The Soul in the Shadows (Shadowhunters ff)

Chapter 2 - Shadows Within

The stinging pain caused Clary to yell as Izzy's whip slashed across her upper arm, leaving a burning line in its wake. The twin kindjal blades slipped from her hands and fell to the floor with a loud, jarring clatter. She bit back a curse under her breath.

"Clary, focus!" Izzy's voice cut through the room, slicing through the air like her whip that cracked against the polished wood of the training room floor.

They had been at it for almost an hour-basic drills, a bit of shadowing and parrying, before moving into weapons sparring, and Clary was tired. Well, "tired" didn't even cover it. She was exhausted. Her limbs felt like they were made of lead, her body dragging as though each motion took twice the energy it should have. She hadn't been sleeping much lately. The exhausting, endless cycle of memories that wouldn't quiet down, of nights spent turning restlessly in bed, hadn't done her any favors. She'd told everyone it was normal-just a phase, part of readjusting to her old life. But even she wasn't entirely convinced anymore.

Clary grimaced, reaching for her stele. She pressed it against her skin, the cold touch of the metal sending a ripple of sensation through her, then activated her iratze rune. Warmth bloomed from the mark, spreading up her arm, knitting the wound together, though blood still trickled down, leaving long streaks of red on her skin.

Izzy watched her, eyes narrowing as she caught the way Clary's hand trembled, just slightly. "Maybe we should take a break?" she offered, trying for casualness but landing closer to concern. She wasn't fooling anyone.

"No, it's fine," Clary said too quickly."I'm just a bit tired."

She crouched to pick up the kindjals, fingers unsteady as she tried to slot them back into their sheaths. One of the blades slipped from her grip and clattered to the floor again, the sharp sound seeming to echo in the silent room.

Izzy's brows knit together as she eyed Clary with a mixture of sympathy and frustration.

"Yeah, I've noticed," Izzy said after a long pause. She coiled the whip back into its bracelet form with practiced ease, but her voice carried a note of caution now. "You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Clary felt a knot form in her stomach at the question. She ducked her head, avoiding Izzy's gaze as she tightened her grip on the kindjal, focusing all her energy on holding it steady. She could feel Izzy's concern, could almost taste the weight of it in the air between them. But Clary couldn't talk about it, not right now, not with Izzy. She wasn't ready to explain what kept her awake at night, or how she could hear him in every breeze and see him in every dark corner.

"Don't worry about it," Clary muttered.

Izzy studied her for a moment longer, her eyes lingering as if trying to gauge whether Clary was telling the truth. Finally, Izzy gave a soft sigh, shaking her head as she walked out of the room. Clary watched her go, the hollow feeling in her chest deepening with each of Izzy's retreating footsteps.

Izzy had every right to be upset. She hadn't just disappeared from Jace's life; she'd left a hole in Izzy's, too. It hurt knowing she'd betrayed Izzy's trust. She'd thought about talking to her about it, apologizing, but every time she started, the words stuck in her throat. How could she make it right? And yet, what if she would only make it worse? She couldn't lose Izzy, but she had no idea how to bridge the gap that had grown between them. Would things ever feel right between them again? She wanted to believe it would get easier, but the longer she spent trying to reassemble her life, the more fractured it seemed.

At least things were somewhat better with Simon. He had been the most ecstatic about her return, throwing his arms around her as if nothing had changed. Simon didn't treat her like a delicate thing, something broken that needed to be handled with care. For him, Clary was still the same person she had been before. And while that didn't fix everything, it was comforting in a way that almost made her feel...normal. Almost.

Tonight, they had planned a mundane evening-a movie, followed by dinner. Something she was really looking forward to, a night that could almost pass for a normal evening out between friends. No Shadowhunters, no demons, no vampires. Just Simon, talking about his latest music project, and Clary, discussing art like she used to. She could almost forget who she was, or who she had been. They would fall into easy conversation, like they'd never spent a day apart. To him, her time at art school wasn't a shameful chapter to brush over but a real part of her, a version of Clary he could imagine living in another world. And she was grateful for that, even if it sometimes hurt a little to think about.

Clary glanced over at the far side of the room, where a floor-to-ceiling mirror stretched across the wall. She had time before Simon would meet her, so why not work on her form? Jace was constantly on her case about it, criticizing everything from her posture to her timing. She hadn't been back out on the field since her return; instead, they'd put her on what Jace called "refresher training,"-which, in Clary's opinion, was just another term for "punishment." It was hard not to feel like they'd made it up just for her.

She moved toward the mirror and took her stance-feet apart, one slightly behind the other, her knees bent just enough to give her the balance she needed. Her arms lifted, the familiar stance feeling awkward on her fatigued body. She stared at her reflection, noting the way her shoulders sagged just slightly, the dullness in her eyes. It wasn't just the exhaustion; it was the uncertainty that had settled deep inside her.

She adjusted, settling into the familiar posture, trying to shake off the heaviness that clung to her. This was her life now, or it had been before. She just had to reclaim it.

Closing her eyes, Clary took a slow breath, focusing on grounding herself. She wasn't sure if she would ever get back to the person she had been before everything had changed, but she had to be something. She had to keep moving forward.

Then, she felt it-a hand, cold and firm, resting on her shoulder.

Her eyes shot open, and she spun around, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. But the room was empty, as silent and still as it had been. She was alone. The air was still, not a sound to be heard. Clary stood frozen, rooted to the spot, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The coldness from the touch lingered on her skin, making her shiver. She scanned the room again, but there was no one. Nothing. Just the echo of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears.