⋆ ˚ 。⋆ ✧ ⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼ ✧ ⋆ 。˚ ⋆

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO: AN OVERTURE TO HELL

❛no word of mine

will ever hurt you.❜

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Your death will be a mercy to everyone you love. Remember that, Zoya Herondale.

With a hollow feeling invading her chest, Zoya marched into the quiet night. Her aquamarine irises seemed to have become dreary in the milky moonlight, her words running out as quickly as the grains of sand slipped from the hourglass, and yet no one but Emma Carstairs knew why.

Returning pain and newfound shock knocked on her door, conquering her every vein even though Zoya wanted to keep them free of the said feelings. She was entirely lost, particles of the ancient past raising and creating a thick veil of impenetrable fog that held the girl a convict. She had never thought she could feel this way ー like her heart was being carved out her chest, leaving her limbs and lungs unmoving. There was an increscent gap, a swallowing hole, growing within her chest at the mere thought of her life being a complete lie. She couldn't even begin to fathom the possibility of her parents keeping a secret so significant away from her; why hadn't they told her that she could feel things she wasn't ever meant to feel? Did they even know about it? How was it possible for her to feel multiple things at once ー emotions and danger? How was it possible that she was a Herondale, for the Angel's sake?

There were so many questions that erupted within Zoya's mind ー questions that needed to be buried until she figured out what she was supposed to do next. Was she supposed to tell Julian and the rest of his siblings? Call Jace? Or Tessa and Jem?

Zoya didn't know, but the moment she took in the sight of Ty, Livvy, Dru and Tavvy sitting on the ground ー her heart felt slightly more at ease. The youngest boy was resting in Livvy's arms, drowsy but with a light shadow of a smile painted on his face. Nearby stood Kieran, arms crossed over his chest and an outline of a persistent scowl on his lips as he observed the children.

"How is Tavvy?" Julian headed toward his siblings, instantly greeted by Dru's tight hug. "Is everything all right?"

A loud, scratching sound glided through the night, announcing that the passage that led toward Malcolm's hidden chambers was closing. Diana attempted preventing the stones from obscuring the way, but her actions were fruitless.

"You cannot stop it," Kieran announced, glancing toward the Wrayburn woman. "The opening and the path inside were made by Malcolm. This hill does not naturally hold within it tunnels and caves. Now that he is dead, his enchantments are failing. There may perhaps be another entrance into this space, at some other ley line convergence. But this door will not open again."

"How did you know he was dead?" Emma questioned curiously.

"Lights going on in the city below," Kieran answered, chin gesturing behind him. "TheーI don't know what your mundane word is for itー"

"Blackout," Mark helped him out. "The blackout's over. And Malcolm cast the spell that was responsible for the blackout, so ー yeah."

"Does that mean we can get a signal on our phones?" Ty inquired.

"I'll check," Julian replied swiftly, pulling his phone from the car and separating himself from the group.

Zoya didn't know whom possibly he could be calling, but she didn't ask. The girl allowed herself to accompany Emma in checking on the children, giving Dru and Livvy a small hug and Ty a gentle smile before kneeling down and stroking the brown locks out of Tavvy's eyes.

"Hey, little one," she said, the corners of her lips stretching into a weak smile. "You okay?"

Tavvy returned the grin, yawning in the process. "I am a bit tired."

Zoya kissed his forehead, telling him that he would get to sleep in his bed as soon as they returned to the Institute. She, then, stood up and found her way to Emma and Cristina.

"Your left arm." Cristina's soft tone greeted Zoya as she approached her friends, her palm enveloping Emma's. "Hold it out?"

Zoya's eyes scrunched at the corners, lips slowly parting as she took in the sight of Emma's burned arm. She had already managed to sneak a glance at the flushed area when they were alone in the cave, but another, more clear sight of it, confirmed her worries ー she did feel the pain when Malcolm's magic rebounded off of the rune she had drawn upon Emma's skin.

"Is that the endurance rune I gave you?" Zoya questioned, lifting her own gear and examining her skin. There was no sign of a matching rune, but the electric feeling of Emma's mark still remained in Zoya's bloodstream.

"I think it saved my life," Emma voiced out, meeting Zoya's gaze. There were other thoughts the Carstairs girl wanted to share with her parabatai, but those words were solely meant for the two of them. Two pairs of ears and eyes, not a whole bunch of them.

Cristina watched the silent exchange, producing her stele and drawing a quick, but elegant iratze on Emma's skin. "There were a few minutes there, when you were behind that wall Malcolm made," she said, shaking her head at her friends. "Where I thought the two of you weren't coming out."

Emma eased as Cristina finished her rune, pulling down her bloodstained sleeve. "Sorry."

"I know," Cristina commented, ushering Zoya to offer her arm. "What happened in there?"

The raven-haired girl didn't have the strength to argue, extending her bare forearm to the Rosales girl. She enjoyed Cristina's healing runes, but knew that they weren't nearly as powerful as Emma's. Nevertheless, she was thankful to be granted a new wave of energy.

"A lot of things," Zoya uttered quietly, eyes focused on the glowing rune. "Mostly Malcolm going on about his past life ー about Annabel."

"That's true," Emma joined, her arm sneaking its way around Zoya's shoulder and pulling her into her own body. I will not tell your secret, she wanted to say. "I don't know about you, but I actually felt bad for him."

"It's not weird," Cristina replied. "It's a terrible story. Neither he nor Annabel did anything wrong. To see someone you love so horribly punished and tortured ー to think they'd abandoned you only to find out that you abandoned themー" Cristina's shoulders shook.

"I hadn't thought about it that way," Emma hummed. "You think he felt guilty?"

"I'm sure he did. Anyone would."

Zoya stared at the Rosales girl, thinking of her words. Perhaps she was right, but the obsidian-haired Shadowhunter found herself unable to form an opinion. Her mind had been too poisoned with Malcolm's revelation, chest crushed under the heavy weight of newfound information.

Her friends' conversation was muffled in Zoya's ears, eyes too busy being glued to Julian Blackthorn who was leaning against the Toyota. One of his hands was holding the phone to his ear, lips uttering words Zoya couldn't understand. His other palm was going through his messy locks, ruffling them even more. Even when he was in his gear, covered in dust and blood, he managed to look like a divine creation.

In that moment, Zoya had wanted nothing more than to be the one whose hands would be playing with his curls. She had wanted to be the one he would pull into his arms, allowing her to cry her soul out on his shoulder.

What would he think if he knew?

"So are the signals working again?" Ty's words brought Zoya back to the real world, causing her to blink several times. "Who were you calling?"

Julian slid his phone into his pocket, face serious. "Pizza."

All eyes were on the brunette boy, questioning whether or not he was joking. His hand had instinctively reached to scratch the back of his neck, allowing view at a long gash that ran across his cheek.

"Thought we might all be hungry," he reassured, smiling with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"We should go," he added. "The convergence's collapse means the Clave is going to be able to see the dark magic emanating from this place on their map. When we get back, I don't think we'll be alone."

