✓ | Silent Shadows ⋆ Will Herondale [1]

PROLOGUE

◤Our paths are never clear. We know our purpose, but do not see what tomorrow may bring. It is a blessing and a curse, at the same time. At least, that is what they tell us. Elders tend to shield us from the terrible parts life may bring, but their power to do so only extends to a certain point. Not even they can predict someone's future. They couldn't have foreseen this ⎼ and for that, I blame them. God, I blame them. We are facing many temptations in our lifetimes and some of us do not deserve the good things we are offered, but you ⎼ Marie Celine Wayland ⎼ you deserved the world. Too bad other obligations were cruelly placed upon your fragile shoulders. You shouldn't have had such a destiny; you were far too young to be taken away from this world. Therefore, I promise you this ⎼ when we meet again, I shall never let you escape my hands. I shall never let you leave my sight. I shall search for you in any world, until I find you. And when I do ⎼ I shall make you mine. Like I should have done the moment I first laid my eyes on you. ◢

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PROLOGUE: PRECEDE

London, April 1878.

WILLIAM Herondale ruthlessly stabbed the demon, swiftly jerking back the dagger out of its body, hoping to avoid the revolting demonic liquid. Unfortunately for the obsidian⎼haired boy, he was much too slow. His weapon had been swallowed by the deformed creature. In no time, the demon vanished into thin air, leaving only a poodle of thick, black blood behind it.

"Jem!" Will yelled for his friend, turning around. "Where are you? Did you see that? Killed it with one blow! Not bad, eh?"

But the boy received no answer; his parabatai that had always been near him in battle, watching his back and making sure nothing happened to him, was nowhere to be seen. William was left alone in the darkness of an empty street, shadows being his only friends.

At first, Will's face bore signs of annoyance ⎼ there wasn't a thing he enjoyed more in the world than showing off his inimitable fighting skills. However, that wasn't particularly exciting when there was no one to watch him.

The Shadowhunter's eyes slid from one corner of the street to the other; it had been dark and narrow and if he dared observe the far distance, he could spot a glance of the river Thames.

But Will paid no attention to the unique sights of London, not when Jem wasn't around him. His absence brought uneasiness to Will since the last time he let one of his friends out of his sight ⎼ they went missing.

Marie Celine Wayland.

Will gently scrubbed his face with the sleeve of his coat, fully aware that Charlotte would scowl him for doing so. But the woman wasn't around and neither was Jem.

His skinny fingers touched small cuts on his face. There was no doubt in his mind that they were a postponed effect of the demon's poisonous blood. The boy even noticed a deep cut on his hand. He had wanted to draw a healing rune, but his attention was diverted by an unrecognizable shape in the shadows.

He stared at the shapeless oblique, assuming that it belonged to a mundane. It had been far to big to belong to Jem.

William wanted to grab him, scare him just so he could humor himself a little ⎼ but decided against it. He could almost completely imagine Marie and Jem giving him a threatening look. They were far too careful and good for their own good. Never once had they abused their superiority over the mundanes; their only mission was to protect them.