Chapter 71 – A Promised World

- 3 days before the start of the war. -

A knock woke me up. When I didn't react immediately, there was another knock. A roar so loud that it threatened to tear down my wooden door. I turned over in bed, a bed in which I lay alone, and looked around my room.

"Come in."

The door opened and its mahogany creaked as it moved. A tall, muscular figure with short, blonde hair entered my room and the light from my candle cast eerie shadows on its face. It didn't bother to close the door. It left it open undeterred and walked towards me with determined steps. It stopped a few meters from the edge of my bed and my heart leapt as I saw the white tinge in its hair. My eyes went down to his face and now that he was standing in the light, it was comparatively easy to recognize him.

Jonathan smiled exuberantly down at me. His usual sharp smile, which bore the positive emotions of a person but couldn't convincingly convey them due to his lack of soul, made every expression of his always seem like an artificial, unpracticed mask.

"Hello, sister," Jonathan greeted me. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Instead of answering him, I let my gaze wander over his body. He wore armor, definitely intended for combat, and the black Shadowhunter gear underneath. The only weapon on his belt was Phosphoros, the partner blade to my sword. No sign of the Angel Blade.

"You missed the fight," he said disappointedly, and only now did I notice that he was covered in blood from head to toe. The already dried secretion turned the polished silver of his armor into a dull brown-red. Even Phosphoros was dripping with blood, which fell from its blade onto my carpet, seeping deep into the fibers of the thick fabric.

Only then did his words sink in. You missed the fight . "The war doesn't start for another four days."

Jonathan frowned in confusion. "The five-day deadline Father gave you expired this evening. Father faced Raziel and demanded his wish. We razed the city to the ground with our demons. Alicante is in our hands, as are all the Nephilim who survived. They are at our mercy. We won long ago."

Hot, boiling panic gripped me and I jumped out from under the duvet, staggering a few feet toward Jonathan before my legs adjusted to my sudden weight. "What about my friends? Where are Jace and Isabelle and the Lightwoods? What did you do with all the Shadowworlders?"

A dark, fanatical smile spread across Jonathan's face. "I told you that we would outnumber them with our demons. The Shadowworlders had no place in our world. We did to them what the Clave should have done long ago."

A dizziness hit me, so intense and overwhelming that I had to hold on to the wooden pillar of my bed to keep from falling forward. I thought of Luke. Of Magnus. Of all the vampires and werewolves I had trained with to prepare them for this very emergency. "They're dead?"

"All of them," Jonathan confirmed.

A synapse in my head made short work. I rushed at him, the concentrated anger like fuel for my reserves of strength. Jonathan turned away to the side and I followed him. My fingers dug into him where the armor exposed his gear. I tried to shake him, to press my nails deep into his skin.

His body was hard as stone, as if he were not a being of flesh and blood. He pushed me away with a violent jerk – so hard that I stumbled backwards and hit my nightstand. My vision stumbled, spinning as the back of my head hit the edge of the mirror.

Jonathan's features changed and the human mask was suddenly swept away. A grimace flashed at me, opening its mouth in a bestial manner and spitting out a laugh that gave me goosebumps. Then he ran towards me, grabbed my arm in an impulsive movement and dragged me back to my feet. His face was so close to mine that I was looking directly at the black of his eyes.

This wasn't Jonathan. This wasn't even the shell of my brother. This was a demon, encased in a grotesque form that was supposed to be human, but instead made the hairs on my body stand on end.

"Fighting me now is pointless." The words that came out of his mouth were a single hiss that sounded like that of an animal. "You will spend the rest of your life by my side, so I should show you this world that we have created."

My room disappeared from my eyes without warning. For a split second we were enveloped in darkness so deep that I could only make out the demon's presence next to me because his claws were still gripping my forearm. Then we suddenly found ourselves in the vast fields outside the city gates. There was hardly any snow left as far as the eye could see.

The otherwise green expanses had been completely burned. Grey ash and scorched earth was all I could see for miles around. Even the occasional trees were coal black and had been scorched to the last spark of wood. The picture-perfect nature of Idris had been wiped out. And my vision didn't even extend far enough to tell how much land had actually been destroyed.

