21
Time seemed to slow around Sera, winding down like a clockwork piece on its last cycle until the Shadowhunters on the ridge were nearly frozen in place. The cat-like demons were halted mid-attack, their deadly tentacles poised to strike. Seraphine had become an elegant statuette with her arms held high and her dark curls blown back from a face that was filled with determination. Rayce's grimace of pain was a mask that made Sera close her eyes to let a single tear fall.
When she opened them again, the ritual site and the battle raging outside of it had vanished. Instead of cold bedrock under her knees, she found herself kneeling on what seemed like nothing more than a cloud, and a quick peek over the edge gave her an impossible view of the world far below. It was criss-crossed with an infinitely complex, shimmering network of gently vibrating lines that hummed quietly with an enchanting music. Dizzy, she rolled away from the edge. She was not alone.
Ithuriel stood patiently in front of shining white gates that stood closed. He was no longer the emaciated, tortured angel who had waited in darkness for years until Jace and Clary had discovered him under Wayland Manor. His glorious white wings were restored, full and strong, his platinum and gold tousle of hair shone in the light, and a fiercely proud smile lifted his heart-breakingly beautiful face. He was clothed simply in loose white trousers, and his golden-tinged chest was bare. He walked toward her on bare feet through wisps of cloud and stretched out his hand to help her rise.
"Daughter of mine, you have exceeded every hope that was born with you when you came into this world," he whispered joyously, unable or unwilling to contain the excitement in his voice.
Sera's hand was shaking in her father's grasp as she struggled to catch up to what was happening, more than a little nervous about seeing what looked like, for all intents and purposes, the Pearly Gates. "Am I dead?"
His laughter was sweet and gentle, and he lifted his other hand to brush her cheek tenderly. "Far from it, my child. You have come so far and suffered so much, but your journey is not over yet."
She felt her lower lip quiver for a moment as frustrated tears threatened to spill over, and her eyebrows drew together in an accusatory stare. "You knew. You were watching? Why didn't you save me? Or any of us?"
Ithuriel's happy smile faded, and he shook his head sadly in response. "Heaven's hand cannot work so openly. There are consequences to such direct intervention, and their effects can be far-reaching."
Unsatisfied with his answer, she stubbornly refused to forgive him so easily. He read the doubt in her eyes and turned her back toward the edge of the cloud so that they could look down together. He folded his arms around her from behind and embraced her. Love radiated from his body, and Sera trembled in wonder as the radiant net of faintly singing strands came back into view.
"Let me show you."
His hands slid down to guide hers into the shimmering mass, leading the index finger of her right hand to a single, bright fibre that pulsed differently than the others. The moment she touched it, soaring music filled her ears, burning through her, and she knew at once in her heart that this was her father's life line. She closed her eyes in bliss as his song flooded through her mind and swept her away.
A clockwork angel fluttered its mechanical wings futilely as Ithuriel struggled within, trapped in a prison from which he could not escape. Years drifted by uncounted, seemingly without purpose, but in truth, bringing him closer to one day being tasked with protecting a unique child. His long incarceration taught him patience and quieted his immortal mind until he could truly listen to the Mortals around him. He learned to see what they saw, hear what they heard, and feel what they felt. In time, he came to love as they loved. When his freedom was granted, he took with him the lessons he had learned, and they were engraved upon his heart.
Years later, he was ensnared by a Shadowhunter, lured in by his own love for Mortals, but his captor was filled with anger and blinded by the entitlement of his birth. Sadness consumed Ithuriel to see the despair that had claimed the Nephilim, but he held his silence, even when his blood was forcibly taken. He prayed that it would help restore the broken faith of Raziel's warriors. It wasn't until much later that the children touched with his blood came and set him free, though with an unknown cost.
When the gates of Heaven had not yielded under his hands, it had nearly broken him. He did not yet understand the path than he was walking, and saw only an unjust punishment. Cast down into the Mortal world, he followed his heart and fell in love with a Shadowhunter.
"But you didn't stay," Sera whispered, pulling away from the strand so that the song it played grew quieter.
Ithuriel laced his fingers into hers and squeezed gently. His breath was warm in her hair. "I thought I was weak, that I couldn't live without the light of Heaven, and perhaps that was true," he confessed. "But what I did not know was that you needed to grow up to be strong enough to survive what was coming. You had to be free to act as you saw fit."
She sniffed, holding back the tide of emotions that churned through her. "Then all of this was planned? I've just been following a script?"
Her father turned her around inside the circle of her arms, his expression serious. "No," he said firmly. "You should know better than anyone the importance of free will, Sera. Opportunities can only be created, but it's people who must choose." He closed his golden eyes for a moment before looking at her again. "Every choice that was made, first by John Shade, then by Tessa Gray, all the way down to Valentine Morgenstern, myself in the form of Ahren Castledown, and eventually your mother – it was all free will. Do you understand? If any one of us had chosen differently, you would not be here now. Heaven deals in opportunities, Sera, not outcomes."
