Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“And don’t forget, if you’re planning on applying for the research module next year, you have a week to submit your proposals to me. Dismissed.”
Ty looked back down at his list of ideas and crossed yet another one out. Medicinal uses of demon poisons? There was basis in similar mundane experiments with box jellyfish but: a) it didn’t truly interest him; b) there was only so far he could pitch an abstract without any real data; and c) he–
“Tiberius Blackthorn.”
At the familiar voice, Ty looked up. Professor Fell – it had taken a long time for Ty to shake the association with the name ‘Fade’, but the eagerness to forget that period of time was a powerful catalyst to expedite the process – stood in front of Ty’s desk in the rapidly-emptying classroom.
“I do have other classes to teach. May I suggest you take this work to the library?” He peered over to read the ideas list from his upside-down vantage point. “Decided against venomology then? What was it Paracelsus said about toxins?”
“‘Dosis sola facit venenum.’”
“Quite.” Professor Fell nodded approvingly. Since finding a mutual interest in archaic or indeed arcane languages, Professor Fell appeared to have rather warmed to Ty. The feeling was mutual, and the shadowhunter was reticent as he got to his feet.
“I just have so many ideas but none of them feel like…me. I really want a place on your module. I’ll think of something.”
“I certainly hope so. Now go on, my next class will be coming in soon – give me strength,” he added in a mutter.
“I’ll think of something,” Ty repeated, and set off for the library, determined to do just that.

From behind the small fortress of books he’d built in his fruitless hunt for ideas, a burning fire-message appeared. Ty grabbed it from the air quickly, stifling it, but not before a librarian came over to hiss at him about fire-messages being strictly forbidden around flammable materials like books.
“I didn’t send it!” he wanted to point out. Instead, he stayed quiet as she finished her spiel, fingers rubbing the fold of the note in and out of alignment. When she finally went back to her desk, he unfolded the runed paper.
‘Heading back to my room. Let me know if you want to go for a walk. - A’
Fresh air did sound good. He returned his stack of books to their respective shelves, collected Irene, and headed to Anush’s room to take him up on the offer of company while he let Irene out.

“Did you have your headphones on?” Anush asked as Ty knelt down to let Irene free of her makeshift harness. She immediately sprinted off into the snowy treeline in search of a pine cone to stalk and attack. “I knocked but there was no answer.”
“I wasn’t in my room. I was in the library.” Ty whirled and pointed an accusatory finger. “Your note got me told off!”
“Why would they not put some kind of ward up to block delivery if they’re going to get all pissed about it? Why didn’t whoever invented them create a delay system?”
Ty shrugged, watching Irene pounce in the snow.
“Who did invent them?” he asked suddenly.
Anush had an extra year at the Scholomance under his belt, and the vast library in the Mumbai Institute back home. He knew every secret tunnel in the Scholomance, every teacher to impress or to avoid. Unless he counted Ragnor – which he knew no one else did because he was a teacher – Anush was his one and only living human friend here. Maybe ever. Family didn’t really count, or lynxes. Diana, Cristina, and Kieran were all practically honorary Blackthorns. There has been Kit, who liked him. But there was no point dwelling on Kit anymore. Any chance of friendship there was well and truly gone.
“Dunno,” Anush replied, breaking Ty’s train of thought. “Seems like something you’d be more likely to know than me. Maybe what’s-his-face, who made the portal?”
“Excuse me, that’s Henry Branwell you’re talking about, and Magnus Bane! Everyone always forgets that it was a collaboration,” he added, with a tinge of bitterness.
“Forgets or ignores it because of gross Nephilim supremacy?”
“Probably both.”
“Usually both. Hey, maybe that’s what happened with fire-messages. Like, maybe a Downworlder invented them or it was just…erased for some reason.”
Ty felt himself nod, slowly, then with increasing fervour. He called Irene back, hands working at his sides, squeezing into fists and loosening them. Irene caught up easily as he turned and started back to the big stone building, stumbling in the deep snow every time he tried to run.
“Ty!” Anush called from behind him, his yell whipped away in the wind. “Where are you going?”
“Erased!” Ty repeated. It made sense in his head, the connection. Whether it did to Anush was another matter entirely. It wasn’t important. He’d found a project.

“Professor Fell! Professor!”
A face like thunder – green thunder – peered around the door to Ragnor’s rooms, which Ty had been knocking on insistently. The warlock glanced at the boy in front of him, and rolled his eyes.
“What?” he demanded.
“The…the fire-messages!” Ty clapped his fingertips together, trying to make the words come to him coherently so he had at least a fighting chance of speaking them with some level of intelligibility. “They’re erased!”
Ragnor sighed and stepped out into the hallway wearing a long smoking jacket over plaid pyjamas. What time was it? He couldn’t have been in the library that long, could he?
“What fire-messages?” Ragnor asked, crossing his arms. “And before you answer, may I request that your explanation takes the form of complete sentences or at the very least a near-independent clause.”
Ty took a grounding breath and shuffled through his pages of notes to find what he needed.
“‘My project for your module next semester centres around the lost research documenting the development of the fire-message. Through archival material, information held in the Iron Citadel, and first-hand accounts from surviving contemporaries, I plan to document what has been erased and excepted from our most definitive publication: the Codex.’”
Having read this in a hurried rush, he looked up hopefully. Ragnor raised a single white eyebrow and held out a hand for the proposal. It was strangely nerve-wracking, to watch your work be evaluated up close, more so when that work has been borne of frenzied, frantic study you hardly remembered doing. Ragnor nodded once and handed the paper back.
“I’ll accept it. Give me a hard copy in class tomorrow – and write it in the morning!” he added sternly. “Do not make a habit of waking me at half-past one in the morning with your burning academic notions. They are much more appealing, and much less irritating, in daylight hours.” He opened the door to his suite. “Go to sleep, Blackthorn. And,” he added gruffly, “nice work.”

“Wait, so there’s no record of it at all?” Dru asked, sipping from her enamel mug.
It was their last day together on break before Ty was due back at the Scholomance and classes started at the Academy for Dru. For one final catch-up and debrief, Ty had accompanied his sister back to the remote farm that now made up the Academy-in-exile’s campus. They now sat in the large, abandoned dining room while, somewhere upstairs, Luke and Jocelyn prepared the dorms for returning students. Later today and early tomorrow, they’d start trickling back from their Institutes and family homes but, for now, Ty and Dru were alone at the end of a long oak table. Dru seemed comfortable here, Ty thought with a sense of calm he hadn’t noticed had been absent in him. After everything she’d been through, she deserved some comforting normalcy. Over hot cocoa from the kitchen, they’d been discussing everything from Dru’s new roommate Thais to the veritable terror the two girls appeared to be wreaking upon Luke’s Academy. And finally, the research project that would, by tomorrow, be Ty’s sole focus. Though if he was honest with himself, it had been occupying that role for the whole of the break.
“None at all. The only way I can even place when they were invented is using first hand accounts from the time. It must have been within the first ten years of the 20th century, but I can’t narrow it down any further.”
“That’s so weird. Why?”
Ty shrugged, wrapping his hands around his mug of cocoa. “I don’t know. But I’ve checked every codex published between then and now, and nothing! No mention at all! I might need to recruit someone to liaise with the Iron Sisters for me, since they only talk to women.”
Dru grinned. “Look, if you can get me out of class for the day to do it, count me in.”
“Ideally I need an academic. Maybe Catarina? Or Diana?”
“Good luck dragging Diana away from Gwyn long enough. I’m sure either of them would do it though. If not, don’t you have any girl friends at the Scholomance?”
“I don’t have any friends period, girls or not.” He looked up at Dru’s slightly nervous face and chewed his lip anxiously. “I mean, I have a couple of friends. I have…y’know…” He quirked his head to the side to indicate Livvy, who was wandering the grounds of the campus. “And there’s a guy called Anush that I know too.”
Dru’s shoulders dropped a little with relief. “Well, speaking of friends, I better go unpack my stuff. Right now, all my bags are on Thais’ bed.” They both stood and looked at each other for a moment before Dru opened her arms. “Hug?”
“If it’s tight.”
She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing firmly, and he realised very suddenly that she was smaller than he remembered - or rather, he was taller. There was a snag in his throat, a hitch, as he imagined Livvy. Would she be taller now, if she was alive? He remembered when they were ten, and she was so much taller than him, able to easily reach the highest shelves that he still had to stretch for. Now he’d keep growing. And she wouldn’t. He released a shaky breath and Dru let go.
“Too tight?”
He shook his head, said his goodbyes, and headed off to find Livvy so they could head back to the Scholomance.

