Song inspiration: NIGHTS LIKE THIS – The Kid LAROI

Chapter 104 – The Morgenstern's Burden

Tongues of golden-orange flames exploded from Jonathan's body. An inferno that began in his arm and spread across his entire skin. Until the fire surrounded him as if he were the center of a sun. As if he were the morning star.

Just like this morning, when the rune on my sword had unfolded, the fire spread like a shock wave. It shot in all directions like lava during a volcano eruption, scorching everything out of existence that dared to impede its path of least resistance. The once-invincible horde of demons burned up at the first contact with the flames, like black fireworks against the golden light that seemed to envelop everything.

The shockwave knocked Jace and me off our feet. We landed side by side in the sand, while Jonathan still stood there, looking down at our father. Except there was nothing left to look at. Without a Fireproof rune, he had burned alongside his demons in purgatory. Not even a pile of ashes remained of the glorious Valentine Morgenstern.

Struggling against the weight of the flames, I pulled myself to my knees and then back to my feet. It felt like running through an unstoppable storm. If I leaned forward toward Jonathan, gravity would not be able to pull me down with the fire licking at my body. I struggled forward as if through a meter-high blizzard that turned my legs to lead. Jonathan's name on my tongue was drowned out by the roar of the heat. I could barely keep my eyes open because the all-encompassing light was burning my retinas.

I groped my way forward, blind as a mole and soon found myself crawling on all fours towards my brother. When I reached him – he was standing in one place like an immobile statue, his head thrown back – I dragged him down to me in the sand with my fingers clinging to his left hand. Even under the protection of the Fireproof rune, he felt feverishly hot.

Not knowing how long the rune would keep us immune, I drew Heosphoros and then my stele. The Heavenly Fire overpowered any cold that would normally come from the adamas, like a volcanic eruption beneath a glacier.

Jonathan, aware of what I was doing, placed his hand flat on Heosphoros's blade. My pupils fixed on the dark metal of the sword, while my senses searched for the Heavenly Fire that still erupted from Jonathan. And as I began to draw, I put all my strength into drawing that very fire out of him once and for all.

A silvery rune reflected in the orange-red glow and, after briefly remaining on the surface, sank deep into the metal. At first nothing happened. Meter-high flames continued to blaze around us, whipping demon after demon back to their home dimensions with destructive power. As slowly as after my previous encounter with the Heavenly Fire, the rune gradually carved its way through the blazing wall like a strengthening stream of water, until it grew powerful enough to extinguish the fire at its core bud. No, extinguish wasn't the right word – redirect it.

Jonathan roared. At first I thought I had done something wrong; that my rune was faulty. Only belatedly did I realize that he was actually laughing – roaring with laughter. Hoarse with relief as the pain of the fire gradually faded, leaving him like a flash of lightning.

The flames lost strength, diminishing in size and temperature as they were drawn into Heosphoros like a swirling vortex. I squinted skyward and, behind the wall of fire, could finally make out the burgeoning blackness of night again – a curtain slowly spreading across the closing stage. The distant stars were still absent from the bright, all-encompassing burn, but that would not be the case for long. The night sky was devoid of every demon, each of them pulverized under the power of the Angels.

Then, like the last water leaving a bathtub down the drain, the flickering remains of the Heavenly Fire were sucked up by Heosphoros. The sword glowed for a moment before it, too, was overshadowed by the night. When I put it back in its sheath on my back, it felt like any other sword.

In the aftermath, the darkness gently caressed the beach. As if it knew what tragedy had happened here. What tragedy had ended here today. What sacrifices had had to be made. How much blood had been shed to make it to this moment. What pain had had to be endured. Sacrifice, blood, pain – all avoidable without Valentine Morgenstern.

Valentine Morgenstern was dead. Final and irreversible.

Finally, I wanted to scream out into the silence that had settled over the beach like a silencing spell cast by the Silent Brothers.

