Disclaimer: No rights to The Mortal Instruments.

PLEASE READ IF CONFUSED***

So i got a review telling me that the whole Choal&Valentine story-line wasn't working. Thank you so much for telling me. I read the story over and, though i caught some mistakes, it made sense to me. BUT if it DIDN'T here's the background/explanation.

Choal's family lived in the outskirts of Alicante, and when Choal was younger, Valentine's army came and killed his parents. Choal and his sister were taken and forced into training, Carla a MAID, and Choal a SOLDIER. Choal was soldier for undercover missions so Clary never met him,as she didn't associate with them and they might have been used for her. Also the Morgensterns led the Far Forest so he knew who she was. Clary would know Carla though because she was Sebastians maid but Clary doesn't know Choal directly.

ALSO: Clary may have thought Choal's eyes were familiar but that would have been because they were like her own. AND the first introduction into Choal's background in Chapter 11 would have been in his percpective but i forgot to include the CHOAL POV.

So hoped that cleared it up. Please tell me if you were confused because then i'd go back and change some things. Sorry about the mix-up, and this long A/N but please review, read, follow, and favourite.

Carla POV.

Before Carla had even opened her eyes she knew she was being carried. The familiar way her feet swayed from side to side and the warmth of a close body radiating from her left indicated that. But it was the soft breath and the muscular, broad shouldered way this person held her told her that it was a boy.

When Carla opened her hazel eyes she found she was wrong. This was no boy, but a man.

His eyes were a deep shade of blue, almost black around the edges but fusing into a navy colour as it neared his pupil. Black, long lashes spread out from his eyelids and his perfectly shaped eyebrows were drawn tight in exhaustion. His chiseled face was accented by high cheekbones and plush pink lips, while a scar ran down the edge of his forehead. It was slightly covered by his longish curly blond hair, and yet the pale pink skin was raised and bumpy, becoming pronounced against his otherwise smooth skin.

He was beautiful.

And after remembering what Jonathon had just done to her, he must have been an angle.

She tried to move away. Carla didn't want to go to heaven. No, not that. Heaven would be beautiful. Heaven would be a dream come true.

Carla didn't want to die.

"No," she tried to say, but when her mouth opened her voice gurgled, and she felt, rather than saw, the blood sluggishly rolling down her chin. "No," she grumbled again, the sound just barely recognizable. The angel above her looked down and fixed those eyes on her own. They widened as he took in the sight of her opened eyes and bloody face.

"shhh," he whispered and stopped walking, crouching and placing her withered body on cold tile as if she was a piece of glass. "What's wrong, please, if I can help...what hurts?" he exclaimed in a rush.

Carla found herself staring into his reflective eyes. Her face was smudged and dirty, brown curls astray and tangled. Her eyes held a wild look, but more horrifyingly, half her face, from her chin down, looked as if it'd been dipped in blood. She looked terrifying.

Would she look terrifying if she was going to heaven?

And would the stairway to heaven look like a dingy, dark corridor in the Morgenstern Manor?

And would she feel so uncomfortable, feel such a searing heat in her side if she were going to heaven.

No.

Her hand came up-most unbearably she noted- to rest on her side. Moving it around to feel for the source of such pain, she drifted it across her waist, then stomach, and when her hand was stopped abruptly she looked down to see a piece of wood protruding from her side. A whimper escaped her throat as she took the sight in.

The wound was bubbling, and blood seeped out around the splinter of wood, staining it like a burgundy wash. Carla felt as it drizzled down her side and pooled at her back, colouring her creamy dress so it was a scarlet red. There was a gasp, and Carla looked up to see the man- she realized he must have been a man and not an angel if she wasn't going to heaven- staring at her wounded, and depreciated torso. "It's gotten worse," he whispered, almost to himself. He reached down as if to pull her back up and muttered "We have to get you to Russel before it gets infected. We have to hurry!"