A stack of papers, books, and journals arrived to the mailroom not long after Ty sent an acorn to Gwyn requesting Diana’s help at the Citadel. The pile came bound in string and with a note attached to the top.
‘I hope these help with your research. If you need anything else, let me know. Catarina says to let her know when you’re done and she’ll collect them from Ragnor the next time she’s lecturing. Stay out of trouble. - Diana.’
It was the clearest ‘I’m proud of you’ Ty could’ve hoped for, and he took the stack of books to the library, fearing their safety if Irene got hold of them. He’d have to bribe a librarian to let him keep them somewhere between study sessions, but that was an issue for later. Right now, all he wanted to do was lose himself in hundreds of pages of untold enlightenment. It was two weeks since the module had started, and already the pressure was beginning to build. All around him, his classmates worked busily in the archives or portalled to Institute libraries around the world for their work. Until Diana replied, there was little he could do but write up introductions and hope Ragnor didn’t ask for updates. If Ragnor was worried about Ty’s progress though, he didn’t show it, and any requests for further information had been mercifully absent. Now though, he might just get something useful.
After a few hours, narrowing down the point of invention to within five years, a vague shape was starting to form, the history around the moment filling in until there was only a small shape left that needed to be mapped out. A shape my essay will fill, Ty thought proudly, scribbling notes with one hand and turning pages with the other. He looked around. All these books, all this work, and no one had written about this. How? How was there still ground untrodden in a field as rich as their history? How was there still any stone left unturned? For so long, he’d wanted to be a detective, but what was this if not a form of detection? Finding clues, finding proof, developing a theory.
“Grace Blackthorn?”
He’d muttered it almost absently, flipping back to double check the name. Blackthorn. Aside from Iron Sisters, this seemed to be the first mention of a named female scientist in his research. And she was a Blackthorn. But why was she mentioned in court documents of all places?
‘Grace Blackthorn confessed to undisclosed crimes to a council of her peers. In acknowledgement of her innovation and collaboration towards life-saving work in the London Siege Battle, she has been pardoned. All queries as to her research should be directed to Grosvenor Square.’
The document was dated 1904. Grosvenor Square? He dug out his copy of Henry Branwell’s A Whoops and a Bang, heavily annotated but still in remarkable condition. In the back, a note requested the same address to be used for correspondence. Was there a research centre at Grosvenor Square? If it still existed, surely he’d have heard of it. He checked the time on his watch. Ragnor had asked not to be disturbed in the early hours, but surely 8 at night was okay?

“Professor Fell?”
There was a frustrated groan from inside the room before the door opened.
“What?”
“You were Head Warlock of London in 1904 right?”
“Officially, yes. Actually, I was in Capri having a well-deserved break from shadowhunters like you who do not know the meaning of peace and quiet.”
“Did you ever visit Grosvenor Square around then?”
Ragnor threw his hands up. “Would it be possible to cut the Columbo stuff and get to it?” When Ty looked puzzled, he smiled a little. “What’s the question, Ty?”
“What was happening at Grosvenor Square? Lots of researchers from London around the early 1900s seem to have a contact address there. Was there an Academy there?”
“No, there was a basement of oddballs and eccentrics. Henry Fairchild opened his laboratories up for use by a few like-minded shadowhunters, namely Christopher Lightwood and Grace Blackthorn.”
“Blackthorn?”
“Seems like you’ve always been here, you Blackthorns, darkening my door. Christopher Lightwood wouldn’t so much darken it as blow it right off its hinges.” He tried to look grumpy, but a small sparkle lit in his eyes, as if recalling a fond memory. “You would have liked him.”
“I would have?”
Ragnor nodded, looking at Ty with an odd consideration in his eyes. “You would. And he would have liked you.”
Ty smiled, hands squeezing into pleased fists. “They were scientists? He and Grace? Studying under Henry Branwell?”
“Until Christopher died, yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“That’s what your research is for. I’m not telling you everything you need. That would be far too easy.”
With that, he closed the door, leaving Ty torn between heading back to his new cubby in the library to drag all his books back out and running to his room to tell Livvy immediately. As he stifled a yawn, he let his feet take him back to his dorm. As much as he hated it, there was always tomorrow for work.

“I don’t think this family tree is right.”
Anush peered over Ty’s shoulder at the scroll of paper in front of him and tilted his head to the side.
“What makes you say that?”
“It says here that Christopher Lightwood married Grace Blackthorn and they had two children. I don’t think it’s right. I think there are some mistakes.”
“Well that makes sense. Look, it was only made in 2007. It’s not like we’re good at keeping records, as a people. Isn’t that kind of proven by the whole no-mention-of-fire-messages thing you’re researching?”
Ty had to admit that was true. But what kind of hope did that leave him? How much of any of this could be trusted? He tipped his head back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling of the common room. It was all so frustrating. He could feel the telltale tension starting in his limbs, the desire to hit something just to get some of the bubbling anxiety out. Everything was too loud and too much and he’d never find what he needed to and –
“Who’s James?”
Ty shrugged, the words itching against his skin like ants. He’d run his thumb over the spark wheel on Julian’s old empty lighter so many times that two small grooves now ran across the pad. The fidgeting wasn’t helping though. He pushed his chair out just enough to put his head down on his knees and wrap his arms around his shoulders, pressing down firmly. His muscles loosened a little at the pressure and when Anush gave a little cough, he sat up a little, resting his cheek on the desk.
“Hey,” Anush said quietly, pointing to Ty’s notes, “I think you have something here. Look, Henry Branwell’s son was Matthew Fairchild, right? Matthew’s death record states James was his Parabatai. And James’ birth record says his mom was…”
Ty looked up hopefully, glancing at where Anush was gently tapping the paper with his index finger.
“Tessa Herondale,” Ty murmured, blinking hard. His voice sounded funny in his ears, raspy and uncertain with lingering overwhelm. “She might remember. Do you think I should write to her?”
“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”
But writing to Tessa would mean…
He stood up sharply, gathering his notes into a shaky pile.
“I have to go. Thank you for helping me.”
“Hey, I was thinking, if you have some time later–”
Whatever the invitation was going to be, Ty knew he didn’t want to agree to it. He needed to think.
“I can’t, I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ty.”
“I know.”
Livvy’s ghostly face was serious. No, not serious. Furious.
“But–”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” he snapped, then felt immediately guilty. Irene hopped up onto the bed and settled herself in a furry ball on his chest. It helped a little, and dissuaded him from any other sharp words for fear of startling her and meeting with equally sharp claws. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to think about it anymore. I can just find a different way. Tessa isn’t the only one who will have that information. There has to be a record somewhere. I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah? And how long will that take? Weeks? You don’t have the luxury of time. Your first draft needs to be submitted before the end of the semester.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, why are you trying to stress me out?”
“Why are you being so…not like you?”
Ty turned his head to the side to look at her. “Who else could I be?”
She set her jaw. “You’re a scholar. You’re meant to believe in the pursuit of knowledge above everything. You’re meant to want to make a difference! But you’ll throw away a perfect opportunity to get some real…evidence just because–”
“Because what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Irene stirred, disquieted.
“Because you don’t want to see Kit.”
Ty closed his eyes and turned his face away from her. “There are other ways to get the information I need.”
She huffed a laugh. “Fine, whatever. I’m going out into the grounds.”
He swallowed hard and opened his eyes, turning to look at her again. “Are you mad at me?”
Half-transparent, he could still see the way her eyes softened as she said, “No, I’m not mad at you. But,” she added, perching on his desk, “I’m confused and frustrated. This, being here, it’s all you’ve ever wanted. And now you’re here and you’re doing something so important, you’re finding out about this huge aspect of our everyday lives, something we take for granted, and you’re willing to make it more difficult for yourself because of what happened.”
“You don’t know what happened.”
“Sometimes, I don’t think you fully know either.”
He looked down at his hands. She was right. He didn’t know why everything had happened how it did, why Kit had left without even a goodbye. Why he’d said what he’d said, that he wished they’d never met. But he didn’t know whether that not knowing was better or worse. Did Kit know what had happened? Surely he must. Did he sometimes see or think of something and his first thought was ‘Ty would love this’, just like Ty did with him? Did he ever lay awake and wonder if the two of them not speaking might undo him? Did he wonder whether any of it had even happened, if the things he’d felt had been real at all? Did he still wish they’d never met?
“It doesn’t matter.”
“He cares about you. When I saw him, he asked about you. He gave you his necklace.”
Ty put a hand to the heron around his neck, not quite as oppressive an omen as an albatross, but the weight of it still made itself known. It felt like a punishment he deserved to endure though, the constant reminder of what was gone. Though she moved soundlessly, he sensed Livvy beside him, watching him from the edge of the bed.
“Ty, you’re allowed to make mistakes. But you can’t spend your whole life torturing yourself. At some point, you need to give yourself a bit of kindness. You can’t put your life on hold for this. You’ve spent too long wanting something that is right in front of you. Kit doesn’t want you to be miserable, doesn’t want your life to be harder. You aren’t doing something noble by denying yourself the chances you’ve worked for. Just…write to her. You don’t even have to go to their house. You can meet anywhere - you can invite her here for an interview.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted, and Irene nudged her nose under his chin fondly.
“It’ll be okay,” Livvy said softly. “I promise you it’ll be okay.”

Chapter Text

‘Dear Ty,

Thank you so much for your letter. I would be delighted to meet you for a chat about fire-messages. Would Wednesday afternoon at 2pm suit you? If so, we shall find a quiet spot in the Scholomance to talk.

I look forward to it!

