Chapter 36 – Ithuriel's Riddle

Green grass surrounded me. Above me, a bright blue sky stretched out in all directions. Not a single cloud could be seen. The light shone down on me from all sides so that my body left no shadow on the meadow that seemed to stretch out into infinity around me. A few tens of meters away from me grew a single, huge tree, its trunk broader than any I had seen before. Under the thick canopy of leaves and leaning against that trunk, sat Ithuriel. His massive white wings had fallen against the bare wood. He appeared peaceful, unlike the figure I had last encountered beneath the Waylands' estate.

The angel lifted his head as if noticing me. His long, slender features were superhumanly beautiful in nature. Almost symmetrical; and yet something human sparkled in his eyes. A soft smile spread across Ithuriel's full lips and he raised a pearly hand in one fluid motion in greeting.

"I've already been expecting you," he announced in his deep, melodious voice, which I already knew from past dreams, and I timidly stepped closer to him. I didn't answer. Instead, I continued to stare at him, trying to take in every detail of his aesthetic appearance. The thought that someone had hurt this creature on purpose now hurt even more.

Ithuriel caught my gaze. How could he not? "If you have questions, ask them." He said it casually, as if we were longtime friends exchanging trivia. In fact, I couldn't deny the sense of belonging in my chest I felt whenever I was near him.

"How did my father manage to summon an angel?" I asked in a similarly nonchalant tone, but didn't dare take any more steps towards the angel. The question had nagged at me since its discovery beneath the estate.

"There are a few ancient summoning rituals that are very difficult to perform," Ithuriel explained, and I listened to the sound of his harmonious voice. Only now did I realize that I had ever only heard him speak in my head. "Valentine has always been a very ambitious man. It took him years, but he didn't give up, until he was finally able to perform the ritual alongside a powerful warlock, whom he then killed."

The explanation made sense and yet I was amazed that such an important ritual as summoning angels had simply been forgotten over the centuries. On the other hand, it didn't surprise me in the least that my father knew about it. "Is this a dream?"

Ithuriel shook his head. "I am not permitted to remove your body from your world, but the same cannot be said of your soul. I can summon it to me for a short period of time."

"So this is heaven?" A mixture of astonishment and disbelief swept through my tone as I looked around at the meadow, which immensity didn't really suit me.

A small smile graced Ithuriel's flawless face. Every move he made seemed more elegant than the one before. "Not really," he then admitted. "It's an illusion I'm creating for you. Your human consciousness is not able to comprehend heaven in all its senses. It would drive you crazy."

"So heaven is real, then." I laughed, a laugh that sounded both nervous and relieved.

This time the angel gave me a rather mysterious smile. "We don't call it that and it's definitely not the place that humans envision in their minds."

I hesitated for a few seconds before sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of Ithuriel. He towered almost a full meter over me, looking down at me with a calm kindness in his golden eyes. As I watched him in silence, I suddenly realized where Jace's eye color might have come from. The Inquisitor's eyes were ice blue, contrasting starkly with his gold.

"I summoned you because a lot has happened since we last spoke," Ithuriel explained, as if years of imprisonment in an underground cave had been nothing but a bad day. But maybe it wasn't more than that for him. How could I know what time felt like for an immortal? "I've kept an eye on you, and as I hoped, you've strengthened your position in the Nephilim community. Even Jonathan Herondale seems to be losing his initial suspicions."

"Does Jace have the same gift as me?" I asked bluntly. It was much easier when Ithuriel told us the truth, rather than having to embark on a long, agonizing journey to find it.

"His gift is of physical nature, while yours of supernatural nature. If his is the heart, then yours is the mind. He is the trunk, and you are the flower. His gift is as essential as yours. They are strongest when combined, because they belong together, for they both spring from my blood." His expectant eyes turned to me, but I remained silent. Although he had said so much, I understood far too little and it annoyed me. After a while he added, "I want you to realize the extent of your gift."

"How can I do that when I don't even understand my gift?" I retorted, answering his eyes with a lost look of mine. "All I know is that I was able to create a rune that you showed me before."

