She stood in the hallway, her good, old friends standing beside her, still talking about the deal they just made. One was worried about his people, unsure how they'd react, the other was afraid that his queen would punish him for the deal he had made with the hunters.

But she was none of that. She was curious to what tomorrow might bring. Not only because she wanted to make a statement, she had done so for decades past, yet she also wanted to go on missions, be on the field again, smell the faint perfume of freshly cleaned weapons and sweat, the heavy air filled with dust and adrenaline kicking in her veins.

She missed those good old days that she fought alongside her people, and many more different races she knew God had never made. She hoped those days would return to her, like a child who got lost on its way to maturity, always finding itself back where it all started.

"We should search some information about the mission for tomorrow," Joseph interrupted her thoughts, her emerald eyes shifting from the blank space she had been staring towards, to the face of her friend, his white, porcelain skin and dark, brown eyes giving her a hint of concern.

"That's a good idea," she praised him. He smiled at her, when his chocolate eyes suddenly shifted from Dèlia to whoever was standing behind her. Farley above her shoulders, with a proud look on his already snow-white face, stood Alexander Lightwood, the one trying to make a chance in humanity, stiff as it was.

But just because it was stiff, and not really wanting to move, didn't mean he shouldn't be trying, that they shouldn't be trying. No, they weren't going to force their way in, yet they weren't going to play nice to the enemy of the race that hosted them.

"It is. I could really use some help, actually," he said in an almost apologetic way, not wanting to disturb their conversation, though after seeing Joseph look at him like a friend, he couldn't resist coming closer into the group of Downworlders.

He never understood why people thought so less of them. The oldest Lightwood actually thought them to be great fun. They were more loosened up, able to make a fun night even after anything that just happened and they lived their life the fullest, every minute, whenever they could.

Sometimes he even envied them.

"That's settled then!" She smiled towards Alec, the man she had saved, almost losing herself in the progress. She loved the glance in his vivid eyes reminding her every second that he was worth it, that she had done the right thing. No one was ever changing her mind on that topic.

"We will help. I could search for information by Lilith's children. Joseph could ask his clan, in that way we could recover data unknown to the shadowhunters," Rafe suggested, his purple orbs given his best friend a stare filled with hope and expectance, which the brown-eyed boy always fulfilled.

"Exactly," Joseph his brown irises gave Dèlia a look that plead her to agree with it. She was always so quick to say no, to refuse the help she was given because she thought about everyone as a princess who couldn't break his daily routine for one day.

"But the sun is coming up," she said.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed yet. I mean, why would I, it's not like I'd burn in the sun, right?" Joseph joked. He was always the one to lift the mood, just as herself. Whenever one of them was angry and there would be absolute silence for more than a minute, the other would make horrible jokes and sometimes even have a whole conversation by himself. For her, that's what friends are for.

"Jo!" she laughed. Alec flashed a smile too, his perfect teeth exposed. Normally, one would be annoyed by how simple he made being beautiful look, but they had seen many perfect people come and go, they expected him to do the same, except the warlock, knowing better than to ignore a good man.

She suddenly noticed there was a faint yellow line on the Nephilim's face, making his blue eyes stand out as if they were electrical, his pale skin turning the faintest shade of yellow. Before she could do anything, the streak of sunlight that fought its way through the windows, which were meant to be darkened so no light would penetrate, stroke her face.

She hissed in surprise, the light burning her skin, as if oil was spattered all across her face, leaving a small cut on her cheek, though she knew it wouldn't leave a mark, as it would fade while time passed her by, and caught up. But the second she shrieked and her voice trembled, she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist.

They had this tight grip around her as though they were never going to let her go, in a good way, as if they would always be there to hold her tight and protect her from anything and anyone able to hurt her, even the slightest breeze or smallest stroke of fire, they would be there to push themselves before her and make sure she is okay.

She couldn't help but feel the slightest bit honoured, when she was saved. There had been centuries in which people wanted to burn her alive, put her head on a stick and parade through the streets, kill her in her sleep, crush her hopes and dreams. She never guessed that being saved was this simple.

The curse which those above had given her, showed, her black, lifeless eyes exposed by the sudden change of area, not even a single hint of emerald in them, ready to scare anyone away who would be strong enough to fight her or stupid enough to be the first to strike a punch, as that was what people did to her.

They tied her up, broke her bones and mind, just because they were afraid. So very, very afraid. And she, of all people, knew what fear did to people. It turned them into monsters, horrible, horrible monsters who'd be the lead-character in every frightening bed story, the fear of every adult and the god of those who wished to perish in the fire they created.