He pulled on her shoulders and wedged his leg between her upper back and the ground, hooking his arms underneath her gently and readying himself to heave her up. Carla bit her lip, clamping her teeth and trying not to scream. HE picked her up and she had no choice but to release the sound.

Maybe death would have been a better option.

"Who's Russel?" she once again tried to say. This time, not only did more blood spill from her mouth, but a spike of pain shot up from her stomach and through her throat, zapping her nerves and running like a lightning bolt through her veins.

So much pain.

The words came out as "Wh..Ussel?"

"shhh..." the man whispered into her ear, and blew on her forehead to relieve it of a loose curl. "It'll make it worse. And don't worry. Russel's a doctor," Carla had closed her eyes at this point because the air seemed to burn through them into her brain, but she heard his voice darken. "A mundane doctor. Shadowhunters don't care enough about us to treat our wounds." he sneered with distaste.

Us? Did he think she was mundane?

Why?

She felt his gaze on her weak form and before she drifted off into another bought of unconsciousness she caught his words. "I hate shadowhunters. They think they're the best, they're angels when really, they're just an angels demon spawn. They think we're their playthings. I hate them. They're the real demons..."

She guessed she was a demon now. Because she wasn't a mundane. No, she was a shadowhunter. And she was one of the things her savior hated.

Clary POV.

She wanted to run. So badly. You see she was good at running, she loved running. She ran from her past, she ran from danger, she ran from love. Her whole live she'd run and Sebastian, at one point had stopped that. As she stared at his strong sturdy form laying on the kitchen floor, as his eyelids peeled away from those black, midnight eyes, she remembered how he'd done that.

She was in Lilith Garden, drawing an angel. It was weird that even surrounded by darkness she was drawing something meant to be in the light. Clary never realized why this'd been called Lilith Garden. No flowers grew. It was just a snarling of vines and darkened streams, streams that merged with pools that reached depths deep enough to shade the water black. It was midday, and only a dim filter of light streamed through the thick canopy above her. She tried to make more light by drawing it, but she always found it funny that to draw light you had to shade in the darkness first. She was in her own world, curled up alone on a steel bench when she'd heard the voice by her ear.

"That's beautiful"

It was male, distinctly male, deep, and rich. Lovely. And snapped right through her dream-like haze. Clary had looked over to see the man that belonged to the voice. He had black hair like the night sky, and eyes to match, twinkles shining like stars. And Clary knew that that sheen wasn't from excess light but inner spirit. There was barely any light here. The man was beautiful, he was a fallen angel, and he was something different from anyone she'd ever met. "Thank you," she whispered, taken aback at how close he'd been standing. The man smiled.

It was a dazzling smile.

"Sebastian Verlac," he'd said, hand outstretched and awaiting her grasp.

"Clary." she replied curtly.

"Clary..." his eyebrows drew together. "You're that Morgenstern girl, aren't you?"

She swallowed and looked away feeling defeated. He was like any other man, trying to get to her Father with her. "Yeah"

"Oh, well, it's nice to meet you Clary. I saw your hair and was instantly drawn over. You don't see many bright colours down here, huh?" His eyes held a mischievous gleam.

"Yes."

Silence settled around them and coated their bodies with comfort. Clary started to draw again. "You know," Sebastian broke out. "I didn't come over because you were a Morgenstern."

She looked up. "Really?"

He smirked and brushed back a stray curl, "I came over because you're like a flame. And I've been holed up in darkness for a while looking for light."

She laughed at his incredibly cheesy line. "You sound like a moth," she said quietly, testing him in a joke.

He laughed and Clary fell in love with the sound. It was as beautiful as his face, as his words. "While, I came to you so...I guess I am. Maybe you can show some light."

Clary thought of something. A light place. "I'm going to this place I know later, if you'd like to join me. You can...you can see the sun from there." she whipered as his eyes filled with wonder. That's when Clary realized she'd met a person, one of the only people in the world that was like herself...

