Chapter 92 – A Martyr's Sacrifice

- 5 hours before sunset. -

The world around Jace was a trance. He didn't know which way was up and which way was down, whether it was an illusion or reality. He only knew that he was swaying through the Basilias and that Alec, to his right, was reaching out to him to stop him from falling. Alec had also had to help him put on his boots earlier, his fingers had been shaking too much. His body was still electrified, but the anger had pushed a tiny part of the pain into the background.

A few meters behind him, he heard his grandmother calling his name – pleading with him to change his mind. Jace ignored her and continued to follow Magnus, who was walking ahead of them. The warlock walked so slowly that under normal circumstances Jace would have felt like a burden. He probably was exactly that: a burden that would kill them all. But he could not sit here while they carried out this plan. Her plan. And Clary would not have wanted her death to prevent exactly what she had been working towards for so long. He had to finish her plan, sooner he would not stop feeling the guilt.

And so Jace stomped through the Basilias and almost ran into Magnus when he suddenly stopped. The warlock pointed to a simple wooden door and gave Alec a long look.

"Are you sure?" was all his Parabatai asked him. In the silence that followed, a sob was heard. The massive door muffled the sounds, but Jace's runes amplified his hearing enough to make it clearer.

Jace didn't nod or knock. He pushed himself against the door, which gave way with a loud squeak, and burst into the hospital room behind it. Only to stop and blink. The curtains were drawn, and someone had placed something in front of the windows, so the room was in total darkness. Jace's eyes needed a moment to adjust to the little light the hallway provided. The air was thick and stuffy, smelling of sweat and salt.

"Get lost!" a distorted voice screamed between sobs.

Behind him, Jace felt Alec stiffen. "Isabelle–" he heard him say in a gentle tone, but he barely got a word out before Isabelle interrupted him harshly.

"I said get lost!" Her voice sounded as broken as Jace felt. Under all the blankets and pillows, only her disheveled braids were visible. In a lightning-fast movement, she turned in bed and threw one of the pillows towards the door. She didn't even look over at them, still keeping her face buried. Nevertheless, the pillow hit Jace square in the chest.

She didn't wait to see if they disappeared. Instead, her barely discernible body seemed to sink further into the mattress as another sob tore through her chest. Jace wanted to turn on his heel and put as much distance between himself and Isabelle as possible. He felt the pain in the dry warmth of the oxygen-free room, which wrapped itself around his neck like a noose.

"Isabelle," Jace heard himself speaking from far away. "It's Jace."

The crying stopped so abruptly that Jace almost fell to his knees in gratitude. The room was already spinning around him. The expression of her grief was the last straw for him.

The blankets crumpled as Isabelle turned toward the door. Now it was she who blinked. Jace staggered backwards at the sight of her face and Alec had to hold him to keep him from falling to the floor. She looked horrible, there was no other way to describe it. The bags under her eyes were dark and bloodshot, as if she were a vampire and not a human. Her cheekbones stood out sickly, even though only hours had passed. Her red eyes darted over them like a frightened prey caught in a trap.

"What are you doing here?" Isabelle breathed, her breath catching in her throat.

In the presence of her dejection, Jace had to fight with his will to remember and hold on to the thirst for revenge. "Get up," he said through gritted teeth. "Get dressed. We're going to war."

He could see the hysteria before Isabelle opened her mouth. "Clary is dead," she screamed at him, and the words struck him in the heart as hard as any dagger would have. In the blink of an eye, Jace's knees began to falter. "My Parabatai is dead!"

When Jace hit the cold tiles, Alec could not hold him either. He pressed his palms into the floor like a blind man, disoriented and searching for texture. His breath came out in gasps, and he felt his lungs constrict as if they could not bear the pain.

Isabelle began to cry again. "We won't win the war without her anyway," she babbled on. More to herself than to them. Restless and neurotic. "Clary knew exactly what to do. She ..." Her jaw was shaking too hard to continue. Jace didn't see it, but his ears heard enough. A chattering of teeth, as if she were running undressed through a Siberian winter.

