City of Heavenly Fire (The Mortal Instruments Fan-fic)

Chapter 15: Flying Away

Red. White. Black. Nothing.

Pain, every cell screaming in pain. Burning, insides boiling and churning with liquid lava. Fiery heat, icy blue frost. Searing, freezing... pain, pain, pain.

Black. Red. Darkness. Nothing.





The world froze in place. Everything was still like in a grisly picture caught on camera. Everything but the blood as it speckled Clary's face, almost undistinguishable from her ginger freckles.

Her mouth gaped open without sound. Clary's body felt nothing, just the cold, hard floor beneath her. She hadn't noticed she'd dropped to the floor. The coldness spread a layer of ice over her skin. She sat there, frozen, for minutes and hours and years. The icy coat reached her neck, strangling her with frigid fingers.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to tear her eyes away. But all she could do was watch. Two dark figures, suspended in the air. Their limbs were thrown out wildly as if controlled by a puppeteer.

Clary's heart stuttered to a stop at the look in his eyes. Not pain or triumph or fear itself. The golden orbs were wide and shone as bright as the sun's rays. His face was filled with an almost amused expression. As if he was thinking, huh, after surviving so many things, this is where it all ends?

A sound like the crack of a shotgun pierced Clary's ears and through her heart, slicing through the wooly air like a knife through soft butter. The ice restraining her cracked and shattered away, leaving her cold body numb and raw with pain.

Then she was next to him, Isabelle on his other side. Izzy's face didn't seem like her own, for Isabelle Lightwood never showed weakness, never showed fear. But the look on her face made Clary feel like she had been suddenly drenched in freezing water; cold, hard, panic.

Jace, my Jace, JACE! Broken sobs forced their way out of her mouth as she kneeled by his side, her shaking fingers carressing his fine hair. Her eyes refused to see the bloody gash as wide as her fist and almost as deep that ran down his chest, from shoulder to stomach. Her brain was frozen in shock, her body numb.

But her heart was what screamed out in complete pain and grief. Her mother, Luke, Jordan, Maia, Magnus... all captured and maybe dead. Alec; slowly dying, the pain in his features enough to make her heart break. Simon; unconcious on the floor, blood matting the side of his head. Isabelle, broken and white, trembling as the tears poured from her eyes. And... Jace.

Clary pressed her hand over the wide slash, refusing to believe the hot liquid staining her jeans brown; covering her hands; turning her hair stiff; was blood. His blood. She tore the remains of his soaked shirt apart. Her fumbling fingers slipped against Jace's blood-slick skin, her breathing ragged as she stared at the wound.

Long and deep, the slash looked like a mini-canyon that was filled and overflowing with dark fluid. The edges were jagged like rocky outcroppings.

Clary's throat closed, filling with bile she couldn't force down. Ignoring the heavy taste on her tongue, her shaking fingers tore off her pink cardigan and pressed the worn yet soft cloth against Jace's chest.

She stared at the pink fabric. The fraction of her brain that still worked marvelled at how just over a day ago, she was picking the sweater out of her cluttered closet with only the worry of deciding what to wear. Her heart ached for those days; when she could get up in her familiar bed and go to the Institute to visit and train with Jace. When she could plan ways to dig Alec out of his misery from the breakup with Isabelle by her side. When she could hang out with Simon and laugh as he and his bandmates utterly failed at video games. Clary missed her life.

Another pair of hands, freezing and white, wrapped themselves around her wrists. The long fingers easily engulfed her own small ones. Clary robotically glanced up into Isabelle's dark eyes.

"Clary, he-" Isabelle started, her voice choked and rough. Tears painted shiny tracks down her sooty cheeks.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her fingers clenched around the cardigan.

"Give me the stele," Clary rasped out, finally finding words. Her voice was little more than a whisper, her throat clogged with grief and panic. "The stele, Isabelle!"

"No, Clary, I..." Her voice fell as she blinked more tears out of her eyes. Isabelle took a shuddering breath before speaking. "He's... There's nothing you can do for him, Cla-"

She shook off the other girls hands, leaning forward so Isabelle couldn't see the broken look in her eyes. She was broken, without him. She wasn't whole; not without her other half. "He's not dead, Isabelle. He's not dead."

