The Rise Of The Morningstar (Eng. Version)

Chapter 58 - Desperate Angel

Chapter 58 – Desperate Angel

Dazzling light surrounded me as I regained consciousness. My head throbbed as if someone had struck it with full force. In addition, a painful pulsation coursed through my upper arm. I blinked against the light, squeezing my eyelids even tighter. I allowed myself only a minute to adjust to the brightness. Then, I forced my lids open.

I found myself in a square cage of shimmering light, rising like walls around me. Seraph blades had been thrust into the stone floor at the four corners. The Malachi-Configuration. That much I could remember in my hazy state. A way to trap demons. The light, with its bluish glow that allowed you to see through it, would cause pain with every touch. So, I didn't even attempt to press my fingers against it.

Behind my prison, I could make out a small room. Windowless and furnished like an armory. In the left corner stood a table, on which various weapons from daggers to hammers were spread out. Swords, bows, and a more exotic arsenal adorned the stone walls. The floor was splattered with blood. Not mine. This blood had long dried, some stains so faint, as if they had never quite managed to wash them out. The thought of how many had likely been held captive in this room before me sent a shiver down my spine.

As if on cue, a door to the right of me squeaked open, creaking inward with a wooden groan. A door so small that Malachi had to duck to enter the room. Shadows lingered in the adjacent room, but apart from a few feet, I couldn't discern anything.

"You're awake," Malachi greeted me. He had exchanged his Shadowhunter gear for his usual garments, as if our encounter behind the Accords Hall had never happened. I furrowed my brow to focus my eyes on him as he walked to a chair beside the table and took a seat. The alcohol still coursed through my body, clouding my senses. Not much time could have passed.

"I deeply apologize for catching you off guard, Clarissa," the Consul continued when I offered no response. "You're almost always surrounded by your friends. I've been waiting for the right opportunity to find you alone."

"Why am I here?" My voice sounded hoarse and breathless.

"Well, because your father naturally wants you back," Malachi replied, as if I were foolish not to have known the answer.

The realization would probably have knocked me off my feet if I hadn't already been on the ground. Instead, my eyes widened. Unbelieving. Stunned. "You're a follower of my father?"

Malachi nodded in affirmation. His fingers almost absentmindedly traced over a sparkling object in his hand. Adamant. My fingers began to tingle instinctively. But he wasn't rolling a stele between his fingertips; it was a ring. "I'm just one of the spies Valentine has in the Clave. We've kept ourselves in the shadows for a long time. I was already Consul when his first attempt to rid this world of the Downworlders failed."

"You're a traitor," I exclaimed indignantly. "You are a traitor and accused me of treason in front of the entire Clave. Again and again. You are a hypocrite. And a fool if you think my father would have an ounce of respect for a man like you."

His features twisted into a harsh mask. Eventually, his lips turned up into a slight smile. "Let's ask him ourselves," he said, standing up from the chair. The Consul slipped the ring onto his finger and turned it. For a second, nothing happened. Then, the air in front of Malachi began to shimmer, and the Nephilim's Consul, who should kneel before no one, fell to one knee and respectfully lowered his head.

"Did you succeed, Malachi?" a cool, stern voice cut through the room. A voice that haunted my nightmares. I pulled myself up when I saw the figure of my father standing next to the Consul. Only the transparent edges of his body revealed that he wasn't actually here.