I turned away from the heartbreaking sight to face the demon, only to double over as if I had been punched in the stomach. My hands shot up and wrapped protectively around my middle, as if that would be enough to protect me from what was unfolding before me.

The bodies were everywhere. In every shape, every age, every stature. They lay around in groups stacked on top of each other or individually. Colorless, motionless, lifeless. Shadowworlders.

It was a massacre. Bloody and gruesome, and almost indescribable in words. Massacred in such a cruel way that I could not think of any words to describe the wounds. All that my senses were able to take in were severed limbs, torn bodies, burned shapes, ripped out entrails. No matter where I looked, where I tried to flee with my eyes, there was no escaping what had happened here. They had been left lying on the battlefield so carelessly that it was immediately clear how little respect was had for their lives. None at all.

All of them , he had answered when asked how many of the Shadowworlders they had murdered. Which meant that somewhere in that crowd were Luke and Magnus. Just the thought of what they might have done to them brought tears to my eyes.

"We were thorough when we rid the world of that scum." The demon sounded pleased with himself. Was he not aware that he himself was only half Shadowhunter? If there was even any angelic blood left in his veins.

I wanted to scratch out my eyes and my brain so I could forget these images forever. I wanted to scream and throw up and kill them.

Instead, the malicious grin on his face widened when he saw me. He snapped his fingers and the fields disappeared.

A heartbeat later we found ourselves on Angel Square and thus within Alicante. Only this place had even less in common with the image in my memory than the flat land outside the city limits.

Plumes of smoke, dark as a starless night, colored the sky and blocked out the sunlight. Many of the buildings around the square had been destroyed or collapsed – some were still burning. The Accords Hall had been completely razed to the ground, not a single stone of it still standing in its rightful place. But none of this caught my attention.

Here, too, no effort had been made to clear away the fallen warriors. Only here, it was mainly Nephilim who were lying around – their black, curvy runes gave them away. Compared to the Shadowworlders they had died alongside, these had been given a somewhat more merciful death. No atrocities, no torture, just pure, quick death.

The crowds of people squeezed my stomach, making me gasp for breath. So many Shadowhunters. Just like that, dead because of my family.

A row of crosses had been erected in front of the ruins of the former Accords Hall. They were made of wood and each was at least five meters high. They stood next to each other, some distance apart.

On each of the crosses hung a Nephilim, their faces pale, misshapen, and alien. Some bore battle wounds, others appeared to have been fine before their crucifixion. Blood seeped from the wounds through which they had been nailed to the crosses. One nail for each hand and one for the feet.

This was the new world order that my father had established.

"Where are Jace and Isabelle?" I managed to say without throwing up. "Where are Alec and Imogen and the other Lightwoods?"

"Look closer, dear sister," the demon purred. His slender, bony fingers closed around my chin and raised it up – positioning my field of vision. All I saw in front of me were the ruins of the hall and the crosses in front of it. And thank Raziel, I didn't recognize any of the crucified–

It was as if someone had pulled a curtain away from my eyes. As if someone had removed a glamour layer by layer, so that the faces in front of me, which had just seemed blurry and unfamiliar, suddenly became sharper and jumped into focus.

A scream escaped my lips. A sound that pierced marrow and bone but was not enough to express what I felt. A scream followed by another – followed by a whole series of incredulous, hysterical ones. The pain shot through me like a knife slitting me from scalp to heels.

They were the ones who had been crucified there. My lover, my friends, my allies. Jace, Isabelle, Adam, Alec, Maryse, Imogen. They were all dead and displayed here in this cruel way as a warning to the Shadowhunters still alive.

My knees gave way beneath me. A moment later, I dug my fingers into the incinerated ground and screamed my pain into the world. A pain that no rune in this world could ease. Tears streamed down my face – but I could still see their faces clearly in front of me. My body was shaken by sobs and I couldn't get enough air to breathe properly. The edges of my vision were already fading, getting darker.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better to close my eyes to this disaster. Even though I knew that I would never forgive myself for the rest of my life for having looked away. I owed them that. They all deserved that respect.

