City of Heavenly Fire

Everseeing

What do you guys think so far? I started this fanfiction about a year-ish ago and I've kind of been making it up as I go.

The words fell over Isabelle like air, no meaning held to them, not substantial enough to bring justice to her brother. It was just the voice of a man, mundane words spoken by so many, linked together to form nothing more than consolations for the dead that couldn't hear them anyway. How many times had he given those same ones to grieving families? How many times had he spoken over the body of a child without truly knowing them? The thought of it made Isabelle's stomach clench in anger.

She felt someone squeeze her hand, Simon, who stood next her, but he stayed quiet. She wanted to look at him, a face that offered her comfort, but her eyes remained trailed on the sword, wielded by her mother whose cheeks were stained with tears.

She wanted to cry for her brother, but her anger overpowered that desire. She couldn't get the image of her brother from her mind, telling her that he was sorry for betraying them. If he were here, she would punch him. She would demand to know what he was thinking, why he put his own wants above everyone else's, willing to place her, his last living sibling, in harm's way. Isabelle would have undoubtedly yelled, she'd have told him that she wouldn't forgive him, not for awhile at least. He would've walked away then, into the weapon's room or someplace else, leaving her behind to brood.

But he didn't come back. They left him behind, raging in a sewer's inferno, the cold of his blue eyes met with the fire. They didn't even have a body, no actual evidence that her brothers would lie next to each other, no trace of the boy she grew up with now buried in the ground. There was just a sword that he wielded, the heat of his grip wiped cold. Isabelle wanted that to be punishment enough and part of her accepted that bit as redemption, but there was still that anger locked inside that she willingly allowed to consume her in order to keep the pain away.

The man stopped talking, stepping away as Maryse took the middle, still brandishing the sword. Isabelle tried to drown out her words, not wanting to hear another goodbye from her mother whispered over the last of her sons. She heard some things spoken in Italian of loss and bravery and then they all raised their hands.

"Ave Atque Vale" they spoke in unison.

_______________________________________________

Once the ceremony had concluded, Jace, who had been gripping Clary's hand tightly, released her and walked away. He disappeared through the portal etched on a wall, the white he wore vanishing off the grass-covered hills and into darkness.

Clary, unable to bear him facing this alone, followed after him. The portal made her dizzy, bathing her in a swirl of darkness, pinpricks of light flashing before her eyes until she collapsed on the ground in front of the Institute. Trying to shake off the feeling of nausea, she stood up and walked inside.

She first looked for Jace in the weapons room, expecting to find him sparring with a blade or throwing knives at a target, but the room was empty. No, she found him in his room, sitting on his bed, his hands running over his face.

Silently, Clary stepped inside and closed the door.

A few moments passed in silence as she tried to muster up the courage to speak. What could she say? She couldn't offer anything to comfort him, couldn't say anything that would ease the pain of Alec's betrayal. She couldn't ask if he was okay, because she knew he was not, however hard he pretended to be.

Instead, she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, and said, "How are you feeling?" Maybe he would be honest with her.

But Jace just glanced up and cleared his throat. "I'm fine."