Yours,
Tessa’

Ty nervously paced the portal room, awaiting her appearance, a notebook in one hand and a pen swinging back and forth between his fingers as he twiddled it. What if Kit had told her Ty was selfish and only thought about himself and that Kit wished he’d never met him? Would Tessa give him incorrect information so he’d write a terrible paper and fail his module? Would she report back every stupid thing he said or did?
“Ty?”
He turned to see a tall woman with brown hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders. She wore a long cardigan and tall leather boots, and smiled at him as if greeting an old friend.
“Hi,” he said, squeezing the pen in his hand to keep himself from twiddling it again. “Thank you so much for agreeing to talk to me.”
She waved this off casually. “Don’t be silly, it’s my pleasure. It’s exciting to hear you’re studying something I remember the conception of. Shall we have a cup of tea?”
Tessa ended up convincing Ragnor to lend the use of the small kitchen in his suite so she could make them both tea, and they found an old room, the furniture still appointed with jade velvet upholstery, to sit and talk.
She cupped both hands around her teacup, drinking her earl grey. Ty liked the idea of tea much more than the taste, but was gamely attempting small sips and forcing himself not to screw his face up in disgust.
“So, you want to know about fire-messages, yes?” Tessa asked.
Ty was glad that Tessa seemed willing to carry the conversation. He felt as if he was second guessing himself on everything in front of this woman who had adopted Kit. His mom. By the Angel, this was a nightmare.
“Yes, please. Do you know who invented them?”
She put her cup down in its saucer and crossed one leg over the other. “Well, that’s a question with no clear answer. You see, Christopher Lightwood was the one who came up with the concept. He’d had this idea for years of a way to make communication between Shadowhunters in different places more immediate. Sort of like, a telegram. Or, I suppose, a text nowadays.” She chuckled a little and Ty flipped his notebook open, ready to note down her answers. “He was always thinking of things like that, little experiments he could do. Normally they ended in disaster - explosions, fires. But he always kept at it. He was good like that: persistent. When he was very little, his mother, Cecily - my sister in law - was rushed to the infirmary. Shadowhunters travel quickly, but not instantaneously, and when lives are on the line we can’t always send a runner to alert families. I think it bothered him a lot, when people got hurt and there was no way to get in touch with the people who loved them with anything like haste.”
With a rush of dread, Ty remembered the screech of tires as they’d pulled up to a parking lot down the street from Canter’s Deli near Fairfax, when Emma had texted Livvy a ‘911’ emergency message along with her location. How they’d all piled onto a motorbike, Mark driving, Livvy clinging to Cristina’s belt and biting off screams. He remembered Julian in the back of their Toyota, dying. And then…not dying. There was so much blood, and it was so scary, but how much worse would it have been to not be there? To not be able to be with Julian when it was all over and watch him eat at the diner and be alive? He suppressed a shudder.
“That makes sense. So, he came up with a kind of…rune-powered telegram? A way to wire to someone?”
Tessa see-sawed her hand. “That was the idea, yes. And it worked somewhat. But the messages were delivered incomplete, sometimes only half a page or with certain words consumed by spots of burning. It was incredible, a real feat, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He began working with one of your ancestors.”
“Grace.”
She nodded. “Indeed, and she was incredibly good at mathematics. She looked over all of Christopher’s notes and she had some ideas of her own. But Christopher died before they could fully collaborate on them.”
“How did he die?”
“He was killed by a demon in the Siege on London in 1903. Science was his weapon. He should’ve been in his lab with Henry, creating wonderful things until he was old. Instead, he only got 16 years.”
Ty looked down at his hands. Livvy had only gotten 15. It wasn’t fair. He knew it was the way of the Nephilim, but it seemed horribly unjust that anyone should die before they’d even really lived.
“He worked with Henry Branwell?”
Tessa’s eyes crinkled with a smile, as if she was thinking of a fond memory. “They were hardly apart. I think Henry saw Christopher as another of his sons. Back then, we didn’t have places like this. It was closed in 1872, so Christopher never had the chance to be somewhere like here, where he could’ve spent all his days learning and terrorising Ragnor with his explosions. He would’ve loved it, so long as Henry could be there too. Which,” she added wryly, “would’ve been difficult. I’m not sure how well Henry’s chair would’ve done on all these spiral stone staircases.”
Ty thought for a moment, looking down at his notes. It wasn’t really on the topic of the fire-messages, but he was curious. He closed his notebook, pen in place as a bookmark.
“Henry used a wheelchair? How did he do all his experiments?”
“He was incredibly creative. He had all these contraptions and ways of doing things that were just genius. Things like hoists and pulley systems, and they built the lab just for him. It was all Henry-adapted. Perhaps it's facetious to say, because I’m sure it was a massive struggle for him to get used to it, but it really seemed like the most pressing thing for him when he lost the use of his legs was that he could still do science. He and Charlotte, his wife, moved out of the London Institute and into a smaller home where they could make a lab where Henry could do everything he always had before.”
“And he could still fight?”
“Oh yes,” Tessa laughed amicably. “He was a fiend with flail! He fought the greater demon Leviathan in that chair of his!”
Ty smiled, relaxing a little. “He…he made being a Shadowhunter work for him. They didn’t…think less of him.”
Tessa’s smile softened. “No, never. Or if they did, they were soon proven wrong. How can you patronise the man who invented the portal?”
A soft fizzing was sparking behind Ty’s ribs and he turned back to his notes to refocus his attention on the topic of their interview.
“Um, sorry, yes I was asking about…Christopher. So, what happened when he died?”
“Well, Grace was instrumental in making the adjustments needed so that Christopher’s original vision could be properly realised. And after that, his friends helped to spread the word, and to make sure the whole of the shadow world knew it was their best friend who came up with the idea.”
“Who were his friends?”
“There was Henry’s son, Matthew, who was also my son James’ parabatai . And then there was Thomas too – lovely Thomas – and Thomas’ partner Alastair. Christopher’s sibling Anna and her partner, Ari. My daughter Lucie, and her partner Jesse, and her parabatai Cordelia - my daughter-in-law. Us parents did our bit too, and Henry especially. He helped the Merry Thieves - that was what they called their little group - to write up instructions on how to create the fire-messages and distributed them to Institutes all over. They spoke in Council meetings. They were incredible. I remember my James saying none of them would let anyone forget about Kit.”
Ty’s head jerked up. “About Kit?”
“Oh, yes, that’s what they used to call Christopher.”
“Oh, I thought…It doesn’t matter. Anyway, what happened? Why are there no mentions of Christopher in the Codexes?”
Tessa sighed. “I really don’t know. I think Henry’s name has lasted a bit longer because of his book. But I think people begin to take new inventions for granted and they get to a point where they forget a world without it. They forget that everything in their world, every technological leap and medical wonder like penicillin, was created by a person – or a whole team of people. The names of inventors get lost to time; they’re eclipsed by their creations. I don’t think Christopher would’ve minded that, but I do think he deserves the recognition for the difference he made to our society.”
Ty leaned forward, suddenly serious. “I will make sure he gets the recognition he deserves. I swear it to you.”
Tessa smiled. “That would be an incredibly noble thing.”
“You said his friends sent letters and instructions to institutes around the world. Do you know if any of them still exist?”
“I kept a lot of James’ things. The London Institute may have kept some too. If you like, you can come to Cirenworth and have a look through all the old boxes we have? I’m sure you’ll know what to look for much better than I do.”
“That would be amazingly helpful.”
“Do you have any other questions for me?”
Ty’s stomach knotted. He stared down at the notes in front of him and squeezed the edges of the notebook hard to stop his hands shaking.
“Um,” he said quietly, hoping his voice didn’t wobble. “How’s…how’s Kit?”
Tessa’s voice was gentle when she replied. “He’s good. He’s really good. He’s going to a mundane school now, and he has a few friends. He loves to bake and makes an incredible rocky road. He likes going for walks with Jem and Mina down to the bakery in town. He plays lacrosse sometimes, but he isn’t very good at it – don’t tell him I said that! Yes, he’s wonderful.”
“Good,” Ty said tightly, just about managing to force the word out through his throat, which felt as if it was narrowing and narrowing until he might never be able to breathe.
“I think he misses you and Livvy. I think he misses LA a bit, but it’s good for him to be somewhere new, somewhere he can start fresh. Sort of like what you’re doing here, I suppose.”
“Is he happy?”
“I think he is. I hope he is.”
Ty let out a shaky breath and Tessa stood up.
“Right, I’d better be getting back. Mina is back from her playgroup soon.”
Ty walked with her through the building until they reached the portal room, where he waved a stilted goodbye. As soon as she disappeared through the portal, his shoulders dropped, like a puppet with its strings cut. Screw research for today. He needed to lie down.

