The runes thrummed beneath Clary's fingertips, their faint glow illuminating the darkened corridor. She exhaled slowly, allowing the familiar shapes and lines to flow from memory. Each rune she carved into the Institute's stone promised another layer of protection, another barrier against the unknown threat stalking her unborn twins. Perspiration beaded at her temple as she finished the last flourish, a sense of accomplishment sparking through her fatigue.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling the answering shift from within—two little lives stirring, as if sensing her determination. I'm doing this for you, she thought. For their future in a world that wouldn't hand them safety without a fight.
A soft scuff of shoes on stone announced Jace's arrival. He stood at the edge of the corridor, the warm glow of witchlight casting half-shadows across his worried expression. "How many wards have you reinforced?" he asked gently.
Clary leaned her forehead against the cool stone. "Only three so far. The bigger ones are next." A wave of dizziness took her by surprise—an echo of the strain from channeling so much protective magic. She breathed through it, refusing to give in.
Jace was at her side in moments, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. "Take a break, Clary. You've done enough for tonight."
Her instinct was to argue, to insist she could handle more. But the spinning in her head made the decision for her. Slowly, she nodded. "Alright," she conceded, letting him guide her to a nearby bench. The corridor's faint witchlight flickered over the runic inscriptions, giving them a ghostly gleam.
Once she was seated, Jace sank beside her, exhaling a tight breath. "No word from Alec or Izzy yet. They're still following up on the Staten Island lead. Magnus hasn't called either." His voice was calm, but Clary caught the edge of tension beneath.
A prickle of anxiety danced up her spine. She rubbed her hands together, trying to quell the persistent feeling that time was slipping through their fingers. "They'll reach out soon," she said, though it sounded more like a plea than a statement. "We just have to trust them."
Jace gave a curt nod, but his gaze kept wandering to the runes she'd etched. "We can't keep reinforcing wards forever, Clary. If the Cradle of Ascension is as powerful as we suspect, someone out there might try to use it to punch straight through all of this." He gestured at the shimmering runes in the walls.
A chill settled in her chest. "Then we find it before they do," she said, echoing the vow they'd made weeks ago. She rested a hand on his knee, seeking his eyes. "We don't stop until this threat is gone."
The resolve in Jace's golden stare matched her own. "I know. And once Izzy and Alec check in, we'll know if there's anything new to follow. Magnus's contact was supposed to get back with more details on that relic's location." He paused, voice dropping. "Let's just hope it's soon."
Before Clary could reply, a faint buzz disrupted the silence. Jace pulled out his phone, scanning the screen. "It's Isabelle."
Clary's pulse spiked. She edged closer, heart pounding as Jace put the call on speaker.
"Jace? We found something." Isabelle's voice crackled through the tinny connection. Beneath her usual confidence was a note of urgency that made Clary's stomach twist. "We're at the old church now. There's no sign of the warlocks, but… there's a hidden crypt. Alec and I found an altar—runes all over it, and it looks like it was recently used. Something about ascension keeps popping up."
Clary's knuckles whitened around the phone. "Any sign of the Cradle?"
"Not exactly. But we did find a half-burned manuscript referencing a location on Governor's Island." Isabelle's breathing was heavy, like she'd been running. "Could be a lead."
"We're on our way," Jace said instantly, already standing.
Clary stood too, though a pang of uncertainty jolted her. Should she stay behind as planned? Her heart ached to join the fight, but logic warred with emotion. The twins' safety came first.
Isabelle seemed to read her mind over the connection. "Clary, please—stay put. We can't risk anything happening to you or the babies."
Jace glanced at Clary, seeing the conflict writ across her face. She drew a shaky breath. "Alright," she said at last, forcing herself to accept it. "Just be careful."
"We will," Isabelle promised. "And we'll call again the second we learn more."
The line went dead. For a moment, Clary stood rooted to the spot, tension thrumming through her limbs. She reminded herself that Alec and Isabelle were among the best Shadowhunters she knew. They would unravel the clues, chase them down. She had a different role to play now—holding the bastion within the Institute, safeguarding the children she already loved more than life itself.