I looked for the spot where my father had knelt when the flames had taken him out. It was impossible to make out. Not even ashes remained of him. And the sand beneath ... the sand had turned into a grainy layer of glass, melted by the high temperatures. The enormous firs at the edge of the Brocelind forest had been reduced to nothing but charred stumps. In the rows behind them, the blast had uprooted and knocked them over, burning the majority of needles and branches. The forest continued to burn, some treetops smoking several hundred meters away. Only the lake continued to lap calmly onto the shore, unimpressed by the power of Heaven. Of course. It was one of the Mortal Instruments.

The Nephilim, who had formed up under Imogen at the edge of the forest, looked over at us in silence. Even expanded by the cleared rows of trees, the beach was too small for her army. She had taken half of the active Shadowhunters with her. Four hundred and fifty armed warriors were an imposition even for the vastness of Lake Lyn. The majority of them had crowded into the forest, as if Brocelind could have protected them from the Heavenly Fire.

"Clary," Jonathan whispered to my right.

As if in slow motion, I turned my head away from the beach, raised my chin to my big brother, who was kneeling next to me on the glass beach. Our green eyes, our mother's eyes, met halfway. A weight had been lifted from Jonathan's shoulders, it was immediately apparent. Not just because of the lack of burning in his veins. No. Because our father was dead. Because it was finally over.

"Now the world is finally back in balance," I whispered, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I swallowed the mixture of sadness and relief that threatened to form a breathless knot in my throat. I wished Jocelyn were here to see this moment – to see what her children had accomplished under her guidance.

We hugged each other, and for a moment we were nothing but siblings. Not warriors, not feared, not traitors, not liars, not spies, not death-bringers, not monsters, not victims, not broken, not orphans. For a moment we were just Clarissa and Jonathan. Siblings holding each other because it was over and, against all odds, they were still alive. Because our parents were dead and duty, guilt, sorrow, and longing had not ruined us. Because our mother was dead, but now our father was too. Because we had lost everything, but the rest of the world had gained everything. Because balance wasn't the same as fairness.

All too quickly we pulled apart again and Jonathan's Adam's apple quivered as if he could barely contain his emotions. My lips parted, but his pupils were already sliding to something behind me and darkening instantly. Any hint of emotion vanished as Jonathan remembered that this private moment – the end of the Morgensterns – had never truly been private – that on the contrary, it had been the crowning conclusion to a show that had hundreds of viewers.

I followed Jonathan's gaze across the beach and my breath caught in my throat. Jace was standing a few feet away from us, his chin lowered as if he were looking at the ground. But his large, golden eyes were on me alone, hidden under his long lashes. As if they were a shield.

This time I could not hold back the tears that pressed against my eyelids. I didn't feel myself getting to my feet. I only knew they were moving forward. Straight towards him. I could not look him in the eyes, but I felt his on me – piercing and no less intense than Phaesphoros when it had nearly ended my life this morning. Only to fall to my knees in front of him again. My shoulders shook with fear, but after all I had done, I had to surrender myself to him like this.

"Will you ever be able to forgive me?" There was no forgiveness for the pain I had caused him. No justification either. No matter what others might argue.

I had expected that he would keep me waiting; that he would let time pass; that his heart, torn with anguish, might be too fragmented; that his temper would turn to anger.

Instead, Jace crouched down in front of me. His fingers, rough and blood-stained from battle, gently pushed my chin up; he was trembling no less than I was. Our tear-soaked eyes met. A shaky, nervous, worn-out grin – so different from the first, snooty, arrogant one he had given me when we had first met – crept onto his brittle, blood-crusted mouth.

"I would rather have a few days with you than not have you at all," Jace whispered hastily, not bothering to hide his heartbreak. His lower lip vibrated as the syllables tumbled over each other, as if I could vanish into thin air at any moment. "I meant those words exactly like that ... I–" He sounded as if he was choking on his own words. My fingers cupped his cheeks, catching the silvery tears. "By the Angel. Vanessa ... But ... You saw it. You were there. I ... I saw you in the forest. We ... We fought. And it was you all along. I wanted to end it all and take her with me, but I would have only taken you instead. How ironic."

Jace threw his arms around my neck. Finally. His strong arms wrapped around my shoulders. His entire body sagged on me as if he were fainting – as if he could not hold himself upright. The wild pounding of his heart told me that he was conscious – that he would need time to finally process this evening. I stretched out my arms and hugged him so tightly that although my lungs could not get any air, my soul finally started to breathe again.

