Nico sat silently on his blanket and watched Golden Boy intently, who kindly didn't return his stare. He was surprised that his story had worked, but he had a sinking feeling that it wasn't a unanimous deception. Jace lounged comfortably against one of the pillars a small distance from Nico, messing with something in his hand. A ring?

"So, do you have any questions for me?" Jace asked, looking up at Nico.

Nico adverted his eyes and shook his head quickly, still acting.

"Ok then..." Jace frowned, "Well, how did you use that magic?"

"Instinct?" Nico offered.

Jace seemed dissatisfied with the answer but didn't ask another question. After some moments of thought, he snapped his fingers in realization and bolted out of the room in a half-sprint.

Nico straightened up when the blonde left, confused. Shadowhunters were strange.

Jace returned quickly, and tossed something through the barrier, almost making Nico jump to attack. It phased through the barrier without issue and thopped to the ground. It was a book. Nico grabbed it and tried to make out the title... then glanced back up at Jace who looked proud of himself.

"Um... I can't read English..." Nico said, careful to modify his tone.

"Seriously..." Jace sighed, "What languages can you read?"

"... Latin?" Nico responded, and earned a confused look

"Seriously?" Jace repeated, "You can't read English, but you can read Latin?"

Nico slowly nodded. With a groan, Jace sprung to his feet, from where he had sat down again. The motion was graceful, and Nico had to remind himself that this boy was dangerous and different. He walked out of the room this time, a lot less enthusiastically. Nico flipped through the book Jace had handed him for pictures. Nico didn't want to be obvious and ask for a book in Ancient Greek, so latin was his next best bet. It was a bit harder to read through, but he would make do.

Nico stopped on one that displayed an angel rising from a lake, a chalice, and sword in hand. He couldn't make out the description but analyzed the picture, it seemed important. In the corner, there was the image of a man, who the sword and cup were being handed to. Nico wondered who this man was and why he was significant enough to be included in the picture.

Jace returned with another book and tossed it into Nico's area just like the first, however with much less enthusiasm.

Nico abandoned the English book for the one in Latin. The Shadowhunters' Codex.

"That book contains the basic knowledge about the Shadow World. It should help you understand what you've gotten yourself into." Jace said with a wave of his hand.

"Thanks," Nico responded and flipped open the book to read.

Nico didn't acknowledge Jace anymore while he read, trying to gain as much information on his current situation and this new world that had revealed itself to him. Luckily, the lighting in the training room was bright enough for him to read by. He was tired, and his eyes were sore from staying up all day, but he needed information, he could sleep later. He could handle going without sleep for a day, or until he got the chance to sleep comfortably in his own cabin or next to Will.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clary stared up at the ceiling of her room, shifting uncomfortably under the sheets. Despite training, shopping with Simon, and even doing a quick patrol, she couldn't fall asleep. Sure, she was physically tired, but her mind wouldn't settle down enough for her to rest. She was too tired to do something but too restless to do nothing.

Clary knew they had a suspicious person under lockdown in the training room at the moment. Jace insisted he was dangerous, but Simon had also said he was just a kid, prompting a reminder of what their group had gotten into when they were around the boy's age. It was something about ghosts, undead, dark magic, and a few other things that may or may not be related.

Clary had also been having dreams again, similar and different than those she used to have during and before the Dark War. These weren't as cryptic in nature as her other ones had been, but there was still a cipher she couldn't figure out. They showed her people and places she was sure she'd never seen or met, and sometimes Clary couldn't tell if they were related to each other or not.

There was a girl in one of her dreams who looked suspiciously like her, painting alone in a cave, unnoticing to her presence. In another, a boy was riding a golden dragon, a woman riding behind him, the sky lit up in the colors of fire. Clary then stood on a beach looking over Long Island Sound, but the sound of a fire burning somewhere behind her was deafening. However, last night's dream had been the strangest, but the closest to the ones from the Dark War.

Clary remembered standing in a field filled with white flowers, but the sky was a dull gray and the air was stagnant. Every once and a while a bare tree would accent the landscape. But she wasn't alone, a boy was wandering the fields a blank look on his face. Where he would walk the flowers would die, but the most apparent thing about this boy that Clary could clearly remember was the void black wings on his back. He carried them like a burden and watched the flowers die around him almost sorrowfully. Then, he would notice her, and the dream would fall apart.

Slowly, Clary pulled herself from the bed, and to a small desk that sat in her room. Since she had moved into the Institute, she'd brought some of her art stuff there, but it wasn't nearly as much as she used to have. Being a shadowhunter had... almost drained her inspiration to draw, and she mourned the lost pastime. She pulled out some charcoal pencils and opened to a fresh page in a sketchbook.

Slowly, an image began to blossom. The boy, the one with the black wings, was caught up in a cadence, a violin under his chin. On the ground below him, things rose from the ground, skeletons and beings undead. Clary let the vision carry her hand until the image was fully displayed in front of her, the stark blackness of his hair and the wings on his back marked by the pieces of charcoal that matted the paper, almost consuming the texture of the image.

The energy that was keeping Clary awake suddenly sapped from her mind, and she stumbled back into bed, falling asleep almost instantly, wondering what any of it meant.

In her dreams, she stood over a pit so deep she couldn't see the bottom, the void beckoning her closer. Creatures made of shadow clawed away at the edge of the darkness, nearly impossibly to make out, screeching in rage, hunger, and sheer terror. Clary had to fight the urge to both run away and throw herself into the pit, leaving her frozen to her spot, unable to do anything.

