The Mortal Instruments: The Lost Goddess

Prequel

                Shadowhunters.

Half angel, half human.  They were Nephilism, the secretive race of beings, humans born with an angel's blood.  The stories say that they're the offspring of humans and angels, while the other stories say that they were created when hordes of demon invasion threatened to overrun the world.  That's when a warlock called upon an Angel, Raziel, who mixed his blood with a mortal man's in a cup, and gave it to those men to drink.  Those who drank the blood became Shadowhunters, so did their descent.  But few know the real stories, only that they're the warriors of Earth. 

        The story that even fewer know is that Raziel had a child of his own.  Story says that he fell in love with a woman that was created with his blood.  She was a Shadowhunter, and she was beautiful.  She was tall and slim like a dagger, with curly red hair and piercing green eyes that resembled emeralds.  He began to watch over her like a warrior would guard a sword made of perfect craftsmanship.  The few who know of this story believe that Raziel took that woman to his bed and created an even stronger version of a Shadowhunter.

        Raziel, out of a fit of rage and despair, forced the mother to raise the child until it was fifteen.  Once the child became of age, he separated them from each other and forced them to forget their bonding.  The child was lead to believe that there was never a place that it had called home, and it had lived on the streets of New York its entire childhood, protecting mundanes and battling demons.  Now, on the streets of New York, this child roams, searching for a purpose, not knowing its true self.  It, was godlike.  It had a stand for glory.  It had two paths of destiny.

        Jace's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light.  He sat upwards, the bed groaning underneath him as his feet touched the floor.  The words lingered in his mind, repeating themselves over and over.  It had two paths of destiny.  It had two paths of destiny.  It had two paths of destiny.  As his mind cleared and became less groggy, he began to make sense of the story that played over in his mind.  Why was this resurfacing now?  The stories of Raziel were something his father had whispered to him at night when he was a child. 

        The words still danced behind his eyelids as he exited his room.  The pit pat of his feet echoed throughout the halls of the Institute, lingering in the quiet Sunday morning air.  Outside, a faint hum from the traffic pressed against the glass pane windows, which glowed slightly from the glamor shielding it from mundanes.  Jace breathed harsh, heavy breaths as he made his way through the corridors, making his way towards the library, a circular room, where he found Hodge.

"Hodge, what do you know about Raziel's child?"  The thin man looked up as ran his hair through his grey-streaked hair and adjusted his glasses on his long, beaky nose.  He smiled warmly at Jace, the thick scar that burdened his face circled his expression.  "Good morning, Jace." he greeted.  "Raziel's child?  She was a girl, taken from her mother by her father himself, and forced to live as a lone shadowhunter on the streets of New York." 

Jace's eyebrows folded at this news.  "Raziel's god-like child...is a girl?"  He scoffed.  "And how come we've never seen her?  It's not like lone Shadowhunters are common, much less female Shadowhunters."  Hodge nodded at Jace's statement, his grey suit crinkled at the movement.  "Some doubt that she even exists.  There is only one documented acknowledgement of her existence, a photo, and no body knows if it's really her, or a random mundane, a story created by a bored Shadowhunter."  

        Hodge rose and started towards the set of stairs, which responded to his weight with loud groans.  On the second floor of the gallery, used for things of importance, he opened a glass case covered in dust, leaving one large fingerprint on the edge, and carried a book back to Jace.  The book was a thin, rose-colored sketch book.  "Jocelyn drew this," he whispered.  Upon opening it, a thin sheet of paper, covered in graphite pencil markings, fell to the floor.  It pictured a beautiful, sun-kissed girl with chestnut hair that fell to her back.  She had long eyelashes and thick lips with a pointed nose and eyes the color of wood.  She sat upon a gold-embroidered brass chair, in a golden room filled with sand, mirrors, and clocks.  The piece of artwork was mysterious and capturing, portraying a deep beauty of an unknown woman.

        "So how do we know this is her?"  Jace questioned the authenticity of the drawing.  "This is based off the description in the books.  No body knows what she really looks like." 

Jace nodded, fascinated.  As he began to walk out of the room, his sensor picked up traces of a demon in Manhattan.