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Julian watched as everyone began to enter the vehicles, weakly smiling or allowing silence to fall upon them. Livvy had taken it upon herself to carry Tavvy in the backseat of their Toyota, advising her twin that he should take the passenger's seat. Dru followed her siblings in suit, while Cristina and Diego headed for Diana's truck. Theo, Emma and Zoya were gathered in a broken circle, debating who would join the Blackthorns and who would accompany Diana. At last, they settled on Zoya and Theo taking the truck.

Mark Blackthorn was a whole new story. He was still standing outside, blond locks ruffled by the gentle breeze as he turned to Kieran. "I wish to ride with my brothers and sisters."

Julian spun on his foot, casting a glance at the Unseelie prince. For some reason, he couldn't spot a single ounce of anything good in his bicolored irises. The only thing that came to his mind upon looking at Kieran was the fact that he was responsible for whipping the person he had loved most.

"You don't need to come back with us," Julian stated curtly. "We don't need your help anymore."

"I will not go until I know Mark is safe."

Shrugging his shoulders, the brunette Blackthorn's mouth formed a firm line. "Have it your way. When we get back, don't come into the Institute until we say so. We'd be in trouble just for fighting alongside you."

Kieran scoffed. "Without me, you would have been defeated this night."

"Probably," Julian replied. "I'll remember to be grateful every time I see scars on Zoya and Emma's backs."

Kieran's teeth sank into his bottom lip, leaving Julian to round the Toyota. Just as he was to pull the driver's door open, Diana's hand was pressed against it. Her face was almost entirely hidden by a dark shawl.

"The Clave may well be waiting for you," she announced. "If you want, I'll take the blame for everything and throw myself on their mercy."

Julian's eyes skimmed the perimeter, taking time to measure the possible consequences. No matter how many unfavorable results his mind painted, the boy knew his priorities. He would do anything to protect his family; Tavvy, Dru, Livvy and Ty. Emma and Zoya. Mark. Cristina ー and even Theo and Diego.

From a very young age, Julian had learned how to put their safety and wellbeing first. He didn't care for the methods or plans he had to coin; whatever he needed to do to protect his loved ones, he was ready to execute.

"No," he said, determined. "And I'm not being kind. I don't think it would work."

"Julianー"

"You hide things," Julian proceeded. "The Angel knows there's something you're still hiding, some reason you couldn't take over the Institute. Something you won't tell, anyway. You're a good hider, but you're not a good liar. They won't believe you. But they will believe me."

"So you already have a story for them?" Diana questioned, dark eyes sparkling.

The boy remained silent, blue-green gaze focusing on the raven-haired girl that was pushed into Diana's car by no other than Theodore Montclaire. She spared her friend a bitter scowl, but the boy didn't budge up until Zoya was secured into the backseat.

"You're a piece of work, Julian Blackthorn," Diana finally said, adjusting her shawl.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he answered.

"Did you know I'd be here tonight?" Diana said, following Julian's gaze and allowing her eyes to linger on Zoya. "Did you think I was in league with Malcolm?"

"I didn't think it was likely," Julian replied. "But then, I don't entirely trust anyone."

"That's not true," Diana brushed his comment off, returning her gaze to the boy. Though the woman didn't exactly voice it out, Julian was aware that she had caught him staring at Zoya. "You'd better get back. I'll make myself scarce until tomorrow."

"I'll tell them you didn't know anything. It isn't as if people don't deceive their tutors all the time. And you don't even live with us." Julian's hand fell on the door handle, knowing that his family was waiting for him. "So you'll drop Zoya, Theo, Diego and Cristina at the Institute and then head home?"

"I'll head somewhere," Diana said.

Julian glanced at her before allowing his fingers to pull the handle. "Do you ever regret it? Choosing to be our tutor? You didn't have to."

"No," she said, without thinking. "I am who I am because I've been part of your family. Never forget, Jules. The choices we make, make us."

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Most of the ride went wordless. Roads widened and narrowed before the Shadowhunters, but none of them showed signs of enthusiasm. Ty, seated in a passenger seat, kept on examining the scenery they were passing. Dru, along with Tavvy and Livvy, was tightly squeezed behind Julian's seat, leaving Mark and Emma pressed behind Ty.

Julian found the silence awfully uncomfortable, but he understood that everyone was exhausted. The battle against Malcolm's Followers that took place within the convergence site took a toll on everyone, leaving their minds empty and their limbs sore.

Nevertheless, Julian found himself constantly glancing at the rear view mirror. He hoped to catch the faintest of signs in Emma as to what exactly had happened in between her, Zoya and the warlock, but the blonde was yet to meet his gaze.

He was no fool; he was aware that something had taken place. He could see it in the way Emma squeezed Cortana closer to her chest, as if she were afraid to let go. He could feel it in the faint tremble of Zoya's body when he pulled her close, in her brittle laugh, in her dulled blue eyes.

And then, there were his siblings. Children he had raised were slowly turning into fierce warriors, wearing trophies in the forms of bruises and cuts.

"Ty," Julian began, quiet enough and meant only for his brother.

"Yes?" The boy's gaze was ripped from the outside world, gray irises focused on his brother.

"You were right," Julian confessed. "I was wrong."

"I was?" Ty echoed. "About what?"

"You coming with us to the convergence," explained Julian. "You fought well ー amazingly, in fact. If you hadn't been there. . ." Julian found his words stuck in his throat, unable to cross the barrier. "I'm grateful," he added. "And I'm also sorry. I should have listened. You were right about what you could do."

"Thanks," Ty uttered. "For apologizing."

The car was parked in front of the Institute, leaving Ty to lean over and gently lay his head on Julian's shoulder. It was Ty's own way of showing affection and gratefulness, urging Julian to smile and playfully tousle his locks before he allowed his brother to exit the car.

"Emma," the brunette boy called out, seeing that Diana hadn't arrived yet. "Can I talk to you?"

The Carstairs Shadowhunter smiled at Mark briefly before approaching Julian. "What's going on?"

Julian took a moment to examine Emma. Though her gear was bloodstained and her spirits on the brink of exhaustion, he could still decipher the confidence in her eyes. "Did something happen to you and Zoya?" He asked. "Back in the cave, with Malcolm?"

The corners of Emma's orbs squinched, fingers lightly curling around Cortana. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Why would you ask that?"

"Well, both, you and Zoya, seemed upset and I was wondering ifー"

"Jules," Emma interrupted steadily. "Nothing happened."

"Are you sure?" Julian's arms were arched up, as if he had a hard time believing his friend's words.

"God," Emma sighed. "You couldn't be any more obvious even if you tried." Her lips curved into a weak smirk. "You're head over heels for her, aren't you?"

"Emmaー"

"Don't you think that she deserves to know?" Emma proceeded.

"Emma," Julian repeated her name, the word coming out in a scolding tone. "It's complicated."

"I really don't see how it's complicated, Jules," Emma said, shrugging her shoulders. "She was clear about her feelings toward you ー she acted upon them when Iarlath came and I know you heard her."

Julian swallowed a heavy lump that formed in his throat. He knew that Emma wasn't aware of the things that happened between them; the way they kissed and murmured each other's names, the way they held onto each other when nobody was watching ー those were their secrets. Just like how Zoya's confession of her feelings toward him was their secret.