"But Rayce..." she began.
"Follows the same rules," he answered with certainty. "Watch."
He guided her to a different line and a very different tune played under her fingertips. Many other strains were interwoven, harmonizing in some places even as they made a discordant mess in others. Valentine Morgenstern. Sera could read the meaning in the song, though it was not as clear as her father's had been.
Born to be a firebrand that would ignite the slow-burning fuse that snaked through decades of time, his was the spark of a generation. Dissatisfied with the presumed imbalance of abilities between Downworlders and Nephilim, he experimented recklessly with a brilliant mind that only knew how to ask, 'can I?' instead of, 'should I?'. He pushed the boundaries to the limits with himself, and surpassed them with his children. Without his zealotry, a son born of the blood of a Greater demon would not have come to shake the very foundations of the world. Without his remorse, a daughter born of the blood of an angel would not have come to balance her brother's arrogance.
Sera blinked as her fingers shifted down infinitesimally until she could feel a darker song blooming inside her. Sebastian Morgenstern.
A child raised alone, trained in the arts of war from birth by a father with vengeance blazing in his heart, his was the curse of a generation. Tainted by a Greater Demon even before he ever opened his eyes, Jonathan Morgenstern became the sacrifice that was necessary to bring the world one step closer to healing the damage caused by the very demon that had been so pleased to see a living son of her blood. In his place, Sebastian Morgenstern rose on a tide of misery, tearing the Nephilim apart even as he knit them more closely together against himself.
A dark alliance with the Queen of the Seelie Court gave way to a tryst that birthed a boy with the power to unlock the demonic ellipse that poisoned the world's wards.
More and more lines began merging as Sera struggled to breathe, and the music in her heart swelled achingly as everything began to spiral together. New voices joined with those she was already hearing, raising it in a steady crescendo. Ezekiel Hightower. Arynessa.
Valentine Morgenstern's failed Circle of Raziel led to the deaths of many, but it was those who survived that would go on to continue shaping the world for this moment. Ezekiel Hightower was sentenced by Inquisitor Herondale to Stripping and exile as punishment for his involvement in the Uprising.
Angry and hell-bent on revenge, he was instead intercepted by a curious Faerie. His wounds healed, and scars were formed both inside and out as one of the Greater Fey cared for him in the Land Under the Hill. Saved from throwing his life away meaninglessly, Zeke instead found himself in the Seelie Court, where years later, he would be needed to train a brash, young half-Shadowhunter.
Where the Seelie Queen saw only an opportunity to bring a Shadowhunter to heel at her command and to refill the Seelie coffers in the bargain, she ended up investing in the training that would give her son a lifetime of experience against the greatest Faerie knights so that he could one day survive in single combat against Lord Gwyn of the Hunt.
Arynessa, grieving for her sister's death and craving redemption for her deplorable torture of Arthur Blackthorn, was given the responsibility for raising her half-blood brother. She carved out a safe place for Rayce to live and grow into a man of whom she could be proud. The natural balance of herself, Ezekiel, and Baelerithon all contributing to the boy's upbringing ensured that he would be ready to bear the weight and challenge of what was to come.
Mesmerized and somewhat intoxicated by the increasing complexity of the veritable symphony resonating throughout her entire body, she traced her fingers down several more lines at once and sighed as an even great chorus rose within.
Sebastian Morgenstern's Dark War ended in disaster for his forces, but left consequences for many others. It sparked political disaster for the Seelie Queen, and would eventually lead to her death at the hands of a son too eager to assume the throne and correct what he viewed as her mistakes.
In Alicante, councils argued bitterly until a decision was made to banish a half-Faerie Shadowhunter to Wrangel Island for nothing more than her heritage. Helen Blackthorn went dutifully into exile, already quietly hardening herself into a shield to protect the Shadow World. Where others may have chosen to give up, she made the decision to own her place in the world and make the most of it. Her work to devise an early warning system with the wards led to the eventual discovery of a buried ritual site forgotten by time, and set her on the path to unlocking its secrets with the help of her rune-gifted friend, Clary Herondale.
To ease the loneliness of Helen's solitary vigil, Aline Penhallow selflessly sacrificed her freedom to go into exile willingly and leave her family behind. Her courage and fiery passion for their shared cause would be the fuel that kept their curiosity burning through the years that it would take to find the damage caused by the Incursion. She perfectly balanced her wife in every way, and ensured that the work on Wrangel Island would not go unheard by Alicante.
Sera flinched awayfrom a low, slow pulse that beat wickedly under a bold overture. Everett Whitelock. Alexander Lightwood
Partnered closer than brothers with Jace Herondale and loved unconditionally by the powerful Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood built his strength on solid pillars of support that would not fail him as he endured the ridicule and judgement of people who were not yet ready to see a greater world in which to live. Rising on his own merit through steadfast dedication to moving the Nephilim forward instead of backward, Alec began laying the foundation for a new order.