Somehow, Alec, with Magnus' help, managed to get Jace back on his feet. Together they carried him over to the bed, sat him down in a chair and pushed it closer to the mattress.

"She wouldn't want you to rot in the Basilias," Jace managed to say after catching his breath. The harshness in his voice surprised even him. He felt so soft, as if his skin would become porous at any moment and his insides would spill out. "Do you think she would hide here if you had died? Do you think ..." A wheezing, distraught gurgle escaped him. "She wouldn't hide like a coward. She would go into battle and avenge your life."

"Jace!" Alec grabbed his shoulder and Jace knew he was crossing a line. He knew he should stop. That he could not take out the storm in his chest on Isabelle. Jace didn't consider his Parabatai – not for a blink of an eye. Anger hit him so suddenly that it turned the world red.

"She would drag herself onto the battlefield and kill anyone who was even remotely responsible for your death." The words fought their way up his vocal cords and in his mind's eye he could already see himself: in the midst of the battle, slaughtering Shadowhunter after Shadowhunter until he finally reached Valentine. In the intoxication of this vision, his voice climbed several octaves higher, getting louder and louder until it could rival Isabelle's screams. "She would give her life to avenge yours. She gave her life to preserve ours. We owe it to her to finish her plan!"

"Don't force her into a war out of guilt!" his own Parabatai barked, digging his fingers into Jace's shoulder as if he wanted to tear him apart. He barely felt it.

"I'm right and you all know it!"

Isabelle had stopped crying. She wiped away the remaining tears with her sleeve. The sadness on her face was still omnipresent, but now another emotion was creeping along the muscles of her face. When Isabelle's eyes met Jace's, he could clearly make out the realization. In the dew with the supernatural rage he had almost waited for in vain. Isabelle was the most impulsive of them. The one whose emotions lay closest to the surface. But consumed by grief, anger had built up. Now that Jace had reminded her of the need for action, it bubbled over like a seething volcano that was about to explode at any moment.

"The last thing Clary would have wanted is a world where her father wins," Isabelle stated soberly, throwing the covers aside to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. But as soon as her name left Isabell's tongue, new tears began to form. "She would hate this world if her mother's death had been in vain. We can't allow Clary's death to be in vain."

Jocelyn. Whose grave she had wanted to visit. And now she had been denied a final farewell with her own mother. The fact that their souls would never meet again, that Clary would wait in vain for the comforting presence of her mother in her final rest, broke Jace's heart. Just the thought of her final rest place broke him so irrevocably that he could have died right here and now.

Blue sparks lit up the room, and when Jace and Isabelle turned to Magnus, a dark, joyless smile played around the corners of his mouth. "Then it's probably high time we let Valentine lose."

"I'm sending out the Fire-messages," Isabelle replied with an emphasis that showed no sign of her recent emotional outburst and rose from her sickbed.

oOo

- 4 hours before sunset -

When all the members of the special unit gathered in the Inquisitor's office shortly afterwards, a shadow lay over the city. Night was not far away. The high position of the sun gave the opposite feeling, but the gathering clouds whispered of the long night that would await them if they failed today under the ticking of time. Jace had the feeling that it had long since run out for him. A glance around was enough to see that the others felt no different.

Aaron, Alec, Magnus, Maia, Lyall, Isabelle, Adam. Even the Shadowworlders and Shadowhunters unknown to him. The influence of recent events was evident on each of their faces.

Adam's reddened eyes bore witness to a debt he could never repay. The honest forlornness of his features made Jace realize that he had probably lost his last ally on this side of the war. Adam had stayed for her. Because he had trusted her and her views. Jace felt no sympathy for Adam. Every time he looked at him, Jace thought of how she had burst into tears outside the Ashdowns' estate. He would hate that man for all eternity. Still, it was thanks to him alone that they knew the location of the Mirror. That they could put her plan into action. Did that give Adam the right to cry for her? When Jace himself could not summon a single tear, as if there was something wrong with him?