"It's so much more than that," Ithuriel explained softly, and I felt like a little kid again trying to get a basic understanding across. "This gift does not depend on me. The rune was just a nudge to help you understand what you're capable of. You come from a creative family, your mother was an artist and that's exactly what runs in your veins Clarissa. You just have to reach out to that wealth of ideas and open yourself up to it."

From his lips, even the most hopeless war would sound temptingly simple. A sigh escaped my lips and I leaned back on the grass to study the angel more closely. "That doesn't help me. A simple guide is all I need."

"Cross the bridge to your deepest desires and meet them with the same willpower that you used to stand your ground among the Nephilim, and you will understand what you are capable of." Ithuriel closed his eyes for a moment. The white feathers on his wings swayed imperceptibly in the light breeze. I wanted the sight of him to burn into my retinas forever.

But his riddles did not help me. Was he forbidden to give me a direct tip? Wasn't he allowed to intervene in what was happening on earth? His cryptic words would never let me understand my gift. I shook my head vehemently. Something in my chest told me that my precious time here with him was almost up. I needed details.

"Unfortunately, even an angel is no match for the power of time," Ithuriel whispered, as if reading my mind. Maybe he actually had. "All I can tell you is that your stele is the key to this bridge. I will see you soon, Clarissa."

The sight of the angel began to blur before my eyes, as did the bright day around me. The world before me went black. For a moment I seemed to be floating in the darkness. Then there was a dull throb, telling me I was reunited with my body. A groaning sound from my throat confirmed this assumption. Now I also remembered the reason for the pain in my head.

"Clary?" The voice was so similar to Ithuriel that I paused for a second and wondered if perhaps I had drifted into a dream. But then I heard the cracking of wood. Someone was sitting in the ancient chair next to my bed, leaning forward under a creaking response from the wood, triggered by shifting body weight.

I briefly considered pretending I was still asleep, but I knew he'd see through it. So I slowly opened my lids and met the golden eyes of Jace, who was actually leaning forward in the wooden chair. His blond eyebrows were raised in a doubtful gesture and he only managed to hide the emotion behind his mask a split second too late.

I squinted against the harsh midday light that streamed into my room through the south window. Jace was wearing dark blue jeans, an ordinary white shirt and a frayed gray zipper over it. What was he doing here? He leaned back in his chair as if to put more distance between us, sighed, and began to explain without my having to say a word. My face had to speak volumes. "I had no choice but to come here. After Isabelle found out what punishment my– ... the Inquisitor inflicted on you, she revolted and forced me to answer for her actions."

"At least all our secrets are out now," Jace added with a small smirk when I didn't reply, too stunned by his every word. Amusement flashed in his eyes and he leaned further back, but more casually now. "Isabelle was so loud the whole street probably heard it."

I vaguely remembered the Inquisitor standing in front of me and screaming straight in my face for several minutes. My head had been so foggy after falling on the marble that I had barely been able make out the old woman in front of me. I also only vaguely remembered her tirade, which consisted mainly of insults to my family and more threats.

Jace had tried to help, but Imogen had dismissed his every objection. Since most of the time I had just stared blankly in front of me because the dizziness in my head had not allowed me to do anything else, a war of words had broken out between him and his grandmother after a short time. Even if she used a far more civilized tone with her grandson.

As a consequence of breaking my oath, Imogen had decided to forbid me from wearing any runes again. They had already taken the stele from me before, but now even Isabelle was no longer allowed to apply a few but important runes to me. The Silent Brothers had only recently decided that wearing a few runes was essential to my powers. That's why my concussion hadn't subsided yet. So I felt like a wreck that, if Jonathan showed up, would be the first to fall.

"She did that?" I could hardly hide my astonishment at Isabelle's behavior. I was touched that she stood up for me behind my back.

Jace nodded, swinging his right foot and resting it on his left knee. "I didn't realize you two had become such good friends."

"I wasn't aware until now. We only train together," I admitted slowly, clutching the down comforter that was lying on my body like a heavy weight. I didn't even want to know what I looked like. I cocked my head at him questioningly. "So … why are you here?"

