Author's note & Disclaimer
Hello:)
So the prologue was up - it took me 2 days to write it, in which during both days the writing sessions spanned from 2AM TO 4am. I got 10 follows, 4 favourites and 1 review for THAT prologue written by a cranky, potential-virago? Wow.
Anyways, now on to the heartbreaking part: I do not own the Mortal Instruments. It belongs to Cassie Clare. Damn it. But whatever.
Goodkarmallama.
On with the story!
P. S. this chapter was inspired by the first scene of the sequel to the Phantom of the Opera, Love Never Dies. And before I start ranting about how Eric's love for Christine was still unrequited, at least he has Gustave. ON WITH THE STORY(once again haha).
Chapter 1: Silent Days
Jace awoke slowly and regretfully.
He shifted slightly in his bed. The pillows, the duvet — they all held her scent.
Clary. His Clary.
Lost and gone.
His Clary was lost and gone.
He glared at the oriental carpet of his room. The soft glow of the moon filtered through the windows and held a soft illumination on the Renaissance furniture. He closed his eyes and tried but in vain to purge the gruesome images of the nightmare he had.
She was chained to a dirty brick wall in a seluded room. Her clothes had been shredded to pathetic rags but her clothes didn't matter. She was still beautiful. Her hair had grown longer and had enhanced in the colour of red and her eyes were still the same jeweled emeralds but this time, they no longer sparkled with mirth and love. Her eyes shone with tears and misery.
As Jace watched in horror as scars began to form on her body — carved by an invisible blade. Cuts materialized in small jagged lines but they slowly evolved into long scars, blood dripping from them.
More injury was inflicted on her petite frame. Shallow cuts became deep scars, adorning her forearms. Bruises started to form on her skin, their purplish hue clashed with the fine porcelain that was her skin. Pale like an angel, but now stained with blood.
She writhed and thrashed but not once did she scream. Though it was obvious that she was in deep pain — in fact, excruciating pain — she never showed signs of weakness.
Clary! Jace tried to call out to her but his voice failed him. He struggled against his invisible bonds that were securing him in place, disabling his movement. Jace saw past the misery and despair in her eyes. He saw determination, but it was hidden — brought down by the heavy shackles of pain.
More scars began to decorate her body, more blood was spilled. The blood looked like droplets of crystalized rubies. She still refused to scream. She still resisted the torment.
"Well, well," said a dark voice. "Dear Clarissa still has an iron will, despite the new scars, I suppose." The voice made Jace's blood boil with rage. It was Sebastian.
Sebastian stepped out of the shadows and stalked towards Clary, his lips curling into a lonely smirk. Another scar formed just above her ankle. Clary still resisted the urge to let out a scream, much less a whimper. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Her lips twisted into a lonely grimace.
"How long can you last?" Sebastian questioned. He slipped a hand around Clary's neck and squeezed. Her breath hitched but she did not utter a single word.
You bastard! Jace tried to shout but no words broke the silence. He attempted to stab Sebastian with his sword but he could not move. He was in the same paralysis as the time Sebastian abducted Clary. He failed her once, he could not afford to fail her a second time. But he couldn't move, no matter how hard he tried. He was forced to watch helplessly at Clary under the demon's spawn mercy.
Sebastian let go of Clary's neck and conjured up a stele. But it was no ordinary stele. The stele had been inscripted with scenes of death and it was of midnight black — like a bottomless pit, no emotion, no survival, it was just like Sebastian's eyes. Sebastian grabbed Clary's forearm and started to carve something. It was not a rune but a simple word: Angeli
This time, Clary screamed. There was so much emotion packed into that scream that tears unconsciously fell from her eyes — fear, anguish, despair, misery. Jace flinched and at that moment, he was sure that he was capable of killing.
Sebastian grinned as he relished in his sister's heart-wrenching cries. Throwing a smirk at Jace, the image grew hazy and Jace was sucked back into reality.
Jace blinked, golden eyes blazing with hatred. He was outraged at the scene he had just seen. It had been recurring for a while now. Since the day Clary had been abducted, Jace's dreams had been plagued by the same nightmare — Clary in chains, invisible blades cutting her, Sebastian etching that word on her forearm.
Angeli. Jace knew it was the Latin word for 'angel'. It made sense, though. Clary was no ordinary Shadowhunter. She had more angel blood than the average Shadowhunter but there had to be something more than that...