Chapter Text

Tessa had suggested they meet again at the London institute to look through the records, with Jem in tow. As two ex-residents of the Institute, she argued, they’d hopefully be able to recall where everything was stored.
“If we still remember back that far,” she added wryly.
Jem, as both an ex-resident of the Institute and an ex-Silent Brother, seemed like a useful ally to have on side. It did, however, make Ty wonder. If both of them were in London, would they have to bring Kit and Mina with them?
Livvy had told Ty all about Mina, about her chubby little hands and her wispy black hair. She’d offered the same updates on Kit, but that twanged painfully at his skin like a rubber band snapped against his wrist. No, updates on just Mina would do.
However, he needn’t have worried. Jem and Tessa were waiting for him when he stepped through the portal, feeling sick with worry, and were blessedly without their children. Mina was being babysat by Magnus and Alec who, by the sounds of things, were desperately missing the toddler stage now their own children were of the age now where they were steadfastly insisting on their independent ability to ‘do it by myself, papa!’
“I rather think if we didn’t come back, they’d happily take her back to New York with them,” Jem mused, making Tessa laugh.
“The time limit is less due to the end of Kit’s school day and more to do with the length of time we can leave Mina until she’s whisked away to Brooklyn.”
Ty smiled along awkwardly, casting nervous glances at the portal as if Kit may, at any moment, materialise from within.
“I reckon we try the library first,” Tessa said briskly, ushering them both along. Jem and Tessa seemed at home here, both setting off with intent as if this place hadn’t changed a bit since they’d lived here over 100 years ago. Perhaps it hadn’t. They were comfortable. Ty wished he could say the same. Instead, every corridor felt haunted not by Livvy, who disappeared down halls to explore or reminisce, but by memories of Kit. This was the city where they’d gone to the Shadow Market and Ty had pulled free all the cages. This was where Kit had suggested they should go to Baker Street. This was where Kit had held him on the roof, arms firm and tight around Ty, as panic turned to exhaustion and then to something like peace. His stomach seemed to flop like a dead fish inside him with the recollection. Would there ever be anyone to do that again? Livvy could no longer hold him. And Kit…had made very clear that wouldn’t be happening. Now, when he felt like that, Livvy hovered uselessly and cried because she couldn’t help, and Irene would bury herself against his chest, and Ty would have to wrap his arms around himself and squeeze. Would have to pretend there was someone else there, that Kit was there. That it wasn’t so hard to do this alone.
“Ty?”
He jumped a little as he realised Jem had slowed to walk beside him.
“Sorry.”
“No, you looked as if you were focused on something. Don’t let me interrupt. I seem to recall you have some family connection here, don’t you?”
His voice was soft and languid, calming as the lap of waves against the rocks back home in LA.
“Not really. My uncle knew Evelyn Highsmith.”
“I think Evelyn might still be here, actually.”
“That’s a shame,” Ty said without thinking. He cast a look at Jem, who seemed to be stifling a laugh.
“Well quite. I don’t think Tessa would disagree. Evelyn has…quite outdated views on Downworlders. Perhaps that comes with being in your 80s, but Tessa and I are well beyond that age and I like to think we haven’t become that way inclined in our opinions.”
“She didn’t like us much either, especially Kieran and Tavvy.”
“I can’t imagine you lost out on any good company due to it.”
Ty smiled a little, relaxing. “No, not really. She had a housekeeper, Bridget. She seemed nice. She let me take a book from the library.”
“Tessa, did you hear that?” Jem asked, pitching his voice to call out to his wife, “Bridget is still going!”
Tessa laughed in delight. “We must see her before we go! I bet she’s sick to death of us! I wonder if Jessamine is still here?”
“She is,” Ty told her. “At least, Evelyn talked to her a lot when we were here.”
Tessa and Jem grinned at each other, looking for all the world like the teenagers they were when they first lived here. It was Jem who focused them all again.
“That will have to be a job for later. We’re here on important business, not to have a reunion party. Let’s see what we can find in the library.”

Though he’d been in the London Institute’s library before, it still made goosebumps jump along Ty’s skin. The Los Angeles Institute had been remodelled so recently that their library was woefully stocked. Here, Ty was sure that any book he could possibly dream up would be somewhere, if only he could find it in this maze. All except the one Bridget had let him take when they were last here.
It took an hour or so of searching through filing cabinets organised a dozen different ways by a dozen different Heads of Institute from across the years before they found the instructions sent to institutes worldwide on how to write a fire-message. Ty held it delicately in his hands, marvelling. This was it: the first missive that would teach a whole global community how to do something that Ty now took for granted every single day.

‘To whom it may concern,

Please find attached instructions on how to create and send a ‘fire-message’, a recent invention of a small team of London Shadowhunters led by Christopher Lightwood and Grace Blackthorn.

A fire-message is a form of written communication, such as a letter or a wire, sent and received instantly regardless of distance. In order to write one:

1. Write your message on any paper
2. Mark the paper with the following rune using a stele. This is an adapted communication rune, so please note the additional changes needed in order to create the shape of this new rune.

The message will burn (it can be held - the rune burns only paper and will not scorch the skin of the sender or receiver) and reform in the location of the recipient. If there are any issues in delivery, please contact:
Grace Blackthorn or Henry Branwell
Fairchild Residence
Grosvenor Square
London
England

Alternatively, you can contact:
James Herondale
48 Curzon Street
Mayfair
London
England

We request that, as the Head of your Institute, you educate the Shadowhunters of your jurisdiction about fire-messages. To enable this, we will be hosting several workshops at Institutes around the world. If your Institute requires a translator in order to receive training, please let us know. Our team can train in any of the following languages:

• Spanish
• French
• Farsi
• Tamil
• Welsh
Our team will be organising several central workshops in Idris over the coming months. Further missives about these events shall be sent as soon as we have details. With each fire-message you send, remember its creator: Christopher Lightwood. He died how he lived; for his friends.
Yours sincerely,
The founding members of the Christopher Lightwood Memorial Research Team (CLMRT)’

Ty’s throat felt as if it was closing. The Christopher Lightwood Memorial Research Team. It was so like their own creation of Livia’s Watch. With careful fingers, he traced the shape of the rune included on the paper, drawn in plain ink so as not to activate it. It was a rune he saw every day, every time he sent a letter or requested a book, or ordered new stationery. It was so…normal. But back then, this would have been entirely new, entirely novel. Ty had grown up with new runes, all of Clary’s creations, but he still remembered the murmurs about how it wasn’t right, someone being able to create something new. The runes were in the Gray Book, and that was finite. But of course it wasn’t. It never had been. The world was changing and every generation had its own advancements, its own revolutionary inventions to contend with. What would be his?
But if he’d never heard of the Christopher Lightwood Memorial Research Team, what were the chances it was well-known anymore? Christopher’s friends had spent their years teaching people and ensuring no one forgot their loved one’s name in all of this, and they’d still failed. What hope was there that Clary’s name would be remembered? Or Livvy’s?
No. He would make sure the history books remembered. He would make sure Livvy’s name survived beyond his lifetime if she couldn’t. And, as a matter of fact, he’d do the same for Christopher.

“What happened to the Memorial Research Team?” Ty asked, as he sat with Jem and Tessa at a table in the library, eating ‘biscuits’ that weren’t biscuits but in fact cookies.
Tessa bit her lip as she thought, then turned to Jem.
“Do you remember?”
He shrugged apologetically. “I was in the Silent City. Not much social news reached us down there.”
“I think it just fell out of existence, to be honest,” Tessa admitted. “It breaks my heart, because it meant so much to them all. I still remember James and Thomas practising their presentations to us all in the parlour upstairs. Poor Tom was shaking like a leaf, bless him.”
“Tom…was he the enormous one?” Jem asked.
“That’s the one.”
“He was going steady with your Cordelia’s brother, was he not?”
“Jem! No one has said ‘going steady’ in about 70 years!” Tessa laughed fondly. “We can’t be getting all old. Kit will be mortified.”
The name sent a stabbing pain through Ty’s gut. He had to get over this. He couldn’t cringe at every mention of Kit’s name, not when he was working with Kit’s parents. Not when, what he really needed now was to have a look at anything Tessa had kept from that time.
“I don’t suppose you have any of the stuff from the time, do you? Anything they might have written?”
“If it’s anywhere, it’ll be in the loft, I imagine.” Tessa turned to Jem. “Didn’t I put some of James’ things up there when we moved?”
“I should expect so. Tessa, when we get back, perhaps we can look through some of the boxes and see what would be useful?”
“Maybe you’d be better to do that, Ty,” she suggested. “You know what you’re looking for better than us.”
Ty was torn. On the one hand, this was certain to be a breakthrough. What were the odds of finding handwritten notes from James and his friends anywhere else? Particularly without any leads? It could be just the evidence he needed to start crafting a fully fleshed-out argument. But on the other hand…
Kit.
He’d be there, wouldn’t he? But maybe, if Ty worked out the time difference between where he was at the Scholomance and where Kit was in Devon, if he could just find a time where Kit would be at school…
“That would be so helpful. Thank you.”
Tessa and Jem beamed. Against his better judgement, he smiled back. He liked them. But he couldn’t get attached. It was only a matter of time before they told Kit he was coming over and Kit told them every awful thing Ty had ever done, every reason he ran away. Every reason he hadn’t said goodbye. He felt the smile slip.
“I’d better go. Thank you again. I’ll write to you.”

