Isabelle Lightwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seveninchmotto) wrote2015-02-11 09:14 pm
seveninchmotto) wrote2015-02-11 09:14 pm
From and to New York, Wednesday Morning to Afternoon
It had been a long night of poring through books of Magnus's so old that their pages were as thin as onionskin, while Simon handled getting coffee and food. Again, it had been weird but good for Isabelle to have Flick by her side through all of it.
But he wasn't here now, even if it wasn't by his own decision. Once they had finally settled on a place for the summoning – Luke's farm, a remote enough location – they'd all gotten a couple of hours of sleep, and then Isabelle had sent him off. She'd still been in the process of arguing with Magnus about whether she should come. She'd had absolutely no give in the issue of whether Flick could. He couldn't, end of story.
So he wasn't here now. It was just the four of them – Isabelle, Alec, Magnus, and Simon – who'd crammed themselves in Jordan's van and driven out to Three Arrows Farm. It was beautifull. There was a lake, and above it low mountains ringing the area.
And they were by the lake, and Magnus was standing inside a circle, which was glowing with a faint white light. It was really two circles, a slightly smaller one inside a larger one, and in the space between the circles, dozens of symbols had been scrawled. They, too, glowed, a steely blue-white like the reflection off the lake. They were ready. This was it. Simon moved forward, over the border of the circle, into its center, beside Magnus. "Here." Magnus shoved the book into his hands. The paper was thin, covered in scrawled runes, but Magnus had taped a printout of the words, spelled out phonetically, over the incantation itself. "Just sound these out," he muttered. "It should work."
Holding the book against his chest, Simon slipped off the gold ring that had connected him to Clary, and handed it to Magnus. "If it doesn't," he said, wondering where his strange calm was coming from, "someone should take this. It's our only link to Clary, and what she knows."
Magnus nodded and slid the ring onto his finger. "Ready, Simon?"
"Hey," said Simon. "You remembered my name."
Magnus shot him an unreadable glance from his green-gold eyes, and stepped outside the circle. Alec joined him on one side, Isabelle on the other.
Simon cleared his throat. "I guess you guys had better go."
But they didn't move. Not yet.
"Thanks for coming here with me," Simon continued after a moment. He looked at Alec first. "Um, Alec. I always liked you better than I liked Jace." He turned to Magnus. "Magnus, I wish I had the nerve to wear the kind of pants you do."
And last, Isabelle. She wasn't sure what she felt right now. "Isabelle," Simon said. He looked at her. Then he moved back, toward the center of the circle, bowing his head. "Good-bye, I guess."
They watched him for a moment, then turned, retreating up the path through the orchard, back toward the house. Magnus had told them not to stay too close. So they wouldn't. But they would watch. And they wathed Simon with the book, with the lake before him and its surface as untroubled as glass.
And then it exploded.
The center of the lake turned gold, then black. Water rushed away from it, pouring toward the edges of the lake, flying into the air until it was a ring of water, like a circle of unbroken waterfalls, all shimmering and pouring upward and downward, the effect bizarre and strangely beautiful. The sky went black — all the blue of it gone, eaten up in a sudden shock of darkness and clamoring gray clouds. The water splashed back down into the lake, and from its center, the greatest density of its silver, rose a figure all of gold. A pair of wings unfolded. They seemed to span the sky. They were vast, white and gold and silver, the feathers of them set with burning golden eyes. The eyes regarded Simon with scorn. Then the wings lifted, scattering clouds before them, and folded back, and a man — or the shape of a man, towering and many stories tall, unfolded itself and rose.
Isabelle and the others were far away, but even they could feel waves of power, of something more than power—of the elemental force of the universe — seemed to roll off the Angel as he rose to his full height. It was the most amazing thing Isabelle had ever seen. It was also the most terrifying thing.
They could not hear the conversation that took place, but they saw how the Angel moved. Raziel seemed to draw the sky with him like a cloth, in swirls of black and silver and cloud-white. The air around him shuddered. Something flashed overhead like the glint of light off metal, and an object struck the sand and rocks beside Simon. A sword. Simon bent down and picked it up. A moment later the beam of light shining down from the clouds intensified, striking the sword like a whip of fire, surrounding Simon in a cage of brilliant light and heat. He collapsed on the sand as the angel vanished, the black clouds beginning to roll back.
They rushed down to him. He was alive. He had the sword. It was the Archangel Michael's sword. It was called Glorious. He'd done it.
And the angel had taken the Mark of Cain away from him, in exchange for the sword.
