Clary

It's been a week since the tower fell, since the Clave crumbled under the rising numbers of the resistance fighters, emboldened by the downfall of the main tower. The last dregs of their regime are being stamped out across the globe, and doctrines of peace are in the works to keep order while a new government is formed.

I don't really care about all of that, though. I'm glad I was able to help, but my mind was anywhere but on talks of government and peace and constitutions.

Because it has been an entire week since my mother died, since she was killed in combat. Every day, I see something that reminds me of her, and it either makes me smile, or it makes me burst into tears. The other Shadowhunters of the Institute don't seem as grieved as I am, but I guess that has to do with being raised around death and the like. It's almost like they're immune to it, but they don't seem to mind very much when I do randomly burst out crying. It's kind of embarrassing.

Jace has been just as supportive, and I've had Isabelle at my side as well. She even spearheaded the mission to come retrieve Jace and me, without Institute approval; all she needed was Magnus to make the portal.

"I'm sorry it took so long to get your voicemail, Clary," she hugged me tightly. Magnus waited by the portal while Alec hugged Jace just as tightly, and I forgot for a while that they were parabatai. They don't do well being separated. That must have been hard on them, yet Jace said nothing the entire time we were away. "My phone was dead, and I was a little more preoccupied with finding you. I guess I should've checked my voicemail."

"It's alright," I smiled into her long raven hair, just thankful that she was here now.

"Where's Jocelyn?" She asked after we broke apart. "Is she inside?"

I clammed up, my face heating up and my eyes prickling. I knew Isabelle would be just as crushed as I was; she all but lived with us growing up. I grabbed her hand, conscious of my mom's—now my—silver ring pressing against her fingers.

I pulled her into another hug and let her tears stain the top of my head, her tall lean body shaking noticeably. My mom was the only mother that Isabelle knew growing up, and even having met her birth mother Maryse, I understood how hard it was on her. It hurt me just as much.

"Are you ready?" Isabelle asks me, peeping her head into the doorway. I have on the short white dress that she lent me—well, it was short on her but it went past my knees on me—a soft cotton that flows around my knees and gold sandals that she also lent me. I didn't have any clothes here, yet.

"Yeah," I whisper, stepping away from the mirror that I stood in front of, examining myself. I feel so odd being in white and about to attend a funeral. It's just not how mundanes do it, but I'm not a mundane anymore either. I guess I never really was.

"It'll be okay," she whispers and takes me by the hand, her thumb heavy and reassuring on the back of mine. My eyes wander to the wristband I have sitting on my dresser, still reading bold zeroes, as did everybody's after the main tower came down. The rest followed like dominoes, with Shadowhunters coming and going every hour of the day and night to provide reinforcements. Maryse, however, made us all stay while the adults went and fought. I can't argue with that; I'm simply too exhausted to do anything but grieve.

Everything reminds me of her. The rich black coffee that I drink every morning, the sketchbook that Jace got me, even the trees that scatter across the Institute grounds. The countryside is exactly the type of landscape that she loves—loved. Despite the chaos that's happening all around us, she's the only thing that I feel missing.

And today, after weeks of dealing with the aftershocks of the coup, we're burying my mom.

Jace, Alec, Simon, and Magnus meet Isabelle and me in the large foyer, almost built like a mudroom with a full boot rack and coat hooks with mounds of jackets on them from the multiple Shadowhunters coming and going constantly. Simon had been staying with Isabelle since he didn't really have anywhere else to go, and the Institutes were supposed to be a safe haven for all in need. I wonder if they'll stay together even now, after the fall of the entire Morgenstern regime, if their fated meeting was nothing more than a randomized match, or if it was real. I never understood that aspect of the wristbands.

Jace takes my hand, holding it tenderly and lacing his fingers between mine. His thumb ran reassuringly across my knuckles, a wave of calm coming over me with his touch. My stomach settled just a little bit.

A deep echoing chime comes from the recesses of the Institute, the bell ringing from everywhere and nowhere all at once. I jump just a little and Jace squeezes my hand tightly while Alec goes to answer the door. A gruff, familiar voice comes from behind the tall heavy door, and Alec steps aside to reveal a graying Luke, wearing white trousers and a white button up shirt, slightly wrinkled. He looks infinitely older than the last time I saw him months ago, months before Salt Lake fell into chaos. Before Valentine started a nationwide wristband check just to find me. That's what Maryse tells me anyways, as if it doesn't make me feel guilty for essentially being the cause of this leg of the war and the whole rescue effort.

"Luke!" My sullen face splits into a smile as he steps inside and comes in for a big bear hug. These were the hugs that I got growing up. He was my moms best friend, he was always around for Isabelle and I when we needed a confidant that wasn't my mother.