“Ty! That’s incredible!”
He made a vague noise of agreement and burrowed back further against the wall. He was under the spare bed in his dorm room, back to the wall, arms crossed over his chest and hugging his shoulders in a protective letter ‘X’. He rested his cheek on the back of one hand and stared across at the opposite wall. The heart beating in his ears felt far too loud to be coming from the same heart inside his chest. He chewed absently on the inside of his cheek and tried not to think about anything at all, but particularly not about Kit.
“Ty-Ty, what’s up?”
He breathed out as slowly and evenly as he could. He could hear Irene snoring on the bed above him, could hear the soft ticking of the clock in the hallway outside that just kept having the batteries replaced no matter how many times he snuck out at night and removed them. With every heartbeat, the pulse in his head seemed to press in tighter and tighter until he had to squint his eyes closed because the lamp on his desk was too bright. He could get up and turn it off, but he wasn’t sure his body would let him move. He rolled his ankle experimentally, but it was like trying to control a puppet when you weren’t sure which string connected to which limb. It moved, but it was jerky.
“Ty, come on. What’s wrong?”
Even with his eyes shut, he could feel the light of the lamp burning. He dug his fingers into his shoulders to try and ground himself. It was times like this he wished Livvy was back properly, so she could lie down beside him and squeeze his hands in hers like she always did. So someone could hold him. So he didn’t feel so utterly alone.
He could feel himself shaking and tried not to think about the London Institute, about Kit on the roof, holding him and asking what he needed and being there.
“I don’t want to go,” Ty said, teeth chattering even though it wasn’t cold, not really.
“Go where?”
“Devon.”
He sensed her float down to look at him and tucked his head down so his forehead was against his crossed forearms. Even though he couldn’t see her with his eyes closed, he could imagine the look on her face.
“Ty…”
“I have enough for an essay. I don’t need any more.”
“But–”
“I don’t need it. So don’t tell me I do. Because I don’t. And I’m not going.”
“Okay.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time, so long that if he hadn’t been able to sense her there, he would’ve thought she’d wandered off. Then she spoke quietly.
“Can we please talk about it? I know you always say no, and I know you don’t want to, but please? I can’t help in any other way like this. I can’t hug you, I can’t…do anything.” Her voice splintered.
He opened his eyes. Her ghostly eyes, ethereal and translucent, seemed watery. Phantom tears. His heart gave a guilty thump. It was his fault she was crying, not only because he refused to talk to her about any of this, but because he’d brought her back. And he’d done it wrong. She was sad she couldn’t hold him, and she couldn’t hold him because he’d messed it all up. He’d messed it up Kit, and hadn’t even got Livvy back properly for all the pain he’d caused them both. He propped his chin on his arms and looked at her. This was the least he could do, right?
“Fine.”
She looked up, eyes wide. They still glistened with a strange glassiness, but her eyebrows were lifted hopefully. “Really?”
He nodded. “Not everything, but I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
She laid down on the floor, not too close but near enough that he felt comforted by her proximity. “Do you remember what happened to make him leave?”
“Bits of it. Not all of it.”
“Are you mad at him?”
“Yes. And no.”
“Did he say something?”
“Yes. But I can’t tell you.”
She pulled her lip between her teeth as if she wanted to ask more, but she nodded, not pushing it.
“Did you say something?”
“Yes, but not the right thing.”
“Do you…love him?”
Ty opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again and swallowed hard. They looked at each other, a held gaze that Ty didn’t mind because it was Livvy and she already knew everything about him. “Ask something else,” he said quietly.
“What are you worried will happen if you see him?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I’m scared that nothing will happen. I’m scared everything will be normal. That he won’t be mad, or anxious, or sad. I’m scared that he’ll have forgotten about me and we’ll be…nothing.”
He knew Livvy was fighting the urge to say that wasn’t going to happen, and glad she was. Questions and answers like this, he could handle. But he didn’t want to be comforted, didn’t want her to say it would be okay.
“Why didn’t you change your essay idea when you realised it would get Tessa involved?”
Ty shook his head. “Another question.”
“Would you go to Devon if there was no chance at all you’d see Kit?” When he didn’t answer, she spoke again. “Are you going, at least a little bit, because there’s a chance you will see him?” No answer. “Do you not want to answer any more?”
“One more question.”
“Do you feel about him the way he feels about you?”
“I feel the same way he did. I don’t know if he still feels that way.”
Livvy sighed, a strange, eerie noise from lungs that no longer held breath to expel. It seemed to echo through Ty like wind rustling trees at night, the unnerving scrape of a stray branch against a bedroom window. The haunting ache of something lost.

Chapter Text

Cirenworth didn’t have its own portal, so Ty found himself at a bus stop with instructions from the Head of the Devon Institute on how to make his way to Cirenworth. Compared to LA, it was freezing here. But, without noticing, he seemed to have become acclimated to the snowy temperatures of the Carpathians. He shoved his coat into his satchel and sat down on the hard plastic bench, waiting for the bus to Chagford.
“Do you think I’ll need to buy a ticket?” Livvy joked.
“Not unless the driver can see ghosts.”
“Stranger things have happened.” She floated down beside him. “Are you nervous?”
He glanced across at her, eyebrows raised.
“Okay, I know you are nervous, but are you also excited?”
Ty bit his lip and looked away.
“Strike through your glamour; I can hear the bus,” Livvy said, getting to her feet. She put a hand out to flag it down before realising, drawing back.
Ty stepped up beside her, glamour rune deactivated, and waited for the doors to open.
“Um, I’m trying to get to Cirenworth,” Ty offered when the driver looked at him.
“Where you from?” she asked in an accent Ty didn’t think he’d ever heard in his life. “Guessing you’re a grockle.”
“Los Angeles.”
“You definitely took a wrong bus somewhere, love,” she said and laughed. He swallowed and tried not to look at Livvy for reassurance. “Sorry, only joking,” the driver said. “Cirenworth. No one’s lived there for years, you know?”
“I still want to go,” Ty said nervously. “I still need to be there.”
“No worries. I can take you as far as Chagford, and from there you can walk about 20 minutes. How’s that sound?”
He nodded. “How much is that?”
“Two.”
“Pounds?”
“Sovereign.”
He glanced up, panicked, and she seemed to soften.
“Sorry, love. Just pulling your leg. Don’t worry about the fare - just sit down.”
He murmured a thank you and found a seat right at the back so no one would be sitting behind him. A tension was starting to build in his chest and he put his headphones on before he could start spiralling. Livvy hovered beside him and put a ghostly hand on his. It wasn’t the same as when she was alive and could press his hand between hers, but it still helped.
“I hope no one tries to sit on me,” she whispered, even though there was no one to hear her. He smiled a little. “You can relax now. You have a whole hour on this bus to watch the scenery and listen to your music or read. You’re doing fine.”
‘I’m glad you’re here’ he typed out on his phone so no one would see him talking to an empty seat. She grinned and put her head on his shoulder.

The driver helpfully told Ty when he’d reached his stop and laughed kindly when he tried to tip her. She waved him away and told him to enjoy his walk, pointing him towards the local tourist office for a map.
“Signal can be dodgy near the moors. Paper map’s your best bet.”
Sure enough, as soon as he lost sight of the houses and started along the country roads, his phone lost service.
“Thank the Angel for fire-messages,” Livvy said as they turned back on themselves for the second time.
“Thank Christopher,” Ty corrected. “Besides, I’m pretty sure if we follow this little lane we’ll be nearby.”
Luckily, the map was trustworthy and, half an hour later, they reached the huge gates at the end of Cirenworth’s driveway. Ty had taken off his hoodie and - satchel stuffed full with his coat and notebooks - tied it around his waist. He hoped he wasn’t sweating and stopped to shake out his hands for a few moments before he started down the driveway.
When he finally arrived at the front door, Jem and Tessa were already waiting.
“We saw you coming. Come in, come in,” Tessa said. He pulled his boots off in the hallway and slung his bag around his shoulders. “Do you want a drink or a snack? It’s a long old bus ride.”
“We should’ve come to meet you, really,” Jem said apologetically. “I hope the journey wasn’t too much trouble.”
“No, no, it was fine,” he said, squeezing the leather strap of his bag. “A drink would be nice.”
“Of course. Lemonade? It’s like a soda here though. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine, thank you.”
A familiar grumble from the floor made Ty look down to see Church making figure-eights around his legs, shedding blue-grey fur that stuck to his black jeans like burs. He bent down to stroke the cat that had, for so long, stalked the institute back home. Church made a moody yowling noise but pressed his head against Ty’s palm happily.
“Have we found a person Church likes who isn’t a Carstairs?” Jem asked, returning with a glass of lemonade, which he handed to Ty as he straightened up.
“I’ve missed him,” Ty grinned. “He used to sleep on my feet when I read by the window.”
“I think he’d tear my toes to shreds if I tried that,” Tessa laughed. “Grumpy old man, aren’t you?”
“Me or Church?” Jem asked and Tessa smiled.
“No comment.”
“I don’t have to stand for this,” Jem said, but he was chuckling. “Come on, Ty, I’ll show you up into the attic.”

