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Book 1 of Where We Come Alive
The New York Institute and its' shadowhunters, Jace, Alec, and Isabelle, have decided to take part of the exchange program offered to them. In which, they are given two Shadowhunters to host for the coming months...
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The moon was high in the sky, full and beaming down light. A perfect night; to set the world on fire and change it in his image.
Shang Darkblood despised Downworlders. They were filthy and their blood was stained with that of demons, the very monsters they hunted. But most of all, he hated how weak the Clave made Shadowhunters by placing laws and rules upon them.
Nephilim were soldiers, not simple mundanes that could be held on a leash. They were capable of so much more than demon-hunting. They could take over the world if they truly wished it. They had all the power-and he had perfect examples of his sentiments, his sons.
Shang never said it vocally, but his sons were perfect. The type of Shadowhunters that the Shadow World truly needed to be in charge. He molded them to become as ruthless as he, and best of all, he molded them to do exactly as he said.
Fear was as good as motivation as any.
He planned to rule the Shadow World with the same tactic and create more of the same soldiers. But first, he had to get his most prized possession-Henry, his youngest. And once Henry had the blood of the first angel coursing through his veins, Shang would be in charge.
No one would dare go against him then.
On this night, Shang stared out at the lines of dozens of Deviants under his command while he stood at the edge of the pier on a pedestal. His presence itself enough to command the army before him, to take what was within his grasp. Victory.
The crowd parted as the cloaked figure came forth with their hands out flat, holding up a pillow with a blanket over it. Their face hidden under a hood, a masquerade.
Shang smirked down at the other. His pride swelling with every step the cloaked figure took forward.
People parted for her, watching her with awe and greed. All of their eyes burning with excitement.
The cloaked figure finally stopped before Shang, kneeling down on one knee in submission while lifting the prize above their head as an offering to him. "My love," She breathed out in a soft sigh, like she could breathe again.
Shang reached for the cloth covering the object, and yanked it off without care.
Deviants gasped and awed in wonder at the sight of the glowing Mortal Instrument that they could barely see. All that mattered is that it was there, and it was their hope that they would win this war without fault.
Shang's power-hungry gaze ignited with fire as he gripped the chain that the Sanguis Angeli was stuck to, then held the artifact up to his eye level. He could feel the power pulsing off of it and craved it more than anything.
If he could, he would have drank the blood inside himself. However, the problem lied within one simple fact.
In his mesmerization, Shang reached out to graze his fingers upon the smooth surface, but the moment his skin touched it, it burned him like a strike of lightning, fast and defensive. "Urgh!" He retracted his hand, huffing angrily in disbelief.
