CHAPTER 17: ECHOES OF A FALLEN STAR

The Institute felt empty.

Even though it was filled with Shadowhunters—Clave warriors who had arrived after the attack, healers tending to the wounded, and leaders demanding answers—there was an undeniable void.

Orion was gone.

Alec sat on the edge of his bed, gripping the mattress so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. His bow lay across his lap, forgotten. His hands were still stained with Orion's blood.

They had tried everything. The healers, Isabelle, Magnus—everyone had tried to counteract the poison. But it had spread too fast, eating away at Orion's strength until his heart simply… stopped.

Alec squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw tightening. He had seen plenty of people die. Shadowhunters lived knowing death was always close.

But this felt different.

It wasn't just because Orion was strong, or because his abilities had been unlike anything Alec had seen before. It was because, despite the distance Orion kept, he had been one of them.

And Alec had failed him.

A knock at the door barely registered in his mind before it creaked open.

"Alec."

Isabelle stood in the doorway. The sharp confidence she always carried was dulled, her expression marred with exhaustion and grief.

She didn't say anything else. She didn't have to.

Alec had always believed in purpose. In fighting for something greater than himself. But as he looked at Isabelle, at the silent weight in her eyes, he realized how heavy that purpose had become.

They had fought beside Orion. They had watched him collapse. They had tried to keep him alive.

And they had failed.

Alec took a breath, but it caught in his throat. The weight of it all pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.

For the first time in a long time, Alec let himself break.

---

The Silence Lingered.

Alec didn't know how long he sat there, how long the ache in his chest had been growing, how long Isabelle had been standing in his doorway, watching him drown in it.

"You should get some rest," she said quietly, stepping forward.

Alec let out a bitter breath. "I can't."

Isabelle sat beside him on the bed, their shoulders brushing. She was quiet for a long moment before she said, "Neither can I."

They sat there together, the silence stretching between them. The world outside their room kept moving—footsteps echoing down the halls, voices murmuring strategies and reports—but inside, there was only grief.

Isabelle reached over and took Alec's hand. It was warm, steady. A reminder that he wasn't alone.

Alec stared at their intertwined fingers, then at the blood still smeared across his palm. He swallowed hard. "I should have done more."

"We all should have," Isabelle whispered.

Her voice cracked, just slightly. Alec looked at her, and in that moment, she wasn't just a warrior. She wasn't a leader, or a strategist, or the fearless Shadowhunter she always tried to be.

She was his sister.

And she was breaking, too.

Alec turned his hand, gripping hers tightly. "We'll make it right," he said, his voice rough.

Isabelle met his eyes, her own shining with unshed tears. "How?"

Alec didn't have an answer.

But as he looked at the blood on his hands, at the bow resting across his lap, at the grief carving itself into Isabelle's face—he knew one thing for certain.

They couldn't let Orion's death be for nothing.

They wouldn't.

---

The Greenhouse Felt Too Quiet.

Clary ran her fingers along the petals of a wilting rose. It had once been vibrant, full of life. Now, it was fading, just like everything else Orion had left behind.

The ache in her chest deepened.

She had barely known him before this. Before the battles, before the late-night planning sessions, before the weight of war had tied them all together.

And yet, she felt his absence like a missing piece of herself.

Orion had saved them.

He had fought beside them, bled beside them, and in the end, he had died for them.

Clary sat in the greenhouse, staring blankly at the wilting flowers. Jace had once brought her here for her birthday, but now the place felt hollow.

The battle had ended. The city was still standing. But at what cost?

Simon sat across from her, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. He hadn't spoken much since that night. None of them had.

They had seen so much death already. But Orion's was… different.

He hadn't just been another random person he had been a friend and certainly not just another name on the list of the fallen.

He had been their childhood friend.

Clary clenched her fists. It shouldn't have happened.

He had been strong. He had so much left to do.

And yet, he was gone.

Simon exhaled sharply, breaking the silence. "Do you think he's at peace?"

Clary swallowed hard. "I don't know."

She wanted to believe that Orion had found somewhere to rest. That he was somewhere safe, somewhere where war and blood and sacrifice didn't exist.

But something about him had always felt unfinished—like he wasn't meant to simply fade away.

She wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

Simon shifted beside her. "We still have to find your mom."

Right. Jocelyn.

That was what Orion had been fighting for. It was why he had stayed at the Institute instead of leaving with her and Simon.

He had made a choice. He had believed in this fight.

Clary owed it to him to see this through.

She took a deep breath and stood up.

Do you think it ever gets easier?" Simon asked suddenly, his voice raw.

Clary didn't answer right away. She wasn't sure she had an answer.

So instead, she whispered, "I don't want it to."

Simon looked at her, brow furrowed.

"I don't want to forget," she clarified. "I don't want to get used to this—to losing people, to moving on like it never happened."