Clary cut in again before Isabelle had a chance to contradict her, "If he were dead, I would feel it. I would know. He's not dead."

Isabelle remained silent, her face pale and dark eyes swimming with unshed tears. Clary crouched down lower, her hair swinging in front of her face like a curtain. She bent down to his face, her lips brushing his white cheek.

A moment later, she felt Izzy kneel next to her, placing her firm grip over Clary's on Jace's unmoving chest.

"I know you're there," she whispered, even though she knew Isabelle was listening. "Please, Jace. I know you're in there."

Her numb mind had to fight down the urge to laugh hysterically at the 'déjà vu'-ness of the whole situation. Just weeks ago, Jace's was in the same state, with Clary leaning over him, unable to believe he was dead.

But this time, this time was different. She didn't think he was alive, she knew.

Clary pressed her lips to his forehead gently, her voice oddly firm as she spoke. "Wake up, Jace. Wake up."





It hurt. Everything hurt. Breathing was the largest feat in the world; moving was like scaling Mount Everest with nothing but a rope.

All he wanted to do was sink into the dark void of his mind. To make it all stop. He didn't want to feel or remember. All he wanted was death. Because in death, there was no pain. Just emptiness. And that was a hell of a lot better than the piercing agony in his chest or the feeling of being burnt alive. Anything was better than the pain.

But that voice. That familiar voice that brought to mind a vivid image of bouncing red curls and twinkling, shocking green eyes. It was her voice; soft yet strong at the same time. Even in the darkness of his muddled mind, through the haze of pain and the fire of agony, he knew that voice. And it was asking him, begging him to wake up.

He heard it again as it echoed in his mind like a shout in a cavern. Open your eyes, Jace. Listen to me; I know you can do it, Lightwood. Wake. Up!

He froze at the name she spoke. Jace. That's right, he thought dully, my name is Jace. Jace Lightwood.

And she is... For a terrifying moment, he drew a blank. His skin suddenly felt like he was drowning in ice. The water was pushing his memories, his entire being back. He almost roared in frustration. He would have, if his body was actually functioning instead of being suspended in an agonizing, horrific limbo.

Everything suddenly froze. Her voice was gone. Then, the cold hit him. His entire body screamed as a wave of icy darkness so frigid it was like fire rushed from his head to his toes. The images of flying red hair and gleaming eyes disappeared, and there was only black, black, black. For a moment, he was certain he was dead.

Then a warmth blossomed in his chest. It started from the centre of his being - a spark. It grew, to a flame. Then, a blaze. It crackled into a bonfire, spreading across his torso, ridding his body of the cold. At last, it was an inferno of warmth, fire, and heat. Golden arcs of light flooded through his vision like comets, lacing themselves into a picture of a girl.

And he recognized her. Clary.

Her voice was back, desperate yet sure. She still believed in him.

Come on, Jace. I want to see those eyes of yours. Open your eyes for me, Jace.

Jace felt relief beyond measure when he felt his consciousness fidgeting and his eyelids twitching.

He never could say no to her, not before, and definitely not then.





Clary didn't know how long she waited, but it fell like an eternity. Her body felt like it was floating the entire time she crouched over him, her shallow breaths making his fair hair flutter softly. Only when he slowly peeled his eyes open - only then - did she feel grounded, like the other part of her soul was attached to her again.

It was then that she realized one thing: Clary could not live without this boy. Not then, not ever. And she was okay with that.

It didn't matter that her hands were covered with blood, or that they stuck in a hellhole underground, surrounded by eerily silent demons and monsters because Jace was alive. And that was what mattered.

Golden eyes stared back into her emerald ones. Bright and accented with flecks of darker amber and ochre - they never looked more beautiful.

"Hey," she whispered, at a loss for words.

Clary felt Isabelle stifle a shriek next to her. The other Shadowhunter leaned in closer to Jace, ignoring the flood of salty tears running down her pale cheeks.

Jace stared up at Clary. His eyes were bright but detached with pain. Clary's own chest clenched.

"Say something, Jace. Talk to me, please," Clary choked out, her throat suddenly stinging with unshed tears. Her hands, impossibly thin and pale even to her own eyes, caressed Jace's cheek gently. "Please, Jace..."