"Of course it was you," he whispered into the silence, as if we were in a vacuum. His chest heaved with a burst of laughter, but his voice still held the razor-sharp pain that my supposed death had brought upon him. "In no world would I have lost a fight against Vanessa Ashdown. But you ... of course you knew my every move before I did. I should have known immediately."

"No," I whispered into the pit of Jace's neck, inhaling his scent like a drug. We clung to each other as if the world would tear us apart at any second. "It cost me everything not to give myself away. If Jonathan hadn't been there to hold me back, I would have been found out long ago."

"All the signs. All the ... signals that I interpreted as provocations, while–"

"Shhh, it doesn't matter now," I murmured as comfortingly as I could, running my fingers through his matted curls in circular motions. If I could have held him tighter, I would have. Instead, I rocked us back and forth, hoping his body would calm down. "It's over, love. We're both alive. The future we never dared to hope for is ours. Your list – all the things you still want to experience – we can work through it and add hundreds more and work through those too. Until we're old and gray."

"Until we're old and gray." Jace leaned back to meet my eyes. His pupils darted down to my lips, longing flickering to life in them. He gasped for air before digging his fingers into my cheeks and kissing me.

I had just gotten used to the taste of his mouth when Jace pulled away. Shame twisted his features as he lowered his chin, and a blood-crusted lock of hair covered his eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't act up," he said, as if it was the only logical response to his kiss. He dropped his hands from my face and tried to wriggle out of my arms, but I was as unyielding as a statue. "You ... you lost your father. And your brother ..." Jace smiled a pained, fake smile. "We have so much to tell each other."

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I stared deep into his eyes – calm and composed so he could relax, but still thoughtful. "Seeing you like this, Jace." I swallowed and hesitated before continuing. Jace's nervousness was palpable, like the heat of his angelic power. "If I die, it's so you can live. If you then rush to your death because you can't bear my death, you are belittling my sacrifice. I can't begin to imagine how terrible that feeling must be. But it was horrifying to see you value your own life so little that death no longer means anything to you. It must never get to that point again."

"You're right." Jace's eyes darkened as they met mine. "You can't even begin to imagine it."

I might live, but that would not take away Jace's pain. His wounds would heal, but what scars would remain?

Slowly he got to his feet. I continued to kneel in the glassy sand, tilting my head back to follow his movement. Jace carefully reached out to help me up but avoided my eyes.

We didn't get a chance to say anything more. Crunching footsteps became louder as Imogen's boots crushed a mixture of broken glass, sand fragments and gravel. Her dark battle robes fluttered around her figure, giving her aura something majestic, almost heroic. Yet while her attire emphasized the drama of our victory, the severity of her hair, fixed in an unyielding braid, underscored the weight with which the future of the Shadow World had teetered on a knife's edge today.

Before the Inquisitor could utter a word, she briefly wrapped her arms around Jace, who returned the gesture without hesitation. She would not reveal any more emotion while hundreds of Nephilim were watching us. With her hand on Jace's shoulder, she turned to me. After our discussion in the Basilias, I had expected a gentle nod or some other, almost invisible form of gratitude on her face. Her Jace was still alive, Valentine was dead, and her Stephen was avenged. All in all, the Shadow World had gotten away with a black eye and surprisingly few losses.

But when Imogen's stormy blue eyes searched mine, reluctantly as if her body was resisting, there was no gratitude. Only regret and ... apology? I could not make sense of it.

"What does this mean, Imogen?" I had never called her by her first name before. Because it wasn't appropriate to address the Inquisitor if you were not close to her.

"Clarissa," Imogen began in an unusually divided voice. "There was a final Clave meeting after your departure. Some final decisions were made over which I, as Inquisitor, have no influence."

As if by themselves, my legs moved backwards, putting more distance between her and me. It was a gut feeling.

Jace, to her left, tensed and looked expectantly between us. I saw his foot twitch as if he wanted to come towards me. Jonathan's abrupt appearance at my back, lurking like a dark ghost, made him pause. A shadow darkened Jace's face, as if the sight of my brother next to me wasn't a pleasant one for him. Unfamiliar, because he had never known us as a unit.

When Imogen also pursed her lips, Jonathan and I exchanged a silent glance.

"The Clave has decided that Jonathan should be questioned under the Angel Blade for his crimes against Shadowworlders and Nephilim. Just to make sure that his actions were indeed carried out under the influence of the demon blood. I have orders to take him into custody and transfer him to the Gard until the questioning can begin." Imogen raised her hands in a placating gesture. Because she knew how I reacted to interrogations or because she wanted to reassure me that everything was fine?

As I had done at the beginning of the battle, I drew Heosphoros with a metallic whir, creating a physical barrier between them and us. Black night reflected in Heosphoros as Jace's golden eyes widened. This was to be the end of all fighting, the beginning of a chapter of peace – not the start of a new conflict.

"Are we coming full circle now?" I asked, straining to open my jaw. It was shaking with fear of losing my brother after all the effort. "I have always told the truth. You yourself can see the difference between my Jonathan and the monster from your office."

"I am well aware of that, Clarissa," Imogen sighed, and you could see that she meant it. That she was, to some extent, sorry that she had to do this. "Under the Mortal Sword he will admit everything and, in all probability, he will be a free man afterward."

"In all probability," I hissed, the trembling of my nerves passing to Heosphoros as a fear-based anger welled up inside me. I fixed Imogen with a look she could not escape; binding like a promise; unyielding like an iron hand around a stranger's wrist. Every word I said was poison, and that was exactly how I spat it at her feet. "He killed Valentine for you. He killed his own father, my father, and everyone saw it. But you snakes still want to accuse him? Hypocrites! All of you."

"Clarissa, it is just a formality, nothing to worry about."

"I won't allow your damned community to treat him the way you treated me. The way You, Imogen, tortured me over and over again and used me for Your own ends, only to throw me away after I did Your dirty work. My brother has been through enough."

"She's right, Grandmother." Jace had torn himself away from Imogen and covered half the distance between Jonathan and me. His arms raised in a deescalating gesture, he eyed the Inquisitor with an expression full of assessment. "They gave and lost everything. How dare you prosecute him when Clary already explained in her first trial what Valentine did to his son?"

"It is not my decision, believe me. I have no choice but to bow to the will of the people. Jonathan just has to answer a few simple questions. He is not on trial."

"Any questioning can turn into a trial. That's the law," Jace admonished her imperiously, his own indignation boiling up his vocal cords. "You could quit your position, like you were planning to do after a victory. Then you wouldn't have to stand here and demand that Clary and I get out of your way."

"I still intend to resign," Imogen ranted back in a whisper so that the other Nephilim didn't hear her words. Knowing that Jace wasn't on her side was clearly weighing on her. "But think about it. The Inquisitor delivers the verdict in every trial. If the community demands a trial, Jonathan will be subject to either my judgment or that of a new Inquisitor, who might hold a less favorable disposition. And keep in mind that in all of Nephilim history there have only been a handful of interrogations that have gone to a direct trial."

"This questioning is completely unnecessary. It's disrespectful and shows how little trust you have in the heroes of this war!" The quieter Imogen's voice became, the louder Jace's boomed across the beach.

"We are no heroes," Jonathan said, resigned but not at all surprised. He lifted his head from the sand and looked at me with pity. As if he saw something I didn't. It made me furious. "Do you not see that, Clary? We are Morgensterns. I tried to explain it to you in the forest earlier. We could save the world and they would not respect us. You saved them all, but as long as their leader despises you, the rest will not respect you either. They will always reduce us to our blood. To our father."

"You have merely undone what your father set into motion." Imogen watched as Jace's expression changed, as if he was seeing his grandmother for the first time. Suddenly he was no longer standing between us, but to my left. His expression reminded me of the Seelie Court. When the Fairy Queen had compared me to Valentine and Jace had wanted to make me understand that I wasn't like him. That she was playing with me. "Without your bloodline, none of this would have happened."

"How can you say such a thing?" Jace sounded strangely hollow.

