In a few weeks (as in, 3, I think) I'll be heading to Morocco for 24 days on a community project. We'll be going, trekking, helping to renovate a school and then get a few days for some R&R. I'm definitely looking forward to the rest and recovery part! Anyway, the point of this is, from the 4th/5th of April, I won't be updating for about 25 days (I'm so sorry!), but if I can finish this story before then...

There's only a few chapters left, but I'm not guaranteeing anything.

Please share constructive criticism, comments, anything!

Thanks to ilubcupcakes, Guest, , okayitswayland and jasco7814. okayitswayland your review especially! It made me smile for a long time! And also jasco7184- every time I go to update now, I think of your comment. It really inspires me to write more.

Clarissa… Clary… come to us. Voices whispered, their soft melody cradling her like a child. Come… there is no harm in coming… even just for a few seconds… She strained to catch more murmurs, little sighs and flashes tempting her, convincing her to come forward, into the darkness and away from all that she knew. There was something, something so sweet and soft as a feather waiting for her, she realized.

But there was danger there too, bitter poison running through those rivers of sugar. She tried to move, to block her ears and get away from those voices, to get away from their potential danger- but she was stuck. Paralyzed, forced to listen to them tormenting her and whispering in her ear. Such encouragement in lilting voices; it was all so tempting to stop fighting and just give in. No! Clary wasn't giving in. She was strong, a Shadowhunter.

"Clary!" A voice jolted her from the internal battle. She tried to peel open her eyelids and say something, anything, but her body wasn't obeying. She was stuck, like a fish in a net and there was no hole, no way to escape. Her eyelids were stuck together with glue, and cement held her in place. "Clary!" The voice came again. Who was it, calling her name so desperately? She wanted to reach out and stop that pain. Again, she strained using all of her willpower to-

"Just leave it, Simon. She might never wake up." A bored voice filtered through her determination. Bored- but also stretched thin and tight, a piece of elastic about to snap under pressure. Simon? Simon was here? But… who else was, too?

"No, look, she twitched her fingers!" His gaze was so intense she could feel it drilling into her. The other person left, muttering to themself about desperation and trying.

"Clary?" Simon's voice was hopeful, but weighed down with despair like a wet cloth. She longed to say something that would take it away. He was her closest friend, and although there had been a few… mishaps, that wasn't about to change. "I don't know if you can hear me. The warlock- Tessa, I think her name is- says you're drifting in and out of consciousness- or…" he trailed off. No point in trying to tell him she wasn't in an irreversible oblivion. That she could hear him. "She says she's going to try and call in someone else who's older than her, so he might be able to help you. But, anyway, I wanted to tell you a few things. Valentine's dead- I mean, you saw the Inquisitor kill him, and Seb- Jonathan is in the Silent City prison. He killed Isabelle's little brother, and knocked her out to try and help his father gain access to the Mortal Instruments, but they didn't end up being able to do it. He blew his cover and got out of there, sending the whole of Alicante into a frenzy." Simon chuckled, despite his weary tone. "Smart little demon, I would say."

Clarissa…

No.

She wouldn't let this happen.

Come, Clarissa… be with us… you won't have to bother with these pesky annoyances again.

The voices built up again, one on top of the other, slowly rising, the volume going up and up and up until she couldn't think anymore. All that existed were those syrupy murmurs, speaking as one, pulling as one.

Ice ran through her veins, freezing the voices and clearing her head. Every breath she took felt like her first after suffocating, though needles of pain were prickling throughout her whole body. A soft throbbing at her temple and a dull ache passed throughout her entire torso, bringing a fresh wave of emotions- pain, joy and relief.

Clary untangled her eyelashes from one another and opened her eyes. Everything hit her with a bright shock, colours vivid and piercing. She scrambled backwards, hands over her eyes. Black, black, black. That's all she had been seeing until now. She opened her eyes again and took in the room, the colour a little less intense now.

