Shall He Live Again? (A City of Heavenly Fire Fan Fiction)

Hey everyone! I promised that I would update more often, so here is the first thing that I could come up with that I had the will to write. Literally just finished City of Heavenly Fire last night, so it is fresh in my mind! WARNING: To anyone that has yet to finish COHF or has yet to read it, this is beyond spoilery! So please, wait until you've finished the book and then come take a look, okay? I hope you guys like it, because I honestly love this story so much! The characters, of course, belong to Cassandra Clare, and without her, this story would never have been even a thought in my mind! Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did! (By the way, the cover for the story was edited by me, but the flower tarots belong to Cassandra Jean! They're really beautiful, so I wanted to incorporate them) Anyway...Comment...Vote...Favourite...Enjoy!

-xx Ali (AliAngel21, or Thewickedinstruments - Tumblr)

 

                                                        A City of Heavenly Fire Fan Fiction:

                                                                  Shall He Live Again?

“If a man dies, shall he live again? All the days of my service I would wait, till my renewal should come.” – Job 14:14

 

They were all in the Accords Hall, people gathered to watch and hope that they would be gaining another Shadowhunter today. They had lost so many in the Dark War and many had already joined their ranks, but this one was different.

        Clary and Isabelle were fussing over him, asking him if he really wanted to go through with this. Simon had gone through nearly a year of training, studying, and had even chosen a Shadowhunter name that had been “approved” by the Clave. Originally he had wanted something like Nightraven, but they had declined that request. In fact, when he had gone to the Consul – Jia Penhallow – and the Inquisitor – Robert Lightwood – about it, they had laughed at him, shaking their heads. He had finally settled on something a bit more inconspicuous, settling for Rosewood with the opinion of Isabelle screaming in his mind. She seemed pleased enough. He supposed she should like the name too, seeing as he planned on marrying her someday.

        “Are you sure you want to do this?” Clary asked once more, straightening the black collared shirt that he was wearing. He remembered Isabelle telling him that black was the best color for this sort of thing. He was going to be a warrior at the end of the ceremony, and warriors, well Shadowhunters, wore black.

        “Yes, Mom.” He replied, but Clary was being serious. She didn’t want this life for him, she would rather him stay mortal. He sighed when her green eyes washed over him, worry in their depths, “I’m sure, Clary. I made my decision a long time ago.”

        Isabelle was the one to reply to him, saying, “And you’ll make a great Shadowhunter. I’m sure of it.” she smiled at him, and he was about to say something before he heard Jace’s familiar voice behind them. They all turned to look over at him, his smile displayed loosely on his lips.

        “I’m not so sure, he could still use some more training. Of course, if you go through with this, that just means we’ll be able to go harder on you in training.” His grin flashed. From the corner of his eye, Simon saw Clary shake her head. Simon grinned back though, he was happy to have all of his friends here around him, and it was true, he had become friends with Jace.

        “I wouldn’t want you to go easy on me, anyway.” Simon replied, laughing. Clary sighed behind him, and he looked back at her, his smile falling ever so slightly. She had that look of worry on her face, again, “What’s wrong, Fray?” he asked her. His memories had come back slightly, certainly not all at once, but he was beginning to remember more and more everyday, thanks to Magnus. He could remember the times when he and Clary would walk to school, the paint and charcoal stains on her arms and hands, and then the times when she would “accidently” rub against his face and he’d be smothered with the same thing that covered her hands. He remembered running down the Brooklyn streets after her when they were twelve and thirteen, and then after that too, yelling “Get back here, Fray!” He smiled to himself.