"Clary."

His voice was dry and crackly, but his voice nonetheless.

"Izzy," he murmured, eyes moving lethargically from her face to focus on the girl beside Clary.

Isabelle nodded slowly as if not daring to believe that it was all true. That Jace was awake, he was alive.

Clary stumbled over her words in breathless relief. "You're okay, you're okay, Jace," she said, over and over again.

"Clary," he whispered again, jerking her gaze from his cheek to his eyes once more. "It hurts."

Resisting the urge to tear her gaze from his, unable to take the pain in those huge golden orbs, Clary shakily breathed out. "I know, Jace." Her voice cracked at his name.

Never before had Clary ever seen Jace so much as cry out in pain. Jace had always been rock-hard and untouchable to those around him. He was a tough, strong, brave, Shadowhunter. Cocky and arrogant. Sarcastic. Her Jace. And to know that he could be broken filled her with a jarring sense of uncertainty.

Jace's moment of weakness shocked her into remembering that this was war. And people were going to get hurt, people were going to die. Clary clenched her fists in the tattered remains of Jace's shirt, her fingers shaking like a leaf in autumn.

"Clary!"

It took several seconds for Clary to register Isabelle's voice calling her name. She snapped out of her stupor, swinging her head up so hard her hair swung in an arc, splattering Isabelle with Jace's blood.

Isabelle opened her mouth to speak, but a sound that sounded like a mix between a dying howl and a groan sounded next to her. Clary's heart sped up ten notches as she realized who it came from.

"The stele, Isabelle!" Clary hissed, looking around wildly before her gaze rested on Jace's white face.

"Clary, it won't work. Remember what happened to A-Alec?" Isabelle choked out. "The Marks don't work, Clary. Not on a wound made by Sebastian's cursed blade."

Clary stared at her, swallowing around the huge lump that had risen in her throat. "No, it...it has to work."

She made to get up, remembering the silvery stick rolling away towards the cell bars sometime during the fight. Before she could, a firm hand grasped her wrist. Clary turned, trying to rip herself away from Isabelle's grip, but found herself staring into Jace's illuminated eyes. Her features immediately lost their coldness and softened as she looked at him.

"No, Clary...listen to...Iz," he said, his speech stilted and slurred. "There's nothing a stele...can do."

Jace's chest rose and fell rapidly but his voice and grip remained firm. His pale face was beaded with sweat and his hair plastered limply to his forehead. Dark and long eyelashes cast long, curved shadows across his defined cheekbones. His jaw was clenched tightly in pain, but his eyes refused to betray his feelings. Even near certain death, his skin shone. Waves of heat practically rolled off his skin. The Heavenly Fire warmed Clary's wrist almost painfully.

Blood had completely soaked through her sweater, but Clary could still see the blood sluggishly seep out of the wound and pool into the ever-increasing puddle of crimson she was kneeling in.

Jace's voice was laboured when he rasped, "Where's Se-"

"I can't let you die like this, Jace. I can't and I won't."

She saw both Isabelle and Jace open their mouths in unison; Isabelle's expression cracked and broken whereas Jace's face showed only weariness and pain.

Before either of them could say a word, however, she stood unsteadily and launched herself towards the stele. She braced herself against the cell's bars and reached across two bars. The light of the witchlight had long since faded to a dull glow that barely illuminated the far end of the cell where Clary was. She felt along the stone floor, her fingers scrabbling quietly against the concrete.

Her fingers grasped something oddly soft and silky, like hair. Clary's mouth tasted like bile when she realized that what she was feeling really was hair. Conrad's hair. Her stomach rolled and she retracted her fingers, taking shallow breaths through her mouth as she tried to erase the smell of blood from her nostrils. It didn't help much that her entire body was covered in red as well.

After her hand finally came into contact with the smooth stele, she scrambled back to the others. Isabelle was leaning over him, her dark hair sliding out of it's bun. Her tears were wiped away but her eyes were still red and puffy. Jace's eyes were fluttering closed, rolling backwards as he fought for consciousness.

Clary dropped to her knees and immediately drew one of the most basic and needed rune of all Shadowhunters; an iratze.

The dark, bold line made by the stele disappeared as soon as Clary pulled the stele away.