But even as he struggled to pull the Shadowhunters higher, Everett worked to drag them lower and sink back into the same age that had once been idealized by Valentine Morgenstern. He forced Alec out of office just in time, freeing his rival to act without restraint when the world could not wait for councils and votes to decide its fate. In the end, Everett's single-minded obsession with possessing Sera and using her gift for his own glory only resulted in forcing her to search for answers to questions that hadn't been asked. Imprisoned, and with her friend's life in danger, she had had no choice but to piece together the clues from her search. Sparing him had been a final test to ensure that Rayce had survived the crucible of the Hunt's madness.
Tears burned hot tracks down her face and neck, but Sera couldn't stop herself from touching a vibrating strand that was all-too familiar to her.
A dream of a Faerie prince when she was still a child, his eyes enchanting, their connection immediate and deep. Her world had shifted that night, and he had haunted her thoughts every day from then on. She could not understand why, but in her heart, she knew that she had to find him, to free him, to save him. She loved him from the first moment their eyes met, and every decision after was made to pursue that love until she could find it in truth.
Her choice to not warn her mother after seeing the tragic fall in a dream was the start of her path toward Rayce. Every step led her closer even as she used her gifts to amass wealth in secret, already preparing to be ready for dozens of potential futures. When she found Seraphine and began studying her gifts in earnest, there was no way to know that it was all practice for when she would need it most, that she was building the trust that would one day be required when she would place the safety of the world in her friend's hands.
Finding him, stealing the Seelie crown, fleeing the Courts, and eventually losing him to the Hunt had threatened to break her, but instead, she had chosen to fight back. Her quest had led her along paths that no other Shadowhunter could walk, and had given her the unique insight she had needed to bring her to this place, to this moment. If she had not loved and lost, then she would never have sought and found.
Ithuriel closed his hands over hers and drew her away from the edge.
Shaking from the enormity of what she had witnessed, Sera couldn't speak. Her father lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes.
"Many Mortals have tried to understand their connection to others and the greater world around them as a tapestry, and they see themselves as little more than threads to be woven into a grand design." He smiled gently at her. "But now you see the truth. A thread is only ever a thread, and weaving it into an unchanging piece would never do justice to the beauty of Mortals."
Sera hiccoughed and tried to catch her breath, to absorb what her father was saying, but she was still struggling to shake free of the glorious performance below.
"Some songs are louder than others," Ithuriel continued, "and they can end up leading those around them to take up their tune and rise above the rest, for better or for worse. Humans have the power to change their melody at any time, to choose to be something else, to write their own measures. When that happens, they will find that perhaps they flow perfectly with different tunes, and new harmonies form. The music is a dynamic, living thing that is constantly growing and changing with you."
He cupped her face in his palm and she tilted her face into it, overwhelmed as he gestured outward with his other hand to encompass the glowing, humming network that cradled the world below them.
"These, Sera," he whispered fiercely, "are our Mortal Instruments, and theirs is the Song of Heaven."
She fell against him, weeping openly and unashamedly from the beauty of what she had seen. He folded his arms around her and held her tightly, rocking her slightly and wishing for just a moment that he had been able to be a true father to her.
Moments passed, and then she looked up at him, ready to ask what needed to be asked.
"What must I do to save him?"
Ithuriel pressed a kiss to her forehead and led her to the back side of the cloud. She peered over the edge and saw nothing but an endless night sky dotted with glittering diamonds.
"It is not without its own dangers," he warned as she stared in disbelief.
How the hell am I supposed to find anything in that? A surge of guilt shot through her. Am I allowed to say 'hell' up here?
She squashed the thought and flashed a confident smile at her father to cover her fear of leaping into whatever was below. "Free will. I want to do this."
"Then I will hold your Mortal half here, safe from the Nightlands. Follow your heart, daughter of mine." He lifted her hands in his own and pressed them over his heart. "When you are ready."
Sera swallowed thickly and took one last look at the inky sky that awaited her.
"I'm ready."
Jace bounded off the heap of rubble on the northeast side of the ritual site and dashed away into the snow without looking back. The sharp twang of Alec's bowstring at his back was all the confirmation he needed to know that the enemy general had taken up the pursuit. They had never imagined that it would be Asmodeus himself. Alec must have been particularly unsettled to see the Greater Demon. I mean, it's not like most guys have to go toe-to-toe with their father-in-law. Although, considering who he had married, and everything that had passed between himself and Valentine, maybe it wasn't such a strange thing after all.
Shouts of dismay from the Shadowhunters they were leaving behind faded as the icy wind swirled around Jace. Whatever those monsters were that had come through with Asmodeus, they weren't anything he had ever seen, and part of him itched to be able to take a stab at one, literally. But Alec had left Diego in charge for a reason, and they had bigger problems to deal with now.
Yeah, like 9-feet tall problems.
The ground ahead rose sharply, and Jace felt one of his boots slip on a patch of ice buried under the snow. He stumbled for a moment and reached down with one hand to steady himself. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that Asmodeus was hard on their heels.
