The first one jumped towards them, oblivious to its oncoming faith. Luke had his claws out, and while everyone was aiming their weapons, he exploded into anger and fur, snapping the others out of the dream they had had, thinking this was just a nightmare.

One they may never wake up from.

Before anyone could reacts, many more of the deadly creatures made their way to the group of killers, all thinking that they could win from these five people, not realizing that they weren't all people. They were myths, legends from decades to come, they were nightmares, dreams, killers but lovers all the same. They bore stories heavier than that of a thousand people and they fought like there was no tomorrow. Because there could very well be nothing left once the sun rose once more.

"Duck!" Dèlia shouted towards Alec, who had up to that moment not realized that he was being attacked. He did as he was told, something he rarely did, leaning forward so the demon-blooded had all the place she needed to throw her dagger, sending it right through the heart of the enemy, watching it collapse in front of her.

"Thanks," the Lightwood whispered, while he held his bow and arrow firmly in his scarred hand. She smiled, a smile she had hidden away for decades, fearing that when people would see her that way, they'd notice she was weak and would bring war upon her just to say they'd won.

Although he didn't look that way. He had a sudden kindness and rest in his gaze that made her realize that not everyone was who she thought they were. There were still people who could surprise her, and she found him to be one of them. One of the few people who made her follow the wrong track without even wanting to.

Before she could blush or react in any other way, she heard a scream. A scream so horrid and afraid that she felt the ground underneath her feet tremble with emotion, one filled with dread and despair, shattering the hearts around him, shaking everyone awake, screaming for heaven, if there were one, to let him in.

She recognized that voice. Without even looking, she knew who it was. That very voice belonged to the lost boy she had found one day, wondering the streets in fear if dawn, the very boy she had seen grow into this honourable man, the very child she had taken under her wing. She could never forget that voice.

She turned around in a flash, uttering a loud "Joseph!" while she tried to behead the demon who had turned out to be far stronger than her vampire friend had anticipated. But she was there to have his back, as always. She wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

She could see a flash of black, which was her always so nicely dressed friend, his horrid face, frozen in one moment of fear, screaming for help while two yellow, venomous eyes continued to look at her, as if daring her to come after them, expecting she wouldn't survive.

In seconds, she threw of her jacket, the one armour she never left without, afraid once she'd show the world what heaven had done to her they would see her as a broken little girl, traumatized and hurt, or a monster for how she had survived all these centuries.

But someone was dying. Nothing else mattered anymore, except the crushing sound of Joseph's screams, the drum of his heartbeat echoing through the air and the monster who had taken her best friend. Not the eyes of the shadowhunter, concerned yet loving, which she knew could turn to hatred and anger in seconds, looking at her as though to grant her permission.

With panic on Rafe's face as well as Luke's and the head of the institute, she realised she was the only one fast enough to save him. It always came down to her, the one person everyone expected to be nothing alike she truly was, who they expected to always be nice and brave, loving and kind, not traitorous and lethal, murderous and crazy.

She was few of the things mankind had told her to be. While they prayed for beings up above of which they had no idea even existed, she watched them wither away into a civilisation which hated witches, killed only for fun and hung every woman just because they believed it was the right thing to do.

So yes, she had grown tired of one more day saving everyone while they never thanked her and she even thought sometimes to let evil win, only to remember that she was better than that. And after centuries and decades, this new age of humans, this new generation, had grown to be kinder than any other.

Therefore, the second Joseph hit the water, she was right on his heels, already following into the deep abyss the demon had dragged him into, her jacket falling to the floor, useless as it was, her hair being a toy for the breeze to play with and her eyes searching, praying and already planning her escape.

She didn't give one last romantic look over her shoulder as so often portrayed in films, one last glance of hope and lust. She knew exactly what her chances were, so she didn't seem the ned to say goodbye. And besides, they would understand why she didn't shake their hands and thanked them for the joy they've brought her, would they?

The water covered her, although she wasn't even sure if it was water after all, It was darker than she ever remembered it to be, ice-cold and lethal. Any other living creature would've been paralysed by the sudden change of temperature, the biting cold trying to find its way inside. Even a shadowhunter, trained as they are, would've lost to the water. But she shrugged off the feeling trying to take over her ancient mind. Luckily she wasn't anything close to human, otherwise this would go down worse than she wanted to.