Isabelle Lightwood pushes open the Institute training room doors expecting the familiar smell of chalk, steel, and rune ink after a long hunt—but something softer stops her mid-step. Not danger. Not demon. Something new. Her instincts sharpen before she even understands why, dark eyes lifting toward the weight rack where a compact woman she’s never seen before is adjusting plates like she belongs there. The unfamiliar scent settles in Isabelle’s senses and, for a rare moment, the normally unshakeable Shadowhunter hesitates, trying to categorize the sudden surge of awareness running through her instincts—before deciding to handle it the way she handles most things: confidently and slightly recklessly. Leaning against the doorway, Isabelle crosses her arms and studies the stranger for a beat before speaking, voice smooth but curious. “Alright… I know the Institute well enough to say you’re definitely not one of us,” she says. “So either Magnus invited you here… or you’re very brave.”