-----
If anything had been right in the world, the ride back would have been a peaceful one. But no. Suddenly, Simon was contacted by Clary through their telepathic rings. They pulled over so he could relay them the information, none of it good. Sebastian had a second Mortal Cup. He planned to raise Lilith and create an army of dark Shadowhunters — ones with the same power as the Nephilim but allied to the demon world. Sebastian had mentioned something called the Seventh Sacred Site, a sort of doorway, and demons could be summoned through it. He was going to ressurrect Lilith. He wanted war, a total war with the Shadowhunters. And he had about forty or fifty Nephilim ready to follow him.
"What's this Seventh Sacred Site business?" Alec asked. "I know about the seven wonders of the world, but seven sacred sites?"
"They're more in the interest of warlocks than Nephilim," said Magnus. "Each is a place where ley lines converge, forming a matrix — a sort of net within which magical spells are amplified. The seventh is a stone tomb in Ireland, at Poll na mBrón; the name means ‘the cavern of sorrows.' It's in a very bleak, uninhabited area called the Burren. A good place to raise a demon, if it's a big one." He tugged at a spike of hair. "This is bad. Really bad."
"You think he could do it? Make dark Shadowhunters?" Simon asked.
"Everything has an alliance, Simon. The alliance of the Nephilim is seraphic, but if it were demonic, they'd still be as strong, as powerful as they are now. But they would be dedicated to the eradication of mankind instead of its salvation."
"We have to get there," Isabelle said. "We have to stop them."
"'Him,' you mean," said Alec. "We have to stop him. Sebastian."
"Jace is his ally now. You have to accept that, Alec," Magnus said. A light misty drizzle had begun to fall. The drops gleamed like gold in the headlights' glow. "Ireland is five hours ahead. They're doing the ceremony at midnight. It's five o'clock here. We have an hour and a half — two hours, at most — to stop them."
"Then, we shouldn't be waiting. We should be going," Isabelle said, a tinge of panic in her voice. "If we're going to stop him —"
"Iz, there are only four of us," Alec said. "We don't even know what kind of numbers we're up against—"
Simon glanced at Magnus, who was watching Alec and Isabelle argue with a peculiarly detached expression. "Magnus," Simon said. "Why didn't we just Portal to the farm? You Portaled half of Idris to Brocelind Plain."
"I wanted to give you enough time to change your mind," said Magnus, not taking his eyes off his boyfriend.
"But we can Portal from here," Simon said. "I mean, you could do that for us."
"Yeah," Magnus said. "But like Alec says, we don't know what we're up against in terms of numbers. I'm a pretty powerful warlock, but Jonathan Morgenstern is no ordinary Shadowhunter, and neither is Jace, for that matter. And if they succeed in raising Lilith — she'll be a lot weaker than she was, but she's still Lilith."
"But she's dead," said Isabelle, knowing it was a foolish thing to say even as she said it. "Simon killed her."
"Greater Demons don't die," said Magnus. "Simon... scattered her between worlds. It will take a long time for her to re-form and she will be weak for years. Unless Sebastian calls her up again." He pushed a hand through his wet, spiked hair.
"We have the sword," Isabelle said. "We can take out Sebastian. We have Magnus, and Simon —"
"We don't even know if the sword will work," said Alec. "And it won't do us much good if we can't get to Sebastian. And Simon isn't even Mr. Indestructible anymore. He can be killed just like the rest of us."
They all looked at Simon. "We have to try," he said. "Look — we don't know how many are going to be there, no. We have a little time. Not a lot, but enough — if we Portal — to grab some reinforcements."
"Reinforcements from where?" Isabelle demanded.
"I'll go to Maia and Jordan back at the apartment," said Simon, his mind quickly ticking over possibilities. "See if Jordan can get any assistance from the Praetor Lupus. Magnus, go to the downtown police station, see about enlisting whatever members of the pack are around. Isabelle and Alec —"
"You're splitting us up?" Isabelle demanded, her voice rising. "What about fire-messages, or —"
"No one's going to trust a fire-message about something like this," said Magnus. "And besides, fire-messages are for Shadowhunters. Do you really want to communicate this information to the Clave via fire-message instead of going to the Institute yourself?"
"Fine." Isabelle stalked around to the side of the car. She yanked the door open, but didn't get inside: instead she reached in, and drew out Glorious. It shone in the dim light like a bolt of dark lightning, the words carved on the blade flickering in the car light: Quis ut Deus? The rain was starting to paste Isabelle's black hair to her neck. She looked formidable as she walked back to rejoin the group. "Then we leave the car here. We split up, but we meet back at the Institute in an hour. That's when we leave, whoever we have with us." She met each of her companion's eyes, one by one, daring them to challenge her. "Simon, take this." She held out Glorious to him, hilt-forward.
"Me?" Simon was startled. "But I don't — I haven't really used a sword before."