Aaron Wrayburn's intense expression could not hide the fact that he had wanted to carry out this plan with her at his side. Not because he would fail without her, but because he valued good warriors like no one else. There was a reason why he was one of the Nephilim's best generals. His sober sense of recognizing talent was one of them. And she had been the talent. Aaron had treated her accordingly from the second they had first met.

Magnus, crammed between Maia Roberts and a Nephilim nameless to Jace, eyed Imogen almost skeptically. As if the warlock was no longer sure whether he could trust her and her leadership. Jace had noticed that the last few hours had changed something in the way Magnus studied her. The reserved respect had been replaced by a cool distance. He had known her longer than anyone else. Jocelyn Morgenstern had turned to him after her escape to keep herself and her daughter safe. How did he feel now that they had both died despite his help?

Alec had his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his closed-off face would have likely deceived Jace about his inner conflict as well if he hadn't been his Parabatai. She and he had never been on particularly good terms, but Alec had respected her for the strength to do what had to be done, no matter the cost. Jace was sure that they would have become friends if they had had more time.

Maia was clearly listening to the Inquisitor's words, but her distrust was just as obvious. Yesterday she had seemed much more relaxed to Jace. Now she was tapping her foot almost impatiently; she seemed to want to get this last meeting over with. He didn't know much about her, knew her vaguely from New York. Which was why he was all the more surprised that she had seemed to know Maia better than he did. The training of the past few weeks might not have made them friends, but yesterday's calmness had evaporated today as if it had never existed.

The events of the last few hours spread like wildfire through the city. Hardly anyone knew what had happened. His grandmother had kept it as secret as possible. But something must have leaked out. Something that Imogen had tried to prevent at all costs. Possibly because exactly what she had feared had happened.

Something had changed in the ranks of the Shadowworlders. It wasn't only visible in Magnus's and Maia's or even Lyall's expressions, who Jace hardly knew at all. In all the disgust she held for everything and everyone except her own people, Imogen had again and again burdened responsibilities towards the Shadowworlders on her. The negotiations with the Seelie Queen. The creation of the Council. The training and the allocation of their posts. All of this had created a bridge between her and the Shadowworlders. And despite all of Valentine's prejudices, a trust had developed that had never existed with the Nephilim.

The Inquisitor had realized too late that the Shadowworlders had rallied behind Clary, not her. Because they trusted Clary more than the Clave. Because Clary had made sure that their voices would now be heard. Because Clary had shown them how to defeat Clary's own family. While the Clave had never turned to the Shadowworlders and had repeatedly sent Clary – outcast and unaccepted in her own ranks – Clary had built up an own following. Intentionally or not, the Shadowworlders would follow Clary into war, but the Clave? Outcasts had become allies, and Imogen had come to this realization far too late.

Isabelle knelt on Maia's right, fastening dagger after dagger into her armor, her gaze so focused, it was as if she was picturing exactly which blade was for whom. Jace could not see the slightest sign of weakness in his sister's bloodshot eyes. The pursed lips and tense cheek muscles were witnesses to a burning sovereignty. Each of the fifteen present were armed and equipped from head to toe. Isabelle was the only one who looked as if she wasn't just going to war but was also sure to win it. She looked as if she could already see herself returning in glory. Her calculating, merciless smile reminded Jace so much of her that he had to turn away.

"The few of our spies who made it back alive report that Valentine has cast some kind of spell on the Brocelind Forest," Imogen explained mechanically. She had also changed her clothes, and the black and silver outfit gave her motionless figure the impression of a statue. "It prevents the creation of portals in its area. The Gard's portal will bring you as close as possible, but the distance to the lake is considerable." She placed the figure of the Archangel at the edge of the forest and as she stared down at the map of Idris, deeply lost in unspoken thoughts, her stern features thawed. Barely noticeable, but still visible if you looked closely. "Clary has considered this possibility. This will make it much more difficult to get to the lake unnoticed, but that is precisely the goal. Each of you has your orders and knows what to do ... Clary gave you detailed instructions this morning. As long as the sun has not set, it will be much easier to get past the checkpoints, so keep the time in mind."

