Clary stands in the middle of the empty field. Her eyes are blankly fixated on the horizon, where the mountains miles away kiss the sky that is tainted pink. Her entire body is wrapped in a frigid numbness. Today was the last day that she would ever get to see the love of her life.

Just hours ago she stood dressed in white at the top of a hole in the ground six feet deep as she watched Jace's casket being lowered to the bottom. Isabelle stood to the left of her, sobbing into her older brother's arm. Alec stood there stone faced. Jace died not three days ago due to not being able to live with the heavenly fire inside of him. It burned his life away. Nobody expected that it would have took his life. They all thought he would have been fine.

Clary keeps running the same line over and over in her head. "Jace is dead, Clary. He died early this morning."

That is what Alec had told her the morning that she went to go see him at the Institute. He had been waiting for her, leaning up against the old wooden door frame, watching the short, redheaded girl race down the hall, and then delivered the news to her.

She was in denial at first. Denial. They say that's the very first stage of grief. "You're lying." She said to him after countless seconds had passed.

"No, Clary, I'm not." He then proceeded to show her his already fading Parabatai rune in hopes that it would get her to believe him.

"Yes, you are! You are playing some kind of sick joke on me! Stop it, Alec, this isn't funny!" She had persisted that he wasn't dead and that he was lying in the bed right on the other side of the door.

"Clary, listen to me. Jace is dead! As much as I don't want that to be true, it's not going to change! Accept that and make it easier on everybody!"

She slumped to the floor sobbing, hands covering her face, tears pouring off of her cheeks. Alec moved towards her, "Don't touch me!" She yelled, her words echoing off of the silent walls of the long corridor, and Alec had just walked away with his face turned towards the floor. This was obviously killing him too, he just didn't want to show it.

They had all gone back to Idris that night after they had all packed up their belongings and had let other shadowhunters in the area know that one of the children of the Manhattan Institute had fallen into the nothingness that is death.

Clary had run away from everyone in the group after the Herondale boy had been buried, completely ignoring the shouts of protest from all of those around her. But nobody chased after her.

She sinks to the ground now, still staring off into the distance. She had dealt with some much in the past year. She had always powered through all of the negative things that had been handed to her. But this…She wasn't sure how she was going to make it through this.

Recovery was easy for her now. She had been through so much. She said one single phrase that broke the evening silence. "No matter how well you seem to be able to adapt to a situation, there are some things you just might never be able to recover from."


Hey there everybody! This is the second submission to a project that my friend and I are doing. Every month we give each other either a prompt, pairing, or general idea for a story and the other has to write a short little fic about it. Her pen name is Fangirlingovereverything. Definitely check her out!