The walk back to the Institute was long and tense, the shadows of Brooklyn stretching unnaturally around the group as they moved. The watch on Orion's wrist and the necklace hanging around his neck seemed to pulse faintly with energy, their weight unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. He couldn't shake the echo of his mother's voice in his mind, the promise of answers when she returned. But her absence still gnawed at him, leaving an ache he couldn't explain.
Clary walked beside him, her green eyes flickering with worry. She clutched the box tightly against her chest as though it were the only thing tethering her to this strange new reality. Simon trailed behind, his flashlight flickering in the dim light. Jace led the group, his golden eyes scanning the streets for any sign of danger.
Orion's thoughts churned as they walked, his sharp gray eyes unfocused. His mind drifted to the fragments of knowledge that had poured into him when he touched the watch and necklace. It was more than just understanding their forms as weapons; it was an awareness, an awakening of something buried deep within him. His senses felt sharper now, more attuned to the world around him. Every sound, every shadow seemed to carry meaning.
"Are you sure your parents are okay?" Clary asked softly, breaking the silence.
Orion blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He glanced at her and gave a small nod. "They'll be fine," he said, though his voice carried a weight of uncertainty. "They've handled worse."
Clary studied him for a moment before nodding. "If you need to talk… I'm here."
The corner of Orion's mouth tugged upward into a faint smile. "Thanks," he said. Her concern was genuine, and it stirred something in him—an unfamiliar warmth.
---
The group reached a quiet street lined with tall buildings. The faint hum of city life could be heard in the distance, but here, the silence was heavy. As they walked, Orion's steps slowed. His gaze flicked to the shadows around them, his body tense.
"What is it?" Jace asked, noticing the shift in his demeanor.
Orion hesitated, his eyes narrowing. "Something's wrong."
The others stopped, their attention snapping to their surroundings. Jace drew his seraph blade, its light cutting through the dimness. "I don't see anything," he said, his tone edged with impatience.
"It's not about seeing," Orion replied, his voice low. He closed his eyes, letting the tension in his body guide him. It was a strange sensation, like a thread pulling at the edge of his mind. "Something's watching us."
Clary stepped closer to Simon, her grip on the box tightening. "Demons?" she whispered.
"Maybe," Orion said, his gray eyes snapping open. "But not the same ones as before."
Jace's blade shimmered faintly as he turned in a slow circle. "If something's out there, it'll show itself soon enough."
But nothing came. The group waited, their breaths held, until finally, Jace lowered his blade. "False alarm," he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.
Orion's shoulders relaxed slightly, though the unease remained. The feeling hadn't been a threat exactly, but more of a warning—something distant, yet significant. He shook his head, trying to push it aside, and the group continued on their way.
---
When they finally reached the Institute, the weight of the night began to settle on them. The towering Gothic structure loomed above, its spires casting long shadows under the moonlight. Jace led them inside, the familiar hum of the wards washing over them like a protective shield.
Clary immediately handed the box to Maryse, who awaited them in the war room. Orion watched as the Shadowhunter matriarch examined it with sharp, calculating eyes. She said little, only nodding once before dismissing them to rest.
The group dispersed, but Orion lingered near the window of the common room, his gaze distant. The events of the night churned in his mind, a jumble of emotions and fragmented thoughts. His mother's absence, the strange knowledge awakening within him, and the growing bond he felt with this group—friends, he realized—made it difficult to find clarity.
Clary approached him quietly, her presence grounding. "You've been quiet," she said.
Orion glanced at her, his expression softening. "A lot on my mind," he admitted.
"Welcome to the club," Clary said with a faint smile. She hesitated, then added, "You handled everything out there like it was nothing. That's… impressive."
Orion chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Not nothing. I just did what I had to."
Clary tilted her head, studying him. "You care about people. I can tell."
Her words struck something deep within him. He thought of the way he had instinctively placed himself between the group and danger, the way he had worried about his mother's safety, and the way Clary's concern stirred a protective instinct in him he couldn't ignore.
"I guess I do," he said finally.
Clary smiled, and for a moment, the tension of the night seemed to lift.
---
Later, in the solitude of his room, Orion sat on the edge of his bed, the watch and necklace resting in his hands. The images of their transformations replayed in his mind, vivid and detailed. But there was something else now—an awareness he couldn't explain.
When he closed his eyes, fragments of knowledge seemed to surface, as though whispered by an unseen force. He saw flashes of ancient symbols, runes etched with power and purpose. He felt the weight of divine understanding stirring within him, hints of angelic knowledge intertwined with something darker, something grounded in his father's nephilim heritage.
The runes were the clearest. Their intricate shapes and meanings unraveled in his mind like threads of a tapestry. They weren't just symbols; they were tools, weapons, and shields. He didn't yet understand how to use them, but the potential was there, waiting to be unlocked.
As the hours passed, Orion felt a growing sense of purpose. His mother's absence was painful, but her message had been clear—he was meant to face this, to step into a role he had barely begun to understand.
He thought of the group: Clary's determination, Simon's loyalty, and even Jace's sharp-edged confidence. They had placed their trust in him tonight, even if they hadn't said it aloud. And for the first time in a long while, Orion felt something more than duty—he felt the stirrings of a bond that mattered.
The thought brought a faint smile to his lips.
---
When dawn broke, the light streaming through the window felt different. Orion rose, the watch and necklace secured in their places, and looked at himself in the mirror. There was a shift in his posture, a confidence that hadn't been there before.
He wasn't just a soldier anymore. He was something more.
And whatever came next, he would face it—not just for himself, but for the friends and family who had become his anchor in this strange, dangerous world.
---