"Look, Emma." Julian inhaled a deep breath, allowing his hand to tangle in between his locks. "I didn't know I was going to fall in love with her. I didn't know I was going to want her. I didn't expect to feel a sudden urge to run my fingers through her hair and hold her close to me, but it happened and I felt like I was set on burning fire. I never knew I could love someone so deeply, but I guess it makes sense. She was always there ー helping with my family, never pressuring me into anything. She was just there. She was ready to stay up all night and mend the broken, heal the stinging wounds. Now, I just want to be there and do the same for her."

"Jesus Christ, Blackthorn," Emma exclaimed, spinning on her foot as soon as she registered the sound of Diana's truck approaching. Theo was the first one to exit, holding his hand out to Zoya in a mocking manner. The black-haired girl raised her eyebrows playfully at the boy and mumbled an unintelligible response before accepting his gesture and jumping to the ground. "Don't you think that you should be telling that to her?"

Julian didn't say anything, merely kept on observing the way wind kept on knotting strands of obsidian. Zoya's weak smile grew as soon as her eyes took in the sight of him and Julian felt his heart stop.

It just ceased to beat and the world became quiet again.

I wish you smiled like that because of me.

"Guys." Livvy's voice made Julian snap out of his daze and glance toward his sibling. Her pupils were slightly dilated as her chin gestured toward the Institute; there was a faint glimmer breaking through the windows.

Someone had Portaled into their home.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

He pushed the door, aware that his own destruction could be waiting for him on the other side.

Julian had known that he couldn't hide the secret of Mark's return for an eternity, but the sole thought of a large crowd of Clave members awaiting him and desiring to snatch everything away from him didn't please the boy in the slightest.

Chance, circumstance, determination.

That was everything Julian Blackthorn needed ー or at least that was what he thought up until his blue-green irises collided with Zoya's. It was then that his stern gaze had softened and his lips surrendered to his heart, allowing a smile to sneak on his face.

Faith. He needed that too.

If there were certain people Julian hadn't expected to see standing in the middle of Sanctuary of his own home, washed in a brilliant, blazing light, they would have been Magnus Bane and Clary Fairchild. A famous warlock dressed in a brocade jacket and elegant trousers, hands decorated in expensive rings and a red-haired girl who proudly wore a gentle, emerald dress.

"Well, well," Magnus chuckled, noticing a large family that spilled into the room after Julian. "Kill the fatted calf and all that. The prodigals have returned."

Clary's emerald eyes flickered under the pale glow of witchlight hung around the Sanctuary. "Emma, Zoya, Julianー" She shrieked, hand covering her mouth. "Mark? Mark Blackthorn?" She leaned to the side. "Theo?"

No one said a word ー not even a simple greeting.

When Julian allowed himself to glance over his shoulder, he noted that his family ー along with the Centurions and Cristina ー had formed a protective barrier around his brother. They didn't want him harmed, or taken away.

Magnus' cat-like orbs were drawn to the blond boy, taking in the sight of his unique eyes and pointed ears. "Jace!" The warlock shouted, glancing at the second floor. "Get down here!"

Julian felt Zoya stiffen beside him, her eyes swift in scanning the room for a glimpse at the Herondale Shadowhunter.

"Are you all right?" Clary headed toward the group, but Magnus' palm curled around her wrist ー stopping the Fairchild girl in her tracks. She spared him a worried glance before turning to Emma. "Are you hurt?"

A loud echo of shoes tapping against the stairs drew everyone's attention.

No one needed a clarification as to who the tall, lean figure that appeared on top of the staircase was. He cascaded toward them, painfully slow, making Julian think that the Herondale Shadowhunter relished at the chance to be watched by everyone.

Julian was only twelve years old when he first met Jace; he was only twelve when he had to endure Emma's endless ramblings about the blond Shadowhunter who was ー in her humble opinion ー the most handsome person to walk the Earth.

He often had to remind himself that Zoya had met Jace before any of them. He was the one who had pulled her out of the York Institute, calming her as she witnessed the sight of her dead parents. He was the one who took pride in teaching her a bit of his skills before she was shipped off to Los Angeles to live with the Blackthorns. He was the one who regularly checked on her over the phone, though the conversations were always kept pretty short.

"Well, either you've been out fighting the forces of evil or you've come from a much wilder party than we have," Jace uttered, eyeing the crowd of mud-covered Shadowhunters. His golden hair matched the color of his eyes, serving as a polar opposite of his dark blazer. "Hello, there, Blackthorns."

Livvy's eyes were two hearts, taking their time to allow Jace's beauty to sink in. Dru, contrary to her sister, didn't even bother to be mesmerized by the blond boy; she was busy with her crush on Diego.

"Why are you here?" Julian turned to their visitors. His shoulders were steady, much like his mind. He had known the real reason behind their arrival, but he decided on playing along.

"Dark magic," Magnus explained. "A huge flare of it on the map. At the convergence site." Tilting his head to the side, he gazed at Emma. "I thought you might do something with that bit of information I gave you. Where ley lines are concerned, the convergence is always key."

"Why didn't you go there, then?" Emma questioned curiously. "To the convergence?"

"Magnus checked it out with a spell," Clary joined. "There was nothing there but some wreckage, so we Portaled here."

"From my sister's engagement party, to be precise," Jace mused. "There was an open bar."

"Oh!" Emma exclaimed, a smile that beamed of happiness stretching across her face. Her eyes travelled from her parabatai to Clary. "Isabelle's marrying Simon?"

"People are going to think you're obsessed with them," Zoya chuckled at her friend, mirroring a smile that rested on Emma's face.

Clary's emerald orbs flickered. "Yeah," she said. "He's really happy."

"Mazel tov to them," Jace mused, leaning his back against the rail. "Anyway, we were at the party, and Magnus got this alert about necromantic magic near the L. A. Institute, and he tried to reach Malcolm, but no luck. So we snuck out, just the four of us. Which is a big loss to the party if you ask me, because I was going to give a toast and it was going to be glorious. Simon would never be able to show his face in public again."

"Not really the point of an engagement toast, Jace," Clary interrupted, her orbs focused on the two Centurions. Diego was the one who worried her ー he was pale and awfully bloody.

"Four of you?" Zoya's forehead creased as she glanced at the group of three before them. "Did Alec accompany you?"

Magnus was the one to open his mouth to answer, but the words never came out. The doors of the Sanctuary were flung open, revealing Inquisitor Robert Lightwood. He was tall and his every step reeked of confidence and authority; it went along with his title ー investigating Shadowhunters who broke the Law.

Julian had only once had the opportunity of meeting the man ー years ago when he was asked to speak of Sebastian's attack on the Institute. It was also the first and only time he had held the Mortal Sword in his palms, allowing it to pull the truth out of his mouth. It was an unexplainable feeling ー the words spilled out of him, every cell in his body surrendered to the sword's power.

It was perhaps the last time his words were entirely honest, for everything that followed after that moment was incorporating lies into carefully-planned stories that would keep his family together.

"What's going on here?" Robert inquired as he strode toward the group of Shadowhunters, his eyes cold as they collided with Julian's. "There was a flare of necromantic magic traced to this Institute several hours ago and your uncle claims to know nothing about it. More troubling, he refused to tell us where you disappeared to." His lips were pursed as he examined the group, eyes growing wide as they landed on Mark. "Mark Blackthorn?"