Screams from one of the cat-like creatures echoed in the darkness behind the Greater Demon, and Jace felt his heart sink a bit. Oh, come on!
Alec pivoted smoothly at his side and sent another pair of arrows streaking out almost faster than Jace could follow, their runed heads pinging off the demon steel and white enamel without much effect, but they had to keep Asmodeus interested. Jace doubted that Alec would even be able to see or hit his target in the darkness without the heavy compliment of runes running up and down his body. Their warming runes wouldn't last long exposed out in the cold like this; Jace could already feel his hands stiffening up, and was certain that his brother wasn't faring much better while having to draw a bowstring.
With snow kicked up by their flight swirling around them, the two famous parabatai charged up the rising slope side by side and paused at the top to exchange a quick glance.
"Are you sure you can do this?" Alec shouted into the gust of wind that hit them once they were no longer protected by face of the incline. "It's not too late!"
Jace lifted his seraph blade higher, casting a wider circle of illumination around them. "I can do it! He won't let us down!"
The heavy crunch of ice and snow at the base of the slope signalled Asmodeus' approach, and Jace caught the glimmer of reflected light off the demon's armour.
The Prince of Hell lifted one of his gauntleted hands and clenched his fingers together in a crushing motion that immediately sent the rock under their feet shifting wildly. Even as Jace pitched forward, Alec stumbled backwards, and then there was nothing left under the Consul's feet to support him. He slipped down the steep back of the rise and out of sight, tumbling through the snow helplessly.
"Alec!" Jace screamed, trying to regain his footing in the treacherous slide created by their struggle. Again, one of his boots skidded on the icy rock under the snow and he went down, sliding back toward where Asmodeus was waiting.
Before he reached the bottom, Jace managed to get both of his feet planted solidly and he launched himself out of the cascade. He landed lightly fifteen feet away from the Greater Demon and tightened his grip on the seraph blade. Well, this wasn't part of the plan.
"You're all alone now!" Asmodeus called out gleefully, his voice echoing strangely inside his helm. The Hell-forged sword pulsed darkly in his hand, sending ripples of the deepest red across the flat of its blade, eager to feast on the blood of Heaven.
Jace threw a panicked look back up the slope, but there was no sign of Alec. Time for Plan B: Stall.
"So are you!" Jace shouted giddily. "I guess we're even!"
Asmodeus laughed in delight, and then levelled the deadly blade in Jace's direction. "Allow me to show you just how wrong you are about that, little Nephilim."
Plan B sucked! Jace didn't have time to think anything else before the Greater Demon had closed the distance between them and the great sword came slashing down at him. He brought up his own seraph blade to parry the blow, and when the two weapons met, they hissed as the starkly opposing magics interacted. The force of the demon's strike sent a terrific shock through Jace's left arm and he crumpled to one knee to absorb enough of the impact to turn it.
Asmodeus' sword sliced into the bedrock just inches from Jace's foot before the Shadowhunter pushed away in a hurry. Raziel! He spun a tight circle and backpedalled out of the demon's superior reach. Why didn't we make a Plan C or D?
Changing tactics, Asmodeus attacked with a flurry of blows that lacked the power of his first swing, but made up for it by forcing Jace to back-step rapidly while narrowly deflecting each strike.
Can't breathe! Jace gasped in the cold, stunned by the ferocity of the exchange. He let himself be rocked back onto his heels as he struggled to stay ahead of the wickedly gleaming sword. His own seraph blade shuddered with the force of each parry, and he began to have very serious concerns about its ability to hold out against the assault.
Jace dove sideways, springing wide of another killing blow, and he sprang lightly off his hands to propel his momentum to carry himself further away.
"Don't play cat and mouse with me, boy," Asmodeus snarled, stalking through the snow with impunity. If Jace had been able to spare a moment to look more closely, he would have been able to see that the inherent heat of the demon-wrought armour was melting the ice and snow closest to the Prince of Hell.
"Can I ask about the cat thing?" Jace shouted breathlessly. "Like, do all of your kids have cat features as their warlock mark? Do you have any connection to a cat named Church, or is he just a jerk naturally?" He dodged sideways as Asmodeus struck down viciously in response.
The demon twisted and Jace only just managed to get his seraph blade up in time to block the next attack. Can't win if you don't attack, Herondale! The best offense is a strong offense! Let's go!
He lunged forward, aiming for the joint in Asmodeus' armour just inside his thigh, but his blade skittered off the plate when the demon turned, anticipating the thrust.
At this point, only Jace's superior agility was keeping him alive, and he tried to create distance between himself and Asmodeus again. Come on, Alec, don't leave me hanging!
"So, I'm figuring, there's nine Princes of Hell, right?" Jace yelled. "And cats have nine lives. Coincidence? I think not!"
