It had been exactly six months since Jem had become Brother Zachariah and Will had been left with the aching gap of his parabatai when his lookalike appeared at the front door of the London Institute.
'Jem?' Will Herondale after having run down the stairs of the Institute and thrust the door open. Now the initial haste had gone out of him, and he stood frozen, mouth open in a small o shape as he stared at the boy in front of him. It was as if a ghost stood before him. It was Jem. Minus the characteristic silver eyes and hair of someone affected by yin fen, but Jem nonetheless. His eyes instead of the shining silver were a deep brown, flecked with gold, and locks of straight, almost black hair flopped over his face. He was dressed in mundane clothing, a slightly oversized white shirt tucked neatly into a pair of navy, straight cut trousers. Will wanted nothing more than to run to Tessa, to have her confirm that his eyes weren't simply deceiving him and that James Carstairs truly stood on the stone steps of the Institute, 'how is this possible?'
'I-I-' Jem-but-not-Jem hesitated, staring down at his booted feet, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his high cheek bones, concealing the twinkling eyes underneath, 'I'm not Jem.'
Somehow, this startled Will even more, so much so that a laugh escaped him. The statement seemed so obvious but it had to be a lie, it could be no other than Jem. Will turned his head to face the inside of the Institute, brow furrowed, 'am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. If I am dreaming, please let Gabriel Lightwood walk down those stairs in one of Jessamine's dresses.'
'William Herondale, isn't it?' The boy brought Will's attention back to reality. Or at least, what appeared to be reality.
'You're Jem, yet you're not Jem. Is this what the Silent Brothers did to you? Please tell me you're not another evil mechanical creature, if I have to deal with one of those again I'm likely to start getting grey hairs, and it wouldn't be fair on the maidens of London to lose my beauty so soon.' Will raised an eyebrow, considering for a moment before adding, 'though thinking about it, I'm sure I'd manage to look handsome either way'. It seemed unlikely he was one of Mortmain's creations, the boy hadn't yet tried to attack him with any metal claws for a start. Yet, Will had seen Jem as a Silent Brother with his own eyes, and the change was irreversible, that much was certain.
'I'm not Jem,' the boy repeated, rubbing at his right wrist with his left hand, unknowingly revealing the traces of a rune as he did so, the edge of his shirtsleeve riding up a few centimetres. He looked uncomfortable, taking a deep breath before speaking his next firm words, 'I'm Oliver. Oliver Carstairs. Jem was- is my brother.' He opened his mouth to speak again, but Will heard no more, the world around him spinning as the marble floor rose up to meet him. Surely it had to be a dream?