Imogen's speech was met with silence. The unit stood in a line, shoulder to shoulder, knowing that this might be their last moments of safety. Knowing that the future of the entire Shadow World depended on them. Whether Shadowhunters or Shadowworlders, they were all fighting for the same thing now. They were one and would fight together and, if the Angel so willed, die together.

Did the Archangel want her to die? Jace ignored the constant whispering in his head. It was irrational that her death should not have been fate, but he didn't care. No, in his eyes she had died unjustly. For him. She had died for him, and he didn't know if he was ever to accept that or even wanted to. A sacrifice he should have made. She wasn't finished. She was still needed. Her work on Earth wasn't done yet, Jace believed that even now. For this.

The sun, approaching a new cycle, cast soft light into the office. Imogen stood with her back to the windows, her gradually lengthening shadows a harbinger of the mission to come. She slowly raised her head, her pupils, outlined in light blue, dully scanning the line of fifteen warriors before her. At just the right angle, the light gave her graying hair a grotesque shade of blonde that made Jace wonder what she might have looked like when she had been younger. If there were pictures, he had never seen them. Although Imogen Herondale had not been born as such, he could not imagine his grandmother as anything other than a Herondale.

The usually stubborn and headstrong Nephilim Inquisitor held her chin high, as if the gesture would prevent her from showing weakness. Her limbs were as rigid and stiff as if they were carved in stone, as if she feared stepping out of line. Only her eyes, blue as the icy spring sky and cold as the blue seas of ice in the north, betrayed a brewing storm. A fight as old as her desire for revenge itself. A pain as deep as her grief. A persistence as unyielding as her pursuit of this very moment.

It was that moment when Jace saw that his grandmother had not expected it to be like this. That moment of possible triumph. So close to achieving the goal she had been working toward for nearly twenty years. Her compulsive thirst for revenge – which had left her unquenched and parched for so many years; which had not given her a single waking moment of rest – didn't fade. All those pent-up emotions weren't going away like a suffocating fire. She would carry that grief with her. Victory or not wouldn't change that.

When they finally stood before the Gard's portal, Imogen parted her lips one last time. Hesitant, as if she were waiting for something, after her eyes had glided from Aaron to Jace. "Nulla tenaci invia est via," she said, and the look in her pupils reminded Jace so much of Caravaggio's David with the Head of Goliath that he forced himself not to look away from her gaze. This crushing agony in the midst of necessity.

Jace didn't need a translation to understand her words. None of the Nephilim did. "For the determined, no path is impassable," he added nonetheless. They were the first words that made him feel anything other than a death wish.

The Inquisitor could have chosen many last words. Part of Jace expected it to be the classic phrase Ave atque vale that the Nephilim were saving for death. But none of them were yet– He stopped the thought because it wasn't true.

No, Jace would not even think those words in connection with her. If he should survive this, he would return to Alicante and ... He didn't even know where her body was. If there was anything left of her. His grandmother had offered to let Jace see her, but he had vehemently refused. He knew he would break and then be capable of nothing

The Archangel himself may be my witness when I swear that I won't sacrifice myself for anyone but you in this war.

No. Never again.

The Inquisitor said something, but Jace didn't hear it, his knees were shaking too much under his body weight. He wanted to put off this weakness for later, to push it away like a sword blow that was parried.

You are the only weakness I allow myself.

It was too late to undo her sacrifice, so he had to make sure he lived up to it. Jace had to live, no matter how much he wanted to die, because otherwise she would have given her life in vain. A disrespect for which he would forever belong in hell.

And so Jace clenched his teeth like a shark that had bitten into its prey and endured his grandmother's farewell, which he could no longer remember seconds later. Neither her words, nor his – if there had been any. His vision was a single blurred palette of colors, his muscles a remote-controlled machine.

When the white sparks finally brought light into his darkness, Jace wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. The portal appearing before him meant he was one step closer to finishing what she had started. What she should have finished.

As Jace stepped through the portal, he felt something like hope for the first time since Clary's death.