Around midday, when Ty had looked through three boxes and found nothing, Jem peeked his head into the loft through the hatch.
“Ty, we’re just heading out to go and collect Mina from nursery. We’ll only be about an hour. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Ty assured him. “I’m quite happy up here.”
And he was. Jem, much to Ty’s delight, had set him up with a record player and a selection of classical vinyls. When Ty had drawn out the sleeve of Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre’s chamber music, Jem had immediately launched into conversation with him about other composers he’d like, shuffling through the collection and making a small pile of recommendations. Tessa had eventually told him to leave Ty be, despite Ty’s protestations that he was more than happy to have someone to talk to about classical music.
Now, with a pile of boxes to methodically sort and one of Jem’s recommended records on featuring Marianna Martines, Ty was more or less in his element. Livvy had been wandering the grounds and, upon hearing Tessa and Jem leave, reappeared beside Ty in the loft so they could talk without being overheard.
“I think Jem might adore you,” she laughed, prodding him in the ribs. He squirmed away instinctively even though he couldn’t feel the jabbing. “Listening to your Monet together.”
“Monet was a painter,” Ty pointed out. “Mozart was a composer, and not even one we were talking about.”
“Whatever, they like you. You’re like their little surrogate nerd, researching stuff from back in their day and being all musical and bookish. And Church likes you!”
From the bottom of the attic ladder, as if he’d heard this, Church gave a yowl and a half-hearted scratch at the bottom rung. Seeming unwilling to make any further attempt at climbing, he sloped off down the hall.
“Tessa did say there was an old second-hand bookshop in the village I might like.” He glanced up at her. “Do you really think they like me?”
“I really do.”
He sighed. “I wish I could come here again. I wish I could get to know them properly.”
“I know, but maybe –”
Downstairs, a key clicked in a lock and Livvy put a finger to her lips. Ty made a face at her. Obviously he wasn’t going to keep talking if Tessa and Jem were back. But so soon?
“Hello!” a familiar voice called and Ty felt his eyes widen. He exchanged a look with Livvy, horrified.
Kit.
Ty lunged for the record player and lifted the needle, silencing it.
“Anyone there?” Kit yelled from the foyer. It was two floors below but the marble entrance hall carried the noise. Ty shoved himself as far as he could under the sloping eaves. “Half day at school. A pipe burst, but I swear it wasn’t me. It was pretty awesome though, like a geyser.”
Ty squeezed his eyes shut. This could not be happening, not when Jem and Tessa wouldn’t be back for an hour. Maybe Kit would stay downstairs, or at least wouldn’t come to this bit of the house. The place was huge. Maybe he wouldn’t see the attic hatch open and the ladder lowered. Maybe.
“Church!” Kit called, and an answering desolate ‘mrow’ came from below as Church lolloped down the stairs and towards Kit’s voice. “Is anyone even in?”
Church gave an answering grumble and, to Ty’s horror, footsteps started approaching. No no no. He looked at Livvy.
“Do something,” he mouthed. “Distract him.”
She disappeared through the floorboards and he heard a bump as if someone had knocked something from a table.
“Keeping well, Oscar?” Kit laughed.
Who the hell was Oscar?
Livvy reappeared, looking panicked.
“What else do I do? Do I intercept him?” she whispered. He shook his head, then paused to think. Maybe she should. Maybe she could divert him or–
“Jem?”
His voice was at the bottom of the ladder now, calling up into the loft space. Ty started to get to his feet, nearly banging his head on the wooden beams lining the sloping roof. He opened his mouth to say something just as a face so familiar it was like the sight of an LA sunrise appeared through the hatch. His mouth dropped open, then he closed it again and stared. Ty swallowed hard.
“Hi.”
Kit’s jaw quivered slightly, and he pressed his lips together to stop it.
“You can’t be here. Why are you here?”
“Jem and Tessa,” Ty said, hands squeezed into fists. “They’re helping me with a research project. It’s about–”
“I don’t care what it’s about!” Kit burst out, before closing his eyes for a few seconds to compose himself. Ty took the moment to squeeze his thumbs into his fists and breathe through the anxiety. When Kit opened his eyes again, his voice was calm but cold. “You need to leave.”
“I…I can’t. I haven’t told them where I’m going.”
“I’ll tell them you got sick.”
“But I’m not sick.”
Kit, one hand still braced on the top rung of the ladder for balance, wiped his other hand over his eyes.
“Ty. I can’t do this. I just can’t. Please can you just go?”
Swallowing, Ty put the things he was sorting back into the box - or started to.
“I’ll do it. Just go.”
At Kit’s words, Ty stood up and nodded. Like he couldn’t bear to even touch him, Kit scrambled down the ladder and stepped back so Ty could climb down. They didn’t speak, didn’t even look at each other, but as he walked down the long driveway, Ty glanced back to see Kit watching him go from the window. As soon as he noticed he’d been spotted, he disappeared from his perch.
“Should I go and talk to him?” Livvy asked, turning to look over her shoulder. Ty shook his head, head down. “I can’t believe he didn’t even acknowledge me,” she added, sounding hurt.
“I don’t–” Ty started, but his voice only went that far. It was like the words had reached his throat and then stuck there, blocked. He was so exhausted, far too tired to coordinate his brain and mouth onto the same task. He shook his head again and she floated alongside him as they reached the gates.
“Heads up, Jem and Tessa are coming,” Livvy said suddenly, pointing up the winding road towards the town. It seemed like they were having a similar conversation, because they gestured for him to stay where he was while they reached him. Livvy cursed quietly and Ty braced himself for a one-sided conversation.
“Ty, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Tessa said, as soon as she was close enough.
How was that her first question? Why not ‘how could you leave our gorgeous manor unlocked and unattended?’ or ‘Are you really ungrateful enough to leave without saying thank you?’ or–
“Ty?”
She reached out a hand and he flinched back without thinking, blinking at her helplessly. Guilt immediately sank into the bottom of his stomach like a boulder.
“Are you sick?”
That’s what Kit would tell her anyway. He nodded.
“You don’t want to be taking a bus in that state, not down Devon’s winding roads” Jem said, drawing up beside Tessa, a toddler in his arms. The child was asleep, her head on her father’s shoulder. “We’ll call a warlock, see if they’ll take you back by portal. Shall I try Ragnor?”
He didn’t want Ragnor to have to come. He didn’t want Ragnor to think he was just another student who couldn’t handle the demands of the Scholomance. People dropped out every month, unable to cope with the isolation and rigorous schedule. He didn’t want Ragnor to think he was going to do that. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t exactly get a bus ticket if he couldn’t speak. It was so frustrating. He could talk, he knew he could. But it was like his jaw was wired shut. He lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
“Here, you go with Mina. I’ll message Ragnor and wait with Ty,” Tessa said.
When Jem had disappeared down the driveway, Tessa scribbled out a fire-message and turned to Ty.
“I’m sure Ragnor will be here any moment. I get the feeling you don’t really want me to wait here with you. I just don’t want to leave you on your own.”
He gave her a small smile he hoped looked encouraging and she seemed to relent.
“Okay, but if you need anything, you know we’re only in the house. Let us know when you’re back safely, alright? I hope you feel better.”
He gave her an awkward little wave and, as soon as she was out of sight, sank down onto the grass verge. He picked up a rock beside him and threw it as hard as he could.
“Are you trying to kill me, Blackthorn?”
Ty glanced up as Ragnor appeared from a wavering portal, its surface grassy green and shimmering. He looked up and Ragnor gave him a gruff smile.
“Come on then, let’s get you out of here.”

Chapter Text

The next Monday, when Ty stepped out into the sunny Devon summer from the cool darkness of the local Institute, he froze. There, sitting on the steps, was Kit. He turned around at the sound of the door opening and gave a smile that looked as if it hurt.
“Hey.”
“I…I didn’t think you’d be here. I thought you’d be at school.”
“Bank holiday.”
“What?”
Kit stood up, hands in the pockets of his shorts. He wore a t-shirt with the logo of some band Ty had never heard of across the front and freckles were starting to dot his face with the sun, which had turned his blonde hair to a paler shade of gold.
“It’s a British thing. But I’m not at school.”
Ty glanced away from the beauty mark under Kit’s eye that was dragging his attention like a magnet. “I’ll come back another day.”
“It’s…fine. I felt kind of bad about last time. Thought I’d meet you to get the bus.” Kit had his head down, scuffing the heel of his shoe awkwardly. Ty swallowed hard.
“You’re not mad at me?”
“Not for last time. You didn’t know I’d be there.”
“What about–”
“C’mon. Let’s go,” Kit cut in quickly, and started walking. Ty turned back to exchange a look with Livvy and found her waving goodbye from the Institute doorway. Was this something to do with her? Had she asked Kit to come? He opened his mouth to ask but thought better of it.
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here to meet me,” Ty said when they reached the bus stop. “It’s a long ride.”
Kit shrugged. “I was meeting Hazel anyway.”
Ty sat down on the bench and pulled his satchel onto his lap. “Hazel.”
“Yup.”
They didn’t say anything else and, even though there was room on the hard plastic bench, Kit didn’t sit down. He checked the bus timetable, then his phone, and sighed.
“Bank holiday service. We’ve got 20 minutes to kill.”
“Oh, okay.”
Kit bit his lip and glanced around, as if for something to do. “Um, wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure.”
They walked in silence for a while until someone waved to Kit from outside a nearby cafe. A group of teenagers were sitting around a table under a large umbrella, casting shade across them as they ate food from polystyrene takeaway boxes. He nodded back and they waved him over.
“Can’t, just killing time before the bus,” he called. The gang booed and he flipped them off. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Who’s your friend?” someone shouted.
Kit sucked in a sharp breath, making Ty glance across nervously, but the group was far enough away not to have heard it.
“Someone from back home. In a bit!”
The group waved and Ty gave a small smile as Kit started back towards the bus stop, checking the time on his phone impatiently.
“Were they from school?” Ty asked.
“Yeah,” Kit said shortly. “Bus is due in 10 minutes so let’s just wait at the stop.”
“Are they your friends?”
“Uh huh,” Kit nodded, opening his messages and clicking on a notification. “One sec, I gotta call Hazel.”
“Okay.”
Just ten minutes later, Ty found himself in the same spot on the bus stop bench, staring into space and pretending not to eavesdrop as Kit walked a few feet away and started talking.
“Hey, what’s up? No, I’m fine, the buses are just shit and I don’t wanna have to wait an hour for the next one. No honestly. Yeah. Yeah, I know. Hazel,” he hissed, cheeks burning, “I know. Okay. See you. Bye.”
He walked back over, still red in the face, and Ty tried not to imagine what the conversation had been about.
“Sorry,” Kit said, leaning against the bus shelter.
“It’s fine,” Ty said quietly, picking at a peeling section of paint on the seat beneath him. “Was that–”
“Bus is here,” Kit cut in, sticking an arm out to flag it down. “Morning, two day riders please.” He handed Ty the other ticket as it was printed and bagged them two seats towards the back. The bus was almost empty, only a few elderly women with shopping bags chatting at the front. Kit looked out of the window, which seemed an unlikely precursor to conversation. Still, when Ty put his headphones on, he didn’t start his music. Just in case.