"No!"

She tried again, on his shoulder this time, but with the same result.

"No, no, no!" Clary's vision blurred to shapes and wavy outlines. She wasn't sure if it was from tears or not.

Isabelle stilled Clary's hand before she could begin her third attempt. Clary whirled on the other girl, but Izzy wasn't looking at her. She was staring at Jace with wide, uncertain eyes.

"Angel, Clary. By the gods-"

"No, Isabelle! Jace, you're not dying on me, okay? We'll get you help, the Silent Brothers. They can-" Clary froze when Isabelle snatched her chin and twisted her head down to Jace.

"No, Clary. Look."

Clary blinked the tears from her vision. Then she stared.

And stared.

Jace was on fire. Golden-yellow flames rose from his body like a bonfire from firewood. They started from his chest - his wound - then wove themselves gracefully around his body, licking the air and crackling.

For once in her life, Clary wasn't scared of flames, not those sparks of fire. They spoke of warmth but not of blazing heat, and of courage rather than destruction. That's when Clary understood. Those weren't ordinary flames. They were Jace's flames. Flames of Heavenly Fire.

Clary leaned closer, her fingers brushing the flickering light. The blaze was utterly familiar to her, and so completely Jace. The flames spoke of sunny afternoons with Jace after training, rays beating down on her face softly. They crackled like the sweet-scented candle Jace given her as a joke, saying that she could have her own 'Human Torch'.

As suddenly as they had come, the sparks of light fizzled out, dying in a matter of seconds. Cold seized Clary once more like a tidal wave. But she didn't give a damn, because he was there.

"Holy fuck," Isabelle breathed, making the exclamation sound more like a question of utter disbelief.

Clary would have nodded in agreement if she could have. Instead, she just stared.

Her eyes first landed on his golden gaze, which showed only one emotion - bewilderedness. His hair stood on end slightly, like he had either just gotten out of bed or gotten electrocuted. Her brain then registered she was staring at his chest. It was still covered in blood, but the wound itself was gone. An almost silvery scar with puckered, reddish edges etched a thick line from his left shoulder to his right hip.

"Wh-"

He made an attempt to sit up, but before he could, twin missiles simultaneously launched themselves at him in a flurry of whirling, tangled hair.

Isabelle, again, was the first to act. She slapped him across the cheek, hard enough to leave a large mark on his face.

"What the hell was that for?" Jace spat, though his voice was devoid of venom.

"For - nearly - dying - on - us, Jace Lightwood!" Clary all but screamed, punching his shoulder repeatedly. Her breath came out in puffs by the time she dropped her hands.

Clary bowed her head in an attempt to hide her swimming eyes. Warm hands suddenly stilled her still clenched fingers. They lifted her chin as she blinked heavily, tired of crying almost nonstop the last few days. She looked up defiantly just as Jace gathered her and Isabelle in a crushing embrace.

As they all pulled away, Isabelle cursing as she rubbed the burn on her hand from contact with Jace's skin. Again, Clary fathomed at how she alone was unharmed by Jace's skin. Before Clary could think much more, however, Jace caught her lips in a light lock. Clary closed her eyes, keeping them shut even as he leaned back once more. She savoured his gentle touch, the way their mouths molded together like they were made for each other. His lips tasted of salt and metal and blood.

And she didn't care.





It's a good thing werewolves heal fast, Luke reflected as he tore through the woods at breakneck speed. The only evidence of their fight with the vampire clan was his burning collarbone and heavy limp, though the latter was proving quite the problem considering they were flat-out sprinting.

The screeches of the vampires were nothing but faint echoes in the distance. There was no doubt that most were still out there, injured, but still a threat. The vampires were scattered now, but before long, they would become the prey once more.

The willowy-tall trees thinned eventually as the tattered group teetered through the forestry. Strips of silver moonlight shone like spotlights in the inky gloom of shadows. The only colour in the night was a brilliant shade of red, waving and flying in front of him, her hand enveloped by his.

"Stop!" A voice shouted. The thundering footsteps of just the seven of their group rang out like the stomps of a herd of elephants in the near-silence of night.

