Invisible string~ Matthew Fairchild {1}

Ten

"I grew a little," Thomas said forcefully. "Can you help Barbara or not?"

"I know something," Ragnor admitted, "but you must promise you won't tell a soul. Especially not Will Herondale."

"If you don't want us to," said James, "we will not tell a single soul. Father included. We swear it on the Angel."

"Besides Cordelia," said Lucie quickly. "She is to be my parabatai, and parabatai must never keep secrets from one another. But we will not tell anyone else, especially not an adult."

There was a murmur as the rest of the group swore to never tell anyone about what Ragnor was going to say. To swear on the Angel was a powerful thing. Bad things would happen if you broke your promise.

"Few warlocks would be able, and even fewer willing, to perform magic like this. I can think of only one: Emmanuel Gast. Word is that if the price is high enough, he will do anything. I do not know if the rumor is true, but I know his address." Ragnor went to the writing desk, scribbling down an address. He passed the paper to James, who thanked him.

"I don't suppose I need to say not to tell Gast who sent you," the green warlock continued. "If I find out you did, I will turn you all into a set of matching teacups. As for me, I am going to Capri to calm my nerves. I do not wish to remain in London any longer. Good luck to you all."

Ragnor made his way to the door, then stopped. "A warlock has never had a child before. I cannot help but wonder, what will you become?"

Everyone remained silent, not knowing how to answer Ragnor's question.

"So be it," said Ragnor, and left quietly.

As soon as Ragnor left, everyone smiled. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Amelia had hope. Maybe her sister would be alright. Maybe, just maybe, her family would be whole again.

But hope never lasted more than a moment. A single glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel after ages of darkness, pushing you to keep moving forward, when maybe you should have turned back while you had the chance. And, oh, how Amelia wished she could turn back.

Tessa and Will had walked in, solemn expressions on their faces. They looked at the Lightwood siblings with pity, dreading the words they would have to say. Amelia took a deep breath and reached for Matthew's hand, preparing herself for the words she never wanted to hear.

"Amelia, Thomas, we are so sorry," Tessa said. "Your parents are on their way."

Everything around Amelia stopped. She could hear Matthew's voice, but it seemed far away. Tears fell from her eyes even before Tessa spoke again.

"Barbara has died."

Hot tears began to well in Amelia's eyes. She turned to Matthew, who enveloped her in a hug. He whispered something into her ear, but she didn't hear it. Her body shook with her sobs; Matthew just hugged her and let her cry.

She looked to Thomas, who had fallen to the floor in his grief. She had never seen her brother cry before, and she decided she would do anything to prevent that from happening again. She'd do anything in her power to prevent her brother from feeling the pain that he felt now.

Her parents weren't any better. They both had tear stained faces, their eyes rimmed with red. As they saw Barbara's dead body, Sophie buried her face into her husband's chest, allowing her sobs to echo off the walls.

Amelia was overcome with memories. Much like when Barbara had first gotten injured, but this time there was no hope that her sister would open her eyes. These memories only served as reminders that Barbara would never come back. Barbara was dead.

And she'd never come back.

It was eventually decided that Sophie and Gideon would travel to Idris to see Eugenia. Thomas and Amelia would stay in the Institute with their Aunt and Uncle, as they spent most of their time there anyway.

That night, Amelia did not wish to sleep. She didn't even bother to try. How could she, when she knew exactly what she would dream about?

Amelia sat down at her desk, a pen in her hand. She poured out all of her thoughts onto paper, and she was reminded of why she started writing, all those years ago.

Whenever thoughts were hammering in Amelia's head, she could rely on the steady flow of ink coming from her pen, transforming her thoughts into rhymes and similes, alliteration and metaphors. It was her way of organizing her own thoughts.

She looked down at the parchment, and the poem scribbled on it. It was stained with the tears she had yet to shed. It was a look into Amelia's soul, all of her thoughts and emotions boiled down into a couple of stanzas.

Normally, she would have felt a bit of pride at the fact that she created something like that. But now, as she read her words back to herself, all Amelia felt was pain.

The door to Amelia's door opened to reveal Thomas. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was red and tear-stained; he didn't look like he'd slept at all. But to be fair, Amelia hadn't either.

"I can't sleep," he said softly, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve.

Amelia stood from her chair and hugged her parabatai. They remained there for a while; Two broken Shadowhunters, their only comfort being each other. They were both suffering, but it was slightly more bearable because they were with each other.

Many Shadowhunters died young. Everyone knew this, but that didn't ease the pain. Nothing could. Because, in a way, Barbara's death was Amelia's fault. Her head spun with scenarios of what could've happened if she'd done something differently. If she had been more concerned at the ball. If she hadn't left Barbara's side at the picnic. If she'd done a better job at protecting her.

If it was Amelia in Barbara's place, what would have happened?

Amelia could never change the fact that her actions played a role in the death of her sister. She may have merely been an accomplice, but she was guilty nonetheless.

A new chapter! This one is slightly fast paced, but I like it a lot. Let me know what you think, and leave me suggestions to improve!