Asmodeus growled inside his helm and lifted his hand again menacingly. Before he could bring his power to bear against the natural world once more, an arrowhead bounced off the back plate of his armour, and he spun around in disgust to see the dark-haired Nephilim back in the fight.
With Asmodeus' back turned, Jace saw the shining opportunity that he was being given, and without another thought, he threw himself forward silently like a golden blur in the night.
But the Greater Demon was a veteran of thousands of battles, and one Nephilim child was no different than any other. He lifted his blade without taking his eyes off the archer in front of him, and executed a blind reverse thrust that caught Jace squarely in the chest.
Three and a half feet of Hell-forged steel slid into the foolish Shadowhunter, and his partner screamed in horror. The seraph blade's light guttered out and its hilt dropped from nerveless fingers as the Nephilim's greatest warrior grappled weakly with Asmodeus in a futile effort to somehow slide free of the weapon.
"A pity that you don't have nine lives now, isn't it?" Asmodeus taunted as he lifted the blade and wrenched it free. A smoking wound gaped grotesquely in the Shadowhunter's chest as the light went out of his golden eyes and he collapsed in a lifeless heap at the Greater Demon's feet.
"Noooooo!" Utterly distraught, Alec dropped his bow and drew a fresh seraph blade from his weapons belt. "Tammariel," he roared into the wind, and it sprang to life in his hand.
"Oh, yes!" Asmodeus laughed. "I simply love killing you Nephilim in pairs!" He opened his arms wide, inviting the challenge. "Let's see if you fare better than your partner!"
Alec charged forward, the seraph blade spinning in his hand as he slammed into the Greater Demon with a fury he had never felt before in his life. He had always been the calm one; slow to anger, quick to cool. But all of that was forgotten now.
He could barely keep track of his own movements as the seraph blade slashed and stabbed with deadly intent, seeming almost as if it had a mind of its own. Decades of training took over Alec's body, and he moved like a man possessed. In a lucky strike, the seraph blade caught along the edge of one of Asmodeus' vambrances and sheared the entire piece off.
Despite his superior size and weight, the Prince of Hell staggered backwards in surprise at the ferocity of the Shadowhunter. They truly do go mad if their parabatai dies, he marvelled. How barbaric.
They traded blows back and forth across the snow, one weapon shining with the light of Heaven, the other gleaming with the taint of Hell. Tears stained Alec's cheekbones and left freezing trails down his face, but he couldn't bring himself back under control. Not now.
The wind howled as if to echo the fury that filled Alec, and it lifted snow from the drifts around the two combatants in a dizzying surge. Alec caught a powerful overhead strike on his seraph blade and gritted his teeth, holding against the Prince of Hell's strength.
"Don't worry, it'll all be over soon," Asmodeus cooed at him from behind the visor of his helm.
A flare of blindingly brilliant light filled the darkness behind the Greater Demon for an instant before vanishing. Then Asmodeus grunted in surprise, and Alec pulled back just in time to see the tip of a shimmering dagger pierce through the front of his enemy's armour.
"Yep," a mocking voice said from the other side of the demon. "It will be!"
Jace let go of the handle of the aegis that had been gifted to Alec by Sister Cleophas outside the Adamant Citadel and stepped back. Asmodeus looked down at the weapon protruding from his chest and scrabbled at the tip in horror. White light filled his armour, and cracks rippled along the steel like tiny lightning strikes. He started to scream as Heaven's power tore through his corporeal form.
Acting on instinct, Jace tackled Alec into the snow only seconds before the Greater Demon went up in a shaft of the purest brilliance imaginable, winking out of existence in an instant.
"Nailed it," Jace laughed, flopping down into the snow, breathing hard. He rubbed at his eyes to try to clear the blinding afterimage of Asmodeus' demise. "Sorry I'm late - I got a little hung up with one of those cat-things that tried to come after its master, but I managed to kill it eventually." He brought his witchlight stone to life and pointed to where pieces of his gear had been torn away in strips by the powerful tentacles. "Tricky bastards."
Alec didn't respond, and that's when Jace noticed the look of numb shock on his brother's face. A flash of dread went through him and he craned his neck to search the area.
"Where's Tessa?"
Ithuriel still held his daughter's hands lightly clasped over his heart, and at her word, he took a swift step backwards.
Sera gasped in surprise as she felt a part of herself stretch and then snap free. Her father was now gently holding a ghostly image of herself that remained still in his arms. What's happening... her thoughts trailed off as she looked down at her body, holding out her arms in astonishment.
Impossibly, she was sheathed in a shimmering gold dress that hugged every curve. Her hair fell in a gleaming tumble over her shoulders that confused her. All of the exhaustion and abuse she had endured had been wiped away, replaced by a gloriously fresh sense of purpose, and her heart started to pound as new strength filled her. A flash of gold over her shoulder startled her back into the moment. She whirled to find the source, but the glint moved with her, and that's when she felt the new weight of the gracefully arched golden wings at her back.
She stared back at her father in open-mouthed shock. "This is temporary right?"