Shaking his head, Jace forced himself to think straight.
Clary's gone. She's at the mercy of her psychotic brother. She's gone. She's in pain.
He sighed. His legs were tangled in the duvet, his hair swept back — the result of his hand constantly running through it in frustration. He had to find her. The nightmares of her in pain... he was tormented. Her pain was his pain. Sometimes in darkness, before his sleep was hijacked by the nightmares, he would dream of her — lying next to him. But he would awake, holding nothing but cold night air.
He clenched his fists and lay back down in the bed.
You can't search for Clary with your full potential if you're tired.
With that, he forced himself to abandon thought and submit to sleep, the rest of his night plagued with more nightmares.
"Any new leads?"
That question infuriated Jace to no end, especially the usual answer, 'no'.
"No."
There it is, Jace thought sarcastically. The bane of our hope.
The resounding sigh of defeat was let out not only by the Shadowhunters that lived in the New York Institute, but also Clary's vampire best friend, Simon, and Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn.
"We're..." Jace struggled to place his words. "We're wasting time. There's still some daylight outside. We can still search for her."
He staggered towards the threshold, but was swiftly blocked by Isabelle.
"Jace," her voice was soft and laced with sympathy,"I know you're hurting —"
"Me? Hurting?" Jace demanded. "She's the one hurting! She's at Sebastian's mercy! By the Angel, the nightmares I have of him torturing her... They're all filled with blood and her screams!"
Isabelle's face softened at his words but that was only for an instant. Her expression morphed into a mélange of sadness and worry. "I know, Jace. She's in pain. But she's Clary. She won't go down without putting up a fight."
Simon cleared his throat behind them. "She's right, Herondale. I've known Clary almost all my life. She may look fragile, but, God, she has an iron will. She can pull through. And we will find her."
Jace's anxiety turned to anger. "Pull through?" He was seething now. "She can and will pull through! She is in pain now and she doesn't deserve any of that!"
Alec put a hand on Jace's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Jace... Please. Clary and I may not have been the best of friends, but I worry about her, too. I've come to care for her as the younger sister that never tried to poison me with her awful cooking that I never had."
"Hey!" Isabelle protested. "My cooking isn't that bad." Even Jace managed a small smile.
Magnus nodded. "Alexander's right. As horrible you egotistical, duck-fearing Herondale's are, you are blessed with brave and courageous soulmates. Clarissa is strong, as she is selfless. She wouldn't want you losing sleep over her, would she? Plus, if you keeping frowning, you'd get wrinkly and have less good looks to boast about, eh?"
Jace let out a laugh, but it sounded forced, even to him. "Well, then. I guess we would continue the search tomorrow. It's dark outside already," he remarked, taking notice of the absent orange rays that streaked the now raven sky. His friends had already convinced him to rest for the day.
"I think it's time for dinner," Isabelle said with forced glee, trying to disperse the tension. With that, she stretched her legs and stretched her arms. When she caught sight of the look of sheer horror her fellow Shadowhunters, warlock and vampire's face, she rolled her eyes. "I'm not cooking, we're getting take-out."
"Or I could conjure up some food," Magnus suggested. "We're all starving and I don't think we can wait for the Mundanes to deliver out food." The group silently agreed and followed Magnus to the dining room.
"You coming?" Isabelle asked as she strode past Jace.
"In a minute," he promised. "I... I just need some time to clear my head. I'll be in soon. Start without me."
She nodded and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Clary's my best friend. Hell, she's practically my sister. You're not the only one worried about her." She sucked in a sharp breath before continuing,"She's strong. She'd get through this, and we will find her."
Jace stared at Isabelle for a moment, finding solace in her deep blue eyes. She understood. But she could only claim to comprehend a fraction of the pain he was relishing.
"Thanks, Izzy," he finally said. She flashed him a grin before taking long strides to the dining room, where Alec, Magnus and Simon were waiting.
Seeing Isabelle's retreating figure disappear, Jace let out a sigh. He was telling the truth. He had to clear his thoughts. His feet, although sore and in need of rest, wondered aimlessly in the Institute, until he reached the destination that was unknown to his mind — the roof garden.
Flowers bloomed and the crystal clear water of springs cascaded though the air, providing a cool refreshing wave. The scene brought back memories that he cherished greatly. Memories from before things had gotten complicated.