"This is the world I promised you, sister."

oOo

I wanted to scream and sob and jump out of bed, but my lungs were starving of oxygen. I couldn't get enough air to scream for release. My chest was constricting, threatening to crush me under an invisible weight.

Somehow I managed to push the blanket away. My muscles twitched as I barely managed to turn onto my side. I frantically reached out my fingers and, with a gasp in my throat, grabbed the edge of the mattress. I pulled myself forward with all my strength, catapulting myself past the target. The momentum was so powerful that I rolled over the end of the bed and fell to the floor.

As my back hit the cool ground, the last breath of oxygen was ripped from my lungs. For a horribly long moment, all I could do was stare at the ceiling, my eyes wide with fear, my mouth open, gasping for air. Like a fish on land, struggling around in a confused attempt to somehow get back into the water.

The jolt ripped painfully through my body, down to my toes, breaking through the barrier of panic that had wrapped itself around my neck like a noose. A gasp escaped my lips, then I pressed my arms into the ground and heaved myself into a sitting position.

The faint smell of wax was long gone. All I could smell was hot sweat and sheer panic, squeezing the air away from me.

My heart was pounding like crazy – the wild pounding of my pulse, the rushing of blood in my ears was all I could hear. I tried to take a deep breath, but the impact made my upper body jerk. My legs were too stiff to bear weight, they were shaking too much. So I crawled forward on all fours, away from my bed and raised my head.

The bedroom spun around me, like riding a mad horse. I squeezed my eyes shut, a rush of fear running through my limbs as I tried to look at the empty bed. My shaky vision was enough to tell me that Jace wasn't there. In my last memory, he had been lying in bed next to me. The dim light, mostly reflected by the closed curtains, only suggested how much time had passed since then.

Jace was gone and yet he had promised to stay.

The images of the dream flashed in my brain and goosebumps ran down my body. I opened my eyes wide to escape Jonathan's grimace and Jace's crucified body. I forced myself to slowly breathe in and out and count my breaths despite the rush that overwhelmed me. If the scenes from my dream were to become reality, then I couldn't be an emotional wreck, I couldn't falter, I couldn't let my heart control me.

My lips trembled as I quietly counted my breaths. Ten, eleven, twelve. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.

Suddenly I heard footsteps in the hallway. My head automatically swayed towards the door, not a second too late. There was no knock. The handle was simply pushed down and pushed inwards. A dark fear spread in my stomach, and I was already expecting a white-blond man to march into my room at any second – covered in blood and armed with Phosphoros.

When a golden-blond head appeared from behind the door instead, my brain was not immediately able to comprehend this deviation.

Jace's eyes widened in shock as he saw me crawling on the floor. The glass of water he was holding in his right hand slipped from his grasp with a shattering crash as he raced toward me.

"Clary." His outcry was similar to my own gasp. He threw himself on the ground next to me and wrapped one of his arms under mine to steady me. His fingernails dug into my skin like spikes to keep me in place. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" His head bobbed frantically from side to side, probably searching for the danger that had immobilized me.

I shook my head with difficulty and clenched my trembling fingers into fists. "I ..." Not even a truth rune could compel me to put my dream into words again. The images that my subconscious had spun shook me too deeply.

My lips were parted, but I was speechless. A flood of tears pressed against the insides of my eyelids – too many to hold back. A throaty, panicked sound escaped me as I searched for any words to calm Jace. Because one look at his face, hovering just inches above me, made it clear that he needed calming. Horror seethed in his golden eyes, and my inability to speak caused his features to slip into a landscape of helplessness.

"I can't breathe," I choked out and raised my hand to my throat in case he couldn't hear me because I was so breathless.

But Jace didn't need a second nudge before he scooped me up in his arms and leapt to his feet in one swift motion. A heavy breath later, we were storming through my room. All I saw was Jace's face, his attention focused insistently and unflinchingly on a point outside my vision. As he came to an abrupt halt, he shifted my body weight onto one of his arms, then with the other, he yanked the curtains in front of the window so forcefully that they tore from the rod. With a metallic squeal, he forced the window open and then gently set me down on the windowsill.

