Aislin Fairchild, The Dream Walker

"You're a lucky little girl," the woman with the deep blue hood covering her face spoke. Her voice was light and twinkling. "You're so, so lucky."

"What are you talking about!" A young Clary cried, pounding on the invisible barrier that separated her from the woman.

"You were raised by Jocelyn. Raised a mundane. You never had to know the hardships of growing up a Shadowhunter. Nor have you ever once had to make decisions regarding the way your entire family was viewed. You haven't had the burden of knowing your heritage, or your blood composition. So yes, Clarissa Fairchild. You are so incredibly lucky."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clary told her, her eyes filled with tears of confusion and frustration.

"I know you don't. And you won't for a while now. But when you do, you'll know that everything your mother has done and everything I have done has always been to help and protect you in some way."

"Who are you?"

The woman lowered her hood and Clary gasped. She was beautiful—like Clary imagined an angel to be. Her skin was pale, though her cheeks were dusted with a pale pink. Her lips were a brilliant rose color, and her eyes were apple green speckled with ocean blue, making them look aqua. Her hair was a light strawberry blonde, curled to perfection.

"My name is Aislin."

"Why do you look so much like me?" Clary asked, halting her attack on the barrier to stare at the woman.

"Because, Clarissa dear, I'm your sister."

"My mom never told me I have a sister."

The woman laughed, and to Clary it sounded like bells in the wind. "She wouldn't have. Jocelyn never was one for sharing more than she had to. She never was the biggest fan of me either. Too focused on Jay and later you."

"Who's Jay?"

Aislin smiled at the girl. "You'll know in time, Cherry Bomb. Don't worry about it."

Clary's head tilted in her confusion. "Why'd you call me Cherry Bomb?"

"Because that's what I'd call you when you were little. Well, littler."

Clary didn't have a chance to question the woman as she was shaken awake.

Clary bolted upright, nearby slamming her head against Jace's.

"Are you alright Clary?" He asked her, concern filling his features.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just had a weird dream."

"Weird like a unicorn wearing leather and dancing to the Macarena, or life threatening weird?"

"I don't know." She sat up and grabbed her sketchbook, drawing the woman from her dream as she talked. "Ever since I was little, I would have these dreams where this woman would come and talk to me. At first she would tell me I was lucky, that I was lucky to grow up a mundane and not knowing what I am. But after a few dreams, she stopped saying things like that and she would just ask about my day."

"Do you know her?"

"I don't know. She says she's my sister, and she kinda looks like she could be, but she might be lying. She's always about 5 years older than me, no matter how old I am. But what's even weirder is that sometimes she would braid my hair while we talked and then when I woke up, my hair was braided."

"That is weird," Jace commented. "What does she look like?"

Clary handed him her sketchbook. Jace stares down at the image of the woman in shock. He had heard stories about a woman who looked just like her, who had spent her entire life working to rid the world of bad people, mundanes, Shadowhunters, demons, and Downworlders alike. She didn't care who or what they were, if they were hurting others she'd take them out.