“那怎么可能？”Only after saying it, did Chantelle realise she spoke Chinese. “How is that possible?” She repeated. “Ares would… he would… never do anything as shameful as… that.” She could not bring herself to speak of Ares’ suicide.

The Consul’s long fingers left her chin. “I advise you accept this piece of news soon, for your Shadow Trials are soon, young Carstairs.”

“But… that means there aren’t any Herondales left!” Laressa blurted, and her voice shook.

“Yes. How unfortunate, considering many Herondales of different generations have done us proud. This gives Ares more shame, for in doing so, he killed off a prestigious bloodline. There will no longer be Herondales, and there bloodline will be heavily tarnished, considering he resorted to suicide.”

Chantelle looked up. “You don’t know Ares well. I do. Even if he wanted suicide--which I know he would never— he would be selfless enough to think of his bloodline.”

“And further it with you?” The Consul smirked, and oh, Chantelle wished so much to see how her white pearl butterfly knife would look on the Consul’s forehead.

“Are you implying that the two of them are more than parabatai? May I know if there is any evidence for that?” Zachary said steadily, and he might agree, but he had to protect Chantelle, considering she was his best friend’s parabatai.

“Keep quiet. That’s a whole other matter.” The Consul’s assistant barked. Chantelle remembered his name now. Gregory Verlac.

If possible, Chantelle’s heart broke even more. The Herondales, all gone.

Gone.

Chantelle knew the Carstairs were knit with the Herondales. Lots of parabatai forced the two families to be entwined, since the process of parabatai is “knitting two souls”.

“They can’t be gone.” Breathed Zachary. The Herondales had helped Zachary and his brother a lot. Unfortunately, Ares’ parents passed away a month after Zachary’s joining, but Zach had already treated them like family. “How about Ares’ cousins?”

“They are all missing. They always have been, Zachariah Blackthorn, or Zachary as you prefer. Have you never stopped to wonder why Ares has been addressed as ‘the last Herondale’?”

“They can’t be missing! I’ll go find them.” Zachary insisted, and the Consul laughed.

“That’s precisely what your brother said. He has left. Such emotions!”

“Says the man who has none.” I glared.

Consul Whitelaw chuckled. “What do we have here? Such rudeness in a day! Marissa Lightwood, is this how you manage the Younghunters when your husband is gone?”

“Wait, but when your parabatai… when that happens… like a cord that binds you to the person, snaps. That didn’t happen, and I was just hit with pain.”

An eyebrow quirked up. “You are blessed, do you know what that means? You’re special, that could have make that… not happen.” Consul Whitelaw said. He looked down at his scribe. “Well, I shall be off now.” With that, he swept out of the Institute.

As soon as he left, Chantelle took her own scribe and sent a message. She turned to Marissa with bloodshot eyes. “Please organize a meeting.”

***

The Shadowhunters of the Institute gathered, even Pablo, who returned an hour ago after Marissa’s emergency call. Chantelle stood up.

“The Consul is lying.” Chantelle said, and she waited for people to quarrel with her, or doubt her. But there were none. Andre was the first to speak.

“I second that. Ares would never do that.”

“Your parabatai rune didn’t bleed, too.” Pointed out Laressa, who had done a great deal to hide her tear-streaked face. After all, she grew up with Ares.

Chantelle tugged at the sleeve of her shirt. The parabatai rune was clear on her collarbone. “It’s faded, however.”

“I think something happened to Ares, but he didn’t die.” Zachary said.

“I think the Consul kidnapped him.” Andre downed a glass of water.

“But you and Ares saw your worst nightmares in that demon right? Could it have been enough to scare him till he committed suicide?”

“Ares acts as though he’s never heard of ‘fear’. If I survived mine, he will too.”

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you.” Laressa said sadly.

“Ares does have a fear strong enough to kill him.” Zachary added.

“And what is that?” Chantelle asked. She always assumed that if Ares had such a strong fear, she would know about it.

“She really has no idea.” Laressa merely replied, feeling sorry for the girl.

“Anyway, I’m going to find the other Herondales. They have to be somewhere.” Andre said, breaking the awkwardness that was slowly forming.

“The Younghunters shall do it with you.” Chantelle nodded. Since Ares wasn’t here, Chantelle would be taking over and would be in charge of the Shadowhunters in Los Angeles that had yet to take their Shadow Trials.

“Pablo and I can help.” Marissa got up.

“It’s fine, Marissa. I understand that you have the Institute to handle.” Chantelle tried her best to smile, but it failed to reach her eyes. She always had a sort of respect for Laressa’s sister. “Younghunters, gather at the attic.”

***

“How are we going to search for the Herondales?” Laressa asked, as the Younghunters settled down.

“I don’t know, but we have to. We have to preserve that bloodline.” Chantelle said, but she yet to lose faith that Ares was still alive.

“Maybe we can ask Magnus Bane.” Andre suggested.

Laressa quirked an eyebrow. “The High Warlock of Los Angeles?”

Chantelle nodded. “Magnus can help us. Ares always told me about how Magnus knew many generations of Herondales, like William, Edmund, and Jace. But we have to have something in exchange for his attention, considering he is a warlock of such a high status.”

“Well, you are the future Consul of the Nephilim.” Noted Andre, who examined a vase that imitated the pattern of the Mortal Cup, the cup that was used to create Nephilim.

Suddenly, Chantelle let out a bloodcurdling shriek.

“My… collar.” She cried, clutching the rune on her collarbone. She grabbed whatever was nearest to her and gagged. When parabatai were separated by death, the bond that they had—Chantelle had described it as a binding cord—would break. And Chantelle felt it now, the cord pulling extremely hard, and the pain was agonising. It was like her body was breaking into pieces. She yelled and screamed vulgarities as the pain went on. It was the first time Chantelle felt such pain, and if she was taken to a mundane hospital now, like the day of the car crash, she would rate the pain a ten on a scale of one to ten at Emergency. It wasn’t even because Chantelle was bad at tolerating pain—she barely showed such agony—but it was the kind of pain that make someone want to die. It was like being set on fire as blades were stuck on your body.

The cord was going to break, any further it pulled the cord would snap. “Ares… dying…” Her voice was so ragged no one understood her. Blood left her mouth and gushed from her rune. Was it always this painful when your parabatai died?

But even if she took the pain and multiplied it by a hundred, it paled in comparison to the pain in her heart.

“Get a Silent Brother!” Ordered Zach firmly.

But just when the cord was about to snap, it sprung back. The pain stopped so immediately it was almost painful itself. Chantelle then realised she had convulsed in agony.

Then, from her parabatai rune poured light. The light poured, and flashed a word so fast nobody but Chantelle could catch it. Simply because it was meant for her eyes and her eyes only.

29 days.

More light poured out, and she felt as though something—a soul—left her body. It all came together. The soul had entered in the library, and it left now.

“Who… who are you?” Chantelle asked into the darkness. The candlelight and lights had went out with the light from her rune. She knew it was there, but she couldn’t see or hear it. “Hello?”

Or maybe it wasn’t an ‘it’, it was a ‘he’.

“Hello?” She asked again, and her voice remained ragged, scars from the agony experienced previously. “I know you’re there.”

Very good. My first lesson to you, to see and hear him, you must know he is there. The voice in Chantelle’s mind spoke, slow and low-pitched.

“You’re there. Don’t be afraid…”

“I’m not afraid.” Only Chantelle heard the voice, the voice she would recognize anywhere. Now, she could see his silhouette. She focussed on the person, and finally she saw him. He was as pale as a ghost, literally.

“It can’t be.” Chantelle breathed.

It was Ares.