He smiled back at her, and she could have sworn that he winked. "Very. Go quickly, while there's still time. I will protect your Mortal half from what lies beyond the veil."
More than a little nervous about jumping, Sera took a deep breath to calm herself. No sweat. Apparently, I've got wings now. She screwed up her courage, backed up a few steps, and then ran for the edge without another thought. She dove off like she used to dive into the lake where she had grown up, plunging headfirst into the darkness like a shooting star.
She passed through the veil and into what her father had called the Nightlands with an icy splash, as if she really had leaped into a freezing lake, but there was only an endless night sky that stretched out as far as she could see in every direction. Including... down. Her stomach lurched as she suddenly dropped, but she halted her descent with a thought.
Just like being in a dream, she tried to tell herself. Stars glittered all around her, some more brightly than others, and she tried to find some way to mark the distance or anything really, but there was nothing. Just emptiness.
"Hello!" She shouted.
Hello, hello, hello... her voice echoed away from her.
"Rayce!"
Rayce, Rayce, Rayce...
"Well, that's just a little too creepy," she muttered, suddenly worried about what else she might attract by shouting. Probably not anything good.
She moved forward without seeming to, searching blindly as the stars raced away all around her. A trickle of doubt crept into her mind. It was just so... desolate.
Her mind drifted even as her body did, and she found herself thinking uncomfortably about the Unseelie wraith, Veralysia. God, how long did she spend searching for Gwyn in this place? She shivered unconsciously. She spent her whole life trying to get... here.
The more she tried not to think about Veralysia, the more her mind insisted on conjuring up very clear memories of the woman's wasted face, the broken nails like claws, and the tattered robes that had been eaten away over the centuries.
"Oh, yeah, just pour on the terror, that's nice," Sera told her brain sarcastically.
Before she could berate herself any further, she saw movement in the darkness and her heart leaped into her throat. Holy shit! She tried to vanish, to send herself somewhere else in the endless night, and it might have worked, but it was hard to tell when everything looked so much the same.
Breathing hard, she clutched at her chest and then laughed nervously.
A pale spectre flickered to life right in front of her and Sera screamed in spite of herself. As if thinking about the Unseelie had been enough to summon her, the wraith now loomed over Sera.
Dead black eyes widened in astonishment, and the Faerie's ruined mouth sagged open sickeningly. Sera tried not to stare at where Veralysia's teeth were visible through the rotted-away piece of her cheek.
"Impossible," the Faerie whispered as she took in Sera's gleaming, golden wings and significantly healthier-looking complexion. "You cannot be here."
Sera squared her shoulders defiantly and lifted her chin. "You told me that no power on earth could bring back the dead. That was a good tip, thanks. Aut invenium viam aut faciam, remember?"
Veralysia's face twitched minutely, and then a shimmering tear slipped down her sunken cheek to disappear into the gaping hole in her flesh. "And you have found a way to take your Hunter back with you, child?"
"I have," Sera answered confidently.
"Then you must find him quickly," the Unseelie urged her, looking down at her own ravaged body. "Too well do I know the danger of staying in the Nightlands."
Sera shook her head. "I don't know how."
The wraith lifted her arm and laid a broken nail just above the shimmering bodice of the Shadowhunter's dress. "Follow your heart." She took her hand back and touched her own chest. "Never have I felt my Gwyn more strongly than now. Something has changed."
He might be slightly more dead than you remember, Sera thought guiltily. But then again... maybe that's a good thing in a place like this.
Sera gathered up her memories of Rayce and held them tightly in her mind. Veralysia flickered in and out of focus, and she nodded knowingly. "Go to your Hunter, little Nephilim, and I will go to mine."
The Unseelie melted back into the night and Sera was alone once more.
"If she can do it, so can I," Sera whispered. She set her heart on her prince and reached for the connection between them than had allowed her to find him in her dreams.
The stars around her rushed and then blurred as she felt herself pulled through the darkness. She closed her eyes. Just breathe. Have faith.
"Sera?" Rayce's awestruck voice flooded through every cell in her body and she felt her heart soar. She opened her eyes breathlessly.
Rayce stood immobile in the darkness with heavy chains hanging from manacles clapped around his wrists. The links trailed away into the night until they could no longer be seen.
"Rayce." She closed to distance between them and threw her arms around him. His hands came up hesitantly, dragging the chains as he encircled her waist.
"You... how... wings," he stammered, unable to handle the radiance of her angelic half without its Mortal shading.
She laughed, overjoyed to have found him, and nuzzled into the side of his neck. "Apparently, they're temporary, don't get used to them."
He found her lips with his own and kissed her deeply, drawing her closer. "You did it," he breathed in between kisses. "I can't believe you did it."
Sera tangled her fingers in his hair and smiled. "I'm not finished yet," she promised. She let her hands slide down his shoulders and then to where the chains held him bound on the wrong side of the veil. "It's a damn good thing I don't need a stele."