Simon exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah. Me neither."

They stood in silence, the weight of their unspoken thoughts pressing down on them.

Then, Clary squared her shoulders. "Come on. We have work to do."

Simon hesitated, then nodded.

As they walked out of the greenhouse, Clary cast one last glance at the flowers.

They weren't dead yet.

And neither was this fight.

"We're going to find her," she said firmly. "And we're going to end this."

Simon nodded, but his eyes were still clouded with grief.

Neither of them said it out loud, but they both knew.

Orion should have been here for this.

---

Isabelle's POV – The Whisper of a Ghost

The Institute's training room was empty.

Good.

Isabelle needed something to hit.

She lashed out with her whip, the golden cord slicing through the air before slamming into a training dummy. The first strike shattered its wooden frame. The second sent its broken limbs scattering across the floor. The third was unnecessary, but she did it anyway.

And still, it wasn't enough.

Nothing was enough.

Her hands shook as she coiled the whip back, her breath coming in sharp bursts. The silence pressed down on her, thick and suffocating. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from exertion but from the weight of everything she had failed to do.

She and Orion had fought back to back. He had been strong, calculating, fearless. He should have walked out of that fight with them.

Instead, he had died in her arms.

The memory burned—his body going still, his breath fading. The way she had called his name, willing him to hold on just a little longer, knowing deep down that it wouldn't matter.

A soft thud echoed in the room.

Isabelle turned to see Alec standing there, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but she could see the exhaustion in his posture, the way his shoulders sagged slightly under a weight neither of them had spoken about.

For a moment, neither of them said a word.

Then Alec sighed and stepped forward. "I keep thinking about what he said before the battle."

Isabelle frowned, wiping sweat from her forehead. "What do you mean?"

"He knew something was coming," Alec murmured. "He saw it before it happened."

A chill ran through Isabelle's spine.

Orion had always been one step ahead—he had read the battle like a book, knowing the demons weren't attacking randomly, knowing exactly where to strike and when.

Had he known he wasn't going to survive?

The thought made her stomach churn.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to push past the grief. "We need to focus on getting Jocelyn back."

Alec nodded. "I agree."

But neither of them moved.

Because no matter how much they tried to focus on what came next, the shadow of Orion's death loomed over them all.

—

Hours later, the Institute's war room was filled with voices.

Luke stood at the center, arms crossed, his presence commanding as always. His pack had gathered, along with the remaining Clave operatives. Everyone was waiting, tension thick in the air.

"We have a lead on Jocelyn," Luke announced.

Silence fell instantly.

Clary stepped forward, heart hammering. "Where is she?"

Luke's expression darkened. He pulled out a worn map, spreading it across the table. His finger landed on an isolated island near the coast.

"Renwick's Ruin," he said. "An abandoned hospital. Valentine is using it as a base."

Alec frowned, arms crossing. "How do we know she's there?"

Luke hesitated, then said, "One of my wolves tracked a Circle member bringing supplies to the building. They overheard something—someone referred to 'the sleeping one.' That has to be Jocelyn."

Clary's stomach clenched.

Her mother had been taken because of the Mortal Cup. Now, she was being held somewhere surrounded by Valentine's most loyal followers.

"We need a plan," Isabelle said, her voice sharp.

"The Clave is preparing a raid," Luke said. "But they're not doing it alone." His golden eyes flashed with determination. "My pack is going in too."

Clary nodded without hesitation. "We're coming with you."

Luke studied her, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed. "I figured you'd say that."

Alec leaned forward, scanning the map. "You said the hospital is abandoned. Why is Valentine keeping her there?"

Luke hesitated again.

"There's something else," he admitted. "The wolf who scouted the area… didn't just hear about Jocelyn."

The room went still.

"They sensed something else in the building," Luke said grimly. "A presence. Something powerful."

Alec's jaw tightened. "A demon?"

Luke shook his head. "Worse."

Clary's breath caught. "What do you mean 'worse'?"

Luke's gaze was heavy when it met hers. "They're calling it an avatar of Satan."

The words sent a chill through the room.

Isabelle's hands curled into fists. "That's impossible. The Clave would have sensed something like that."

Luke's expression remained grim. "Lilith sent it."

Silence fell like a heavy curtain.

Clary could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. Jocelyn wasn't just being guarded—she was being held under the watch of something ancient, something that didn't belong in this world.

Alec exhaled sharply. "Well, that complicates things."

Clary swallowed, steadying herself. Orion would have known what to do.

But Orion wasn't here.

And it was up to them to finish what he started.

---

Conclusion – The Road to Renwick's

They had a target.

They had a plan.

And they had one chance to get Jocelyn back.

But something lingered in the air, an unshakable feeling of unfinished business.

Orion was gone.

But his story wasn't over.

Not yet.

---