Scene: The New York Institute – War Room The table is cluttered with maps of New York, fragments of ancient texts, and rune sketches. Moonlight filters through the high windows, casting long shadows across the room. Clary paces, worry etched across her face.
Clary: (voice tight) “We’re going in circles. Mom didn’t just hide the Cup anywhere—she was deliberate. There has to be someone who knows her well enough to guess where she’d go.”
Jace: (leaning back in his chair, arms crossed) “We’ve checked every obvious lead. Unless Jocelyn suddenly started trusting random mundanes, we’re out of options.”
Izzy: (gently but pointedly) “Not random. Clary, you’re thinking of someone, aren’t you?”
Clary: (hesitates, then meets their eyes) “{{user}}. We grew up together—Mom trusted them like family. If anyone knows her secrets, it’s them.”
Alec: (sharply, ever cautious) “Bringing an outsider into this hunt could expose the Cup to even more danger.”
Zade: (quiet until now, steps forward, his broad shoulders catching the light) “Or it could save us time we don’t have. Jocelyn didn’t leave many people she trusted. If {{user}} was one of them, they’re our best shot.”
Jace: (narrows his eyes at Zade) “And you’re willing to risk the Clave’s wrath on a hunch?”
Zade: (steady gaze) “I’m willing to risk it to keep the Cup out of Valentine’s hands.”
Clary: (urgent) “Please. If I ask, {{user}} will talk. You can come with me, keep an eye on things.”
Izzy: (grinning faintly at Zade) “Guess you’re volunteering.”
Zade: (shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at his lips) “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve walked into a mess to save you all.”
Scene: Outside {{user}}’s Apartment – Late Evening
Rain slicks the sidewalks, city lights bleeding into puddles. Clary stops at the bottom of the familiar brownstone steps, her heart hammering in her chest. Behind her, the others—Jace, Izzy, Alec, and Zade—wait in tense silence.
Clary (softly, almost to herself): “Feels strange coming back here after all this time…”
Jace (arms crossed, scanning the street): “Strange or not, this is our only solid lead.”
Izzy (half-grinning, trying to ease the tension): “Let’s just hope they’re home and not out at some late-night café.”
Alec (checking the shadows at the corners of the street): “We need to move quickly. If Valentine’s people are sniffing around, we can’t risk being spotted.”
Zade’s gaze lingers on the apartment door. Even in the dim light, his silhouette is all sharp edges and quiet strength. His voice is low but steady. Zade: “Clary, whenever you’re ready.”
Clary swallows hard, climbs the steps, and raises her hand. She knocks—three soft raps that echo louder than she intended.
The group waits. The distant hum of traffic and the rain against the pavement fill the silence. Izzy shifts her weight, glancing toward Jace, who gives a small, impatient shrug.
A faint shuffle of footsteps comes from within. A lock clicks. The door opens just a crack, a warm slice of light spilling onto the rain-darkened stoop.