The Tenebrous Weapons

Rem had never been very good when it came to his arms—he could run, he could jump, he could dodge easily and his mind was always nearly as fast as his eyes. But when it came down to his arms, Rem really couldn’t do much.

“Again,” Liam sighed, stepping on the hilt of the sword to make it tilt upwards; just enough to help Rem take it. “You’re kind of disappointing me, Rem.”

The dark haired boy didn’t say anything, just pursed his lips and gripped the sword tightly. He separated his legs to get ready, and Liam did the same thing, only his sword was held in just one hand and his other one was used for balanced, spread out behind him. Liam moved and Rem immediately lunged, stepping rapidly towards the tall, frozen figure of his fellow shadowhunter. But just as he lifted the sword, Liam moved again and dodged easily, hitting the hilt against Rem’s ribs. The boy coughed and lost his footing, about to trip.

Yet there was no fall—instead, Liam had grabbed his hand and pushed his foot against the sole of the poor boy. Rem blinked, stunned at the rapidity of the events, before he sighed and let his tailbone hit the floor softly, releasing Liam’s hand.

“I give up,” he mumbled, rubbing his face.

“Now, is that the way to talk in training?” Liam asked softly, sitting cross-legged in front of him. “Theresa said really good things about you, are you tired or something?”

Rem didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he kept rubbing his face, hoping that the burning behind his eyes would stop. He couldn’t even train right, and he knew it wasn’t because of his arms or because of anything, really. It was because he missed his mother, and brother, and he missed Ingrid, too. He missed Idris. He missed everything from before. He was stuck in a foreign country, surrounded by mundanes, in a big, cold cathedral that only held two, now three people in all.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

“It’s alright,” Liam shrugged, pushing the sword away and leaning back to rest his hands behind him, supporting his weight. “Maybe we should take a break; we’ve been training the entire morning, we haven’t even eaten.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Rem nodded, finally pulling his hands away.

Liam noticed his red eyes, but didn’t say anything straight away, just nibbled on his lower lip. From what Theresa had told him, Rem had lost his entire family in the course of three days, and to be honest, he seemed to be taking it harder than most Shadowhunters, yet better than Liam himself. But that had been a long time ago, and he didn’t really want to think about it. So he stood and offered Rem his hand, hoisting him up with a smile when he took it.

“Let’s order some takeout,” Liam offered as they exited the room.

“Takeout?” Rem cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, right,” Liam chuckled. “You’ve been in Idris your entire life, eh… do you like Chinese?”

“As in, gastronomy?” Rem frowned, and Liam nodded. “I’ve never had it.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love it,” Liam grinned.

Again, Rem stayed quiet, following Liam through the empty, cold corridors of the institute. All he wanted was a shower and sleep, but if he was going to get stuck with Liam he might as well try to befriend him. He was a bit smiley and too cheerful, to be honest, but he could push that away. Ingrid had been the same. Ingrid…

Liam fuzzed around the kitchen, holding a device that Rem recognized as a fone, or was it tone? He couldn’t remember nor did he care, so he sat himself on a stool and began to fumble awkwardly with the salt, pouring some on the table and drawing shapes—his mother used to do that with him when he was smaller and got bored at family dinners. It all made him really melancholic. He began to draw runes, some old, some newer, and then he remembered the shapes his mother used to trace.

“What’s that?”

Rem jumped at the sound of Liam’s voice so close, turning his head to see the broad shouldered boy frowning at the most recent shape he had done. It wasn’t a rune, it was one of his mother’s.

“Just a drawing,” Rem shrugged, about to erase it, but Liam grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“No, don’t erase it, I’ve seen it somewhere.”

Rem’s eyebrows shot up. “You have?”

“Yeah, in a book,” Liam frowned deeper, Rem being painfully aware how his fingers were still wrapped awkwardly around his. But Liam was looking around until his eyes finally found a shelf with books—in the kitchen? Talk about furniture placement… “This book, I think. We have at least three copies of it, Theresa loves this book.”

Liam placed it on the table and suddenly Rem felt light headed, knowing too well what was inside the familiar book—but it wasn’t red, it was green. A soft, pastel green like the still not ripe wheat on fields. It was calming, to be honest, but the fact that this book was appearing again (with two other copies around, no less) was starting to creep him out.

The shadowhunter was about to open the book when Rem placed a hand over the top and pressed down, dragging his palm downwards. Just as he thought, it was a velvet cover up, just like the other book. He used to think it was for protection, but he wasn’t so sure now.

“Rem?” Liam frowned.

“I’ve got this book, too,” he spoke quietly. “It was my mother’s. She used to say all the answers were here. I’ve never actually read it, just been read by my mother, sometimes my brother. I have no idea what’s inside.”

“It’s just a Fairy Tale book,” he explained slowly.

“Can I rip the cover?” Rem asked, looking into Liam’s eyes for a pleading effect.

“What? Why?” Liam was only confused.

“Because it’s a cover, and it’s green, and mine is red, and the other books are probably a different color and you know that with Shadowhunters come many secrets.”

“Fine, fine, be my guest,” Liam finally sighed, opening a drawer to pull out a pair of metallic scissors. “But don’t be disappointed if there’s nothing b—what the hell?”

“By the Angel,” Rem choked, ripping out the remaining of the cover. “This is—”

“We need to call a warlock,” Liam stuttered. “And soon.”