Twin Opening runes hissed into the manacles and blazed up in white fire. The links fell away silently into the night, and Rayce lifted his hands in wonder.
Sera kissed him fiercely and laid her right hand on his bare chest. "If anyone else wants a piece of you," she whispered as she lifted his right hand and set it over her heart, holding it there with her left, "they're going to have to go through me first."
A rune flared under the palm that lay flay against his chest, more powerful than anything she had been able to create in her Mortal form, and she felt its mate trace along her skin under Rayce's own hand. The feeling was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.
Euphoria raced through their bodies and ecstasy united them even as the runes began to take effect, binding their souls together to survive the journey back to their world going the wrong way along what was really intended to be a one-way path.
Aspen had achieved an imperfect bond with Hunter when she had tried to save his life during the destruction of Herondale Manor, but Hunter hadn't crossed over, not quite. Sera was banking on her strength and the new runes that they would both bear for the rest of their lives. She lowered her hands experimentally and gasped when she saw the topmost edge of the permanent rune over Rayce's heart.
The graceful curve that typically surrounded the Wedded Union rune now enclosed the stylized ɱ that formed half of a Binding rune. She knew without looking that her own chest would now be Marked with the same piece of the Wedded Union rune cradling the ᵱ of the Binding Rune.
"You are very fortunate," a man's voice called from behind Rayce, startling them out of the moment. Rayce whipped his head around and was shocked to see Gwyn outlined by the stars in the darkness. The big Faerie looked nearly solid, but he was somehow different than Rayce remembered.
Alarmed, he turned fully and kept himself in front of Sera, protecting her, wary of a trap. "Why are you still here, Gwyn?" He noted the lack of chains on the former Hunter.
The Unseelie shook his head faintly. "I'm not here for you, princeling. I was waiting for her." His eyes drifted over Rayce's shoulder.
Rayce tensed to attack, but then felt Sera's restraining hand on his arm and heard her suck in a sharp intake of breath.
Veralysia had materialized silently and was gliding toward Gwyn with wonder in her black eyes. She covered her wasted mouth with her hand in disbelief when she saw her prince freed at last. When she drew level with him, he pushed a lock of her tangled hair away from her face.
"I could never have left without you," Gwyn told her quietly. She wept milky white tears and wrapped her bony arms around him gratefully. With an audible sigh, Veralysia let go of the last thread of life still tethering her to the Mortal world.
The first thing to change was her hair, darkening to glossy black from brittle white. Then her exposed flesh healed over and became whole once more, smoothing out to a soft alabaster that gleamed in the starlight. Her gown shed the ravages of the centuries and was restored to its rich, red velvety softness under Gwyn's hands until he once again held his Veralysia. She buried her face in his chest and let his massive arms fold around her.
Gwyn looked up at Rayce and nodded once. "I wish for you the happiness I once sacrificed, Rayce Morgenstern, but remember that what she has done," he lifted his chin toward Sera, "will come with a price." The pair of ancient Unseelie began to fade away as they moved on, but the Shadowhunters were just able to make out his parting words. "Si vis pacem para bellum."
Sera blinked. "Si vis... 'If you'... what?" She looked up at Rayce. "Why the hell does everyone except me speak Latin?"
Unsettled by what the Faerie's warning might mean, Rayce still managed to grin back at her. "We can ask Zeke when we get out of here. And I don't think you can say hell while you have wings."
She harumph-ed back at him and arched her eyebrow. "Then we'd better get the hell out of here." She took Rayce's hands in her own. "Don't let go!"
"Never," he promised.
Sera set her mind back on the Mortal world and pulled with all of her willpower against the drag of the underworld. She felt its resistance to letting go of its grip on Rayce, but half-dead still meant half-alive. Freed from the Hunt, and with his soul anchored to her own, he could no longer be held prisoner beyond the veil.
They hurtled toward the pinprick of light from one of the stars and watched it widen as they approached until they passed through its keyhole and back into their world at last.
Sera slammed back into her Mortal body, and unfortunately into the bedrock of the ritual site, painfully. She landed hard next to where Rayce was laying on his side and breathing raggedly with his eyes clenched shut. She gasped in fear and rolled him onto his back away from the cloak that had fallen from his shoulders when the clasp had been tricked into opening.
A pair of beautiful, deep green eyes fluttered open at her touch, and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Sera..."
In one swift movement, she pulled the iron blade out of him and slapped her hand down over the wound she had left, blazing a powerful iratze across his chest. The Mark she had given him in the Nightlands did not show in this world, but she could still feel her own half of the pair burning in her heart. What she done was more than skin-deep; she had Marked their very souls.
Rayce's breathing began to ease as the healing spread. The cloak had never been intended to be worn by a Nephilim, had never been intended to serve a master that could survive what would have been a mortal wound for any Faerie. Sera's carefully-placed knife had been dangerous enough to fool the cloak while not being serious enough to prevent her from healing him once its hold had been loosened.
