Shadowveil

The Debt Repaid

Blood pulsed in Jace's ears; the air felt crystalline and cold against his skin despite the ash and smoke swirling through the city. He could hear each footfall of the Nephilim at his side and back, smell the tang of blood and the reek of metal. He floated on the weightless battle calm.

To his right, Clary was silent, her pale skin luminous against the fiery tone of her hair. Her emerald eyes looked deep and mysterious under the worried lines of her forehead. Jace half-smiled; sometimes he thought that Clary never looked so beautiful as when she was prepared to die. 

And they might very well die. But he felt no fear at all; he never did. He lived for these battles, for the gush of blood and the high of danger and the breathless promise of the next challenge always looming over him. That was what it meant to be a Shadowhunter, to be a small piece on a board, your life insignificant in the grand balance. 

The army was nearing the city walls now. Below them was a seething carpet of black demons, tendrils reaching up the sheer cliffs, catching hold, swinging themselves up towards the last line of fighters. A shuffle of movement at his side alerted him that Clary was moving away from him now, a seraph blade already ignited, preparing to take her place where the line was weakest. 

He caught her elbow as she turned and pulled her to him, pressing his lips hard against hers. She made a sound of surprise but slid a hand behind his neck, making invisible sparks dance along his skin. The light from her seraph blade glittered at the corner of his vision before they broke away from each other, breathing hard. Jace took a long last look at her face, memorizing the freckles below her eyes and the shape of her mouth. He loved her more than he'd ever thought it was possible to love, so much that sometimes it almost hurt to think about.

"Herondales love too deeply. That is their fatal flaw," someone had once said to him. With the battle approaching, he couldn't remember who. Valentine had said the same thing, that to love was to destroy. Love could tear down an empire as easily as it could build one, could lift a person up and then drag them down. He'd believed that once. It had taken so many years to change his mind, so many years with Clary to see that love made him stronger instead of weaker.

And he would do anything for Clary. Lie. Fight. Kill. Hell, he would probably burn the world down if that was what she wanted. 

The key word there was probably. He wasn't insane. Not much, anyway. And he trusted that Clary--who was responsible and infinitely nicer than he was--would never ask for that. He smoothed a strand of her hair back, praying that the Angel would keep her safe today. While he had no qualms about the bloodbath ahead, he knew that every fallen Nephilim would weigh on Clary's shoulders like she was the one at fault for their deaths.

She was too good for this life, he sometimes thought. Too kind. Meant for great things that couldn't be achieved with a sword and a couple of demons. But this was the life that had chosen her, and he knew she was strong enough to take it. Jace touched a finger to her lips and whispered the words he'd wanted to say to her since they'd first met. "I love you," he said, simply. 

"Ditto," she shot back, and the casualness of her response made him laugh. "No last tender words for me?" he teased. Clary huffed. "We've been through so many of these life-and-death scenarios that I've used up all my mushy goodbyes. I've gotten to the point that I can actually yawn during a battle--I must be going insane." "Not insane," he corrected, ruffling her hair proudly. "You're a real Shadowhunter now."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I've always been a real Shadowhunter," she pointed out. "I just didn't know it. And a sizable portion of being a Shadowhunter seems to be discovering your insanity and embracing it." He laughed again. "That's my girl," he sang as her line moved away. She turned over her shoulder to wave at him as she slipped into their ranks, blending in with her black gear and drawn weapon.