She'd wished for so long that'd he'd be that person again but...her Father had ruined him. Injected him with the same demon blood he'd used on her brother. And look where that had gotten them.

"Clary!" Aline shouted at her again. "I can't believe this, you can't, it doesn't- you can't just attack someone even if he'd done something to you. I can't even..."she took an exaggerated breath and relaxed. Her almond eyes flicked towards her mother. "Mom, do you think he needs a doctor?"

Aline's mother looked down at Sebastian and the claw marks engraved in his face. "No, put an iratze on him and he'll be fine." She looked sharply at Clary. "What are you doing here."

Clary just stared at Sebastian, trying to fight the urge to jump him again. To attack him or apologize, she didn't know. The memories of his good self had fused into the memories of his bad sekf and left utterly...confused.

"Mrs. Penhallow," she heard Jace chime in. "You know my sister Claire. I know you don't like her but...while i couldn't just let her stay on the streets."

He was an amazing actor. and yet Sebastian, now fully awake, would never fall for it. "Claire," he sneered and struggled to get up. " Haven't seen you in while."

Clary swallowed hard. What was he getting at.

"You see ," Sebastian's voice rang loud and clear- the same voice she'd heard the first day she'd met him tainted with arrogance and...evil. "Claire and I met at a club some months ago. We had a little too much to drink and Claire just couldn't keep her hands to herself. We ended up in a...sticky situation and Claire wound up hating my guts."

Clary was simmering. "You little," she burst out while moving towards him with a clenched fist. She felt warm hands grasp her shoulders and pulled back. An equally warm voice whispered quickly in her ear,"take it, its a way out."

That's when the situation clicked. Choal was still watching in the corner, Sebastian smirking before her, and many confused people all around her. "It didn't happen like that," she ended lamely.

Sebastian snorted.

Aline scrunched her eyebrows along with her mother and Isabelle and Alec. She laughed internally.

She'd let him play his game. Because what he didn't know was that everybody knew he was cheating. And in a game of life and death, of risk, he'd definitely lose.

Jonathon POV.

The air smelled like wood and fire, the ground held a layer of black ash and the trees were clogged with smoke. Jonathon reached into his thick jacket's pocket and pulled out the slip of paper he'd found in Sebastian's room. On it he re-read the words scrawled messily, as if an afterthought.

I love her.

I always have.

And I have to make her love me again.

Goodbye,

S

Why he left, he knew.

Why he loved his sister, he had no idea because truth be told she hated Sebastian.

But he knew for certain, that to complete his plan, Jonathon needed Sebastian, dead or alive. And if this meant he picked dead then so be it.

Wood, fire, ash, and smoke.

It was the world as the small town before him burned to the ground. Children ran screaming from the scene, the few houses that'd been built a crumble of blackened wood and stumps, and ash.

Wood, and fire, and ash, and smoke.

Jonathon would reduce the world to it in order to find the two people he needed most. The ball of fire that was once the tiny population of 20 and a town of humble settlers glinted off his white hair and hued his skin into a red glow. He would find them, and he would burn villages to the ground to get what he needed. He'd burn the world if he had to.

Wood.

i love her.

Fire

i always have

Ash

I have to make her love me again

Smoke

Goodbye.

Goodbye, indeed, brother. Jonathon looked up and gazed into dying embers. Goodbye, indeed.

Okay, so sorry about the months-long wait. I know this story is kind of lagging and confusing but please let me know your input. I'm trying to create a complicated plot but it's hard because I've mapped it out and I might be throwing things in too early. The story's really slow going but i promise next chapter will be all about Clary and her situation. It's going wayyyyyy to slow for my taste and im the writer. Anyways this one might not be too good cause im not in the creative mood and im so preoccupied.

ANYWAYS, review (PLEASEEEEEEEE) follow, and favourite. Plus I'm gonna write a one-shot. Look for it cause ive wanted to write one forever!

Lovestory112