"You called it down," Isabelle said, her dark eyes glossy in the rain. "The Angel gave it to you, Simon, and you will be the one who carries it."
[ooc: NFB, NFI, summarized from CoLS. Part one of two. ALMOST DONE SPAMMING Y'ALL.]
But he wasn't here now, even if it wasn't by his own decision. Once they had finally settled on a place for the summoning – Luke's farm, a remote enough location – they'd all gotten a couple of hours of sleep, and then Isabelle had sent him off. She'd still been in the process of arguing with Magnus about whether she should come. She'd had absolutely no give in the issue of whether Flick could. He couldn't, end of story.
So he wasn't here now. It was just the four of them – Isabelle, Alec, Magnus, and Simon – who'd crammed themselves in Jordan's van and driven out to Three Arrows Farm. It was beautifull. There was a lake, and above it low mountains ringing the area.
And they were by the lake, and Magnus was standing inside a circle, which was glowing with a faint white light. It was really two circles, a slightly smaller one inside a larger one, and in the space between the circles, dozens of symbols had been scrawled. They, too, glowed, a steely blue-white like the reflection off the lake. They were ready. This was it. Simon moved forward, over the border of the circle, into its center, beside Magnus. "Here." Magnus shoved the book into his hands. The paper was thin, covered in scrawled runes, but Magnus had taped a printout of the words, spelled out phonetically, over the incantation itself. "Just sound these out," he muttered. "It should work."
Holding the book against his chest, Simon slipped off the gold ring that had connected him to Clary, and handed it to Magnus. "If it doesn't," he said, wondering where his strange calm was coming from, "someone should take this. It's our only link to Clary, and what she knows."
Magnus nodded and slid the ring onto his finger. "Ready, Simon?"
"Hey," said Simon. "You remembered my name."
Magnus shot him an unreadable glance from his green-gold eyes, and stepped outside the circle. Alec joined him on one side, Isabelle on the other.
Simon cleared his throat. "I guess you guys had better go."
But they didn't move. Not yet.
"Thanks for coming here with me," Simon continued after a moment. He looked at Alec first. "Um, Alec. I always liked you better than I liked Jace." He turned to Magnus. "Magnus, I wish I had the nerve to wear the kind of pants you do."
And last, Isabelle. She wasn't sure what she felt right now. "Isabelle," Simon said. He looked at her. Then he moved back, toward the center of the circle, bowing his head. "Good-bye, I guess."
They watched him for a moment, then turned, retreating up the path through the orchard, back toward the house. Magnus had told them not to stay too close. So they wouldn't. But they would watch. And they wathed Simon with the book, with the lake before him and its surface as untroubled as glass.
And then it exploded.
The center of the lake turned gold, then black. Water rushed away from it, pouring toward the edges of the lake, flying into the air until it was a ring of water, like a circle of unbroken waterfalls, all shimmering and pouring upward and downward, the effect bizarre and strangely beautiful. The sky went black — all the blue of it gone, eaten up in a sudden shock of darkness and clamoring gray clouds. The water splashed back down into the lake, and from its center, the greatest density of its silver, rose a figure all of gold. A pair of wings unfolded. They seemed to span the sky. They were vast, white and gold and silver, the feathers of them set with burning golden eyes. The eyes regarded Simon with scorn. Then the wings lifted, scattering clouds before them, and folded back, and a man — or the shape of a man, towering and many stories tall, unfolded itself and rose.
Isabelle and the others were far away, but even they could feel waves of power, of something more than power—of the elemental force of the universe — seemed to roll off the Angel as he rose to his full height. It was the most amazing thing Isabelle had ever seen. It was also the most terrifying thing.
They could not hear the conversation that took place, but they saw how the Angel moved. Raziel seemed to draw the sky with him like a cloth, in swirls of black and silver and cloud-white. The air around him shuddered. Something flashed overhead like the glint of light off metal, and an object struck the sand and rocks beside Simon. A sword. Simon bent down and picked it up. A moment later the beam of light shining down from the clouds intensified, striking the sword like a whip of fire, surrounding Simon in a cage of brilliant light and heat. He collapsed on the sand as the angel vanished, the black clouds beginning to roll back.
They rushed down to him. He was alive. He had the sword. It was the Archangel Michael's sword. It was called Glorious. He'd done it.
And the angel had taken the Mark of Cain away from him, in exchange for the sword.
If anything had been right in the world, the ride back would have been a peaceful one. But no. Suddenly, Simon was contacted by Clary through their telepathic rings. They pulled over so he could relay them the information, none of it good. Sebastian had a second Mortal Cup. He planned to raise Lilith and create an army of dark Shadowhunters — ones with the same power as the Nephilim but allied to the demon world. Sebastian had mentioned something called the Seventh Sacred Site, a sort of doorway, and demons could be summoned through it. He was going to ressurrect Lilith. He wanted war, a total war with the Shadowhunters. And he had about forty or fifty Nephilim ready to follow him.
