The Soul in the Shadows (Shadowhunters ff)

Chapter 3 - Weight of Shadows

The chill of the late autumn air bit deeper as Clary walked slowly across the Brooklyn Bridge, the lights of the city sprawling out before her like a sea of light. Even at this late hour, the sound of traffic was a constant hum beneath her. Clary pulled her coat tighter around herself, her thoughts drifting back to the evening with Simon. For a few hours, things had felt... normal. Comforting, even. A fleeting reminder of what life used to be like before everything changed. But now, as she walked back home, the exhaustion she'd tried to ignore all evening came crashing down on her.

Her feet dragged along the bridge's wooden planks, every step feeling heavier than the last. Pausing at the center of the bridge, she leaned against the railing, letting herself catch her breath. Her body ached with fatigue, and a dull throb pulsed at her temples. She hadn't gotten much sleep over the past week, or the past month, for that matter.

The city stretched out across the river, the twinkling skyscrapers casting reflections on the dark waters below. Clary closed her eyes, taking a long, deep breath, and feeling the cool breeze against her skin. But then, faint and chilling, a sound broke through the quiet-the whisper of a voice she knew too well.

"Clary..."

Her eyes flew open, heart pounding as she looked around, but the bridge was empty. The voice, soft but chilling, seemed to come from nowhere yet everywhere, wrapped in the wind, tangled in the hum of passing cars. Clary turned her head, searching the empty bridge around her, but there was no sign of him. Only the quiet city and the wind pulling at her hair.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away from the vast, empty night.. He wasn't here, not really, but that didn't stop the feeling of his presence from closing in. Sometimes it felt as though he was still watching her, still somehow bound to her world.

Memories she'd tried to bury began to surface-his face twisted with rage, the strange, desperate look in his eyes in those last moments. He had been her brother, in a twisted way, and yet, she had killed him. She had to. But it wasn't supposed to feel like this. She had been relieved. She should have been, right? After everything Jonathan had put her and everyone she loved through, after all the lives he had destroyed... But it wasn't as simple as that. There had been moments, small moments, when the love had felt real, when she had seen something in him that had made her believe-if only for a moment-that he could change. The relief of his death had always been overshadowed by the guilt of what they could have been, by the fact that she had loved him, even after everything he had done.

"I never wanted this, Clary."

She closed her eyes, fighting back the chill that spread through her. It wasn't real; she knew that. But she could hear him, feel him, as if he was standing right beside her. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms, trying to push the feeling away. She had been so sure that killing him had been the right thing to do, but now, as the memories bled into the present, doubt crept in, gnawing at her resolve. Could she have saved him? Could there have been another way?

Her mind spiraled, the conflict inside her intensifying, until she could hardly tell where the past ended and the present began. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog that had settled in her thoughts.

"Get a grip," she muttered under her breath. He's gone. He's dead. She killed him.

But it didn't feel that way. The wind stirred around her, brushing against her skin like an unseen hand, as if Jonathan's touch was still lingering in the air.

She forced herself to walk again, to move, to break free from the memories that threatened to drown her. As she crossed the bridge, the city around her seemed to close in, the shadows growing longer, stretching with every passing second.