"That is not my opinion, Jace," Imogen said, and except for her clothes there was nothing to suggest that she was the leader of any society. She looked like a simple, tired woman. "I am nothing but an instrument, my opinion irrelevant. At the end of the day, the opinion of the majority is the truth and I, as the spokesperson for the people, must bend to their will and carry it out – regardless of what I feel."

"I'm sorry it has to end like this," I finally whispered so that only the three of them could hear me. Heosphoros separated us from Imogen with all the harshness of my decision. "You'll have to kill me to get to my brother. Make me a villain if you want. I have given what I could. I deserve peace."

For a moment, no one moved. Then Imogen's icy pupils darted to Jace, who was staring at his grandmother as if he were currently passing his final judgment on her. His hand already on the hilt of his sword, I realized with all the weight of my heart that saving my family was tearing Jace's apart.

Inconsolable, Imogen's fingers also slid towards her weapon.

"Jonathan, get us out of here," I ordered my brother, raising my right hand slightly so he could understand what I meant.

The Morningstar ring, which was engraved with teleportation magic, glowed on his right ring finger. I grabbed Jace's forearm, so focused on hoping the ring could transport three people that I belatedly realized Jonathan slipped it off his finger and held it out to me.

"To love is to be destroyed." Jonathan grabbed my hand and pressed the ring into it until my fingers clenched around it in an unbreakable grip.

My dry eyes widened in incomprehension. It had been a long time since I last looked up to my brother for help. Now it felt uncomfortable; like giving up control. I had completely forgotten what it was like when others made the difficult decisions for me, because, in the last few months, everyone had just burdened me with them without asking. Jonathan freed me from the burden of the Morgenstern, which I had never asked for.

"You have built a life for yourself, sister. I will not stand by and watch you drive it into the wall just to protect me. They gave you the chance to prove you are more than the Morgenstern. Now let them prove they are more than the corrupt regime Father thought they were."

Too quickly for me to react, Jonathan had ducked past Heosphoros and surrendered to Imogen's mercy with his hands raised. One last of her hypocritical apologies flew my way, but without extracting a true promise.

Was this what it felt like to be struck by lightning? The world seemed to keep spinning, I could see Jonathan and Imogen walking away from me, but my muscles were frozen. Trapped in place as if vines had wrapped around my joints, I could barely open my mouth before they vanished into thin air in a whirlwind of green sparks. Jonathan's white-blonde hair burned into my retinas as if my brain feared I would never see him again – while his lack of presence was already tearing a hole in my back.

Then, the vines finally breaking free from my legs, I staggered forward – after them. It was truly pathetic. I carelessly threw Heosphoros away and was already mentally scrambling for my stele to follow them when I remembered the Morgenstern ring in my closed fist.

The stupid ring that should never have fallen into my hands. As if Jonathan was already dead and his possessions were now mine. The thought turned my stomach, and I would have puked on the damn sand if the ring had not reminded me of my father. It literally ripped me out of my bubble and threw me back into the bigger picture of the present that I had created.

Slowly raising my head, I encountered the hundreds of Nephilim who eyed me with scrutiny, admiration, and shame. Who were they to judge me and my brother? Darkening the edges of my vision, I returned to the spot where our father had met his death.

The great Morgenstern family. Reduced to ashes before everyone's eyes.

Suddenly everything was too much.

I put the Morgenstern ring on my left ring finger, twisted it, and felt Jace grab me just in time. Brocelind and Lake Lyn disappeared as I teleported us away.

Unlike Jonathan, I had no idea what I was doing. So it was no surprise that I landed knee first when we emerged onto the ground floor of Morgenstern Manor. Jace, who even now had more grace than I ever could, rolled off in time. I registered his discomfort, which gripped him for the seconds he needed to realize where he was. After all, he had been here once. Less than a month ago.

"Clary." Jace's voice made it clear that he wanted to say so much more. When he looked at my face, every word died.