It was true. Jace had been very stressed ever since she was taken. He had been living a mere façade of life, not really living, and nowhere close to death. He settled down near one of the rose bushes, plucking a single red rose and smoothing out its velvet petals.
My Clary, my dear Clary.
He traced his fingers over the thorns, reminiscing the precious time he had with her.
Lost and gone.
Weeks had flown since her abduction. And with every day that passed, Jace died a little more. Evening had passed and night stole into the garden through the windows, pacing the floor. He found comfort in the stars that shone in the sky, as they twinkled like the spark that danced in her emerald eyes. Without her, he felt no more than half-way real.
He yearned for her touch.
Her voice teased at his ear.
Why're you moping about, Jace? Seen another duck?
He turned eagerly towards her melodic voice, but saw nothing except more flowers. His face fell, gold eyes slowly losing their mirth.
God, Clary, where are you?
The sound of the crunching of twigs jolted Jace out of his daydream.
"What do you want, bloodsucker?" Jace asked harshly, seeing that it was only Simon.
Simon raised his hands in a mock surrender. "Whoa there, Herondale. What got your panties in a twist?" Jace didn't reply but scowled in response.
Simon sat down next to Jace and crossed his legs. He looked over at the blonde boy, whose hair was discheveled and his eyes distant, empty. "I know you're in ruins, Jace. She was — no — is the best friend I will ever have for the rest of my eternal life. I want her back as much as you do"
"Do you know about love, Simon?" Jace asked suddenly.
The vampire shrugged. "Sure, I guess."
"Did you ever had love ripped away from you? Like it's in your grasp then all of a sudden, it's being yanked away, further and further, and you see no way of getting it back?"
Simon opened his mouth to answer but Jace interrupted. "Love, as in, true love. Not sibling love, not infatuation." Simon closed his mouth.
After a moment of pondering, Simon said,"I do know true love, but not the lost of it. Tell me, Jace, or I'll stuff a duck under your pillow."
Jace shot him a look as if to say, you wouldn't dare.
"Try me," Simon replied.
Jace sighed as if he was comtemplating whether or not to stab Simon with one of his many seraph blades or simply give in. Fortunately for Simon, Jace chose the latter. "There's this feeling that overwhelms your body when you know you've found the person you'd be in love with for the rest of your life. This, ecstasy pumps through your veins and a rush flows through your brain, and it makes you feel invincible. Like you were on top of the world, that is. Until you fell down, face first into the concrete. That's when you know you've lost her."
Simon nodded. For the first time, he was made aware of Jace's worry and anxiety. Jace's hair was tossled and messy and his eyes no longer gleamed with arrogance. The air he once carried that had been heaving confidence, was now tied down by the shackles of weariness. Simon often heard Isabelle complain about how stressed Jace had gotten, but Simon thought that she was just over-reacting but now, he had witnessed with his own eyes the torment that Clary's kidnapping had inflicted on Jace's physical well-being. Isabelle had spoken the truth.
"You know," Simon smiled,"as the Spanish say, besar al cocinero. It's kind of like hakuna matata from the Lion King. It means no more worries for the rest of your days."
Jace stared at him as if he was insane. "Simon, I have no idea what the Lion King is but I'm guessing it's something lame and mundane. And you said 'kiss the cook', I think you meant to say 'no más preocupaciones por siempre'. Thanks, I guess. But once we find her, there will be no more troubles."
"Oh." That was all Simon could say. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "No problem."
"I was meaning to ask you," Jace said, fixating his golden orbs on the vampire. "Why are you here?"
"Well, you've been here for about an hour now so Izzy asked, well... Ordered me to 'get your golden butt' down to the dining room." Simon shrugged. "Her words, not mine."
Jace managed a smirk and followed Simon back downstairs.
Although he didn't find Clary today, he knew that he would find her eventually. It was a silent day, where he knew his soul could neither be alive nor whole without her. She was the last remaining piece of the puzzle that was his happiness. Without her... it just didn't feel right.
The moments would creep and time would run dry, and he died a little more every day while she remained in Sebastian's captivity. Her voice was absent, the days were silent.
End note:
DUN DUN DUN.
How about that, eh?
I think it's okay.
I love John Green, what about you? 'Cause Looking For Alaska is divine!
"I've done some calculations and I am able to determine that you are full of shit." Ha, it still cracks me up.
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