Luke panted to a halt, trying not to clutch at his leg in pain. He felt Jocelyn grip his arm comfortingly beside him as they both turned to who uttered the command; Maryse.

"Jace and Isabelle and Alec - they-" Maryse began.

"Clary and Simon," Jocelyn hissed out at the same time.

Both women broke off, breathing hard, whether from the run or their panic, he wasn't sure. Luke himself had to clench his half-transformed teeth together to stop himself from scouring the fields for the teens. The tense silence that settled over the group was only broken by raspy, harsh breathing.

"There are people missing," Kadir suddenly ventured. His usually impassive tone wavered with uncertainty. "Jana and Marcus? Where they with us at the creek?"

"I...I saw Marcus go down. By the time I got there, there was nothing I could do," Jordan lowered his head as all eyes swivelled to him.

Kadir nodded, tight and formal once more. "We can only assume Jana is dead as well." The large Shadowhunter turned away quickly, but not before Luke saw the lone tear that made a silver track done his dark cheek.

Luke remembered vaguely seeing a beautiful young woman with hazelnut hair and warm eyes beside Kadir during Clave meetings. The image of the woman faded beneath Luke's closed eyelids, replaced with a shocking sense of pain.

Luke was no stranger to death. He had witnessed death; he had killed before. The werewolf had never been particularly close to Kadir either, only speaking with the man on occasion when he had to. But why, then, did he feel the such sadness for a woman he didn't even know?

The answer was simple, really. Kadir's loved once could have just as easily been Jocelyn, or Clary, for that matter. The two bright rays in his life. If they died, he would have no one left. No friends, no family. Amatis was gone, and though he never felt close to his sister, she was there for him and Clary. For that, he would be forever grateful.

"There will time for mourning later," Maryse spoke. Her voice was soft, unlike her usual clipped tones. "What we need to know now is where Alec, Isabelle, Jace, Clary and Simon are."

"It's obvious where the three that came with us are. They went to look for Jace and Simon. We can only assume that they found the entrance but didn't have any way of contacting us." Luke said. He tried to ignore the burning pain in his collarbone as he met each individual in the ragged group in the eye.

"This was Sebastian's twisted plan all along wasn't it?" Maia spat out. Her eyes were slits of golden and her hands covered with the blood of her enemies. "To split us up."

"But grudge does he have against Isabelle or Alec? Or even Simon?" Jordan clutched Maia's hand tighter in his own.

Jocelyn's voice spoke then, cold and full of barely suppressed pain and terror. "There is no time to discuss. Either we act now or people die."

"We don't know where-"

The woman beside Luke spoke again, this time her words were directed at the silent warlock. "Magnus?"

The cat-eyed warlock met her hopeful gaze with his own tired one. Magnus's eyes spoke of years and years of experience, but not only that; of seeing death as well. Luke tried to imagine what it would feel like to watch all the people you knew and loved die as you continued to live on. He couldn't. Luke made a fist with his free hand and curled his fingers around Jocelyn's sweaty palm.

"I used almost all of my powers, Jocelyn. I'm not sure if I can use the tracking spell, but I can try-"

"No wait," Luke said suddenly. His gaze was fixed on the ground in front of them, at the very edge of the woods. The grey handle of a seraph blade lay on the dirt, the blade still outstretched and glowing a faint blue colour.

He moved forward, releasing Jocelyn's hand as he picked up the handle carefully. He turned back to the group, uneasiness curling in his stomach. "This is Clary's."

Immediately, everyone surged forwards, Jocelyn at the lead.

"Look," she breathed, dropping to a crouch and running her hands over the earth. "Clary was here. They're scuffle marks."

Luke followed his fiancée as she moved further from the woods in slow, smooth steps, following the trail of dust that was kicked up from the earth by running feet.

"Stay together. Raziel knows what will happen if we split up again," Maryse ordered as she followed on Luke's heels, stepping out of the shadowy trees and into the moonlit clearing.

As they passed a large boulder, Luke noticed more scuffle marks. The trail was barely noticeable in the darkness, but with his heightened Downworlder senses, he lead the way forwards, blindly moving and having to backtrack at times.

"Luke!" A voice hissed, accompanied by hands pulling his back.

He twisted around, letting his hackles rise, before blinking as he realized all members of their group was still with them. They were all staring, transfixed, at the floor in front of Luke's feet.