"What's this Seventh Sacred Site business?" Alec asked. "I know about the seven wonders of the world, but seven sacred sites?"
"They're more in the interest of warlocks than Nephilim," said Magnus. "Each is a place where ley lines converge, forming a matrix — a sort of net within which magical spells are amplified. The seventh is a stone tomb in Ireland, at Poll na mBrón; the name means ‘the cavern of sorrows.' It's in a very bleak, uninhabited area called the Burren. A good place to raise a demon, if it's a big one." He tugged at a spike of hair. "This is bad. Really bad."
"You think he could do it? Make dark Shadowhunters?" Simon asked.
"Everything has an alliance, Simon. The alliance of the Nephilim is seraphic, but if it were demonic, they'd still be as strong, as powerful as they are now. But they would be dedicated to the eradication of mankind instead of its salvation."
"We have to get there," Isabelle said. "We have to stop them."
"'Him,' you mean," said Alec. "We have to stop him. Sebastian."
"Jace is his ally now. You have to accept that, Alec," Magnus said. A light misty drizzle had begun to fall. The drops gleamed like gold in the headlights' glow. "Ireland is five hours ahead. They're doing the ceremony at midnight. It's five o'clock here. We have an hour and a half — two hours, at most — to stop them."
"Then, we shouldn't be waiting. We should be going," Isabelle said, a tinge of panic in her voice. "If we're going to stop him —"
"Iz, there are only four of us," Alec said. "We don't even know what kind of numbers we're up against—"
Simon glanced at Magnus, who was watching Alec and Isabelle argue with a peculiarly detached expression. "Magnus," Simon said. "Why didn't we just Portal to the farm? You Portaled half of Idris to Brocelind Plain."
"I wanted to give you enough time to change your mind," said Magnus, not taking his eyes off his boyfriend.
"But we can Portal from here," Simon said. "I mean, you could do that for us."
"Yeah," Magnus said. "But like Alec says, we don't know what we're up against in terms of numbers. I'm a pretty powerful warlock, but Jonathan Morgenstern is no ordinary Shadowhunter, and neither is Jace, for that matter. And if they succeed in raising Lilith — she'll be a lot weaker than she was, but she's still Lilith."
"But she's dead," said Isabelle, knowing it was a foolish thing to say even as she said it. "Simon killed her."
"Greater Demons don't die," said Magnus. "Simon... scattered her between worlds. It will take a long time for her to re-form and she will be weak for years. Unless Sebastian calls her up again." He pushed a hand through his wet, spiked hair.
"We have the sword," Isabelle said. "We can take out Sebastian. We have Magnus, and Simon —"
"We don't even know if the sword will work," said Alec. "And it won't do us much good if we can't get to Sebastian. And Simon isn't even Mr. Indestructible anymore. He can be killed just like the rest of us."
They all looked at Simon. "We have to try," he said. "Look — we don't know how many are going to be there, no. We have a little time. Not a lot, but enough — if we Portal — to grab some reinforcements."
"Reinforcements from where?" Isabelle demanded.
"I'll go to Maia and Jordan back at the apartment," said Simon, his mind quickly ticking over possibilities. "See if Jordan can get any assistance from the Praetor Lupus. Magnus, go to the downtown police station, see about enlisting whatever members of the pack are around. Isabelle and Alec —"
"You're splitting us up?" Isabelle demanded, her voice rising. "What about fire-messages, or —"
"No one's going to trust a fire-message about something like this," said Magnus. "And besides, fire-messages are for Shadowhunters. Do you really want to communicate this information to the Clave via fire-message instead of going to the Institute yourself?"
"Fine." Isabelle stalked around to the side of the car. She yanked the door open, but didn't get inside: instead she reached in, and drew out Glorious. It shone in the dim light like a bolt of dark lightning, the words carved on the blade flickering in the car light: Quis ut Deus? The rain was starting to paste Isabelle's black hair to her neck. She looked formidable as she walked back to rejoin the group. "Then we leave the car here. We split up, but we meet back at the Institute in an hour. That's when we leave, whoever we have with us." She met each of her companion's eyes, one by one, daring them to challenge her. "Simon, take this." She held out Glorious to him, hilt-forward.
"Me?" Simon was startled. "But I don't — I haven't really used a sword before."
"You called it down," Isabelle said, her dark eyes glossy in the rain. "The Angel gave it to you, Simon, and you will be the one who carries it."
[ooc: NFB, NFI, summarized from CoLS. Part one of two. ALMOST DONE SPAMMING Y'ALL.]