Okay, I really must rant.

I swear I am getting more and more frustrated by the chapter. I'm receiving no comments. What happened? This story used to be so popular, and still seems to be with all of the people who favorite these stories and me as an author. Yet every time I add a new chapter, all I'm treated to are practically crickets.

I'm working so hard to find a way to schedule my updates and keep this plot exciting for you guys with new twists and turns. Claire and I have actually even mapped out the next ten books of this series. Did you read that last sentence? Ten stories! Ten stories filled with epic ideas that launch the life of a Rogue even further than I first assumed would be possible. I could drop spoilers all day, post countless plot sketches and chapters and one-shots from these next ten stories, but I don't because I want people to see for themselves.

But if I'm not getting any feedback, it feels like no one is reading. And if no one is reading, then what's the point of even continuing? I don't write for me, I write for people. I see these stories in my head already, I always felt like keeping them to myself would be a waste. Perhaps no one is commenting because these stories now suck – despite my attempts to keep changing things up. But it seems like no matter what I do, nothing is working.

What am I supposed to do? What else can I do?

Here's another Madi chapter that will probably lead to the end of the Verdantian Chronicles. I'm not going to post chapters and waste space on this site, and I'm definitely not forcing Claire to do the same if she doesn't want to.

Thank you to the people that are loyal and comment. You have no idea how much I appreciate you.

~ THEMESONGS ~

Only Human ~ Jason Mraz

Everything's Okay ~ Lenka

.M.I.W.

13. Middles meet Ends

I slowly crept down the stairs of the Institute (avoiding the elevator at all costs) and towards the Sanctuary. Church and I had crossed paths at one point, but he wasn't interested in following me today. Fleetingly, I wondered why.

Fleetingly, though.

Because let's face it. Cats are cats, and they'll do whatever they want, and look demonic while doing it.

Anyways…

I was pressed for time. I needed to talk to Camille – fast before Alec and Magnus arrived. There were things I had to know. Immediately.

I already found myself in front of the door leading into the Sanctuary, surprised to find it unguarded. Maryse and the other Shadowhunters must've been off doing something else.

I reached out and carefully opened the door, already hearing voices flooding into my range of hearing.

"Immunity, Magnus." Camille had demanded icily.

I crept into the room, looking ahead to see Magnus sitting in front of the vampire currently strapped to a stone column. He was dressed in all black (no glitter to be seen either, which I feel should stir emotions of shock), save for a long, white scarf. He looked frustrated, watching her with those familiar cat green eyes. They had a hint of an ancient weariness that I never really saw often.

"Camille –"

"They will stake me out in the sun and leave me to die." The vampire hissed. "That is what they do to those who slay Nephilim."

Magnus stood up, beginning to fiddle with the end of his scarf that had hung loosely on the floor. "I'll do what I can, Camille. But I make no promises."

"You never would." The vampire scoffed quietly. She suddenly looked quite desperate. "Come here, Magnus. Come close to me."

To my surprise, he did. He came close to her, able to touch her if he wanted, but didn't. Instead he simply looked at her, waiting for her to speak.

"Remember." She murmured, so quietly that I had to rely on my genetically enhanced hearing to catch it. "Remember London? The parties at de Quincey's? Remember Will Herondale? I know you do. That boy of yours, that Lightwood. They even look alike."

Suddenly, cunning jade green eyes locked on mine, making me automatically reach for my waist. I had wanted to grasp for a sword hilt, but I realized I wasn't wearing my weapon's belt. I wasn't wearing my gear at all. Even though she was chained, I found myself shaken.

"I bet you remember, don't you, Rogue?" She demanded, her voice practically ringing in superiority. "I knew you would come back – that you couldn't resist. Your curiosity is insatiable."

Magnus looked at me in surprise. "Camille, she –"

"She remembers." Camille went on. "I know she does. Funny, Rogue, you didn't mention you were immortal."

Oh, if only she knew how immortal I wasn't. There was a tightness in the back of my throat that constricted my words, whether from laughter or tears at the irony, I couldn't be sure.

"How do you know what I am?" I asked instead.

I already knew the answer though, and Camille knew I did too.

A sly smile spread across her features. "We met one hundred years ago. In London."

I narrowed my eyes, feeling my hands curl into fists. "No, we didn't. Seeing as I wasn't even alive one hundred years ago –"

"Don't try to convince her." Magnus ordered. "She doesn't know yet."

Yet? Was Magnus in on it too? Would that even surprise me?

But it did, and I balked. Seriously, I didn't even know the meaning of 'balked' until this very second, because it never applied to my life until just then. "Yet –?"

"But it is her! She should remember –"

"No she shouldn't. Look at her," the warlock went on. "She's different from how we saw her in London."

"You and I met before too?" I demanded. "I was in London? Magnus, why didn't you tell me –?"

