Foot steps, laughter, more faces full of smiles and intoxicated grins. Not a care on their minds.

Some glance his way, a few actually smile and make eye contact. Mundanes, they're so clueless, they have no idea of everything their eyes don't see and what their minds could never comprehend. More and more walk by, yet he still awaits in silence, anticipating a different group. Six months. Six long, miserable months. That's how long it has been since the events that occurred in The Glass City of Idris. Six months of rune after rune of healing, trying to bring himself out of the edge of death. Six months of having to hide undercover, be in disguise so no one recognised him. Now he wore no disguise, no dye in his hair, no hiding his straight blond hair and dark brown eyes, no hiding his runes. The many runes encircling his arms and chest that kept him alive all those pain filled hours.

He leaned against the brick wall of the alley, into the shadow so he couldn't be identified, and fiddled with his single seraph blade. Some would argue that it wasn't smart for a shadowhunter to only carry one weapon, especially for his mission, but he didn't care. He was reckless. He wasn't even sure why he was here, about to attempt what he knew was impossible. Standing in the alley next to Pandemonium, he faced the question he had tried to ignore many times in the last few days. Why? Why was he here? The easy answer, of course, would be revenge. The answer he chose to keep telling himself, over and over again. Revenge. But always, always a small thought in the back of his mind would spring up. That one answer that he would never admit to anyone, not even himself. Everything that had happened suddenly exploded in his mind. All the feelings he had felt, all the events that had happened because of him, the memories too hard to think about when he were younger, the emotions he had always tried to hide. The guilt he would never admit he felt, that weighed down on his shoulders now that his father was dead. He wanted to die. Truthfully, he deserved to die. And somewhere in his mind, he knew that going to pick a fight with the lightwoods would be the easiest way to achieve that.

He was Jonathon Christopher Morgenstein. The second most hated man in the history of the shadowhunter world, under his father, Valentine.