The new world was cold and damp. Melting snow greeted them, the white of which reflected the sun less intensely than it had a few weeks ago. Nevertheless, the flat expanses of Idris resembled an icy desert, even if it was warm enough to not need a winter coat. Sturdy boots and padded armor were enough to withstand the weather out here.

Jace blinked against the white, put a hand over his eyes, and turned around once – to analyze the place where the portal had spat them out. The pine-green treetops of the Brocelind Forest were easy to make out ahead of them, contrasting with all the snow. A few kilometers to the south, Jace estimated, the endless forest stretched out on the horizon.

"Well, that's good," Magnus allowed himself to comment as he measured the distance to the forest. Far enough away to be invisible even to fairy eyes and close enough to reach the forest quickly. Before Aaron could give him any instructions, Magnus threw his arms up. Bluish sparks sprayed from his palms. The golden sparkle of his irises intensified as he accessed his magic. "We should now be invisible even to the most trained eyes."

"Formation," Aaron commanded without raising his voice too much. The fifteen warriors, even the Shadowworlders, immediately took their positions. Everyone knew exactly what to do. Even if that wasn't a particularly positive sign so early in the mission. There was still plenty of time for things to go wrong. "Let's get out of the flatlands. The forest is under Valentine's observation, but we can use the trees for protection just as he does."

And so, the group set off with brisk steps. The route to the forest was covered quickly thanks to the stamina and speed runes, and the rearguards of the formation made sure that no footprints remained in the snow. As soon as they passed the first bushes, Jace's heart began to beat. Unlike in the depths of winter, the snow didn't leave a cold sting in his nose. The thawing surroundings smelled of a mixture of resin, damp earth and the first signs of awakening life – subliminally, but not unnoticed.

At the front, Aaron had slowed down considerably. After jogging quickly in the white wasteland, this slow pace made Jace nervous. Since Maia and Lyall, as werewolves, had the best senses, they walked at Aaron's side, their eyes focused as they glided between the trees and ferns.

Finally, they shook their heads in silence and Aaron responded by making a silent hand gesture to the front, indicating that they should pick up their pace a little. They avoided slopes, took detours through tall grasses and tried to make as little noise as possible. They avoided frozen leaves and fallen branches. But with the thin layer of snow still covering most of the forest, this was no easy task.

It was a nerve-racking feeling that accompanied Jace and probably the others as they moved silently through the deepening shadows of the undergrowth. One after the other, so that the back of the man in front was all the emotion that could be heard from the others. The silence of the forest, as if the tall trees were immediately swallowing up every sound, spread an uneasy feeling in Jace's chest. He could sense that Alec felt the same behind him. There was still no sign of insects or birds. The whistling wind in his hair accompanied by the barely discernible footsteps of the Nephilim and werewolves was only drowned out by the warlocks' footsteps, and even they were adept at moving forward as quietly as possible. Jace had never been more grateful for the rune of silence on his shoulder than at that moment.

Until, after about ten minutes, Maia's dark hand suddenly shot up and Jace remembered that their enemies also had this exact rune. A split second later, the unit had come to a halt. Without saying a word, she knelt down next to a tree stump and stretched out her finger. Aaron's gaze followed her and nodded to confirm her discovery.

"Fresh footprints," he murmured barely audibly. "Too big to belong to a human."

They all knew what that meant. Fey had patrolled this area not long ago. The enemy was close enough that he might have already seen or smelled them.

Aaron turned to face the unit, its members still lined up a few meters apart. With Maia and Lyall watching at his back, his determined eyes slid over each one before issuing the next command.

"We are starting phase two."

In this chapter, the mission that Clary has been working towards for so long finally begins - just without her. Will her death encourage the others or distract them? Jace seems to know his goal, but he often drifts off into his own whirlpool of thoughts. Now the group is in enemy territory, and he can't afford any slip-ups.

How did you like the chapter? We have an intensive exchange between Jace and Isabelle, which I personally like because we see how differently and similarly they deal with their grief.

Feel free to leave me a review to share your thoughts with me. How do you like Jace's perspective? Isabelle's perspective will also be included in the next chapters!

Skyllen