Jace grinned mischievously and fished his stele out of his jacket pocket. "I like to break rules."

"Even rules your grandmother set up?" I asked with audible skepticism in my voice. This Jace didn't fit the role he used to play. Was he actually letting me see behind his facade or was it just a tactic to get me out of my shell? Now who was he really?

"It doesn't make a difference to me," Jace replied instantly, obviously unhappy at my muted response.

"Aren't you afraid she'll punish you?" Imogen would have no choice but to punish her grandson if she got wind of this. Nor would she approve of it.

"Then let her do it," Jace said, shrugging as if he actually didn't care about the consequences. He leaned forward in the chair again and a strand of blond hair fell over his eyes. In one quick movement he blew it away, his golden pupils fixing my face with a seriousness that increased the fog around my head. "I don't pride myself on being a relative of the Inquisitor. I would take the punishment just like anyone else."

"What are you up to?"

His honey-colored eyes slid skeptically over my body, much of which was hidden under the down of the bed. "First an Iratze. Somewhere out of sight, preferably on your back." Jace paused for a moment, then seemed to make a mental leap I couldn't follow. "You can also do it yourself if you want."

"I can hardly get to my back myself," I remarked, barely audible, and looked down at the bed sheet, which surrounded me like a safe, soft cocoon. I would like to stay here forever. Here, away from reality. "You know perfectly well that you don't have to do this, even though Isabelle may have forced you to do it. So why are you doing it?"

Jace took his time replying. I wasn't sure if he was looking at me or not. His steady breathing was all I heard. How the oxygen rushed through his lungs to a silent beat. In and out. His gasping breath was the only indication that he would raise his voice to speak. "Because it's the right thing to do."

His tone was final. He wouldn't say anything more about it. It was just fine with me. So I straightened up under the covers until I was in a sitting position against the pillows. Then I turned my back on Jace and pulled my hair forward into the crook of my neck. I could feel Jace hesitate, but a moment later he sat down on the edge of the bed. He placed his cool hand on my shoulder in a feathery motion, careful not to move an inch. With his other hand he pushed the left strap of my top a little to one side and tucked it under his finger. Then he began to draw.

The burning of the stele felt like salvation. Like the budding high of an addict who'd been trying to get off the drug for too long. The relieving feeling of happiness passed far too quickly. Jace completed the Iratze with practiced precision, I knew without actually seeing the rune, and immediately let go. Only seconds later, as it unfolded its effect, the vision cleared before my eyes. The headache faded away in the distance and the dizziness disappeared.

"Thank you." My voice was hoarse and battered and now I had no excuses to blame it on. I cleared my throat and turned to face him, pushing the straps of my top back into place.

"You know where to find me if you need another one. It doesn't matter what rune it is." I nodded and Jace made no move to get up. Instead, he sat slumped in the chair, looking a bit lost. The proud Herondale was still outwardly visible and yet his facade was crumbling.

I decided to take advantage of the prolonged silence. "Ithuriel summoned me."

My words elicited a surprised lift of his eyes. "A funny way of speaking of a dream."

"Because it was no dream," I explained, shaking my head. "He separated my soul from my body to call me to him. Somehow it was heaven, but somehow not. Ithuriel said that humans could not enter it without being driven mad by their senses."

"Heaven? Does that mean you were dead?" Jace sounded negatively surprised.

"No, my body was here all the time," I stated in other words, and then briefly summarized what Ithuriel had said about our gifts, and then repeated the riddles that were meant to help me understand the true extent of my gift.

"Then you know what to do," Jace said, actually seeming to be on fire because I could see the challenge glinting in his eyes. A second later he was off the chair, elegant and graceful as a cat. "Isabelle is already longingly waiting for you because she wants to train. I wouldn't be surprised if she was hiding behind the door and eavesdropping our conversation."

"I don't think I'm in the condition to swing swords yet," I interjected, leaning against the head of the bed and closing my eyes. The Iratze might have helped alleviate my ailments, but it would take time for my life energy to regenerate to my usual level. I was still tired and limp.

