Disclaimer: I do not own TMI characters, just the plot line I am creating!
Music inspired for this chapter:When You Can't Sleep At Night by Of Mice & Men; My Understandings by Of Mice & Men
"Do I have to share my room?" an annoyed voice asks, probably the voice of Maryse's son, Alec, unless Isabelle had the voice of a boy which wasn't all that likely.
"No, Alec, the Institute has many unoccupied rooms meaning you won't have to share yours." Maryse's placating tone floated into Jonathan's ears as he stood outside of the Institute's library, luggage in hand and eyes glued to the pristinely maintained floor. It wasn't like he was purposely trying to listen to their conversations, but Maryse told him to stand by the door, so he moved in front of it, having no real desire to stand by the door rather than in front of it.
"Okay." Alec muttered.
"Mom?" this voice was distinctly that of a girl. Jonathan knew that Alec was slightly older than he while Isabelle was slightly younger, therefore he knew that was Isabelle talking, "Is it true that his father died?"
At that, Jonathan flinched.
Two days ago, though it seemed like it was all but a moment ago, Jonathan witnessed the murder of his father. No matter how hard he tried to suppress the vivid memories they continued to taunt him, invading his senses and threw him back into that day to relive the horror over and over again. Images rose up behind his eyelids and he visibly recoiled from them, pain searing through his veins.
Shouts echoed down the halls and chased them as his father pulled Jonathan through the darkly lit hallways. His father had pressed a witchlight into his palm and told him to keep it with him no matter what but not to call forth its light. In his other hand was dagger from his father's collection that hung over the chimney in the library. The blade was finely sharpened and gleamed as the moonlight bounced from the metal and casted lights across the tile as they ran; their pursuers dangerously close behind them.
"This way, Jonathan." His father hissed impatiently, seraph blade blazing from the hilt securely gripped in his hand.
Jonathan pivoted his foot and turned right into the adjacent hallway, running in front of his father. His ears pricked when the sound of splitting wood, most likely from the elaborate paintings that hung in the hallway walls were thrown down onto the tile, enveloped them. Michael pushed Jonathan forward in indication that he needed to run faster. Jonathan's legs burned in the familiar way they would when he trained. Adrenaline pumped heatedly through his veins and air rushed into and out of his lungs every second he ran, and every second he pushed himself further, faster, demanding his legs to continue on without fault.
Up ahead, Jonathan could see the outlining of the common room's windows meaning they were close to the entrance, or in this case, the exit-
"Round the corner and cut him off in the front!" A deep voice rumbled behind them before the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. They were going to surround them.
Jonathan's heart sped and he looked around wildly for a door even though he knew there was none, only the exit in front and the windows in the back of the hall they were currently in.
"Jonathan," His father whispered behind them, pulling him by the collar towards the staircase, "you must hide here." He lifted a secret door from behind the staircase and shoved Jonathan forward.
"No!" Jonathan protested, seeing there was not nearly enough space for him, let alone his father and him.
"Do not argue with me." Even now his father's voice was cold and demanding.
His father's hand clamped down on his shoulder and he felt the pressure strengthen there as he was pushed down into a laying position. He looked up, golden eyes meeting his father's cold ones and he fought the urge to cry that welled up within his throat. His father crouched in front of him, his head turning as the sound of footsteps intensified. With a lithe movement, his father pulled off the silver band from his finger, the one he always wore and gave it to Jonathan.
"Continue on our legacy, son." With that, he closed the compartment.
Jonathan clutched the ring as though it were the air he needed to live. He calmed his breathing and focused on listening; closing his eyes for the darkness he resided in was too much to bear. The darkness reminded him of where he was and why he was there. His surroundings grew eerily silent and, for some reason he could not explain, Jonathan felt hope bud to life within his chest. Perhaps his father found a save location to hide out as well, though it didn't seem likely. His father was not one for hiding.
With determination, Jonathan turned onto his stomach, making her to produce no noise then softly lifted his head up to look through the crack his father left for air to enter the box. In front of the stairs stood his father, determination blaring in his eyes while the seraph blade lit the area with light, enough light to show the two men who approached him.
"How dare you come into my home and chase me around like a pitiful rabbit." His father said with nerve wracking calmness in his voice.
"Wayland, we gave you a time and you didn't come through." One of the men said, stepping forward.
Jonathan clutched his dagger tighter wanting nothing more than to leap from the box and chase them men out.
"Now we have to go through with our warning," the other man said, running his seraph blade through his father's chest.
Jonathan clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from shouting out but in that second, he felt his heart shatter. The air was dense around him and he couldn't breathe, the world was spinning and he grew feint, dizzy even before the darkness tainted his vision and the last thing he was were the lifeless eyes of his father as he fell to the floor…
"Jonathan?" Marsye's voice felt like a fading dream; so far away, and too distant to reach.
Jonathan jumped back lightly, his mind being slammed back into the present and he stared up into Marsye's dark eyes, blinking for a second before wiping all emotion from his face.
"Hm?" Jonathan arched a lazy brow, eyes still on Marsye's.
"You can come in now." She said, matching his raised brow with her own and sighing when he didn't move.
Turning to move back into the library herself, Jonathan took a deep breath and exhaled. He needed to keep himself together. He needed to stop thinking about his father's death because doing so would get him nowhere. And even though he did not intend to find a replacement to his father within the walls of the Institute, he did intend to fulfill his father's last request.
Continue our legacy, son.
And that was exactly what he was going to do. He would train harder than anyone ever had, he would prove to be the best Shadowhunter the world had ever seen and he would never let anyone else die in front of his very eyes.
With that, Jonathan walked into the library and stopped in front of a boy, a girl, and a smaller boy: Alec, Isabelle, and Max Lightwood. These were the people he would spend the following years with; these were the people he would need to protect even if he didn't get close to them because it was now his obligation to do so.
"Alec, Isabelle," Marsye began, "this is-"
"Jace," Jonathan interrupted. He no longer wanted to be known as Jonathan for that would only bring the memories of his father fluttering back into his mind, "My name is Jace Wayland."