"I already said that," said Clary, an ounce of bitterness pouring out of her words as she glanced at Robert.

"Yes," Mark answered, his chin tilted up as he met the Inquisitor's gaze.

Julian noticed Robert flinching as he noticed Mark's bicolored orbs.

They were an accusation against the Clave, those eyes. They said, You abandoned me. You did not protect me. I was alone.

"I have come back," Mark proceeded.

"The Wild Hunt would never have released you," argued the Inquisitor. "You were far too valuable to them. And faeries don't give back what they take."

"Robertー" Magnus opened his mouth to argue.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Robert countered. "Magnus? Anyone?"

Magnus' lips joined into a flat line, forehead creasing slightly. Jace, still leaning against the rail, didn't speak a word, either.

Dru shrieked, hand curling around Zoya's as she watched the way Robert treated her brother. The raven-haired girl turned toward Dru, rubbing her back comfortingly and reassuring her that they were going to be fine.

"It's not fair to interrogate them," Clary exclaimed, her frame facing Robert's. "They're just kids."

"Don't you think I remember the trouble you and Jace got into when you were 'just kids'?"

"He has a point." Jace's lips curved into a smile as he glanced at Zoya, Emma and Julian. His every word, his every movement breathed of something exquisite, something untouchable.

"We didn't use any necromancy," said Julian. "We didn't need to. The thing about faeries ー they're always willing to make a deal."

Announcing themselves with a hushed conversation and a set of glasses in their hands, Anselm Nightshade and Arthur Blackthorn stood in the doorway of the Sanctuary. Contrary to the vampire, Arthur appeared rather tired ー light gray shadows sneaked their way beneath his eyes, shoulders slouched as he examined the scene before him.

Anselm was the first one to try to step his foot in the Sanctuary, but backed away as soon as he felt the protective spell doing its magic.

"Arthur. You claimed you were discussing Sophocles with Anselm Nightshade all evening?" Robert Lightwood inquired.

"'If you try to cure evil with evil you will add more pain to your fate'," replied Arthur, lifting his glass up.

Robert appeared stunned.

"He's quoting Antigone," explained Julian, achingly. "He means yes."

"Come into the room, Arthur," instructed Robert. "Please do not give me the impression you're hiding in the Sanctuary."

"When you use that voice, I want to hide in the Sanctuary," mused Magnus. While Robert was being in charge of the situation, the warlock had taken it upon himself to wander around the room and lift and set the objects down. Every now and then, his cat-like gaze would end up on Zoya ー making Julian ask himself whether or not the girl noticed the warlock's stare.

And while Magnus was in his own world, so was Jace Herondale. His golden orbs were as sharp as Cortana's tip, glued to Julian's frame like he was being the suspicious one.

"My younger brothers and sisters have nothing to do with this." Julian broke the tension by clearing his throat and ripping his eyes away from Jace. "And Tavvy is exhausted. He was almost killed tonight."

"What?" Clary nearly shouted. "How did that happen?"

"I'll explain," Julian reassured. "Just let them go."

Robert's stare was firm, showing Julian that the man was having a hard time deciding on his next move. "They can leave."

Relief greeted Julian like rain that was unleashed from a torn cloud, embracing him in a wave of composedness. He watched them as they climbed up the staircase ー Ty and then Dru, Livvy trailing after with Tavvy drowsy on her shoulder.

His heart felt a bit more at ease, but not before Ty disappeared from view. Julian knew what he was thinking, or rather ー feeling. He was, much like himself, scared of Mark's fate.

"It is the disease of tyranny to trust no friends, Inquisitor," Anselm Nightshade spoke. "Aeschylus."

"I did not come here, from my daughter's engagement party, for a classics lesson," Robert retorted. "Nor is this Downworlder business. Please wait for us in the Sanctuary, Anselm."

Arthur met Anselm's gaze, hesitantly passing him the glass before the vampire took off.

"What do you know about all this, Blackthorn?" Robert spoke the moment Anselm was gone.

"A convoy came to us from Faerie," answered Arthur. "They offered to return Mark to his family, and in exchange, we would help them discover who was killing faeries in Los Angeles."

"And you said nothing of this to the Clave?" Robert carried on. "Despite knowing you were breaking the Law, the Cold Peaceー"

"I wanted my nephew back," reasoned Arthur. "Wouldn't you have done the same, for your family?"

"You're a Shadowhunter," declared Robert. "If you must choose between your family and the Law, you choose the Law!"

"Lex malla, lex nulla," countered Arthur. "You know our family motto."

"He did the right thing." Jace spoke, no signs of humor in his tone. "I would have done the same. Any of us would."

Robert inhaled deeply. "And did you discover it? Who was killing faeries?"

"We discovered it tonight," Julian spoke. "It was Malcolm Fade."

Magnus froze in place, his eyes blazing. "Malcolm?" He spun on his foot, facing Julian. "And why do you think it was a warlock? Because we know magic? Is all dark magic to be blamed on us, then?"

"Because he said he did it," Julian responded, coldly.

Clary's eyes widened in surprise ー a polar opposite of Jace's, which remained unreadable.

Robert folded his arms over his chest. "Arthur. You're the head of the Institute. Talk. Or are you going to leave that to your nephew?"

"There are things," Julian continued, "things we didn't tell Arthur. Things he doesn't know."

Arthur's hand massaged his temple. "If I've been deceived," he said, "then let Julian explain it."

Robert's lips pursed, eyes sliding onto Theodore and Diego. "Centurions," he commanded. "Step forward."

Julian had nearly forgotten that Centurions were sworn to the Clave, bound to report everything that they've discovered. He didn't take Robert's obvious preference to talk to anyone else beside him. In the Inquisitor's eyes, Julian was nothing but a boy. In his eyes, he wasn't the very person who corresponded with him on a regular basis.

"Inquisitor," Diego and Theo muttered in sync, as if they were taught to behave in such a way.

"Speak to us of Malcolm Fade."

"Malcolm isn't who you think," Diego began. "He has been responsible for countless deaths."

"Among other things," Theodore added, stealing a glance at the blonde girl who found her way to her parabatai. "He was the one responsible for the deaths of Emma Carstairs' parents."

Robert paled. "How is that possible? The Carstairs were murdered by Sebastian Morgenstern."

"No," Clary stated, her head snapping in Robert's direction as soon as Sebastian's name was mentioned. "They weren't. Sebastian was a murderer, but Emma has never believed that he was responsible for her parents' deaths, and neither has her parabatai, nor have Jace or I." She turned to meet Emma's gaze, eyes softening as she noticed Zoya holding Emma's hand. "You were right," she said. "I always thought you would be proved right someday. But I'm sorry it was Malcolm. He was your friend."

"And mine," added Magnus, his voice low. Clary approached him, rubbing soft circles on his back.

"He was also the High Warlock," pointed out Robert. "How did this happen? What do you mean he'd been murdering people?"

"A series of killings in Los Angeles," said Diego. "He was convincing mundanes to commit murder and then harvesting their bodies for parts he could use in necromancy."

"The Clave should have been called in." A vein popped in the middle of Robert's forehead. "The Clave should have been called in the moment a faerie convoy approached youー"

"With all due respect, Inquisitor," Theo began diplomatically, noticing his friend's tired state. "But we report directly to the Council and this time ー we had no moment on our sleeves to spare. Everything was happening incredibly quickly and if we risked reporting to the Clave, we would have lost the leverage we possessed." His brown orbs lingered on Diego.