"Nobody talked about weapons," Jace observed in a dangerous mix of cockiness and amusement, brows knitting at my reaction. "Change your clothes. We'll wait downstairs." Then he spun around and disappeared through my door in a split second. I could only stare at him in amazement, my mouth hanging open.

I briefly contemplated just flopping back onto the pillows and ignoring his words. I was bewildered at how willingly Jace had invited himself to our practice session, which I hadn't even expected to have today. He wanted to solve Ithuriel's riddle as much as I did, even if I didn't know his motives. Maybe he just wanted to know more about his own gift. It seemed like the angel was mainly communicating with me. Maybe Jace needed me and my knowledge on the matter. I didn't like the idea. However, he had already changed his behavior towards me in the past few days. Could it be that he was now finally ready to put his concessions from our last conversation into practice? Or did something else ride him? I didn't know him well enough to assess his cunning. He might as well have just changed his strategy to take me out, even though he'd already had plenty of opportunities to do so. Without Jace, I would have died minutes after my mother in New York.

My legs swung out of bed even as these thoughts crossed my mind. Strategy or not; I needed to learn more about my gift and maybe it would help if more people pondered the same puzzle. So I threw my dark blue tank top next to the wardrobe and slipped on my training clothes. I combed my hair and risked a quick glance in the mirror to make sure I looked reasonably presentable before hurrying down the stairs to the first floor. Following the voices I found my way into the kitchen.

All three were present. Jace and Alec were sitting next to each other at the table, gossiping about something. As I entered the room, their gazes slid to me and silence replaced the murmurs. Jace had changed too. Shirt and jeans had been replaced by combat gear. Unlike the many times before when I had accidentally barged into one of their conversations, he didn't avoid my gaze. He wasn't smiling, but I still counted it as a progression.

Isabelle leaned against the kitchenette and grinned when she saw me. "You're better!" she exclaimed with exaggerated glee, her charcoal eyes sparkling with amusement before rolling them theatrically. "I thought Jace would never hurry up."

"Did Jace tell you what we're up to?" I asked her, not including Jace in the conversation. Somehow I didn't know how to do it.

Isabelle nodded and licked her lips. "I want to see that angelic power everyone is talking about." In a nonchalant movement, she turned to her older brother, who was squinting at us skeptically. "Alec will also accompany us." She seemed to like it that the boys danced to her tune for once and didn't do their own thing.

I didn't show any displeasure with Isabelle's announcement. Instead, I mirrored the neutral expression that was also on Alec's face, drowning out the silence that would follow if I didn't react. "Then let's go."

We went to our usual training ground; the small forest at the end of the Lightwoods' property. Spring seemed to have arrived overnight: the sun was high in the sky and its heat was warming the back of my neck. Much of the layer of snow had melted away and in some places you could make out the dark green lawn beneath the crackling white. The icy wind alone showed that the claws of winter had not yet fully released. I was relieved about that. The sudden change in weather reminded me of the time we all ran out fighting Valentine and Jonathan.

Jace and Alec stood awkwardly in the shade of the first row of trees while I unhesitatingly shrugged my coat off my shoulders and tossed it into the sparkling snow. Then I sat cross-legged with my back to the sun to warm my body without being blinded. Isabelle was quick to mimic me, enjoying the unwillingness on the boys' faces to get their coats dirty too. But shortly afterwards they too were sitting on the thawing ground, the cold only being kept from overpower me by the sun.

"So what exactly are we going to do now?" Alec asked, sitting across from me and staring back and forth between Jace and me. His jet-black hair was blowing in the wind and it was obvious that he was dissatisfied with the way the situation was developing. He probably didn't imagine training to look like this.

The others had sat on both sides of me so that we now formed a small circle. Even so, they leaned forward when I quoted the words Ithuriel had shared with me. This gift does not depend on me. The rune was just a nudge to help you understand what you're capable of. You come from a creative family, your mother was an artist and that's exactly what runs in your veins Clarissa. You just have to reach out to that wealth of ideas and open yourself up to it. Cross the bridge to your deepest desires. Your stele is the key to this bridge.