"Because you told me not to." Magnus said severely, immediately shutting me up.

I told him what?

I couldn't get the words out fast enough (a rare feat by my standards), my oh-so-exquisite vocabulary becoming a jumble of mush as I spluttered my outrage. Upon seeing Magnus' concerned face (and Camille's smug one), and my lack of rendering the use of the English language, my anger grew.

"Why would I do something like that?" I finally demanded. "I wouldn't, that's why! Now one of you is going to tell me what's going on. Right. Now!"

"No." Magnus replied.

"Why not?"

"You told me it will alter your future."

My future? How could anything possibly alter my future at this point? I was going to die! Die and…

Be sent to Hell.

Once again, I found myself at a loss for words. I mean, you would too when you learn your future self is cavorting with your friends and telling them not to tell you stuff. Important stuff. At the moment, I really considered my future self to be a conniving bitch.

Or a demon raised by Belial to do his bidding.

"You knew." I said, looking at Magnus. "You knew all this time, and you didn't tell me. You just played the idiot. You let me make that decision –"

"You were the one that gave me the spell in London."

So it was true. My future self was demonic, and it was Belial who would be finalizing my fate. I wouldn't even be able to fight it. How very slain-hero-poetic.

And possibly a bit ironic.

I felt my emotions immediately shut down, and the rational side of my mind go on overdrive. Claire needed to be trained. She needed to kill me once I became a demon.

.M.I.W.

I pretty much flew out of the room at that, deciding to look like a complete loser than completely lose it in front of a vampire and a warlock.

I walked around the Institute, feeling the soft carpet gently give under my bare feet. I had originally gone back to my room in order to change into my pajamas and go to bed, but that thought suddenly became out of the question when I realized I would probably (well, more like definitely) get nightmares.

At that realization, I had left my room. But not without a trusty pack of cigarettes, and my Bic lighter (which I had stolen back under cover of glamour).

"Madi."

I froze in my tracks, immediately turning around at the sound of my name. I saw Maryse just peering out from the library, and I frowned. Why hadn't I seen her?

I nodded politely. "Hello, Mrs. Lightwood." She nodded in return, slowly walking towards me. Her eyes flickered towards the pack of cigarettes in my hand, which I wasn't so easily hiding. "I was about to head up to the roof."

Her usually hard expression seemed to crack at what I'd said. Only a little. And what little there had been was suddenly replaced by armor once again. "Aren't you a little young for those?" She asked sternly.

I shrugged. "Probably."

Her frown tightened a little. "Your parents would be upset –"

"They wouldn't care." I informed her.

In a way, it was kind of true. My parents no longer cared about what I was doing anymore – or just didn't find reason to ask. Ever since I had started portal-traveling, I'd seen less and less of them. Mainly it was because of me. I spent most of my time training instead of coming to dinner, sneaking out of the house and coming back at strange hours.

Whenever they asked me questions about school (that I had forgotten about in between lapses of travel and fighting), my obvious confusion was enough for them to probably believe I'd stopped going.

I knew my mom had noticed some of her washrags were stained red with blood from my more serious bouts of training. I knew they could hear my screams from the nightmares, abruptly cut off by me as soon as I would wake up. I knew they could smell the tobacco and smoke on my clothes. I began to notice more and more pamphlets and calling cards around the house for psychiatrists.

They were scared of me, because they knew. I was no longer their daughter. I was the shell of who I had been, filled with something much darker than there had been before.

It was like Maryse could see my thinking. "Don't you have any guardian that takes care of you?"

I wondered what a good response would be for that question. I supposed I could just make up the name of some uncle or cousin, but I really didn't want to come up with one more lie to add to the already growing pile. I shook my head.

"It's better that way." I said. "No one would know what to do with me."

Another statement of truth. If I'd somehow find someone to adopt me. Knowing fully well what I was. Yeah, it would work out brilliantly. Life would be amusing:

"Madi, keep your weapons off the table."

"Oh, don't get blood on the carpet!"

"Is that Belial still giving you a hard time? Do you need me to go talk to him?"

"Here, honey, I sharpened your swords for you!"

"Heading out for another adventure, dear? Have fun! Be safe!"

"Do you think you could make a portal to take us to the beach this summer?"

"Goodness, your gear sure does get filthy from your little quests!"

"Back again, huh? How were Jace and Alec? Or did you say you were going to see Howl?"

"You know, dear, you should try some new worlds. I bet you would love Twilight!"

What a joke.

Bringing myself back to the situation at hand, I took a few steps back, beginning to turn around. "Anyways, if you need anything, I'll be on the roof. I forgot to tell you: it's great to see you again, Mrs. Lightwood. This is the most beautiful Institute I've ever stayed in. I love being here."

And, being more honest than I thought I ever would with Maryse (or any adult from any book, for that matter), I left.

.M.I.W.