“I was at a Shadow Market not long after Roland and Aura-line went away together, and there I saw another angel boy, proud as God. He told me of his high position among the Nephilim, and I knew that his parabatai was another Herondale. I played a cruel trick on him. I hope he paid for his arrogance in blood.”

“Matthew,” whispered Tessa, the name sounding unfamiliar in her mouth, spoken for the first time in years.

Matthew Fairchild had been parabatai to Tessa’s son, James Herondale. Jem had known that this faerie had tricked Matthew to do a terrible deed, but he had thought it was only spite, not revenge.

Even this faerie woman’s voice sounded tired. Jem remembered feeling that way, near the end of his days as a Silent Brother. He remembered being that hollow.

“But what does that matter now?” asked the woman, as if speaking to herself. “What did it matter then? Long years passed. Auraline spent decade after decade with her magician in the filth of the mundane world, my girl born to a golden throne. They were together all the days of his life. Auraline shared what she could of her faerie power with Roland, and he stayed young longer, and lived longer, than most of their filthy kind could. She wasted her magic, like someone prolonging the life of a flower: they can only make the flower last for a little more time, before it withers. At last Roland grew old, and older, in the way of mortals, until he reached an end, and Auraline met the end with him. A faerie can choose the season of their own death. I knew how it would be, when I first beheld them together. I saw her death in his laughing eyes.

“My Auraline. When Roland Herondale died, she laid down her golden head on the pillow next to her mortal love and never rose again. Their child wept for them both and threw flowers on their grave. Auraline could have lived for century after century, but she was hunted to the point of desperation, and she threw her life away for a foolish mortal love.

“Their child wept, but I never wept. My eyes stayed dry as the dust and dead flowers on their grave. I hated Roland from the day he took her from me. I hate all Nephilim for her sake, and the Herondales most of their kind. Whatever the Shadowhunters touch is brought to destruction. Auraline’s child had a child. There is still a First Heir in the world. When the First Heir rises, in all the awful glory bought by the blood of Seelie and Unseelie and Nephilim, I hope destruction comes to the Shadowhunters as well as Faerie. I hope the whole world is lost.”