Luke turned back to see a rough-looking hole, a few feet wide, in the ground a few steps away. It was partially covered by a leaf-covered tree branch and various pieces of junk and debris, as if it was being poorly concealed. Although the edges of the hole weren't smooth and round, he could tell it was man-made.

"This...this is it, isn't it?" Magnus questioned. His tone was the most serious Luke had ever heard from the warlock.

"The entrance we've been looking for...or a trap, that is." Kadir said.

"A trap it may be, but this is obviously where Clary, and I'm guessing your children as well, Maryse, went. If that's the case, then damn the trap, I'm following my daughter," Jocelyn snapped. Her green eyes were angry, full of a fire she usually suppressed, but Luke knew it was there all along. It was what he had always loved about her.

Maryse drew herself up as well. "My children are down there. I'm going. Anyone have any objections?"

Kadir's eyes hardened but he didn't say a word. Maia, Jordan nodded curtly while Magnus ran a hand through his hair in response.

Jocelyn made to move forwards, but Luke leapt in front of her and towards the hole, making sure to not look back, knowing that his fiancée would be glaring at him. Luke knew he didn't have to protect Jocelyn - she was a fighter. But that didn't stop him from trying to anyways.

"I'll go first. When I give the signal, follow me down." Luke brushed the back of his hand gently across Jocelyn's, giving everyone a reassuring nod before lowering himself into the hole, bracing his hands against the edges and dangling by his fingertips in the almost vertical tunnel.

He let go and attempted to stand, but the curve of the tunnel was to steep to stand on. Instead, he slid down along the floor. Rocks and sharp pieces of who-knows-what scraped his legs and the elbows he used to support his upper body. Cursing under his breath and fighting to slow down his fall by scrabbling his hands along the rocks and hard dirt, the tunnel swerved this way and that, as if the tunnel had been carved by a gently curving river of flowing water.

It was nearly impossible to see anything in the pitch darkness, but Luke knew when he had reached the bottom. He landed with a groan on his knees after what seemed like hours of falling, but was really only moments. His jeans were tattered and his body was sore all over. He was sure his fingers were bloodied, as well as his elbows and arms. Heaviness seemed to press down on Luke as he felt his way back the way he'd come, where the flat land he was on curved upwards.

"It's alright, come down. Be careful though, it's steep," Luke shouted. He winced as his voice echoed in what he assumed was a dirt cave or room.

He rolled away from where he was to avoid getting squished by the next person who came down. He stumbled along in a random direction until his hands felt more dirt: a wall.

One by one, Shadowhunters and werewolves, along with a warlock, tumbled to the floor, groaning and cursing colourfully. When the last person, Kadir, had fallen to the floor with a thump, they all lay for a second, feeling around in the dark.

"Any of you Shadowhunters got a light?" Magnus's voice came from somewhere to Luke's right. "I don't have enough magic left to keep a light up for long."

Rustling noises. Then, the cave-like room of dirt was revealed. Luke wasn't really looking around him, though, and neither was anyone else, by the sounds they made.

Maia let out a high shriek. Jordan gave a hoarse shout, scrambling away. Maryse was frozen where she was, crouched low to the ground. Magnus's face turned bloodless, and Kadir pressed himself against the dirt wall he was leaning against. Jocelyn was staring with wide, shock-filled eyes, at the five figures that stood in the middle of the room.

Luke was sure they weren't there when he had first arrived. He knew that he should feel relieved, happy beyond words, even. But instead, he felt petrified. Something was wrong.

His suspicions were confirmed when Magnus shot a bolt of blue fire straight at Clary and the four familiar figures behind her.





"Sebastian," Jace gasped as he sat up abruptly. A dull pain throbbed through his head and leg. Apparently, his whole Heavenly Fire incident had only cured his chest wound. He put a hand to his temple as he looked around wildly. "Where is Sebastian?"

The cell, or the portion of it that was lit by the slowly fading witchlight, was deserted but for the three of them, Simon, and Alec, both of whom were lying on the floor feet away from him, unconscious.