"Theodore's right, Inquisitor," Diego joined. "The Clave would have begun the investigation over again. There was no time, and the life of a child hung in the balance." His fingers brushed over his Centurion's pin. "If you wish to strip us of our medallions, we would understand. But we will maintain to the end that the Blackthorns did what was right."

"I am not going to strip you of your medallions, Diego Rocio Rosales and Theodore Montclaire," stated Robert. "We have few Centurions, and you are one of the best ones." His eyes examined the state of two Centurions ー all bloody and hollow-cheeked. "The Council will expect a report from you tomorrow, but for now, see to your wounds."

"I'll go with them," Cristina offered, coming to offer Theodore a support as he carried Diego up the stairs.

From the corner of his eye, Julian noticed Mark and Emma following the three Shadowhunters who merged with the shadows.

"Robert," Jace broke the silence. "When Julian was twelve he testified in front of the Council. It's been five years. Let him talk now."

Letting out a heavy exhale, Robert lifted his chin. "Very well," he said. "Everyone wants to hear you speak, Julian Blackthorn. So speak."

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Zoya wished that she possessed enough patience and focus to concentrate on the story Julian was telling. She had always admired his communication skills ー raw and cutting and brutal. He didn't sweet-talk when he described serious matters, didn't romanticize the situations that weren't meant to be flourished. He had always been concise and swift, going straight to the point of things.

And yet ー Zoya was unable to pay attention to his summary of the recent events. She was unable to notice the way he connected the key events into a believable tale, omitting points that could lead them into serious trouble and protecting those who would have met a cruel end.

She couldn't; not when Malcolm's words kept on haunting her subconsciousness and certainly not when Jace Herondale was looking at her with a recognizable smirk plastered on his lips.

If Malcolm was right and she was really a Herondale, wouldn't that mean that ー in some distant way ー she was related to Jace? The same man who had saved her years ago, the same man who managed to tame her panicking mind, the same man who was a living legend among their kind?

In her eyes, it was impossible. She couldn't be a descendant of one of the most famous families in their world. She was nowhere near as good of a warrior as Jace, nowhere near as fierce as special as the Herondale Shadowhunters were.

And then again ー maybe she was, though Zoya wasn't sure it was necessarily in a good way.

The vivid image of Malcolm uncovering the darkness that coursed through her bloodstream couldn't abandon her brain. What was her curse? What if the tainted substance that laced her every fibre endangered her loved one? What if Malcolm was truly right and Emma would be the one suffering alongside her?

Zoya knew that Emma was the last one to judge her; she was, after all, present when Malcolm played the grand reveal of her heritage ー heritage that she didn't even bother thinking about up until then. Zoya was aware that Emma would never abandon her ー even if every word of Malcolm's was to be a proven truth. There was a connection shared between them ー deeper than words, deeper than runes, deeper than the oath.

But what about others? How would the Blackthorns react if they were to find out that she was a Herondale? Would they distance themselves? Would they look upon her as if she was a whole other person and not the same girl who grew up alongside them?

What would Julian think of her? Would he love her less? Did he even love her at all?

"Malcolm was creating murderers?" Robert's loud question brought Zoya back to reality.

"It makes sense," Magnus confirmed. His back was slightly bent, as if he were thinking about Julian's words. "One of the reasons is forbidden is that so many necessary ingredients are things like the hand of a murderer who killed in cold blood, or the eye of a hanged man which still holds the image of the last thing he saw. Obtaining those ingredients by orchestrating the situations that create them was ingenious." As he met Robert's cold gaze, the warlock cleared his throat. "Very evil, also," he added. "Very."

"Your nephew tells a convincing story, Arthur," proceeded Robert. "But you are notably absent from it. How did you not notice all this was going on?"

There was a good reason why Robert Lightwood was chosen to serve as the Inquisitor; his sharp mind didn't seem to buy Julian's smooth details of Arthur's absence.

"Robert," Clary said. "There's no need for this. They made difficult decisions, but they weren't wrong decisions."

"Then let me ask Arthur this, Clary," added Robert. "What punishment would he choose for Nephilim, even young Nephilim, who break the Law?"

"Well, that would depend," Arthur replied, "on whether they were punished already, five years ago, by losing their father and brother and sister."

Robert's gaze darkened. "It was the Dark War that took their familyー"

"It was the Clave that took Mark and Helen," clarified Magnus. "We expect betrayal from our enemies. Not from those who are supposed to care for us."

"We would have protected Mark," said Robert. "There was no need to fear the Clave."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, as if challenging. "Would you have?" he demanded. "In that case, why is Helen still at Wrangel Island?"

"She's safer there!" Robert's tone jumped an octave. "There are those ー not myself ー who still hate the faeries for the betrayal of the Dark War. How do you think they would treat her if she were among other Shadowhunters?"

"So you couldn't have protected Mark," concluded Arthur. "You admit it."

Robert eyed the oldest Blackthorn with a quizzical gaze.

"Uncle Arthur," Julian spoke. "You can tell him the truth."

The man, although previously clear-headed, began to breathe rapidly. His chest rose at an uneven manner, tiny droplets of sweat gliding down the side of his head.

Julian sighed, facing the Inquisitor. "Arthur wanted to go to the Council as soon as the Fair Folk brought Mark here," he confessed. "We begged him not to. We were afraid our brother would be taken away. We thought if we could just solve the murders, if Mark helped us do it, it might make him look better in the eyes of the Council. Help convince them to let him stay."

"But do you understand what you did?" Robert demanded, though an ounce of uncertainty could be noted in his words. "Malcolm ー if he was in pursuit of dark power ー he could have posed a threat to all the Clave."

"He wasn't in pursuit of power," explained Julian. "He wanted to raise someone he loved from the dead. It was evil, what he did. And he's died for it, as he should have. But it was his only goal and only plan. He never cared about the Clave or Shadowhunters. He only cared about her."

"Poor Malcolm," whispered Magnus. "To lose the person he loved, that way. We all knew that he had loved a girl who had become an Iron Sister. We had no idea of the truth."

"Robert," Jace jumped in. "These kids haven't done anything wrong."

"Perhaps not, but I'm the Inquisitor. I can hardly conceal this. With Malcolm Fade dead, having taken the Black Volume to the bottom of the ocean with him, and with all of this having happened without the head of the Institute having noticedー"

Julian took a confident step toward Robert. "There's something Uncle Arthur isn't telling you," he said. "He wasn't just letting us run around wild while he did nothing. He's been tracking down a different source of dark magic."

Zoya noticed the way Julian's gaze travelled to Magnus, almost as if he were silently asking for something. It terrified her just how effortlessly Julian's mind worked ー handling the details and creating lies to sound believable.

"It's no coincidence that Anselm Nightshade is in the Sanctuary," Julian declared. "Arthur brought him because he knew you were coming."

Robert's lips parted ways. "Is that true? Arthur?"

"You'd better tell them," Julian said, shrugging his shoulders. "They're going to find out anyway."