I should cry; should collapse in on myself and howl until this nightmare finally ended. If it ever did. But this wasn't an episode of my typical panic attacks. I had no idea what this was. Maybe I was fed up once and for all. Maybe this would stop me from teleporting to Alicante and razing the entire city to the ground. Because a small part of me, I realized with far too little horror, wanted just that: to kill them all, to burn them all, to make them all suffer.

Valentine was dead because he had come between me and my brother. Why should they not suffer the same fate? Did they really believe that I had been so selfless as to endure all that suffering because I was interested in the Shadow World? Did they really believe that I had sacrificed my family for the Nephilim?

I was selfish to my core, and the Nephilim community should thank Raziel that Jace was still alive. My selfishness in not losing him was all that was stopping me from marching straight into Alicante. I would lose him if I did that. So here I was, in this haunted house that had once been my home. The echoes of my past nowhere louder than here, it was easy to breathe a sigh of relief and direct my hatred back to the source of all evil: Valentine Morgenstern.

With fluttering eyelids, I looked around the living room. Jace was clutching my shoulder, his fingers strangely clenched. Whatever he saw on my features ...

"You know that the monster in me will never completely disappear," I heard myself say, although I had not wanted to speak. His hand, turned away from me, held Heosphoros, which I had pushed away so carelessly in a wave of panic. Now every fiber of me craved its calm, its sharpness, its precision. "A part of me will always be the Morgenstern daughter. With hatred in her heart and death in her hands."

"I said that if you did the right thing, they could accept you, remember?" Jace handed me Heosphoros and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I didn't understand your finality then. Now I've seen the world where there is nothing to keep the hate in check. We all carry a monster inside us. I saw yours, you saw mine. Do what you have to do to keep it from taking control again."

I grabbed Heosphoros, took a deep breath, and screamed out the emotions that were building up inside me. Jace just stood there, in the middle of my old home, silently watching me chop up everything that got in the way of my blade. I screamed my heart out, as if all the anger would finally subside, as if all the sadness would finally evaporate, as if all the fear would finally fade away.

The more I defaced the living room, the quieter the ghosts that tormented me became – but they never stopped talking. Some of them laughed at me, others mumbled incomprehensible things, still others cried. I had thought that they would stop once Valentine was dead. But death didn't seem to play a role. Rather, it was me, the state of my psyche, that decided when enough was enough.

It took me ten minutes of brute force to realize that none of my emotional outbursts would change anything. I could not even say I felt better. Quite the opposite.

Valentine had taught me to resolve every conflict with the sword. Because he wanted warriors, not diplomats or politicians. The power he had always wanted to keep.

I would be able to fight my way to Jonathan if he did get involved in a trial. Just as Jace had wavered between going on and giving up when he had thought me dead. In the end, it would come down to violence; to what I had been created for.

Valentine had always known, or at least suspected, that this violence would destroy us. Like a star that imploded at the end of its life because it ran out of power – because the forces from outside had become too strong to resist.

I remembered my outrage when I had witnessed Jace's inconsideration in gambling with his own life after my death. Because I had not wanted to give up my life just for him to throw his away shortly after.

You have built a life for yourself, sister. I will not stand by and watch you drive it into the wall just to protect me.

Jonathan didn't want me to face the Clave with violence. He had put his life in their hands to keep me from destroying mine. Because to love was to be destroyed. Because he would rather destroy himself than see me destroyed. He didn't want me to go down the path of violence again.

"Killing them all would make me the inconsiderate one." Heosphoros sank in my hands. Tears ran down my cheeks as I understood Jace's dilemma, which now became my own. "I would render Jonathan's sacrifice meaningless." And I could not do that. No matter how hot my blood boiled and my mind tried to convince me that violence was the only solution.

Jace could not look at me as he nodded. Had I turned to him or had he come into my line of sight on his own? "It's hell," he said matter-of-factly, and as he tilted his head back, I caught a glimpse of his tear-filled eyelids. His Adam's apple quivered as he continued, "I wish I could tell you how to get through it, but I can't. All I can promise you is that I'll stay by your side – and hope that if things don't work out in our favor, it'll be enough. All we can do is wait and hope."

