A Mortal Instruments Fanfiction: Part 1 - SACRIFICE

Chapter 13

SLAM.

The huge oak door clapped shut behind Maryse. Holding her witchlight above her head, she squinted around the circular room. She guessed that she must be about a couple of miles below the institute; she had certainly walked about ten times that in stairs. No elevator had been installed to this level; apparently the head of the institute from yesteryear hadn't deemed it necassary or fitting to make this descent easy.

She was standing in the belly of the institute, performing a safety check for the instatement of a time machine. She and Magnus had discussed, from time to time, the idea of time travel, in the leisurely way one might confer with another about the possibility of a breakfast bar in the kitchen. Never, though, had she thought these idle plans would come to fruition. Indeed, so much effort would not normally be taken over saving the life of a shadowhunter; they died every day doing exactly what Clary would soon be doing. However, Clary was the last of the Fairchilds, an ancient bloodline that Maryse's own children were distantly related to. Besides, Magnus claimed to have perfected the mechanics. All he needed now, apparently, was the man who had originally given him the idea: one Henry Branwell. The fact that Branwell had been dead over a hundred years didn't hinder Magnus's enthusiasm; it seemed to rather catalyze it. Maryse, on the other hand, still felt reluctance.

Maryse had to admit, however, this room would be ideal. Situated directly below the portal in the library, it was the only room so far beneath the institute, in the center of a labyrinth of staircases all leading to it. All Magnus would have to do would be to redirect anyone coming through the portal into this room. It was vast, with surprisingly high ceilings; moreover, the Clave did not know of it's existence. Ideal.

Defending a bloodline. She could remember another who had been obsessed with this notion; that had hardly ended well. Valentine hadn't even involved time travel, and yet his plans had cost the lives of hundreds. Perhaps, Maryse thought, if it was only Henry Branwell travelling through time and space and the Angel only knew what else, she would be more at ease with it. After all, he could only make the contraption safer. But the fact that three other shadowhunters were to follow, with the intention of fighting, worried her. If they were to be killed, the effects upon the past, present and future could be dizzying. And still... Could she repress what could be the most monumental invention yet? Could she deny what would, undeniably, happen with or without her invention? Magnus would live forever; her remaining thirty years or so would not make even a dent upon his quiescent judgement.

Sighing, she began to ascend.