"Iー" Arthur gazed at his nephew, seemingly confused. Julian had done everything for him ー he just needed to follow the paved road. "I didn't want to mention it," Arthur said finally, "because it seemed to pale in comparison to what we learned about Malcolm."

"Mention what?"

"Nightshade's been using dark magic for profit," said Julian. There was a tiny trace of regret ー barely visible, almost intangible. "He's been making money hand over fist using addictive powders in the pizza he makes."

"That's ー totally right!" Emma voiced out, nodding in between Zoya and Julian. She was ready to cover for Julian. "There are people all over the city so addicted that they would do anything for him just to get more."

"Pizza thralls?" Jace questioned, raising his eyebrows. "This is without doubt, the weirdestー" He had to bite his own tongue when Clary's foot collided with his. "Seems serious," he corrected himself. "I mean, addictive demon powders and all."

Julian nodded wordlessly, approaching the hall closet with a few short strides. Several pizza boxes fell to the floor. "Magnus?"

The warlock sighed, throwing his scarf over his shoulder and heading toward the brunette boy. He examined the boxes, as if he were searching for a hidden treasure before lifting his cat-like irises. "Arthur's right," he said, importantly. "Dark magic."

A loud shriek was heard from the Sanctuary. "Betrayal!" Anselm Nightshade yelled. "Et tu, Brute?"

"He can't get out," said Arthur, blinking a few times. "The outside doors are locked."

Robert took off with a start, followed by Jace and Clary. Magnus chose to stay behind, his lips curving in satisfaction as he glanced at Julian.

"Nicely done," he said. "I don't know quite how else to describe it, but ー nicely done."

Arthur's back was slouched against the wall, his eyes wide. "I'll burn in Hell for this," he whispered.

"There is no shame in burning for your family," commented Mark. "I will burn beside you, gladly."

Julian met Mark's gaze, a smile appearing on his face for the first time.

"As will I," Zoya joined Mark.

"And so will I," nodded Emma before spinning toward Magnus. "I'm sorry. I'm the one who killed Malcolm. I know he was your friend, and I wishー"

"He was my friend," Magnus pointed out. "I knew he had loved someone who died. I didn't know the rest of the story. The Clave betrayed him, just like they betrayed you. I've lived a long time ー I've seen many betrayals, and many broken hearts. There are those who let their grief devour them. Who forget that others also feel pain. If Alec diedー" He shook his head. "I have to think I wouldn't be like that."

"I'm just glad I finally know what happened to my parents," Emma confessed, glancing in between her friends. "Finally, I know."

Zoya smiled at her parabatai, allowing a wave of relief to wash over her. She wanted to tell her that she was always going to be there for her, but she never got the chance.

A deafening explosion broke in the Sanctuary and a moment later ー Jace Herondale appeared, blond locks all over the place and his elegant blazer torn. A wide smile was painted on his lips as he gazed at the group.

"Clary's got Nightshade pinned in a corner," he said. "He's pretty nimble for such an old vampire. Thanks for the exercise, by the way ー and to think I thought tonight was going to be boring!"

⋆ ✧ ⋆

When the commotion died down and the Los Angeles Institute was finally wrapped in a veil of peace, Julian Blackthorn found himself walking through the corridor and toward his own room. Every now and then, as he passed the rooms of his siblings, he allowed himself to linger a bit longer, as if checking if they were victims of brutal nightmares.

Nothing could be heard from the other sides, but when Julian met the door of Tavvy's room ー he found himself incapable of leaving. He had known that his little brother's mind was often plagued with unpleasant dreams and that day ー he was on the verge of dying.

Screams were to be expected and terrors granted, so Julian wasn't really sorry when he gently pushed the door open and allowed himself into the youngest Blackthorn's room.

He was, however, surprised when he found Zoya Caldwell situated on the floor, chin propped on her palms as she watched Tavvy sleeping.

Carefully, the obsidian-haired girl lifted her gaze up and toward Julian. She had changed into her pajamas ー an oversized, ocean-blue shirt paired with shorts ー and her wet locks were trapped into a messy bun.

"I helped him fall back to sleep," she whispered, loud enough for Julian to hear, but low enough not to wake Tavvy up.

Julian couldn't be any more fascinated by her. Though the same tiredness tainted her own bones, Zoya had still found a way to put others first ー Julian's very own family. To him, such a gesture meant the world.

"Thank you," he mouthed, a flood of warmth spreading through his chest.

Julian couldn't help himself; his heart and body and soul were aching to be close to her. He had wanted to tame his mind, forget about everything that had tortured him. There was nobody who could heal the broken and mend the open wounds like Zoya could ー at least not in Julian's eyes.

"We should leave him to rest," Zoya uttered quietly, tucking a strand of black behind her ear. Her oversized shirt had fallen down her shoulder, exposing her bare skin.

Such a tiny motion, such a small glimpse sent Julian on the edge. His body was worn to the core, but he couldn't deny that his insides still yearned to be close to Zoya. He had wanted to sleep with her ー but not like the last time. He had wanted her to lay her head on his chest and trace invisible patterns against his shoulders. He had wanted to have her in his arms, to feel the beat of her luminous heart.

He didn't care for what they did, as long as they were together.

"You're right," Julian replied softly, extending his hand to Zoya and letting her lace their fingers together. The mere brush of their fingertips sent a jolt down Julian's spine, but he said nothing. He only kept on pulling her after him, down the hallway and into his room.

"Jules," she chuckled, voice coming out as if she had just woken up. There was a tiny dimple that formed in her cheek as she looked at him ー making Julian think that if he died then and there, he wouldn't be sorry. "This is not my room."

Julian licked his lips, closing the door behind the two of them and allowing the gentle breeze to sneak through the opened window and caress their skins. "I know," he uttered quietly, as if he had forgotten that their words couldn't be heard anymore. "But stay. Tonight, at least."

Zoya's lips parted, a shy breath escaping her mouth. "I don't want to be alone, either."

That was all it took. A single glance, a single smile, a single sentence ー and Zoya was close to him again. Laying on his chest, arm resting over his torso. Her heartbeat, strong and steady, touched his skin ー lulling his treacherous mind to a well-deserved sleep.

"Jules?" Zoya whispered his name, causing him to let out a throaty hum. "Is it hard?"

Julian's fingers stopped tracing the patterns on her bare shoulder. "Is what hard?"

"Bearing so many secrets?" Her question made his heart stop. Her voice was brittle, body trembling against his. Was she scared? Scared of him? "You kept so many and I can't help but wonder how none of us noticed."

"Zoya," he uttered her name, kissing the top of her head and pulling her closer to him. "What I did was necessary. I had to keep us togetherー"

"I am not judging you, Jules," she clarified. "I am just asking you a question."

Julian remained quiet.

Bearing secrets and creating lies were the toughest actions he had ever had to undertake. Each lie sharpened his tongue and mind, but left a deep scar on his heart.

"I won't hurt you, Zoya," he reassured her. "I would never hurt you."

Zoya's only response was a soft breath leaving her lips as she nuzzled into him. She was already asleep.

Julian smiled, allowing himself to feel lucky for the first time that day. His lips, careful and gentle, pressed a soft kiss to her skin. His free arm reached for the covers and pulled them over their bodies.

"I love you, Zoya."

His words, unheard and brutally honest, got lost in the night.