"The bridge to your deepest desires. We just have to figure out what the metaphor stands for," Jace murmured thoughtfully, running his long fingers through his ash-blonde hair.

"So the stele is the key to your gift," Isabelle repeated loudly, as if trying to organize her thoughts. "But what does the bridge literally represent?"

"How did you create the runes so far?" Alec asked a little hesitantly, as if he only wanted to know part of the answer. I was amazed at how little Jace must have told him about anything if he didn't know about it.

"I only created one rune," I corrected him. My fingers slid across the white ground, drawing the rune in the snow. Without a stele, it too was meaningless. "It opened a portal. Ithuriel showed it to me in a dream."

"Maybe he'll keep sending you runes like that," Isabelle interjected, but she didn't really seem convinced by her guess. She had her red-painted lips pursed in a strained pose and looked a little annoyed. With the back of her right hand she stroked the edge of her platinum-colored dagger, which she balanced between her fingers.

I shook my head helplessly. "I saw him today for the first time since we freed him from his chains. There have been no angels or runes in any of my dreams since." I said nothing of the recurring Jonathan haunting my dreams. I still wondered if he whispered the same words to Jace in his sleep. Erchomai, I am coming.

"Your mother was an artist. Where did she get her ideas from?" It was odd that Jace was addressing me so directly in public. So far he had always avoided it at all costs. He hadn't even wanted to look at me except to give me one of those dagger-like looks. And now he was looking at me as if all that was long forgotten. There was no hate in his eyes. It was curiosity alone that I met.

"She mainly painted landscapes," I explained curtly, lowering my gaze. I pictured Jocelyn's smiling face as she stood in front of one of her colorful canvases, arms crossed, trying to explain the brushstrokes to me. Valentine had never cared much for it, neither had Jonathan, so I was the only one with whom she had shared a few fragments of her passion. "Mostly Idris, also Alicante. But the images were already in her head. She couldn't just leave the property to get inspiration or to draw first sketches."

"Then the runes are already in your head," Alec concluded, shrugging almost immediately, as if not wanting to take responsibility for his suggestion if it didn't go down well with the rest of the group.

But Isabelle was already nodding eagerly and snapping her fingers. "That makes sense, since Ithuriel said the gift doesn't depend on him." Then she tapped her temple as if she'd had a flash of inspiration. "Wealth of ideas to create new runes. Your head creates them itself."

"But there are no ideas in my head, nor are there any foreign runes," I remarked bitterly, leaning back in an attempt to disengage from the discussion. One puzzle led to the next. We went in circles and all we had were guesses.

"Because you don't understand how to use the gift. Maybe it's like a tool that has to be used a certain way," Jace retorted sharply. The wide awake look he gave me warned me not to stop now. "Ithuriel gave you several tips for the same puzzle, only worded differently. Once he speaks of wealth of ideas, but then of your deepest desires. What if one arises from the other?"

"So the ideas for the runes are supposed to come from my deepest desires?" The unconvinced look on my face spoke volumes and Jace realized he wasn't going to entice me further. He seemed so intrigued by the puzzle that I almost felt sorry for my lack of motivation. However, it didn't change the fact that his words sounded silly.

"The stele is the key to your deepest desires," Jace continued, unaffected by my negative charisma. "Maybe that's not a metaphor."

"Metaphor or not, I am a warrior, not a poet. I have no use for puns."

"And Ithuriel knows that, too," Jace said, a small grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "And that's why I think I know the solution to the riddle."


Hi guys,

I'm a little better now, so here's the next chapter! Will they solve Ithuriel's riddle? Will it help Clary and Jace to get closer to each other?

Please comment to support my work here on FanFiction! Thank you to all the kind people who already do so like Jling, NobodyHimOrMe, Kelpie23 and Clary Fray! You guys always make my day! :D

Skyllen

P.S.: To Clary: I'm actually planning my first book series right now hehe. But it'll take a lot of time to write them and having them published is a whole other thing sadly. But I'm determined! :D And you didn't offend me at all haha, I was just thunderstruck by the question because it was such a fate-question haha (idk if you understand what I mean lol). Are you into Hayffie/Hunger Games?