Epilogue

Jonathan hadn't moved in days from his hotel in the depths of Berlin, just staring at the photos of Cynthia's camera. The ones he'd printed off simply because he wanted to see her face again. Cynthia was gone. Dead. There was a hollowness in his heart that he'd never felt before. The kind of hollow that losing someone he cared for dying could only cause.

His favorite photo was the one that she'd taken in Alicante, the towers behind them. Such easy, carefree smiles upon their faces. It was before he'd died. Before she'd become a monster. Her eyes weren't black, but lighter. A dark bottle green. They looked so beautiful on her.

And now he'd never see them again but for photos. The Shadowhunters had taken her body back to New York along with Jace. If he was dead. He had no idea. But Jonathan guessed he was alive. But Cynthia… she wasn't so lucky. That perfect, flawless body had been speared through as she watched. And then she burnt like hellfire before his eyes. Her body an inferno of heavenly fire. How she'd feared fire, and that was how she'd met her end.

Jonathan ran a hand through his tangled white blonde hair now, unfolding the letter he'd read and re-read so many times that it was ripped a little near the top. She had written it not that long ago.

My dearest Jonathan.

If you are reading this, then fate has finally caught up with me. Sucks huh? I'm dead. Or I'm a demon. If I am a demon… or so demonic that I no longer know my own name, please kill me my lover. One act of kindness.

There was more. He wanted to screw the letter up, burn it. But he couldn't. It was a memento, proof that once, he'd been loved. There had been a note for Jace too, and a scrawl on the front asking Jonathan to send it. He had, not even opening it. To New York it had found its way.

"Ave atque vale, Cynthia Morgenstern," he just simply muttered under his breath, ramming the dagger he had in his hand into the table, leaving it to quiver lightly. Revenge was the only thing on his mind. Pure and utter revenge.

Jonathan cleared his throat, raising a hand to his eyes, stopping dead as he realized they were wet. Impossible. It couldn't happen… but it had-

He was crying.

-LightInYourNightmare-

Jace winced as he sat up in the narrow infirmary bed, the letter in his hand. It had arrived earlier, not long after he'd woken up. He had no idea what it might be, but not this. From her. Of all people.

Jace.

There are so many things I want to tell you, but I don't know how to start. Or even do it. You're a good man, and never forget that. I love you. I've always loved you. Even those days in the SilentCity where you wished me dead. I could never hate you.

I just wanted to tell you that I don't blame you. That, if you're reading this, I'm dead. I've been dying for years, demon blood consuming me. It even killed our child, Jace. The demon blood. But I won't talk about that. I don't want to burden you with the thought that you could have been a father if fate had been kinder. But fate isn't kind, it's cruel.

Even beyond death, I shall still love you. Love you and Jonathan. My boys. My demon boy. My angel boy. I'm sorry that I wasn't stronger, that I could fight it.

Keep a hold of Clary and never let her go.

Until we meet again.

Your old friend. Old lover.

The girl who will forever keep safe your first kiss, Cynthia Darkstone.

Jace set the letter down and sighed, closing his eyes as he let it all sink in- even at her end, she'd had a good heart. And she'd been pregnant… that made him feel sick with horror, the fact that when he'd told her to die, she had been carrying his child there and then.

He swallowed hard as he got to his feet, wincing lightly- the Silent Brothers would go insane, but he didn't care. Carefully, he sat down upon the edge of the bed next to him, raising a hand to move the stray strands of honey blonde hair from her closed eyes. "You underestimate just how good a person you are, Cynthia Darkstone," he muttered, knowing that under her chest, her heart beat fast and steady. What did it mean for a girl that had been dependant on demon blood until she'd started to fight it with angel blood? But she'd been more Heaven's than Hell's. And here she was, burning like himself.

"I wish I had your strength," he mused, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His lips tingled as the fire inside her danced with his own. She groaned lightly, eyes fluttering open a fraction, gazing at him for just a moment, but that was all he needed to see the emerald green that were her eyes.

Beautiful eyes that he remembered from when they were children. Free from the taint of demon blood.

She was alive.

To Be Continued…