In the past, things had mostly been in my hands, so that I had been able to directly influence their outcome. This powerlessness reminded me of my early days in the Nephilim community. Of the days of dependence when I had been stuck to Adam because he had been the only one who had held out a hand to me. Looking back on that time gave me a queasy feeling of unease.

"I was ready to live without him," I said quietly, holding onto Jace's gear. "When the demon was still inside him, I even wanted to kill him. Now ... Jonathan has suffered beyond belief. He shouldn't have to bear this burden when he already has so many to bear. Just that he ... that he killed our mother. He's not the boy I once knew. He will carry the burden Valentine placed on him for the rest of his life."

"It's not your place to make amends for Valentine's sins." Jace's tone was heavy with seriousness. His hands rested on my hips, contradictory gentle. "Don't you realize that Valentine's actions also burden you if you feel responsible for them? Jonathan may have suffered more, but that doesn't mean you have to continue to suffer to balance this out. Valentine alone is responsible for his actions, and instead of accepting them as yours, you should push them away. It's not your fault. You all have free will, Valentine, Jonathan, and you."

A deep, croaking sigh ran through me from head to toe. My eyelids fluttered in an attempt to just tune out – I wished for a world that was so simple. I looked past Jace's broad frame into the battered living room where I had spent my childhood. Evenings in front of a crackling fire after strenuous days of training outside. Obligatory Sundays when more time was devoted to the family than the rest of the week. Few moments of peace with a book at the table when Father was away on one of his own missions. If you were looking for a couch here, you would be looking in vain – the bed was the place to recharge your batteries. A couch, like the ones most of the Nephilim now had in their living rooms, only invited you to laze around and neglect your duties. Something that Valentine had despised about modern humans: the past century, with all its achievements, had made humanity lazy and let them sink into a state of complacency, whereas their ancestors had been brilliant strategists and clever visionaries.

It was the first time that I thought about the past and didn't miss anything. Normally I looked back almost nostalgically, longing for peaceful evenings and moments of togetherness. Why had this feeling only disappeared now, after Valentine's death, and not much earlier, when my mother had always been the center of our family?

Jocelyn's death felt so long ago that the hole in my chest had begun to form its first layer of scab. Thinking of her still felt like an icy knife stab, only the point no longer penetrated the furthest corner of my heart. The fact that the pain was easing, albeit gradually, scared the hell out of me. Maybe it was just because of all the other knife stabs that had been added to it.

Jonathan, Jace, Isabelle, Adam, Valentine.

"We have to go back," I said at some point. No idea how long I had looked around the living room and how long we had stood in the midst of all the destruction I had caused. "I can't hide for too long. The war is over, we have to show our presence before old voices are heard."

Jace didn't have to ask to understand. War drove the Nephilim to their limits too. Many changes had been passed because of it. Changes that many Nephilim had only accepted for the sake of war. War always left a power vacuum, and we had to be there to make sure the wrong people didn't fill it before all our efforts of the last few months were undone.

Yes, I was selfish, and the Shadow World was of secondary interest to me. But I had worked too hard and bled too much to let that be taken away from me. The Council alone had nearly been the death of me.

Jace grabbed my hands and his smile warmed my insides. I had missed that look. That lightness with which he looked at me – as if the sight of me was enough to lift his spirits. I still could not believe it was true. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who wants to hear your story," he said, and his lips sought mine. "Isabelle will desperately need a distraction, and you know how much she craves drama even on a normal day."

Isabelle. My Parabatai was alive, the rune on my chest told me that. It was the only thing I had checked before I had made off with the ring. The Silent Brothers would not let us see her until they had taken care of her anyway. Judging by the unyielding darkness outside the windows, hardly any time had passed since the battle at the lake.

"I think we could all use a distraction," I replied as my fingers slid toward the ring.

Jace and Clary are reunited, but in turn, Jonathan and Clary's paths are now diverging. How did you like this chapter? Let me know!

I still haven't finished writing the fic, though there isn't much left. But I'm currently stuck on a scene and dealing with a bit of writer's block. So instead, I've been working on the layout for my other fic because I want to get it printed, hahaha.

But starting next week, I really need to focus on this fic again. Just some side notes for you!

Let me know what you think of the chapter. See you next week!

Skyllen