Clary turned her head to the side when another person approached the pit, staring into it just as she had. He had hair so close to white and just barely managed to be seen under his midnight cloak. He wore a large silver cross around his neck, and a large sword was at his side. The blade was so familiar to her at that moment, but she couldn't exactly recall why at the moment.

The man called out into the pit, but Clary couldn't make out the words.

A voice then called out from the darkness in response, overwhelming Clary in every way she'd never thought of. It incited such instinctual reaction of pure terror and danger, she wanted to scream, cry out, flee, but she couldn't move, imprisoned by her terror.

"We have a deal, descendent of the Morning Star."

Clary woke up with a scream of bloody murder, echoing off of the cold Institute walls, loud enough to wake even the dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nico had fallen asleep after a few hours of reading, probably around 6 am. He had learned a tremendous deal about his current situation thanks to the book, but his ADHD and exhaustion refused to let him continue, the effects of opening a gate to Asphodel finally taking a toll on him. Even with his powers having been enhanced, something like that was hard on him, but it would've been impossible to do on command before, let along control its destination.

Nico immediately knew he was asleep, and sought out Will. He pulled the blonde out of his dreams of memories, about the postwar injuries particularly. The damage the camps combined had received was awful, some injuries were fatal to the point where the death toll was still climbing days after the final battle had ended.

Will blinked for a few seconds as he took in his new surroundings, Nico's cabin. Nico immediately gave Will a hug, despite his confusion.

"Neeks?" Will asked confused.

"Yeah, it's me." Nico confirmed.

Will frowned, "You snuck out of camp tonight again, didn't you."

Nico adverted his eyes, messing with the hem of his jacket, "Maybe... and I seem to have gotten myself into a... uh... situation."

Will groaned loudly, "Nico!" clearly upset.

"... yeah." Nico confirmed.

Will dragged a hand down his face, "Do... you need any help? I know you've been "healed" and all but I'm still worried about you and overuse of your powers." Will complained, "I don't want you to get hurt."

Nico smiled at his boyfriend's way of showing affection, "I'll be fine. It's a bit dicey, but I just wanted to tell you I might be late for breakfast tomorrow," Nico said, then added, "if I manage to get away, that is."

"Wait, wait, wait. You're captured?! By who?!" Will exclaimed.

Nico thought for a moment, "It's... kind of hard to explain..." he wondered if he should tell Will about the Shadow World he had encountered, but then thought against it. Maybe after he figured everything out for himself?

Will looked at him worriedly, "You're not hurt, are you! Did they hurt you?!"

Nico shook his head, "I'm fine, and they don't seem to want to hurt me... I'll be fine, I promise."

Will gave him a skeptical look, "If you're not home by tomorrow evening, I'm coming for you."

Their surroundings started to shudder, and Nico gave a smile to Will. Will looked around in a panic.

"I'm being woken up, I'll see you soon, Will." Nico said.

"Goodbye, my sunshine."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valentine Morgenstern found himself at a crossroads. A dream had come to him during the night, of a being so old he outdated the angels themselves.

He couldn't trust anyone to help him with his endeavors. The Nephilim were corrupt and lost, and he would never stoop to the level of working with mundanes, but then this being came to him, one of infinite darkness and power, offering aid for a price. He told him about the existence of another group of beings, one of myths and legends from the times before Johnathan Shadowhunter, tales of gods and their descendants, for whom this being expressed his distaste. The Greek and Roman Gods were real.

Initially, Valentine had no particular opinion on the matter, but then the being offered him a deal, power in return for something he'd lost, or rather, had fled from him. It was a good deal, one untainted by demonic greed or the selfishness of the Angels. As a sign of good faith, the being had returned his precious sword to him, Phaesphoros, the only blade that could help him complete his destiny, and it had been blessed with the ability to slay even gods by this being of darkness. When he awoke, the blade had been there, sitting beside him, gleaming a dark light now mixed with its golden glow. His "Light-bringer" had been returned to him.

The being promised him the power to complete his task, power to contest that of an archangel, and in return, Valentine was to bring him three people who were part of this new world and deliver them to Him. He pondered on it throughout the day until dusk came upon him again. He had no more allies in this world, none who would follow him and follow his every word without question. But he was a crusader of the Lord, risen from hell to do God's work and purify this poisoned world, but he knew he couldn't do this alone.

When darkness consumed him that night, Valentine found himself standing at the edge of a pit, beings of darkness clawing at its edges. But they were not demons, he could tell.

"I accept your offer." Valentine called out.

When he woke up the next morning, Valentine was consumed by incredible pain, something burning through his veins and muscles, unlike anything he'd ever done to himself. He didn't have a stele to use any iratzes to alleviate the pain or whatever damage had been done to him. But even though the pain, Valentine felt stronger and more powerful than he ever did during his first life.

He was now a blessed, dark crusader, and all he needed to give in return for the ability to complete his goals were the lives of three demigods.

___________________A/N___________________

So here are the first five chapters of this story. Based on community response, I'll update accordingly. That can either be weekly, or when I have the next five chapters finished, or when I finish the whole book, or even immediately after I've finished a chapter. I have a few other stories that I'm going to edit and post the first five chapters of, so go check those out if you're interested.

I'd like your opinions on the book so far, so ya know, comment and vote and stuff.

-TrumpetsandDragons.