Almost as if sensing Rayce's improved prognosis, the clasp twitched where it lay atop a fold of the cloak on the stone, anxious to reclaim him, but Sera snatched it before it could get any bright ideas.
"I don't think so."
As Luchaereon had once called upon his father in Hell to create the cloak, so too did Sera now call upon her own father in Heaven to balance the scales of good and evil and undo the power of the mantle forever.
A dazzling ripple of blazing fire snaked down through the shaft of light above her and struck the clasp. The metal hissed and melted as if acid had been dripped across its face, and then the cloak burned away like a message set aflame from one corner. Only ash remained to mark its passing.
Rayce's hand came up to rest weakly over her own and signal that he was going to be okay.
Sera's eyes shone in the fading glow of the golden runes all around her as the power of the circle fell back into its former dormancy with her mission complete. She looked over to where her tiny warlock friend was standing on what appeared, at first glance, to be a blank stretch of stone. Seraphine's back was arched, her head thrown back, eyes closed, and her arms were extended with her hands curled into claws as she fought to maintain control. One demonic glyph still burned scarlet.
Sera saw the last rune and immediately knew that the warlock had held on as long as she had to make sure that they got back safely, just in case.
"FINISH IT!" Sera screamed across the ritual site.
Seraphine's shaking hands clenched shut and she dropped her arms with a heavy sense of finality as she cried out in harsh Ergothian. The final sigil vanished in an oily puff of dark smoke and the vortex whipping around the warlock ceased. She swayed once and then collapsed, unconscious.
Several things happened at once then, and Sera could only watch in stunned amazement.
The three surviving cat demons screamed in unison and then folded in on themselves until they disappeared as they were forced out of the Mortal world. Some of Shadowhunters who had been fighting against them dropped their weapons in shock when they saw the ritual site without any trace of the blackened and burned ellipse. The golden dome of protection started to unravel as Magnus rushed down the slope to lift his new-found half-sister into his arms.
Rayce's fingers squeezed Sera's hand and her eyes darted back down to drink in the sight of him once again. He managed to lever himself up onto one elbow and then to his knees. She tried to push him back down, to force him to rest, but he shook off her concern.
"No, I can't wait any longer," he said hoarsely.
"Wait for what?" Sera asked, bewildered. "It's over."
He cupped her face in his hands, tracing her lips with one thumb as the other stroked down the curve of her jaw.
"I don't want this to be the end," he whispered. "I want it to be the beginning." He leaned in and kissed her softly. "Everything you've done... there's nothing I can ever do to match it."
"You don't-"
"Shh," he cut her off, kissing her again to steal away her words. "What you went through to get me back..." He struggled to find the right words. "I'm afraid that there's nothing I can ever do to prove that I love you as much as you love me."
"But-"
He didn't know if he was dizzy from blood loss or simply drunk on the memory of Sera's heavenly glory, but he couldn't take his hands away from her face, skimming across her cheek bones and then drawing her closer for more. He didn't ever want it to stop.
Rayce panted breathlessly between kisses as the cold began to settle in around them with Magnus' protection spell fading. He slid his hands into Sera's hair behind her neck and tugged the ring off the fourth finger of his right hand. It held no power over him now. Sebastian's memory had been laid to rest with his own ghosts, and he had accepted that he wasn't bound by his father's mistakes. But nor could he blame his father for whatever darkness was his own.
"I have nothing to give you," Rayce breathed in her ear, "nothing but a ring with a bad name and a promise that I'm going to spend the rest of my life at your side."
He drew back and held up the Morgenstern ring in the space between them. "Marry me, Sera," he pleaded with her. "I already know that life without you isn't living at all. I don't want to waste another minute without you."
Sera's smile almost hurt as tears slipped down her cheeks and she pulled him back in to kiss him again. "Yes," she laughed. "Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times, yes."
He laughed joyously with her, letting go of all of the terrible things that had happened while they had been parted.
Never again, he vowed.
"This means a fabulous wedding," Magnus threatened happily from where he had been eavesdropping. He threw his arms up in an inexplicable shower of glitter.
Seraphine cracked an eyelid just in time to get a face full of shimmering flakes. She sighed tiredly and closed her eyes again. "Why am I covered in glitter?"
"Because they're getting married!" he crowed.
"About time," she mumbled before drifting off again.
There was a stirring on the ridge where the Shadowhunters had gathered to look down on the site, and they parted to allow a pair of Nephilim to pass. One by one, they bowed their heads in respect, and a hush settled over the group.
Magnus rose to his feet with fear clamping down on the excitement in his heart. My Alec...
But his husband's tall frame crested the rise a moment later and he felt a wave of relief until Jace appeared, carrying a limp form in his arms. Numbness was stamped across both of their faces, and when Magnus met Alec's eyes, he knew.
He felt the pain like a punch in his chest and the last of his protective dome melted away to allow the icy wind to slice through his clothes. Warmth drained out of him and he felt a lump rise in his throat.
Tessa.