Lost || Jace Herondale

SIXTEEN

I was tying up the laces of my trainers and slipping on Jace's warm, leather Jacket before I could talk myself out of the stupid, idiotic thing I was about to do. 

Jace, Alec and Izzy would only stop me. 

And I would only put them in harms way.

A voice in the back of my mind, my own voice this time, pestered into me that this was my fight. And while we worked as a team to uncover Valentine's secrets, I needed to prove to my father that I was worthy of him. 

That perhaps all the pain my mother went through in hiding me wasn't for nothing. 

I wasn't completely daft - leaving a note for Jace with where I was going. By the time he woke up and the team got to the boat dock, I should have freed Ithuriel and we can defeat Valentine together once and for all. 

At least that was the plan. One person sneaking in was much less conspicuous than a whole team of shadowhunters. 

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The night wind bit harshly through my clothes, turning my fingers numb. I had a rough idea of where the dock was but what pressed me in the right direction was an indescribable pull. The feeling of loss I experienced in the institute greatly lessened the closer I got to my father. 

I hoped that he knew I was coming for him, but a part of me suspected he was too weak to feel much of anything anymore. 

The boating dock soon came into view. The familiar rows of red and blue storage containers cemented my vision. I will admit, there were doubts in my mind that the visions were a figment of my imagination. That prospect was easier to believe than the possibility of my father actually communicating with me. 

I had been so wrapped up in making it to the dock that I didn't give myself time to consider what was actually about to happen. I was about to meet my father. I had spent my whole life creating an image of him in my mind, dreaming about what I would say to him. What would I feel? Anger for not being there, betrayal for playing a role in keeping my history a secret? Or would I feel relief - that the father I had longed for mirrored my desire to get to know him. To get to know each other. 

I wanted to know what he had spent the last 17 years doing. Did he mourn my mother as much as myself?

 17 years was nothing in the eyes of an angel. But it had been my entire life. 

I pushed the questions deep down, focusing my mind on actually getting to Ithuriel. I closed my eyes, focusing on the angelic pull that had guided me this far. 

I followed the pull, crouching to avoid being seen by circle members that patrolled the area. Dozens of them were scattered around, as though they were expecting company. The aching feeling in my chest led me to one storage container. It's metal beginning to rust with wear, clearly it hadn't been moved for a while. 

My heart thumped as I hid inside the shadows, awaiting my opportunity. Guarding the container, stood two circle members - heavily armed with daggers and seraph blades. 

I took deep breath as I unsheathed my own seraph blade, it's bright glow illuminating my face in the darkness. And without hesitation, I lunged for the circle members. 

All the training Jace had drilled into me was coming into practice. With my element of surprise, I managed to strike down one guard instantly. I didn't allow myself to glance at the fallen shadowhunter - not wishing to see the stillness of his bloody chest. 

The second guard hastily threw a dagger in my direction, the blade slicing my arm. I hissed from the burning sensation, feeling hot liquid trickle down my arm and wrist.