that appeared, as if answering his question. It was very pale, not the hand of Magnus. An arm followed it, inked with black runes. The whiteness of this arm scared Clary because there were only two people as pale as this arm and one of them was dead.

"Jonathan," Clary said.

His upper body was visible now, closely followed by his head. He was wearing a low cut shirt that barely showed Lilith's binding rune, now faded like Jace's when he was severed from Jonathan. His white hair was swept back revealing his black eyes. His grin felt colder than the room.

"Hello little sister," he said.

"How-" Maryse began, but Jonathan had already raised his hand. Maryse let out a cry of pain and crumpled to the ground. She lay there, motionless as Alec and Isabelle made to move to her.

Jonathan raided a hand at them, stopping them in their tracks. He looked towards Clary and Jace. "It took a little while to find out why you disappeared from the Institute. But when I found out it was your little pet warlock," he threw a look at Magnus, "it was easy to put the pieces together. And this is just the thing I need to win the war. I should be thanking you Clary because now there is nothing stopping me from ruling the world."

Laughter escaped from his mouth as he walked towards Clary. Jace pushed her behind him as one last act of protection. The other shadowhunters suddenly sprang into action. Jonathan raised both arms this time, and they all fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Only Clary and Jace were upright. "Now we can be a family a-" Jonathan started, but a sword stabbing him in the chest stopped the rest of the sentence from coming out. Jonathan stared down at the blade, but he only smiled. Behind him, Clary could see the light parchment color of a Silent Brother. How did he get here, Clary wondered. She saw blood blossoming from a wound in his shoulder, but his hood was still up so Clary couldn't see his face. He knelt on the ground in front of the portal, so Clary guessed he followed Jonathan through the portal.

Jonathan threw a look at the Silent Brother. "He really has some spirit, doesn't he. Fought harder than any Brother of the Silent City I've seen." He turned back to Clary and Jace with the sword still protruding from his chest. "There is nothing you can do that will kill me. If you think that Heavenly Fire trapped inside of you will do anything to help, you're wrong. I will see you again and you will rule at my side. Goodbye." He twisted the ring on his finger and disappeared.

When he was gone, Clary collapsed on the floor with relief and exhaustion. The others had been released from Jonathan's hold and were now sitting up. Henry was by his wife's side trying to make sure she was fine. Will was already on his feet and approaching the Silent Brother who had also collapsed on the floor. Clary suspected he'd lost a lot of blood, but she couldn't move her body to reach his body.

His hood had fallen back, revealing his scarred cheeks and dark hair. She knew that face all too well and it was all she could do to say, "Brother Zachariah?"

Will had stopped in his tracks suddenly and went white as a sheet. Tears were coming to his eyes as a choking sound escaped from his throat. Clary thought she heard him say a name.

"Jem?"

A/N: Hey, sorry for such a late update. I was camping all weekend and there was no time to write. I think this chapter could be better, but I just wanted to get it done so I could give it to you guys. WILL SAW BROTHER ZACHARIAH! I've been so excited to write this chapter because he sees his best friend, his parabati alive but different. What did you think? All reviews help. I'll try to update sooner :)