Cold spring-air blew against me, pushing against the sweaty pores on my face, brushing along my damp neck, scratching its way through my airways. A whimper of relief escaped my vocal cords and I craned my neck up to inhale more, more, more of the oxygen.

Out here, there was no trace of the fear that the stifling oxygen of my room had sealed around my heart. The aroma of damp grass and fresh bread caressed me gently from afar – reminding me of the peace that still reigned in Alicante.

For several minutes I could do nothing but swallow the air in deep, greedy gulps. The sounds from my mouth were more like those of a drowning person. And I actually felt like I was drowning. Fear pressed down on my chest like a weight that threatened to pull me into the depths at any moment – out of reach of the water's surface.

Slowly, as my lungs finally settled back into a normal rhythm of my chest rising and falling, my brain began to process. When my breathing finally quieted down and the throbbing in my ears was no longer the only sound I could hear, I turned to Jace.

Jace had his arms wrapped around my torso, holding me tightly against his as I sat on the windowsill with the entire length of my body – him to my left and the first rays of sunlight of the new day to my right.

"You're having a panic attack," Jace whispered as I started to open my mouth. He reached up from around my stomach to brush the hair from my forehead. It wasn't until his thumb ran over my cheekbones to wipe away the tears that I realized my vision was still blurry.

"I ..." My voice was shaky. It was like I was on a tightrope at a dizzying height, with no net to save me if I made a wrong step. I blinked and finally wiped my eyes with the back of my hand to stop the tears.

"Tell me what's wrong with you." A plea, not a command. When I looked at Jace this time, he was clearly standing before me, looking down at me with concern. His own hair was disheveled and the vein in his neck was throbbing in a frantic rhythm. His angelic eyes reflected a different kind of fear than mine.

A jumble of thoughts clogged my head. I couldn't organize them. I couldn't communicate them. Even the cold couldn't numb the pain, panic and fear.

When I didn't respond, Jace grabbed my trembling fingers, which were clinging to the hem of my nightgown, and rubbed them between his. The white clouds of our warm breath mingled as he leaned down and rested his forehead against the side of mine. The heat radiating from his broad body enveloped me like a safe cocoon. His closeness ate through my clothes, through my skin, into my blood.

At some point, minutes or perhaps hours later, the fog around my mind had lifted enough that I was finally able to think logically again. Jonathan's vision was nothing but a nightmare. Fed by my fears and Jonathan's ideas, which he had shared with me between our few encounters. None of it was real. As long as we defeated him and Valentine in this war.

The invisible claws gripping my heart still wouldn't let go. This dream had only arisen from the fodder of my subconscious. And yet it was based on a fear that was based on truth.

The dizziness had worn off when I raised my head a second time. This time not to meet Jace, but to look out at the beautiful city that was bathed in glowing orange to my right. A city that had survived every superhuman conflict so far. But this time, for the first time, it was a Nephilim who threatened that peace.

Jace, unsettled by the continued silence, cleared his throat. "How often do you have these panic attacks?"

My eyes were fixed on the ochre rooftops of Alicante when I finally spoke. "This was the first," I muttered, and Jace released a breath he had been holding. Was it bothering him that if it hadn't been the first, he hadn't been by my side? To hold me like he was now?

I didn't want to keep him in suspense any longer. Now that I had finally spoken, it was easier to utter the next words in a frantic rattle. "I don't know how to defeat Jonathan. His death is necessary, but I'm not his equal. We may be evenly matched in battle, but hoping for a fair fight would be foolish. How am I supposed to kill him when he always manages to outwit me from behind? So far, I've always gotten away somehow, but next time there will be no escape. Next time the world will be at stake."

