“This is?” Charlotte asked, pointing to the rune in question, on the open page of the book she held.

“Voyance.” Jem replied, politely.

Will, beside him, sighed, resting his head on the desk in thinly-veiled boredom. Charlotte closed her eyes briefly, breathing out a long exhalation in equally thinly-veiled irritation. Jem couldn’t blame her, really. He knew better than anyone that Will could be simply unbearable at times, though Jem could never stay angry with him for very long.

The two boys were in the library, which also served as the schoolroom. Both sat at a large oak desk, which Will – much to Jem’s disapproval – had already engraved his initials into with a quill pen. They both had page upon page of notes in front of them; runes sketched in black ink. Will couldn’t bear it; the endless copying and recopying of runes, it drove him to the brink of insanity.

“Charlotte, dear?”

Charlotte’s husband Henry appeared at the door, holding some sort of metal contraption in one hand and wearing goggles over his thin-rimmed glasses. His red hair stuck up all over his head, in disarray, and his hands and shirt were splattered with a mysterious, oily black fluid. In his other hand was a letter, sealed with imprinted wax.

“Charlotte, dear,” he repeated from the doorway. “You have a letter. I think it may be from the Silent Brothers.”

“Oh, Henry,” Charlotte sighed. “The oil on your hands is all over the envelope.”

“Oh dear,” Henry replied, apparently only now noticing his stained hands. It always amused Jem that he seemed to have so little regard for the outside world, as though he were permanently living in his own head. “So it is.”

Charlotte gave a weary smile and stood from where she sat in a chair opposite the boys’ desk.  

“Boys, I need to reply to this letter. I’ll be back in a moment. And Jem,” she added, looking at him over her shoulder. “Try and control Will.”

“I am offended.” Will replied and Jem grinned.

“I’m sure you are.” He said, and Charlotte left, ushering Henry out after her.

Instants after the door shut, Will turned to Jem.

“I think we should become parabatai.” He said shortly. Though his voice gave off an air of unshakeable confidence, Jem could see the hesitation in his friend’s eyes, though only he would notice it.

Jem sat up now, startled, and stared incredulously at his friend.

“Parabatai?”

“Yes,” Will replied, though his confidence seemed to be ebbing slightly. “Unless you would rather not?”

“I want to be your parabatai, Will.” Jem assured him quickly. “Of course I do. But, I cannot.”

“Why?” Will asked quietly.

“Because parabatais are forever.” Jem sighed. “And I don’t have forever.”

“None of us,” Will said, leaning his elbows onto the tabletop. “Have forever.”

“Will,” Jem sighed again and continued with a wise tone that made him sound, Will thought, older than any of the adults. “You only get one parabatai in your life. I could die soon, and you would never get another parabatai.”

“I don’t want another parabatai,” Will said quietly. “I want you.”

Will was staring at the wood of the desktop, much to Jem’s relief. It was so rare that Will was genuine and sincere; he usually buried his feelings under humour. Jem was fighting with himself not just to accept Will’s offer to make his friend happy. But no, Jem thought, Will needed to understand what it would mean to be bound to him.

“Listen,” Jem said gently. “I could die the day after our ceremony, and you would not have anyone to fight with. You would never be able to bind with anyone else.”

“I could die tomorrow too! Any of us could! We are shadowhunters, we are all at risk. And if I die tomorrow, or you do, I would want to be parabatais with you when that happens.” Will said, looking up.

It was hopeless, Jem thought, to refuse Will. If he was willing, and understood the risk, why should they not have the ceremony? Why should they not be partners in battle? They were already closer than brothers; all this ceremony would do was make it official.

“Okay.” Jem said softly, and Will’s eyes widened.

“‘If aught but death part thee and me.’” He said, and Jem couldn’t help but smile despite the weight of the promise he had made weighing him down. It felt wrong, like condemning Will to some awful fate; the fate of having a parabatai who wasn’t guaranteed to survive the year.

Charlotte reappeared then, cutting the boys’ conversation short. However, the day has been long and the hot summer sun was pouring through the large windows of the library, making it next to impossible to focus. Jem could feel sweat prickling under his shirt collar and eased out the material. Charlotte persevered with their lesson for half an hour before deciding to dismiss teaching for the day.

“Shall we go to the training room?” Will asked Jem, abandoning his schoolwork.

“I’ll be up in a minute. I just need to…take my medicine.” Jem replied, still uneasy with the whole concept.

“Alright.” Will said, and left the library.

“You should wear your training clothes if you’re practising!” Jem called after his friend.

“Don’t be dull!” he sang back, as Jem stood and turned the other way down the hall, and went upstairs to his bedroom.

Once in his room, Jem shut the door behind him. He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on his bedside table and opened the box of Yin Fen on his mantelpiece. He pinched some of the silver powder between his finger and thumb and dropped it into the water. The metallic substance looked almost beautiful as it dissolved, giving the water a silver hue like a sixpence. It dissolved fairly quickly and Jem drank the foul mixture down swiftly to get it over with. He grimaced at the lukewarm water, which had been sat in its pitcher, angled to catch the sun’s rays. As he put the glass down, he looked at the reflection staring back at him in the mirror; silver eyes, silver hair, angular cheekbones, a complexion as pale as parchment. If he looked closely enough, he could almost see the faint streaks of black in his hair, echoes of his old black-brown eyes. But practically all of the old Jem was gone, replaced by metallic silver.

At first, the change was slow, so subtle as to barely be noticeable. But as his body became more dependent on the Yin Fen, the effects became more obvious. He barely even recognised himself any more.

“Will,”

The boy turned as Jem appeared in the doorway. Will, against Jem’s advice, had not changed into his gear. He had merely rolled the sleeves of his shirt to the elbow and taken off his jacket.

“Will,” Jem repeated. “I need to speak with you.”

“Of course.” Will replied, “Though it had better be something pleasant,” He turned the knife he was holding over in his hands. “For I am armed.”

“Then perhaps you might put that down.” Jem said gently. “Because I do not think I can be your parabatai.”

There was a moment of silence, in which neither of them spoke, before Will broke the silence.

“Okay,” he said evenly, deciding not to ask Jem’s reasons for changing his mind so quickly – which Jem was thankful for. “I propose a bet.”

“A bet?” Jem repeated.

“Yes; a wager, a gamble. A bet.”

“What sort of a bet?” Jem asked, suspicious.

“If I beat you at a sword fight, you agree to be my parabatai.” Will said, tossing his knife into the air and catching it deftly. “If you win, then you can decide.”

Jem laughed.

“That hardly seems fair! Our future rests on a fight?”

Will grinned wickedly, throwing Jem a sword.

“Doesn’t it always?”

Jem took up the blade expertly as Will slid another from a bracket on the wall.

“This is ridiculous.” Jem laughed.

“All the best ideas are.” Will replied with a smile, darting his blade toward the other boy.

Their blades clashed as Jem blocked Will’s hit and pushed his sword back. He ducked under Will’s outstretched blade and fell into a crouch, swinging his sword at Will’s legs. But Will was too quick and sliced down, knocking the blade from Jem’s hands. He grinned.

“So, parabatais?” Will asked, sweat sticking his dark hair to his forehead in damp curls.

Jem smiled, his face clearing, and nodded.

“Parabatais.”