By the time they reached Chagford and got off the bus, Ty’s stomach was roiling not from the winding roads but from the sheer tension of the silence. He had to say something. Anything. Kit had made an effort, coming to meet him. It only seemed fair to try and reach out as well.
“Is this…can’t we be friends again?” he blurted. Kit stopped walking for a moment before composing himself and starting ahead, faster. He was shorter than Ty though, and easy to catch up to.
“No,” Kit said shortly. “We can’t.”
“But–”
“You know we can’t.”
“Why?”
Kit squeezed his hands into fists and let out a shaky breath. “Please. Just leave it.”
“Because of what you said?”
Kit’s mouth twisted like he was in pain. “Yes. And how…it had clearly never crossed your mind. So let’s just leave it. You didn’t – you don’t – feel the same way. And I’m over it now. Let’s just move on.”
“You never said anything. How was I supposed to know?”
“Yeah, nothing would’ve taken you by surprise,” Kit drawled sarcastically.
“I wouldn’t have been surprised if you told me even an hour before you did - ten minutes before you did!” Ty burst out. “Right up until the point you made me so confused about everything.”
“Oh I made you confused!?” Kit demanded. “Really?”
“Yes! You did! You helped me the whole time with Livvy and then, right at the last minute, you changed your mind. Which would’ve been fine, but you didn’t change your mind in that minute, did you? You never wanted to do it. And you didn’t say anything. You just let me keep going with it until right then when you could say you disagreed and have plausible deniability. I felt so stupid, Kit. Like maybe you’d been trying to tell me all along. I felt like you’d taken advantage of the fact I wouldn’t pick up on any hints or clues you didn’t want to do it. Like you could sleep better at night knowing hey, you tried, but Ty didn’t pick up on the hints! What more could you do? But you knew I wouldn’t know unless you said it. And then right at the last second, you did, you said you didn't want to do it - like I should’ve known that all along! Like I should’ve been able to tell.
“Do you know how bad that made me feel? Do you know how stupid I felt? And do you know how hard it is to be mad at anyone but yourself when you know there were signs you missed that something was wrong? You made me feel so safe and so smart and so…normal. Like everyone else was the problem and not me. Because I understood you. If no one else made sense, it was okay because I understood you. And you weren’t confusing or scary or difficult. I knew you. And then…I didn’t. And maybe I never did. Maybe you were just too nice to tell me I was wrong right up until that last second.”
He swallowed hard and tried to steady his voice. Before he had to worry whether it would break when he spoke, Kit had cut in.
“Oh yeah? And you think you didn’t make me feel like shit too? You have no idea what it’s like to be so unloved your whole life, to only ever be wanted when you’re useful, and then to think maybe this time it’s different. Maybe this time this person likes me - really likes me - for no reason other than me. They don’t need anything from me or expect anything; they just like Kit. And then Livvy died and you needed me to help you and I’m back to square one, back to being needed - not wanted. Back to being Kit Rook who can sneak into the shadow markets, who can charm a vendor, who can pickpocket and steal and lock pick and do all the shit I hated that I could do because what kind of dad teaches their kid to do crime instead of math? Instead of history? Instead of anything about who they are or what they’re worth as a person? And the whole time, I told myself that it wasn’t like that with you, that you liked me before everything with Livvy, and you wouldn’t stop liking me when I wasn’t useful anymore. And then you said to her…”
He sniffed impatiently, like he didn’t have time for his own emotions. “You said, ‘there’s nothing if you aren’t there’. Nothing. I was right there. I’d been right there. And what? I was just meant to stick around and be happy with that? Be happy with being part of the shitty nothingness when we failed? Listen to you try and backpedal and bullshit that that’s not what you meant?”
“It wasn’t what I meant!” Ty yelled. “You don’t understand what losing her was like!”
“There you go again! No one could possibly understand, could they? Not someone who’d lost his whole family? Not someone who had literally nothing left? You don’t get how lucky you are. You have a brother who loves you so much he’d upend his whole life, abandon his teenage years, to look after you. You have a whole family who thinks you’re the greatest thing to ever exist. You have Diana and Cristina and Kieran and apparently my parents. And it’s still not enough for you!”
“No it’s not!” Ty snapped back. “It’s not enough. Because you’re not there.”
Kit scoffed, but Ty went on. “I’m serious. I have everything I ever wanted. I’m at the Scholomance. I’m doing something that I think can really make a difference. I don’t feel so…broken anymore. I fit in there, better than I’ve fit in anywhere else. And it still doesn’t make me happy because we aren’t talking anymore. I have everything I’d ever wanted until you came along and now I don’t have everything, because I didn’t plan that I’d want you there too.”
Kit looked away. “You knew I loved you,” he said bitterly.
“I thought you loved Livvy!” Ty shouted. “I saw you! You kissed her!”
“What are you talking about?” Kit’s head snapped up, looking incredulous. “I did not!”
“You did! On the beach! I saw you.”
Kit’s eyes widened suddenly with dawning realisation. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Ty spat. “‘Oh.’”
“I didn’t know you saw that. But it…it wasn’t like that.”
“Whatever. Let’s just go. I’ll get out of your life as soon as I’m done with this project,” Ty muttered, pushing his headphones over his ears. Cirenworth Hall was in sight now, the gates up to the long driveway less than a minute’s walk. How could it have gotten worse? How could this all have somehow gone more downhill? He didn’t care what Kit said - he’d seen them on the beach. He’d seen it. Ty had never kissed anyone, but he was fairly sure a kiss couldn’t be much else than exactly what it looked like. Livvy could never know what Kit had said, Ty thought. Never.

Up in the attic, music playing through his headphones, Ty tried to refocus on his task of finding information. He’d made perfunctory conversation with Jem and Tessa, disappearing up the ladder into the loft as soon as possible. His vision felt as if it was blurry and wavering as he sorted through boxes, glancing over notes and loose papers that weren’t helpful to him. Mothering Sunday cards from James and Lucie to their mother, letters from Jem organising meetings on some bridge, all too personal for him to feel comfortable giving more than the quickest glance to ascertain they weren’t of use for his research. His throat felt tight and hard, as if he’d swallowed a rock and it was stuck halfway down his trachea. For once, he was glad Livvy wasn’t there. He wasn’t sure, if she asked what was wrong, he’d be able to lie to her.
“Ty?”
He turned, pushing his headphones around his neck, and glanced away again when he saw Kit.
“Can I come up?”
“Your house,” Ty said quietly, turning back to the boxes.
“I need to explain, about what happened with Livvy.”
“I really don’t want to hear it.”
“She asked me to kiss her.”
Ty froze, hand hovering over a stack of letters. “So?”
“So it didn’t mean anything.”
Ty closed his eyes for a moment, blindingly angry. “How do you figure that? It would’ve meant something to me, if you’d kissed me like that.”
He heard Kit swallow. “It wouldn’t have meant anything to you either.”
Ty turned so sharply he heard the stack of letters slide and topple. “Stop. You don’t get to tell me what it would’ve meant to me, how it would’ve felt.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Kit said, backing down a little. “But I just need you to listen to me. She asked me to kiss her because she’d never been kissed before. She just wanted to know what it was like. We weren’t…a thing.”
The world went suddenly very quiet. It would’ve been nice, not hearing anything at all for once, if it didn’t feel so much like the world had stopped spinning. Ty was dimly aware of the music still playing through his headphones, of the fact he couldn’t tell whether he was breathing too much or he’d stopped altogether. He chanced a look at Kit, who was staring at him with his cheek pulled in, chewing it between his teeth nervously.
“What?” Ty said, barely a whisper.
“She asked me to kiss her. So I kissed her. I swear to you, that’s all it was. She just wanted a first kiss. It was nothing more than that.”
“But…I thought you wanted to help me raise Livvy because you loved her. Then you said…what you said. I was confused. Everything was different. It was too much all at once.”
“I didn’t know you saw it.”
“I thought you were in love with her,” Ty said, appalled by how distraught he sounded.
“I wasn’t. I’m not.”
Ty looked over at Kit, at the blue eyes and the beauty spot and the smattering of freckles.
“Well…what now?”
Kit bit his lip for a moment, thinking, then stuck a hand out. “Friends?”
A knot he hadn’t known was there loosened inside Ty’s stomach, freeing his chest to take what felt like the first proper breath since that night at the lake. He took Kit’s hand and nodded. “Friends.”