Jace was silent for a long time. I didn't turn to him to assess the look on his face. I didn't wait for him to present me with a solution to my problem. If I was honest with myself, I didn't even know what I was waiting for. "Then from now on we won't fight honorably anymore," he said in my ear. At the same time, one of his hands stroked my hair, untangled the tangled strands in it and pressed my head tightly to his chest as if he wanted to merge with me. "Then we'll think of plans to outwit him. We're superior to him. We can split up."

"For that, we first have to reach him. And we need to do it as quickly as possible because it will come down to a fight between him and me. It always has." The cold of the barely dawned morning, which had just been pleasant, now tugged at my scanty nightgown. My skin began to tingle, as if someone were pushing dozens of tiny needles into it. "But we're not there yet. There's still so much missing."

"And what would that be?"

"You must explore your powers and learn to control them. For example."

"Of course your war plans involve me. Who else could save the world if not me?" Jace pressed his hand to his heart and grinned mischievously as he made a theatrical bow.

"Exactly," I murmured. "Without you, we would all be lost."

"Definitely!" Jace had adopted a fake, self-absorbed tone that made the corners of my mouth lift. He noticed and ran his lips along my cheekbone, clearly pleased with his distraction. "Go on. What else is on your warfare to-do list?"

I closed my eyes for a few seconds and tried to put myself in my father's shoes. What would Valentine do in my place to ensure that things turned out the way he wanted? "We have to find the Mirror. Without it, we won't be able to stop Valentine from demanding his wish from Raziel. Everything else rises and falls with the Mirror."

"There is very little information about the Mirror," Jace pointed out. "Not even the Silent Brothers know where it is. And it seems your father has already taken possession of it. Wouldn't it be easier to track him down and take it from him?"

"Something tells me it's not that easy." Thoughtfully, I looked over the rooftops of Alicante. "Nevertheless. Even for that, we would need to know where Valentine will be. And I have the feeling that he will let Jonathan fight the battle alone. He will entirely focus on the Mortal Instruments."

"But if that's the case, then Jonathan would go into battle without Mellartach," he remarked in surprise.

"There are so many variables to consider that we don't understand. We don't know if they can still use the Mortal Instruments after they've summoned Raziel. In the Clave meeting, Valentine said he would get Raziel's wish first and then attack. Either they know more than we do, or they're lying. Otherwise, they'd wait until the battle begins to avoid taking any risks. I can say that much for sure. His wish to create a new race of Shadowhunters is bound to the Mortal Cup. But since he needs Mellartach for the demon army, it would be wise to start the fight first."

"It's easier to beat them separately," Jace insisted, his mind on the matter. "First we need to find and stop Valentine, and then Jonathan."

I nodded. "That brings me to the next point. Imogen will call for another Clave meeting. Today. We need a proper battle plan, everyone needs a task."

Jace's eyes flashed with awe. "You're really good. She actually issued an official summons a few hours ago. Seems like she didn't get much sleep last night."

My eyes narrowed into slits, unable to stop them. I felt the fear slowly creeping back into my body, giving me goosebumps as it ran through my veins. "It seems to me that she's not the only one." My voice sounded more vulnerable than I wanted to let on. "You promised you'd stay. Where were you?" The hint of a question.

Jace grimaced in pain and leaned down to press his mouth to mine in a bold gesture. His fingers gripped my cheeks like a cage, leaving me no choice but to kiss him. "I'm sorry," he mumbled against my lips, pulling away just enough for me to understand. "You were still asleep when I woke up. I wasn't gone long, just in the kitchen because I was thirsty." After he said the words out loud, a memory flashed across his eyes, and he turned his head away from me with twisted lips; toward my room. "Speaking of which. I'm going to have to clean soon."

A realization forced itself into the foreground of my mind. Jace had been holding a glass in his hand when he had entered my room. I peered past his broad shoulders and spotted the shards on the floor. "I'll help you," I said, and he had to step aside so I could swing my legs over the windowsill. "And after that, we'll prepare for the Clave meeting."

To prevent the world Jonathan had promised me from ever seeing the face of my own.

Please let me know what you think! If you want to know how I imagine the characters, take a look at my Pinterest! My name there is ccskyllen. :)

Skyllen