"Clary," he grips me tightly, smelling faintly of old books and coffee, something that makes me want to cry simply for the memory of times long past. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too, Luke!" I recall the conversation with Jordan and Maia, who mentioned his full name briefly at one point. Lucian Graymark, werewolf pack leader. I step back and look at him before frowning and smacking him across the chest. "Werewolf pack leader? Really?"

"It's not like I could tell you," he laughs bashfully. "I'm sorry I kept it from you."

"No you're not," I smile, defeated but not unhappy.

"No, I'm not," he chuckles warm heartedly, and trails off into an uncomfortable silence, as if for a split second our reunion made us forget about the reason we were here in the first place. My mom's funeral. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. I had to take care of some things with the pack—Maia and Jordan send their love."

"It's okay," I smiled sadly, realizing that I hadn't put much thought into what happened to him during the war. Once I left Salt Lake, it was like my entire past had been wiped clean and all that was left was ahead of me. Even now, all I had was what I could see in front of me, what I could feel with my hands. I could see my Shadowhunter friends, and I could feel Jace's warm hand around my own. It would have to be enough for me.

The funeral was almost… cathartic. I felt the support of the Shadowhunters and Downworlders all around me like a heavy warm blanket. I didn't cry when her body was brought into the gardens. Her fire red waves spread out around her head in a pillowed halo and her eyes were wrapped in white silk, as was her body clothed in a flowing white gown. She didn't look in pain, or physically hurt, but peaceful with the seraph blade gripped over her heart like a true Shadowhunter, as I was told.

When I spoke, I didn't tell stories of growing up with her as a Mundane, not because I didn't want to lessen the Shadowhunter tradition with what some thought to be cowardice at going into hiding, but because I didn't want to share any of those memories, keeping them selfishly for my mind only. I kept it simple and said she was a great mother, and she always did her best by me, by Isabelle who was crying snottily onto Simon's shoulder.

Jace watched me with soft eyes, the softest I'd seen them since we met. Some sort of swirl of joy and pride in his honey eyes, I thought.

And then for the final goodbye. I stood next to the pyre, my fingers running over the silk of her dress, elegant and regal like she always seemed to be.

"Thank you," I whispered, my eyes stinging fiercely. "For everything. For always being there. For fighting for me, for everyone. For my future. You always wanted me to have a normal future, but I don't think I can.

That doesn't mean I'll give up my art, or anything rash like that. I don't think I could do that. But I think I'll stay with the Institute, stay with the Shadowhunters. They're my people, after all. But I don't blame you for hiding me from myself, from Valentine. I never have. I have time to get to know this new world, anyways. I can start from scratch. But I won't forget what you sacrificed so I could have a normal childhood."

The tears spilled over my cheeks as I leaned down and kissed her soft cheek, a wracking sob tearing through me as I rested my forehead against her cheek. She smelled waxy and fake, but somewhere underneath, I could still smell her, whether it was just the memory of the pungent scent of oil paints, or the floral of her perfume that she wore on special occasions. To award ceremonies for school, to birthday dinners and gala events. I would miss that smell, I knew that much.

I felt a delicate hand close around mine and caught sight of Isabelle's long black hair pulled back elegantly out of her tear-streamed face. She hand tissues in her hand and handed me some of them. I nodded gratefully but turned back to my mom.

"I love you," I whispered and let Isabelle pull me away and back to Jace, who held his arms out for me. I was overwhelmed with the love and support around me, and I could even feel my mom's warmth mixed in with the others. I watched with exhausted eyes as they touched the torch to her pyre and the parting words pluvis et umbra sumus were spoken.

She was gone, and I was still standing there solid and real. I still had a life to live ahead of me, because she chose to stay behind and fight for that future. Whatever happened in the reconstruction of the government, I would still live and breathe and move forward with my friends at my side. I wouldn't stop, not because I thought it was what my mother would've wanted, but because I owed it to myself to do something to make myself happy after the whirling storm of the past few months. I owed it to myself to live. The Shadowhunters around me taught me that much in the short weeks that I've known them, and they've accepted me into their folds like family.

We are dust and shadows, after all.

That's all, folks. This story has finally come to a (albeit sort of clumsy) close, but I think I'm fairly happy with the outcome. I hope you guys are, too, and again I apologize for such long stretches of nothing. I wanted to finish this in honor of luminousfishy, who entrusted me to take care of her brain child and see it to an end. I can't believe it took FOUR GODDAMN YEARS. I seriously can't believe it. Sorry I strung yall along for so damn long xD

As for my other TMI story, Sweet Redemption, I guess we'll see. I'm still not feeling too hot on it, but I've finally read Lady Midnight and am in the middle of Lord of Shadows, so hopefully that'll get me back into a Shadowhunters groove thang and help me out. I'm so sorry it's been forever since I've updated that. Hope you're all doing well!

xx Emily