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   Chapter 5 Troubling Signs

An Uncertain Present By Grace Estellar Characters: 17320

Updated: 2020-01-03 23:57

****Harry's POV****

Gold light blooms from his palms as he finishes the final coat for the new blade he was creating. Magnus sat beside him on the couch, the warlock keeping the clientele sitting in front of them busy. As the High Warlock of Alicante, Magnus had expanded his services to a great number of shadowhunters now, which les to a change in what was usually asked of him.

Where clients in New York might have asked for their broken heart to be healed, a potion to cure drunkenness, or a complicated good luck charm, shadowhunters were another story entirely. The nephilim unsurprisingly had different tastes. Some of which included blades with enhanced critical hit rates, healing salves made to repair injuries, and portals to places that could very well be on the other side of the planet.

This led to Harry getting invited over to the Loft to help make some brand new blades. Lucian Graymark sat in front of them. The man that Maryse Lightwood was currently dating had a smile on his face and a drink in hand as he talked. The beard that he had lost after transforming back into a Shadowhunter had slowly grown back, allowing the man to retain that ruggedly handsome look everyone was so used to seeing.

"So, I heard you and Maryse went on a vacation recently. How did that go?" Magnus asked.

Harry listened in on their conversation while he worked, though he was a little too busy to contribute to it much. On the glass table there were already ten blades just like the one he was making now, the pommels of them glinting golden in the light of the fireplace off to the side. The crackling flames were a gentle background noise that was relaxing to here.

"Haha it went well. Maryse wasn't fully on board with it at first, but we did some deep sea diving together. It was pretty amazing, all the aquatic life down there." Luke explained.

"That's wonderful news. Tell me you have pictures." Magnus said hopefully.

"Of course I do. Though the photos we took underwater might be a little blurry." Luke said.

"Nonsense. A little warlock magic should solve that problem." Magnus said. One ring clad finger tapped the photos Luke held out. A burst of blue light bloomed onto each of them, ridding them of blurriness so their clarity was maximized. The two spent a few minutes chatting over them, just enough time for Harry to finish up with the last blade.

"Finished. Tell me what you think Luke." Harry held out the sword to the former werewolf. Luke accepted it easily, his left hand testing the weight of the blade.

"I think it's great. Alec and Magnus didn't tell me that you were a black smith Harry. I must say I'm impressed with your work." Luke told him sincerely.

Harry's wings fluttered behind him at the praise, a grin stretching across his face. How long had it been since his craftsmanship had last been admired? To him, it felt like much too long. So to here these words from Luke made him feel very pleased to say the least.

"Thanks! It's been a long time since I've been able to work on swords. Back when I was Wayland the Smith, I had this massive forge, right in the heart of a volcano. Ah, those were the days." He reminisced.

Harry could still remember the place fondly. His forge had been in the very volcano near the Iron Sister's forge. The place had been scorching hot, but oh so magnificent. The weapons he had made their had been like nothing anyone had seen before. Carson had went with him several times too, her skilled hands making some many masterpieces alongside his own. As his parabatai, and his wife, and someone who had once considered joining the Iron Sisters as a little girl, Carson Whitelaw (eventually Carson Wayland) had been an amazing partner to have. Harry missed her dearly with each year that passed. She would always hold a piece of his heart no matter what, that much was for certain.

"Wait, so you're saying you were THE Wayland the Smith. Are you being serious?" Luke said with shock.

Magnus frowned in confusion. Despite being married to Alec and living in Alicante for a considerable amount of time, it was clear that Shadowhunter history had yet to be ingrained in him.

"I know this question might be out of place, but who exactly is Wayland the Smith? I've met quite a few Waylands in my time, and I can't recall any of them being blacksmiths." Magnus took a sip from his own glass of wine. It was a bit too early for any of the harder stuff the warlock kept in his liquor cabinet. Hence the wine and not whiskey or even vodka.

Luke kept his gaze on Harry. Those brown eyes no longer could turn that shining green gleam they did back when he was a werewolf, but there was still something in the way the Shadowhunter held himself that made him different then the rest. Harry could not place a finger on it, but if he had to make a guess, he would say that the wildness of a wolf would never quite leave Graymark.

"Wayland the Smith is the most famous Shadowhunter blacksmith of all time. Each of the weapons he made are known to be masterpieces. It was said that his legendary forge was in the heart of an ancient volcano. The same volcano the Iron Sisters take lava from when ma

more worrying note, listening in. Izzy finds herself being reminded oddly of a casket. Once the thing was shut closed, no sound would come out of it.

The atmosphere of the room was dead quiet as they found their seats in the leather armchairs in front of the desk Jia sat behind. Red wallpaper colored the room, a few stripes of rich gold running through it. An ornate rug lay in front of the desk, several colors weaved through the threads. Izzy notes what seems to be a courage in combat rune sewn into the middle of the rug. The dragon's head is slightly more detailed then it would be when drawn, a white blue eye stares right back up at her. Helen and Aline take their places behind Jia at the desk that seems to be made out of well-polished cherry wood.

"I'm sure you're both wondering what's going on." Jia begins.

"Yes. That did cross my mind." Izzy agrees.

Sighing, Jia pulls up a hologram from her high tech desk. A map of the world shows up on screen, depicting several red dots that indicate demonic energy. For several reasons, a majority of this energy runs along the Leigh lines, a source of magic for warlocks, fey and demons alike. Izzy notes with a feeling of unease that the New York part of the map is glowing with a massive amount of demonic energy, the light of it so fierce that it seems to almost be like a burgeoning flame.

"After Lilith and Jonathan and Valentine I can safely say that New York has had its fair share of unusually high amounts of demonic incidents. However, those days are long gone now. Seeing as you are in charge of protecting New York, I'd like to know if either of you have any idea what is going on." The Consul folds her hands on the desk, her brown eyes glinting with the hologram's blue-white light.

"I...we haven't seen anything weird recently. Have we Izzy?" Clary asks her.

Isabelle shakes her head. "The most activity I can recall having in New York as of late was when those Blixer Demons attacked about a month ago. We sent a formal report on how that incident was handled ages ago, so I can't say I have a clue as to what the problem is now." She confesses.

That troubled look on Jia's face deepens. "I was worried you both might say that."

"Consul Penhallow, do you have an idea as to what's going on? Maybe we could help each other." Clary says hopefully. Isabelle appreciates her parabatai trying to bring optimism to the table.

"That's the problem. We don't know what this reading might be. The Shadowhunters that work here say that they usually see these signals either when there is a large demonic horde coming from a rift, or when, well...." Jia trails off.

"Tell them Mom." Aline says. "They need to know."

Jia nods at her daughter before directing her attention back at Izzy and Clary. "The other possibility is that this reading is a precursor to something horrible that is to come. I expect you both to be prepared if that turns out to be the case."

"I" She forced herself to swallow down the worry the Consul's piercing gaze brought forth in her. "Of course Consul Penhallow. We will prepare the Institute right away."

"Great. Feel free to spend the rest of the day here socializing if you'd like. Otherwise, you're both dismissed." And with that the Consul rose from her chair and walked out of the room. Only once the door swung shut did conversation start up again. Questions still whirled around in the air, so many left unanswered for now.

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