Standing over her was a man, with curving features that hinted at his Asian heritage. As he winked at her, she noticed his slit pupils- eyes like a cat's. She suppressed a gasp. Warlock marks were often far more outrageous, but there was something strange seeing yellow cat eyes set into a human face. Still, inexplicably, she trusted him- this couldn't have been the first time they'd met.

Clary looked around the room once more. It was made almost entirely out of timber, with few decorations. The covers over her were plain white, and the bedside table had nothing but a lamp on it. There was a single large window, but that had been covered with a thick, gauzy curtain, blocking most light. What had been a smudge of brown and white, and a flash of gold were now people. Simon and… Jace. Her gaze passed over Simon after giving him a smile and clashed with Jace's. He looked exhausted. Pale and strung out, though, he still looked like the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen. He met her stare with an almost incredulous look. Suddenly self-conscious, she turned away.

Looking back at the cat-eyed warlock, she saw he'd been watching them with amusement. Great, we've just provided your daily entertainment. She thought sourly in his direction. Hope you enjoyed it.

"Clarissa Morgenstern. You have lucky connections, little girl, and if not for those, you might not be alive today."

She cleared her parched throat, desperately wishing for a glass of water, and found it was croaky from disuse. "I go by Fairchild. Don't address me with that name. It's not mine." She flung at him defiantly. Respect glittered in his eyes. It lived alongside pain and sadness, humor and sarcasm. "But," she added, her voice softer, "thank you for healing me."

"I might have healed you, but you should thank someone else for convincing me to do so." He replied, with a nod at someone Clary hadn't noticed. A girl who looked in her early twenties was standing in the corner of the room. Until now, Clary noticed, her attention had been focused on Jace. That's not surprising, I guess. She scowled. The girl stepped forward. There was something regal about her posture and the way she carried herself that made Clary feel like a young child. Although she was only dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, she could have easily belonged at a formal dinner a hundred years ago.

"Tessa Gray." She said, extending a hand for Clary to shake. Tessa's accent was strange- a mix between American and English that sounded very slightly like the odd inflection of the Idris accent. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too. Thank you for everything." Clary tried to sound sincere. She met Tessa's eyes, and something passed between them, a moment of understanding almost- which was strange because Clary didn't understand at all. Ever since she woke up, things had just been spinning out of control. She frowned, eliciting a small gasp from her at the pain it brought.

"Where am I? What happened to everyone, and who else is here? And can I have a glass of water please?"

Everyone looked taken aback, except for Jace. He looked like he was appreciating a bitter irony, the face he was always wearing at school. Why hide now, Jace?

He realized she was staring at him, and his face went blank, like a canvas wiped clean of paint.

"Simon?" she asked, moving on. She'd deal with Jace later. This place couldn't be the Institute, or Simon wouldn't be here. He shook his head. Not now, he seemed to say. Later. The door opened, and with a cry, a blur of red hair and denim threw itself across the room, hugging Clary tightly. She hugged back, knowing who it was. Jocelyn lifted herself out of Clary's embrace, graceful as ever, her long hair still brushing Clary's face.

"Thank god you're alright." Her mother whispered. Jace smiled grimly from across the room. "Before you get into the whole thing about what did happen," he said grimly, speaking his first words since Clary woke up. "You should know what's going to happen." He had the undivided attention of everyone in the room. Clary could feel lines of worry scratch themselves into her face, and her fingers began to clench the soft material of the covers. "The Clave believes you were an accomplice to the crimes of Valentine and Seba- Jonathan. They want to trial you. And to do that," he nodded to Simon, "they'll need to trial you, too."

For those confused about the last two lines (KyKat- your review made me reread it and I realized the meaning might not be so obvious), Jace means that because Simon was the one who 'made' her do what she did, that trial is so complicated that it has to be a separate one. They're still connected, but ultimately, if Simon didn't use the encanto, then Clary is guilty- they just have decide her punishment. Even if he did (which we know he did), they would need to trial Clary to ensure Simon wasn't lying. Once you've read over the above 5 times (I had to read it a couple of times, and I wrote it!) please let me know what you think!