Chapter Text

When Ty returned to the Devon Institute that night, satchel full of papers and heart lighter, he made a split second decision upon starting down the halls to find Livvy: he wasn’t going to tell her what he knew about the beach. He wasn’t sure why – not mentioning things to Livvy was always strange and uneasy – but something about this felt like it shouldn’t be shared. He hadn’t meant to see it in the first place, and he hadn’t planned to ever tell either of them he had. But now he knew the whole story and things felt different somehow. Changed. Like everything he thought he knew was off-kilter; he felt the same way about it now.
“Was it okay?” she asked and he nodded. He felt guilty, knowing that she wasn’t pushing because she assumed the worst. But that wasn’t a lie, was it? Not really. He just wasn’t correcting her assumption.
“It was fine. But I want to get back and have another look at the family trees.”
“I thought you said those were all wrong?” Livvy asked, hovering close so he could keep his voice down as they headed through the Devon Institute halls.
“They are, but with some of the stuff I’ve pieced together from all this stuff,” he said, opening his satchel and showing her all the papers inside, “I think I can work out where some of the mistakes came from.”
He braced as he stepped through the portal, and emerged on the other side feeling only mildly shaken. The time difference between here and Devon wasn’t nearly so jarring as when he went back to L.A. in the semester breaks, but it still felt a little jarring when it was such an instantaneous shift. After dumping his bag in his dorm, Ty headed straight to the library, fanning out all of his newly-obtained research in an arc like a rainbow across the desk in front of him. Anush, already at their usual table, whistled quietly.
“The Angel, Ty, got enough stuff there?”
“We’ll find out,” Ty said wryly, and pulled out the version of the family trees he had meticulously copied out on a huge sheet of paper he kept rolled up like a poster. Fingers flicking as if he was about to do a spell, he brought his hands down over the page and then up to his temples, drumming lightly. After a moment, he took a pencil and started making marks and notes. He flipped through the pictures he’d taken on a disposable camera, old photographs of long-dead shadowhunters now preserved on shiny photo paper, and started arranging them. There was Henry, and Charles, who – if he followed the line down far enough – could be credited with Clary’s red hair. There was Cecily and Anna, who bore the same colouring as Alec. And there was Jesse, who Ty couldn’t stop staring at. His family all bore such a strong resemblance to one another, with their brown hair and ocean-coloured eyes. There was Mark and Helen, of course, who were blonde and had mismatched irises. But even so, in each of them, they had one Blackthorn-blue eye. It made sense anyway, that they might look different. They were Faerie, and had a different mother to the rest of them. But Ty looked unlike his siblings and couldn’t see why. He felt like a changeling sometimes, like he hadn’t meant to belong where he was, like he’d been swapped into this family. It was ridiculous of course - you didn’t have a twin as a changeling, and he had never been surer of anything in his life than he was that Livvy was his twin. But he looked different, and he felt different, and he’d always felt as if he was searching for some proof he was in the right place.
But Jesse was a Blackthorn, and even in the black and white photo, he could see the resemblance between the two of them. For some strange reason, it filled him with a sense of calm not dissimilar to the same sense of calm he felt when he flipped through some of the other photos. Thomas – the “tall one” as Jem had called him – with his arm slung around the shoulder of a boy with warm dark skin and black hair, who looked up at him as if the sun rose and set in his eyes. Ari, laughing in delight as Anna lifted her in strong arms, dressed in a suit, the bow tie undone and hanging loose under the shirt collar. He knew he wasn’t the first person to feel the way he did about people of his own gender – wasn’t even the first in his immediate family. But, like seeing Jesse’s black hair so like his own, he still felt at peace when he saw these strangers across time who felt more like friends. There were people like him across the centuries, across the generations. In Jesse, in Thomas and Alastair, in Christopher and Henry. It was soothing somehow, to know that traces of who he was had always existed.
“Ty?”
He jerked his head up to glance over at Anush, who was watching him with his head tipped slightly to one side.
“Hey, you okay? You seem kind of distracted.”
Ty nodded quickly. “Yes, yes I’m fine. It’s been a weird day.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He was surprised by the next words out of his mouth. “Yeah. I do. Do you want to get some fresh air?”

Irene in tow, Ty set off across the Scholomance grounds with Anush, with the aim to head down to Dimmet Tarn and back before dinner. The whole trip was only a half mile, but the snow meant it took longer than expected to get anywhere, so they set out with plenty of time. As they walked, Ty explained as much as he could without revealing the situation with Livvy, and Anush nodded and made quiet murmurs of understanding, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets.
“Then today,” Ty finally finished, swiping the cold air with a long stick Irene kept whining for him to throw for her, “I found out that this…kiss thing he had with someone wasn’t how it looked. And we agreed to be friends but I don’t know how to do that anymore. He hated me for so long, Anush, hated me so much. I feel like I’m constantly second-guessing everything I do because I’m scared I’ll do something wrong and ruin it all again. And I still feel kind of…mad at him. I know it’s all just a big mess on both sides but I feel like we still have so much to talk about. But maybe it’s better we don’t talk about it and we just try to move past it. But maybe he’s mad at me and wants me to bring it up so we can talk and…” He let out a long breath and rubbed his free hand across his face tiredly. “I just don’t know what to do.”
He sank down on a fallen tree trunk, the frosty conditions making the bark hard and brittle. He tore a section of it off and threw it, sending Irene sprinting after it. The stick rolled from his open hand and he pulled his hat off, fidgeting with it in his lap.
“Sorry,” he said, staring down at the snow sliding off his boots. “I didn’t mean to just talk at you like that.”
Anush sat down beside him and gave a little huff of laughter. “I did ask if you wanted to talk about it,” he pointed out, nudging Ty gently with an elbow. “I wasn’t just saying that. I’m happy to listen.”
“I’m just so confused,” admitted Ty, plucking at the fleecy lining of his hat. “I always thought friendship was just difficult for everyone. This feels like a whole new universe of difficult.”
“Maybe it is,” Anush admitted, twisting the toe of his shoe in the snow, packing it into a dense patch of white. “Look, can I give you my opinion?” He glanced up for approval, then continued. “Stop me if I’m wrong at any point, but from what you’ve said it sounds as if you didn’t know each other long, and in that time both of you went through some of the most difficult and intense shit anyone can go through. You became incredibly close insanely quickly, and that’s great – but it’s also a lot. You were 15. That’s the age when you’re figuring yourself out, figuring the world out. When you can make mistakes and have fights and maybe this wouldn’t have all gotten so out of hand if the stakes weren’t so high. Cut him some slack, and cut yourself some slack too. You’re not meant to be emotionally mature at 15. You’re not meant to have experienced half the shit that you two had experienced in your lives. Take it from someone who, around the same age, did one of the most awful things I could do and fell in with the Cohort: you’re allowed to mess up. You say things you don’t mean and do things you don’t do, and you just want to be liked. Being 15 is hard enough without the fear of doing it alone. Maybe this is a good thing. Both of you have the chance to get to know one another again in a new stage in your lives where you’re settled and stable and know who you are more. You might find you like this new Kit. And he might find he likes you too.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
Anush chewed on his bottom lip, looking down at his feet. “That he might like you? Yeah. I’d say that’s more than possible.”
Ty stood up. “Thanks, Anush. We should head back before they serve dinner.”
“Wouldn’t want to miss casserole would we?”
“You hate casserole,” Ty pointed out, and Anush gave him a small smile, but his eyes seemed a little sad.
“True. But you’re right, we should go back.”

Ty reached into the drawer of his desk, where he’d shoved dozens of unsent letters since he arrived at the Scholomance. He glanced at some of them as he sorted through.
‘Thank you for the necklace’
‘I’m really sorry’
‘I’m so mad at you’
‘You didn’t have to go’
‘I don’t want your stupid necklace’
‘I want you to come back’
‘Do you miss me?’
‘I miss you.’
And easily a dozen notes that hadn’t gotten beyond three tiny words, crossed out so aggressively they couldn’t be read. Still, he knew what they said.
He found a fresh sheet of paper, pulled out his pen, and started a new letter. And this time, he’d send it.

“Hey!”
Ty grinned as he looked down the front steps of the Devon Institute, into the courtyard where Kit was leaning against the wall in a denim jacket with a furry collar. The weather, so warm only a few days ago, had gone cloudy and overcast. Ty was glad he’d brought layers.
“I have an idea for my project.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been wondering if I should contact Alec and see if he’d be interested in doing something to honour Christopher and his work. Maybe a scholarship or something, to the Academy or Scholomance. Or an internship. After all, he’s Christopher’s family. And I want to write something. So much has happened since the last Codex was released, so much history. Surely they’ll be publishing a new edition soon, talking about the Dark War and everything. Wouldn’t it be great to have something in there about the creation of the fire-message?”
“That sounds ace,” Kit said, nodding enthusiastically. “Surely the Scholomance have some connection with the updating and publications of new codexes. And my parents can help, and you know Alec would be down for something like that. Come on, let’s get the bus. I’ve been searching through those boxes and I found some stuff that might be useful.” He stopped briefly. “You don’t mind do you? Me going through the stuff without you?”
Ty shook his head. “No it’s…really nice of you.”
“I can be nice when I want to be,” Kit laughed. “Come on, I’ll show you what I found.”