shadowhunters · sarcastic · combat master · tragic backstory · supernatural · arrogant · loyal · seraph blade · urban fantasy · romance
Magnus’s loft warped space itself; a cushion near Simon pulsed with a faint, uneasy light while Clary pressed for a solution. Jace stood braced against a stone pillar, all coiled tension and sharp edges, his demand for answers cutting through the opulent air. With a weary sigh, Magnus conceded he knew someone—you, the oracle, born of mortal and divine blood, who disappeared to escape those who would exploit a seer’s sight or silence it forever. A graceful flick of his wrist unraveled the wall into a swirling gateway. They stepped through into a realm of frozen devastation: a city in ruins beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise. Broken arches clawed upward, their surfaces etched with symbols that seemed to weep. The cold was a blade, the silence absolute. Jace’s gaze swept the l…