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Emma Carstairs tore the last picture to the ground, allowing a satisfied smile to reach her lips. Her skin was kissed by a nightgown, white and soft like the moon in the night sky.

She had her eyes glued to the empty board that was hung in her closet, glad to finally have her mind at ease. Surely she felt sad at the mere thought of her parents being dead, but she was glad to have finally closed such a huge chapter of her life.

At least she had known the truth.

Combing her hair with the tips of her fingers, Emma came to sit on her bed. A deep breath was released by her lungs, allowing the girl to close her eyes and tilt her head back.

Everything was fine now ー except for the lone knock on her door. A loud tap in the middle of the dead night.

"Zoya," Emma huffed, getting up from her mattress and crossing the distance to her door. Her hand curled around the handle, pulling the door open. "If this isー"

"Hi."

"Of all the people that could come to torment me in the middle of the night," Emma sighed, leaning against her doorway. "Of course it had to be you."

Theodore Montclaire's lips transformed into a self-satisfied smirk, as if hearing Emma's words had been the highlight of a brilliant day. His eyes spoke a different story, though; purple half-moons wrote the tale of tiredness, nearly-healed cuts justifying the Centurion's bravery.

Emma didn't really get a chance to see Theodore fighting ー not when she and Zoya had their hands busy with saving Tavvy and luring Malcolm far away from their friends and family. She did, however, witness Theodore effortlessly handling Followers with his bolas and fearlessly testifying the events that took place in their odds.

There was also the fact that, as soon as Malcolm's invisible barrier broke, the same boy had ran to her ー scanning her body for wounds and offering to help her walk to the car.

Emma Carstairs hadn't known Theodore all that well ー in fact, she hardly knew him at all. But deep, deep down ー she had wanted to. There was something amiable to him, an aura of kindness that she was compelled by. An alluring comfort that made her forget all about the sarcastic remarks he had made ー same remarks she lived to tell others.

"What are you doing here?" Emma shook her head at Theo.

"Funny story, actually," he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Emma didn't recognize them as Julian's, guessing that they were one of the few items Theo had managed to stuff into the small backpack he had brought into the Institute. Over a simple gray shirt, he had a navy flannel. "Cristina fell asleep by Diego's bed and I really didn't feel like playing a third wheel."

"Let me guess." Emma opened the door to her room, inviting him in. "The first option on your list was 'Go bother Emma Carstairs'?"

Theodore shrugged his shoulders as he took a hesitant step in. His brown irises roamed around the room, lips barely opened. "Maybe."

Emma's eyebrows rose up.

"Fine," Theo sighed, closing his eyes and throwing himself on Emma's mattress. "Perhaps I went to check on Zoya and perhaps she wasn't in her room. Then, I had an option to head to my room ー which happens to be just next to yours ー but I saw your lights on. Chances of you letting me in were low, but I trusted my guts."

Emma had her hands on her hips, overlooking the tall boy. "Who gave you permission to flung yourself on my bed?"

"I did," Theo commented, propping his chin on his palm and meeting Emma's gaze.

"If you keep your cocky attitude up," Emma added, sinking next to the boy. "I might have to throw you out."

"You wouldn't," Theo retorted, inspecting the way Emma's golden waves spilled around her head like a halo. "It's not like you have anything more clever to do."

"I could sleep," Emma mused, showing her teeth to the boy. "It's what normal people do at night."

"Sounds pretty lame to me," the Centurion hummed. "Besides, a few hours of lost sleep could easily be cured with a cup of strong coffee."

The Carstairs girl sighed. "I don't think we can be friends anymore, Theo," she allowed her tongue to become playful. "If you're one of those crazy people who live on caffeine by consuming ridiculous amounts of the black devil, you might want to go to your own room."

"You're the crazy one if you don't like coffee," Theo chuckled, avoiding Emma's hand which flew up to hit him. "Trust me."

"In another life, perhaps."

Theo turned his head to the side, cheek pressing against the coverlets of Emma's bed. The blonde girl was close to him, but he was careful of the distance between them. "Are you all right?" His voice was free of previous humor. "After everything that happened today?"

Emma didn't expect the Montclaire boy to show any concern. She didn't expect him to care for her wellbeing, but she would be a liar if she denied that his interest didn't warm her chest. Outside of Zoya and the rest of the Blackthorns, Emma hadn't really had people who cared for her ー much less came to her in the middle of the night to check if she was all right.

"I am," Emma whispered, eyes roaming across the ceiling. "I think."

"You think?" Theodore's voice was hoarse, pleasantly tickling Emma's skin.

"I finally know what happened to my family," she confessed. "Though the discovery won't bring them back, at least my mind can rest now."

The Centurion let Emma's words linger above them for a brief moment. "Pardon me for sticking my nose where it doesn't belong," he proceeded, "but did something happen with Malcolm? While Zoya and you were trapped with him?"

Emma's nose scrunched as she stole a glance at Theodore. "Why would you ask that?"

Theodore's hands rested over his chest, just above his heart. "I don't know," he answered quietly. "There are many reasons. The first one being the way you and Zoya seemed disturbed when Julian and I arrived. There's also the fact that Zoya kept on looking through the window the whole ride back to the Institute ー never uttering a word."

He took a deep breath, his shoulders trembling lightly.

Emma felt a lump resting in her throat at the mention of her parabatai. Out of the two of them, she didn't know who had it worse ー Emma had to deal with accepting the truth about her parents, but Zoya had her entire concept of life shaken from the core.

Malcolm had told her she was a Herondale. A freaking Herondale. She was related to the Jace Herondale ー Emma's first ever crush and one of the most legendary Shadowhunters in the world.

"It was probably just Malcolm's twisted words that got to her." Emma hated that she had to lie to Theodore, but it was Zoya's secret she was keeping.

The corner of Theo's lips tug up. "Right," he said. "But if there's anything I need to know ー please tell me." A heavy sigh escaped his lungs. "I know that I haven't been there in the past, but I would really like to make up for my mistakes. If something happened and if she needs supportー"

"You don't understand," Emma interrupted, shaking her head. "I'd do anything for her. If she could get to live one more day, I'd gladly sacrifice my own life. Zoya and I, we are the same. Two broken souls who found salvation in each other." She met Theo's steady gaze. "That's a luxury not many people get."

"I know, Emma," the boy replied softly. "I wasn't saying that you weren't good enough at protecting her ー hell, the two of you work damn well as a team. All I am saying is that ー whatever happened there, you can tell me. Maybe not now, but when you feel like it?" He smiled at Emma, so warmly that her chest fluttered. "Even if you decide not to talk, know that I'm here. I'm a pretty good listener if I dare say so myself."

Involuntarily, Emma's lips curved up. "Perhaps I'll hold you onto that, Theodore Montclaire."

⋆ ✧ ⋆

Ghosts of the past always found a way to her, whether Tessa Gray liked it or not. They were, after all, one of the prices of immortality. Wherever she wandered, her subconsciousness liked to remind her of all the memories which were kept in the particular place. And, along with memories, came the people, the laughter, the love and all the adventures.

London Institute was one of those places that awoke her heart from a deep slumber, warming it like the brightest of stars and then turning it into a blizzard. It offered her a glimpse into the past, only to snatch it away from her very own hands, leaving her eyes brimming with salty tears.

