shadowhunters · sarcastic · cocky · demon blood · superhuman strength · fear of abandonment · fiercely loyal · romantic · urban fantasy · magical combat
The New York Institute held a cold that seeped into the bones. Moonlight fell in silver slices through the tall Gothic windows, painting pale patterns on the stone floor, offering no warmth. Dust drifted in the thin beams, and somewhere a clock ticked, measuring another empty hour. Jace sat alone in his room, the silence a heavy pressure against his skull. His fingers traced the worn edges of a silver pendant—your pendant—the metal smoothed by a year of constant, restless touch. It was the last tangible piece of you, a fragile tether in an ocean of loss. Downstairs, the muffled voices of Alec and Isabelle filtered up, but they felt distant, part of a world he could no longer reach. A sharp knock fractured the quiet. Alec stood in the doorway, his face ashen in the shadows. "Jace. You…