Something like a mix between alarm, terror and anger flashed across Isabelle's face at the mention of his name. "He..." She trailed off, uncertain. "Your dagger - it hit him in the chest. He should've been seriously wounded. There's no way he could have walked off on his own."

Warning bells went off in Jace's head. He staggered to his feet, accepting Clary's hand as he did so. He reached for the runestone, aware of the two girls that immediately covered his back, Isabelle's weapon drawn. As soon as he touched the smooth stone to his palm, picking it up fluidly, the entire cell was once more bathed in light.

There was no tall, dark figure with white hair. The only sign of Sebastian Jace could see was the blood. The only way he could tell that it was Sebastian's rather than his own was that the other boy's was darker, more like acid, because of the demon in him. The black liquid lay like paint against one side of the wall near them.

"Jace, Iz. Look." Clary's voice made Jace turn away from the sickening sight of the wall.

Clary was pointing to a light trail of blood that lead through the ripped-off cell door and turned to the right down the hall.

"How is this possible? I was aiming for his heart, he can't have-" Jace murmured, almost to himself. His own pain was forgotten as his eyes followed the droplets of blood.

"We have to go after him. We can finally finish that bastard off," Isabelle hissed. Her boots stepped forwards, but Clary's hand held her back.

"No, we can't just leave Alec and Simon here! We have to get them help."

"This may be our only chance at getting him, when he's hurt-"

Jace had stepped away from the two girls and towards the metal bars. Something happened. He was sure of it. Sebastian would never just flee from a battle. This was a trap - it had to be. Jace strained his senses, trying to control his increasingly rapid breathing. His gaze travelled from the floor to the cell opposite the one they're were in.

He realized three things in just as many seconds.

One; the bars of their cell was moving slowly and mechanically upwards, into the ceiling. Two; the bars of all the other cells were also rising upwards. Three; the monsters those cells contained were silent. As if waiting to escape from their prison.

The demons were set free. Jace and the others were prey.

"Run. Run, Clary, Isabelle! RUN!" Jace screamed at the top of his lungs, backing away from the bars frantically.

Just as his voice petered off, the roaring of the monsters began. Dark, hulking forms of the monsters were just feet away from the runestone's light.

Clary and Isabelle both reacted the same way he did, back-pedalling to the back of the cell until their backs reached the stone wall. Jace lunged to pick up Alec, cursing profusely under his breath as his half-brother let out a scream of raw pain as he tossed the other boy, none too gently, over his shoulder. Isabelle dragged Simon by the arms towards Jace, screaming at Clary to help her carry him and 'get the fuck out of here'.

Clary, however, wasn't reaching for Simon. Instead, she was on her knees, her fingers fumbling on the floor for something white and thin.

Jace grabbed a seraph blade of the ground at random, shouting it's name above the increasing chaos and brandishing it with one hand while keeping his grip on Alec with the other, prepared to go out fighting. Just as the first demon - a Raum - careened towards Isabelle and Simon, foam bubbling out of it's black-hole-like mouth, Clary launched herself at the wall, the stele in hand.

Realizing what Clary was about to do a nanosecond before she did it, Jace grabbed the back of Isabelle's shirt, clenching the material and his blade in one hand as he dragged both her and Simon out of the demon's path.

The swirling blue Portal, filled with light and colours appeared on the grey wall. A second later, Clary had pushed both Isabelle and Simon into the matrix of magic. They disappeared.

Clary turned and gripped Jace's hand in her tiny fist before jumping after their two friends, bringing Jace and Alec in with her.

Darkness like layers upon layers of night suffocated Jace. The only things he was aware of other than black, black and more black, was Alec's body slowly slipping off his shoulder and Clary's hand in his.

Jace closed his eyes against the dizzying swirl of the Portal, letting himself float away...

Before he knew it, he was tumbling to the floor, Alec flung from his grasp and Clary's fingers ripped from his palm. He landed hard, rolling head over heels. When he finally stilled, Jace lay on his back, his breaths burning his lungs like fire as he waited for the world to stop spinning.

Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, the world fractured and blurry, like he was seeing things from underwater. The world seemed to be moving under his feet. Even so, he could still recognize the faintly glowing towers in the far, far distance. They looked like small specks of white and silver and gold on the distant horizon, as the sun cast it's first rays on the land.

They were in Idris.