The musty scent of ancient parchment and leather bindings filled the air as Sera sifted through the shelves of the sanctuary's library. The dim candlelight cast long shadows across the rows of books, each holding secrets and stories of a world hidden from mundane eyes.
Her fingers brushed over the worn spines until they settled on a weathered tome tucked away in a corner. Its pages crackled with age as she opened it, revealing runes and glyphs that danced across the parchment. Sera's heart quickened as she recognized the ancient script—a language of power and magic that few could decipher.
Deep into the night, she poured over the book, her mind racing with possibilities. It was when she reached the end of the book that she stumbled upon it—a rune unlike any other she had seen before. Its lines were intricate and delicate, pulsating with a faint glow as if infused with the essence of a forgotten past.
Carefully, Sera traced the rune with trembling fingers, feeling a surge of energy course through her veins. Images flashed before her eyes—memories that were not her own, but belonged to someone else. A red-haired girl with a fierce spirit and a heart full of determination—Clary Fairchild, her sister.
The realization struck Sera like a thunderbolt, shaking her to the core. She had always felt a connection to Clary, an inexplicable bond that defied reason. Now, she knew why.
Closing the book with reverence, Sera tucked it under her arm and made her way through the labyrinthine corridors of the sanctuary. The weight of her discovery pressed heavily on her heart, mingled with a growing sense of anger and betrayal. Valentine, her father, had kept this truth from her, weaving a web of lies that stretched back through the years.
She found him in his study, surrounded by maps and ancient artifacts, his face illuminated by the flickering light of a solitary candle. His brow furrowed in concentration as he studied a faded parchment, unaware of Sera's presence until she stepped forward into the room.
"Father," Sera began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion.
Valentine looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes before it was quickly replaced by a mask of composed indifference. "Seraphina," he greeted, his voice smooth and controlled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Sera clenched her fists at her sides, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. "I found the rune," she declared, holding up the book for him to see. "The one that connects me to Clary. To my sister."
Valentine's expression remained impassive, but Sera saw a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, perhaps, or regret. "I see," he replied carefully. "And what do you intend to do with this information?"
Sera took a step closer to him, her voice trembling with pent-up fury. "You lied to me," she accused, her words sharp and biting. "You kept this from me, Father. All these years, I trusted you."
Valentine's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Seraphina, you don't understand—" he started, his voice strained.
"I understand perfectly," Sera interrupted fiercely, her eyes blazing with righteous anger. "You used me, manipulated me into serving your own twisted agenda. I thought you were my father, but you're just a monster."
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air between them, the weight of their unspoken words echoing off the stone walls. But before Valentine could respond, Sera turned on her heel and stormed out of the study, leaving him standing alone in the dim light.
The streets of New York City were alive with the pulse of urban life as Sera made her way through the bustling crowds, her mind racing with thoughts of Clary and the life she had unknowingly left behind. She navigated the winding alleys and shadowed corners until she reached the imposing gates of the New York Institute—a sanctuary for Shadowhunters hidden amidst the chaos of the mundane world.