Jace slid his phone into his pocket and cupped her cheek with gentle fingers. "I'll go meet them and Magnus. You keep watch here. If anything happens, call me right away."
Clary managed a nod, leaning into his touch. Fear, fierce and unyielding, blazed in her chest, but she refused to let it consume her. "Go," she whispered. "I'll keep the wards strong."
He pressed a light kiss to her forehead. Then, in a swirl of movement, he was gone, footsteps echoing down the corridor. Left alone, Clary dropped her gaze to the glowing runes in the wall. Each line told a story of defiance and protection—runes carved by centuries of Shadowhunters who came before her.
Stay strong, she told herself, resting a protective hand over her twins. We'll find the relic first. We have to.
In the hush that followed, only the whisper of snow against the windows broke the silence. But even within the cradle of the Institute's wards, Clary couldn't shake the feeling of distant thunder—that somewhere beyond these walls, the next blow was already building, ready to fall upon them all.
A low hum of tension still rippled through the Institute when Isabelle returned. Snow clung to her hair, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. The moment she spotted Clary—waiting near the staircase, one hand cradling her growing stomach—Isabelle's expression softened. She crossed the floor in hurried steps, her gear still dusted with melted flakes.
"Clary," she breathed, enveloping her in a warm hug. "Sorry it took so long. Alec and I followed the trail at that old church, then circled back to check out Governor's Island. Turned out to be a dead end." She pulled back with a small grimace. "No sign of the Cradle or those warlocks."
Clary's shoulders relaxed a fraction, though worry still pressed against her ribs. "I'm just glad you're okay. Have you heard from Jace?"
Isabelle nodded. "He and Magnus are still poking around the waterfront. They're stubborn about turning over every stone." She paused, dark eyes traveling to the protective runes Clary had recently carved into the walls. "You must be exhausted. How's…everything?" Her gaze dropped to Clary's belly, concern laced with tenderness.
Clary exhaled shakily, guiding Isabelle a few steps away from the busy corridors. "I'm all right. Just tired of waiting, of feeling like I'm not doing enough. I know I'm keeping the twins safe by staying put, but sometimes—"
"Sometimes you wish you could be out there, hunting down threats yourself," Isabelle finished gently, leaning against the wall. "Trust me, I get it. I remember when I was injured once—my brothers insisted I stay behind. It drove me crazy."
Clary offered a half-smile, comforted by Isabelle's empathy. "Exactly. Every time you guys go off, I feel like I should be right beside you. But then I remember…" She stroked her abdomen, feeling a soft flutter from within. "I'm not just me anymore."
Isabelle's gaze followed the motion, her expression lighting with something akin to awe. "They're going to be so loved, Clary. We'll raise them in a world that's safer—because of everything we're doing right now." Her lips twitched into a fierce grin. "And I, for one, can't wait to be the fabulous aunt who teaches them all the best moves."
A laugh bubbled up in Clary's throat, relieving some of her tension. "Just promise me you'll wait until they can actually walk before you teach them how to wield a whip."
Isabelle raised her hands in mock surrender. "Deal. Though no promises once they hit their toddling phase—those kids will have Shadowhunter blood, after all."
They fell silent for a moment, letting the swirl of Institute life move around them. Then Isabelle's tone turned more serious. "It's okay to feel scared, you know. Jace, Alec, Magnus… me, we're all on edge. The threat isn't gone. If anything, it's growing. But no matter what happens, we face it together. You don't have to carry this alone."
Clary felt emotion tighten in her chest. "I'm just afraid every day—afraid we won't stop the Cradle from falling into the wrong hands, that we won't keep these babies safe."
"You will." Isabelle placed a reassuring hand over Clary's. "Because we will. That's the Lightwood way—and the Fray way. We protect each other."
The certainty in Isabelle's voice steadied Clary more than any rune could. She squeezed Isabelle's hand, an unspoken thanks passing between them. "You're right," Clary said softly, a sense of calm settling over her. "We do."
A gentle warmth settled in the corridor as they stood there, side by side, the swirl of the Institute's busy hush weaving around them.