Disclaimer: Don't own the mortal instruments or any of their characters/themes.

Thank you so much to those who reviewed, I know it may not be a lot to some of you but, passing the 50 mark makes me so happy. I wanted to send a special thanks to those who reviewed with ideas because, even if you don't see it, they always, always, inspire me. So, thank you.

Anyways you know the drill. Please review and follow/ favourite,or even just read on.

Thanx, Lovestory112:).

Jack Blyth was a mundane. A mortal, human being, with a plain string of DNA. Now, Jack Blyth didn't get bitten by a vampire, and he certainly didn't become a lycanthrope (in fact Jack hated werewolves) but he ended up living in his own personal hell.

The Far Forest Morgenstern Manor, placed in the middle of absolute nowhere.

Jack was a servant for Jonathon, the eldest son of Mr. Valentine Morgenstern, and had been bustling through the empty corridors to clean up Jonathon ever-so-steadily-growing-even-messier room when he'd heard the sound. His eyes flicked towards the door where the bang had erupt from and watched steadily as it shook and rattled. Jack racked his brain and remember that that was the war room. Jonathon Morgenstern and Sebastian Verlac were supposed to be in there discussing their plans.

A scream split the air in half as it shot out the cracks in the door and their was a shatter, then faint tinkling, like the raining of a solid on the ground. Jack swallowed as he realized;

the scream was feminine.

Definitely not Jonathon or Sebastian.

Jack moved hesitantly towards the door, stepping carefully to avoid alerting anyone that might see him, and reached slowly towards the glistening, shiny knob. The sounds seized and time seemed to stop as his fingers brushed the gold. His heart was beating so loud he was afraid someone might hear it, and the sound of blood pulsing in his ears was booming and present, stifling all other noises. Life was at a standstill, but little did Jack know that it was the calm before the storm.

The door suddenly burst outward and flung Jack backwards so he hit the wall with the back of his skull. He laid there, still, and watched as a tall figure strutted down the hallway in the other direction, a blond head bobbing until it became a speck then disappeared around the corner. Jack stayed on the floor before stumbling up and creeping around the door.

He saw a wreckage, wood littering the floor, and troop pieces of a war map thrown hazardously across the room; a particular spiky piece sticking into the wall. The table was flipped and it looked like a chair had been dragged along with it. In fact it must have caught a map of the way over as there was a parchment coloured material covering the entire piece of wood.

But where was the woman he heard?

Jack Blyth moved towards the table, reaching forward to look behind the dented oak, when he saw the map twitch. But wait...no...it wasn't a map. There was a dress, a parchment coloured dress like the ones the woman servants wore. And...there were the black shiny shoes they'd all be forced to wear as well.

With horror Jack scanned his gaze upwards and discovered flesh. Thin skin over neglected muscles that shaped muscular, but grimy calves, and knobby knees made of just skin, bone, and cartilage. Jack flicked his lovely blue eyes along a slightly moving stomach and a stuttering chest before landing on a wooden stick protruding from the body.

Her body.

His eyes scanned her pretty but dirty face before he stepped into action, taking the body in his arms and carrying it out into the hall.

No, not it. Her.

As Jack walked slowly down the corridor he gazed down at her throat. He watched as it jumped and skipped with mix-matched breaths and promised himself he'd save this girl, no matter if it cost his life. Because they might be mundanes, but they were not slaves.

And Jack was tired of being a slave.

Choal POV

Why was he here?

He couldn't be here right now! It would mess up everything! His plan, Jonathon's plan, and...his sister! What were they going to do to her! What was he going to do right now?

On the outside Choal remained cool-faced and inquiring, but on the inside his mind was in turmoil. Choal was supposed to notify Sebastian if he found Clary, he was supposed to send a fire message to Sebastian, who would be waiting at the edge of Alicante for his message to come and attack. But Choal didn't send a message! Choal didn't even dare send one before figuring out his own plan, his own actions.

So what was he doing here?

In a tense moment, like the calm before the storm, everything was quiet in the kitchen. And Choal had tie enough to think one thought before things went to hell in a hand basket.

There had to have been a spy.

Clary POV.

She was frozen. There in front of her, standing impossibly comfortable , was her imminent death. Time stopped as she stared into his velvety black eyes that were begging her, no daring her to do something, to say something. His perfect cheekbones were pronounced and calling to be ripped to shreds by her long finger nails, and his swoop of ink black hair was pleading to ripped out in the fistfull, by her now-clenched fists.

And as he smiled at her, a mischievous, sly, satanic smile, the situation finally...clicked. Clary launched herself at Sebastian, watching with pleasure as her nails ripped through that perfect face and created rivers of blood on his cheeks. Fisting her fingers once again she pounded full force into his temple and twirled behind him to grab a chunk of his lush locks. She pulled his head down backwards to meet her knee before she was pulled away from the now mangled body of her worst enemy. Clary panted heavily, her throat aching from what she just now realized released an agonizing scream, and looked up at the stunned faces surrounding her. Well, mostly stunned.

Choal had placed a smug, smirk on his lips as he'd watched her attack Sebastian and now was staring at her with eyes glinting with appreciation and amusement.

What it weird that Clary found that odd? Maybe all members of the Clave loved a good fight?

Maybe they were wild, just like the leaders of the Far Forest.

And if that was the case then Clary couldn't judge, because she was in line to be one of those leaders.

"What were you thinking?" Aline shrieked and jumped off her place on the counter stool to stand before Clary with wide, frightened eyes. No, not stand before herslef, Clary realized. No, to shield Sebastian with whatever she could. "That's my cousin, Clary!" she shouted.

Wait what?

Clary slowed her breathing before letting out a strangled "Sebastian Verlac?"

"Yes, Sebastian Verlac! By the angel Clary, what is your problem? What did he ever do to you?"

"Everything." she whispered darkly before looking down at the now slowly-awaking boy.

She'd just created a storm, one that would be engraved in history, and now she needed to clean the wake she'd left up.

Even if it meant lying. Even if it meant killing. Because that storm would be only thr beginning and those winds would create thousands of other disasters along the way.

She had to postpone that.

Even if it meant dying.

Okay, so i know the ending was rushed and kinda weird but please review what you thought. I'm thinking of branching out into a Carla story as well, don't worry it'll come back to the main plot in the end, but please let me know what you think of that idea. Hope the plot became a little more complex for you guys, and it's gonna get better. And more confusing.

I'D LOVE AT LEAST 2 REVIEWS!

Thank you so much for reading. And i really want to get to 60 reviews in the next couple chapters, but if i don't...whatever.

Please read again, Lovestory112 :)