She had promised herself she wouldn't cry ー she had promised to Marie she wouldn't.

And yet, she found herself unable to fulfill her promises.

"I know that you wouldn't be mad at me," Tessa whispered, gray orbs flying over the grand portrait of a brunette woman.

She had always thought of Marie's portrait as incomplete, unfinished, unworthy. The representation of her best friend could never do her justice ー it didn't show the striking flicker of her eyes, just how it didn't show the warmth her smile poured into whomever crossed paths with her.

"And you'd probably be laughing at me right now."

Tessa's gaze flew to the right, focusing on the painting of a handsome, obsidian-haired man. Marie's husband, Jem's parabatai and her loyal friend ー Will Herondale. She could almost hear the bitter-sweet chuckle of the mischievous boy she had once known.

The Gray woman shook her head, allowing a smile to pass over her lips before she spun on her heel and looked on the opposite side of Marie and Will's old room.

Much to her and Jem's wishes, the bedroom of their friends was never touched. Its door was always kept locked, the keys to the chambers solely belonging to the two of them. It was the only remainder of the people they've loved, of the people they've lost.

"Tessa."

Jem's voice was as soft as the first time she heard it, though Tessa could decipher a bit of a sorrowful undertone. He, too, felt his heart sink into his feet whenever he roamed through the corridors of his old home.

"Are you all right?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest.

The woman barely moved her head to the side to meet Jem's gaze. She didn't seem to be capable of letting go. "I am," she whispered. "But you know how it is when memories begin flooding back to you."

"I miss them, too." Jem's steps were barely audible ー nothing, nothing and then a loud creak in the floor. A sound so peculiar that it left Tessa spinning around and meeting Jem's gaze almost instantaneously.

She had walked Marie and Will's chambers a thousand times and never once had she noticed the particular disturbance. "What was that?"

"I am pretty sure that the floorboards need to be replaced," Jem elaborated, raising his eyebrows. "Nothing's been done here since. . .""

Since Marie and Will died.

The unspoken words burned Tessa's heart to ashes. No matter how many years went by, the hollow that was made by Marie and Will's absence could never be filled.

"Move."

Tessa's words tasted foreign on her tongue, but the indescribable pull that guided her hand toward the squeaky place on the floor couldn't be overpowered.

Jem's feet moved without thinking, granting Tessa's nails an opportunity to scrape against the board. With a moment of brief struggle, her fingers slipped in between the tiny fissures and pulled the board out.

"A box?" Jem's exclamation broke against the high ceiling, leaving Tessa's eyes to meet his. Neither of them seemed to know about the hidden object of the Herondale couple. "You think Marie and Will left it there?"

"I don't see who else could," Tessa whispered, pulling out the item out of its resting place. "What do you think it's in there?"

Jem's eyebrows arched up. "If Will participated in hiding it, I can bet he persuaded Marie into throwing a copy of his demon pox song."

Tessa laughed for the first time that day, feeling a wave of welcoming warmth washing over her frame. "Should I open it?"

Jem inhaled a deep breath. "They wouldn't have left it here if they didn't want us to find it, Tess."

The brunette woman nodded firmly, slowly unhooking the latch that held the box closed. Her fingers lifted the lid, revealing the velvet inside.

Keeping her heart steady and her breathing even, Tessa allowed herself to pull out the items. "Marie's Raziel necklace," she whispered, allowing the silver chain to rest in the middle of her palm. "Along with Charlotte's family necklace."

Jem's mouth tugged at the corners as he accepted the two items from Tessa. "I remember this," he said. "Will and I had it made for her birthday. She always wore it ー until the very last hour of her life."

Tessa smiled softly, pulling the second item. A letter.

"Odd," the brunette woman mumbled into her chin. "It's addressed to Marie."

Jem's lips pursed into a flat line. "Who is it from?"

"I don't know," Tessa whispered, breaking the scorched seal and pulling the letter out of its envelope. Along with a parchment of paper, there were a few pictures.

The first one showed a beautiful mahogany-haired woman. "Who's this?"

Jem glanced from above Tessa's shoulder. "That's Margaret Caldwell."

"Milo's fiancée?" Tessa echoed. "I've never met her."

"She was a very kind soul," Jem spoke quietly. "The only one who was capable of taming Milo's rebellious side."

Tessa unfolded the letter.

Dear Marie,

I have had a very extensive debate over whether or not I should be writing to you at all. Though my heart will always remain faithful to you and the rest of your family, I cannot help but feel an array of emotions. There's a lump resting in my throat and tears clouding my vision. My hand shakes as I write the lines and heart threatens to leave my chest ー and yet, I feel happy. I feel happy because this is the right thing to do.

I hope you're happy, too. I hope that Mr. Herondale and you are well and at peace ー and if you're not, allow me to be the one to bring a spark of joy into your lives.

You had once opened the doors of your home to me, accepting me as a daughter and an independent woman. You have given me the greatest gift by allowing me to become your son's chosen one. It is, indeed, a gift I would never be able to repay. Unless, of course, you feel generous enough to accept my invitation and come to visit York Institute.

Come and visit your grandson ー Levi Herondale.

We will be waiting for you,

Margaret Caldwellー Herondale

Another picture spilled out of the envelope, showcasing a beautiful, dark-haired and blue-eyed baby boy. Levi Herondale.

"Jem." Tessa sucked in a breath, fingers hovering above the portrait of Margaret carrying her son. Alongside stood a woman she did not recognize ー most likely one of Margaret's latter friends. "I thought you said that Milo didn't have any descendants."

Jem's pupils were dilated, forehead creased as he met Tessa's eyes. "That's because he didn't," he stated. "Though he and Margaret were engaged, there was never an official record of their marriageー"

"Are you completely sure about that?" Tessa questioned, unsure. "Because if he did have the descendantsー"

"Tessa," Jem interrupted gently. "I am sure that there are no official records. I was the one who took care of that family all those years ago."

"How do you explain this, then?"

Jem bit his lower lip, scanning over the letters and pictures Tessa had discovered. "I don't know," he uttered. "I knew that Margaret had two children ー Levi and Miriam. Twins, though Miriam died early on in life ー hence Margaret only mentioning Levi here." Jem swallowed a gulp. "But I never thought they were Milo's ー no one did. Margaret had chosen to leave her position at the Clave and restore the York Institute after everything that happened all those years ago. Nobody had heard from her since."

"But if Levi was really Milo's child," Tessa proceeded, her sharp mind never once quivering. "Wouldn't that mean that the curse we thought was buried with Marie and Milo actually carried on living? If it did and Margaret and Milo's ancestors never knew about it ー the darkness could be unleashedー"

"Tessa." Jem's voice died down in his throat. "We had Herondales living under our very own noses and we never knew about it. Not one, but two."

"Someone besides Christopher?" Tessa mumbled into her chin, eyes widening. "But ー oh no."

"Margaret's last living descendant is someone we know," Jem confirmed, face growing pale and serious. Almost scared. "Someone who never knew about the darkness that remained in her veins because she never knew she was a Herondale." He shook his head. "Someone who has a parabatai."

Tessa's heart broke. "Zoya," she whispered. "Zoya Herondale."