My mother rushes into the training room where my brother and I are training with seraph blades. I don't prefer seraph blades much. I inherited my mother's talent of making runes and being able to make three dimensional objects two dimensional. Its weird. Though I'm good with any weapon like my father. I just like using my stele better than anything.

    "Skye, Damian we need to talk in the library your father is waiting."

  My brother sets his blade on the long oak table at the edge of the room and gestures for mine. I toss it to him and he catches the hilt, carefully setting it down on the table next to his with a confused expression playing his face. I'm worried. My mother has never looked so serious in my lifetime. I mean usually her eyes smile but not today. My brother takes my arm and starts to lead me to the door but looks back over his shoulder at our mother.

What is happening?

    "Do we have time to get showered and changed?"

  My brothers tone is soft but definitely not anywhere close to gentle. It's tight and slightly cocky just like dad. Why is he acting like this? What has gotten into him. I, luckily, got my mother's usually good natured air but also her short temper. Don't get me wrong though I can put on my father's cocky attitude whenever I want. I'm quite good at it too. My mother looks at Damian and I with worried eyes.

    "I...I guess so but don't take too long please." She seems uncertain of herself. As if trying to decide if it's a good idea.

She's acting quite out of character. She's never this nervous about anything.

  Damian takes my arm and leads me out the door and down the hallway to his room. He opens the door and leads me inside shutting the door after him. He lets go of my arm and sits on his bed.

    "Skye can I ask you a question?"

I nod my head he seems a little worried. Or at least that's all he shows. I sit down next to him.

    "Do you think dad's disappointed in me because I don't train enough? I mean he would want to talk to mom about it too." He looks down at his hands almost ashamed of himself.

  Why would our father be mad at him for not training enough? He would never think something like that.

    "No, I don't think that. Did you see the look on mom's face. She was too worried for it to be about that. And you train fine dad is always impressed  by your talent."

  Then I get up and walk across the hallway to my room. When I open the door I can't help but smile. My room is my favorite place in the world. There are pictures hanging on the walls. In front of my big bed with a black comforter is my writing/drawing desk. Yes my parents don't know why but I developed a talent for writing as well besides my mother's talent of art.

  On the desk papers are strewn everywhere, pencils are scattered, and a few empty coffee cups from the local coffee house lay empty. Next to the desk is a wire seafoam green trash bin and beside that is a seafoam green crate with at least forty drawing pads.

  On a shelf above the desk are bins of drawing implements neatly labeled. Colored pencils, regular pencils, markers, pastels, paints, paint brushes, you name it I probably have it and in hundreds of colors.

  I slowly walk to my bathroom that I painted myself. All over the walls are swirls and different designs. It took me a few years to finish painting the bathroom. I was only ten, though I think I did a pretty good job.

  I strip off my sweaty clothes and throw them into my hamper. Then I turn the water on so it's hot and jump into the shower. I wash as quickly as I can and get back out. Since I don't know what we're talking about I change into a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans then dry my hair. I don't want to go see them.

  I'm worried about what they'll say. What if they're mad at me or Damian? Or they say they have to go on a mission and are leaving us with Uncle Alec and Magnus?

  Don't get me wrong I love them both but I don't want them to leave. I have hated my parents going on missions since I was little. I'm always worried one of them will get hurt. Never mind though, I won't have a choice as to what they do neither does Damian. Neither of us are eighteen yet, I'm sixteen and Damian seventeen so we aren't adults yet.

  I get up and walk to Damian's room lightly knocking on the door. He opens it immediately and steps out. I take his hand as we walk down the hall. I don't know what I would've done without him when I was young.

  He was always there for me. Always supporting me. He would beat up any kid who made fun of me at the small training school for young Shadowhunter children. We reach the library doors and Damian pushes them open.

  Inside my father and mother are sitting on the couch together. Surprisingly neither hear us come in. But then I realize why. My mother is crying into my father's chest and my father is holding her close to him as she cries.

I have never seen my mother act like this. She has always been strong. My father has as well. I don't understand what's happening.

    "Dad what's going on. What's wrong?" I say to them. My father looks up at us. His eyes, usually bright, are dark and sad. When I see a single tear run down his cheek both of us rush over to them. I hug my father asking over and over again what is going on and my brother comforts my mother. Finally my father speaks.

    "Both of you sit. Your mother and I need to talk to you as adults."