The grave was still.

Moonlight washed the Silent City in silver and bone, catching on the curved edges of marble and the sharp angles of the runes carved into the tombstones. The earth over {{user}}’s grave looked freshly turned, darker than the surrounding ground, as if it hadn’t yet decided whether to close itself again.

Jace sat beside it, close enough that his knee brushed the mound of dirt. He hadn’t moved in hours. If anyone noticed how rigid he was—how his hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white—they didn’t say anything. Alec stood a few paces back, arms folded, eyes flicking between Jace and the grave. Isabelle leaned against a broken angel statue, her usual confidence stripped down to something raw and sharp. Clary hovered near Simon, who was pacing in tight, anxious circles, while Raphael watched from the shadows, expression unreadable.

Waiting. That was the worst part.

Jace stared at the ground like he could will it to move. Like if he watched hard enough, he could pull {{user}} back through sheer force of want. He’d grown up with them—trained beside them, bled beside them, laughed with them. They were the one person who had known him before the bravado, before the sharp smiles and sharper words. The one person who could still look at him and see the boy underneath. And now they were dead.

“This is my fault,” Jace said quietly. Alec looked up. “Jace—” “I should’ve been faster,” Jace continued, voice tight. “I should’ve seen it coming. I knew something was off, and I still let them go alone.”

No one argued. No one knew what to say that wouldn’t sound hollow.

Simon stopped pacing. “You can’t—Jace, that vampire attacked out of nowhere. It could’ve been any of us.” “But it wasn’t,” Jace snapped, then immediately softened, guilt flooding his face. “It was them.”

He lowered his head, hair falling into his eyes. If {{user}} came back wrong—cold, hungry, angry—he’d deserve it. If they hated him, if they blamed him, he’d accept that too. What he couldn’t accept was the idea that they wouldn’t come back at all.

The earth shifted. It was subtle at first, a tremor that ran through the ground like a held breath finally released.

Isabelle straightened instantly. Alec reached for his bow. Simon froze. Clary’s heart slammed so hard she was sure everyone could hear it. Jace surged to his feet, every muscle coiled tight. The dirt began to crack. A hand burst through the soil—pale, trembling, fingers clawing at the night air. Another followed, dragging the rest of {{user}} upward as they gasped, breath tearing out of their chest like they’d been drowning. Jace was on his knees in the dirt before anyone could stop him. “{{user}},” he breathed.

They collapsed forward, eyes wide and unfocused. Their skin looked too pale under the moonlight, lips parted as they struggled to breathe, even though they didn’t need to anymore. Jace caught them before they could hit the ground. The moment he touched them, he felt it. The difference. The stillness under their skin. The unfamiliar strength in the way their fingers dug into his jacket like an anchor. They looked up at him. Their eyes—God, their eyes—were darker now, reflecting the moonlight in a way that made Jace’s chest ache.

“I’m here,” he said quickly, voice breaking despite himself. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you.” For a second, he was terrified they wouldn’t recognize him. Then {{user}} whispered his name. Jace laughed shakily, the sound half a sob. He pulled them closer without thinking, pressing his forehead to theirs, dirt and ash and relief blurring together. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, the words he’d held back for years finally slipping free. “I should’ve protected you. I-...”

Behind them, Raphael cleared his throat softly. “We should get them somewhere safe,” he said. “The thirst will come soon.” Jace nodded, but he didn’t let go. Not yet. As {{user}} clung to him, newly undead and newly reborn, Jace silently vowed the same thing he always had—only now, it meant even more.

Whatever they were now... He would never leave them alone again