I’m free of this dress finally. It’s done and I will never touch fabric like this again idk why I chose it it was SUCH A PAIN TO SEW WITH KAHSKSHSKSBSKSSB
if I look dead inside in that first photo it’s probably because I am.
Tag list (let me know if you want to stay on the list or nah. No seriously if you want me to take you off just let me know i feel like ppl would be too awkward to say it but just lmk):
My beloved Sophie, you will never read this. On the bottom shelf of the bookcases built into the far wall of my bedroom here in Cirenworth—Cirenworth! you say, but ah, I will explain—are my diaries, in all shapes and forms, from leatherbound quartos of heavy ivory pages to spiralbound ruled notebooks for children to use in school. There are gaps, sometimes of years, and a few that have been lost or damaged, or whose paper was never intended to last as long as I have lived. But each of them is written to someone—I never understood “Dear Diary,” as though Diary were a person I might want to know my thoughts. But you, of course, I do wish to know. And it has been many decades, Sophie, since I have started one of these diaries and addressed it to you. But today brings a fresh start in a new volume, a lovely little book of swirly Florentine paper, and so I address it to you:
Hello, Sophie Lightwood, née Collins, my first true friend in London. You have been gone so long. And yet it also seems only a moment; I turn and see your graceful figure as you hurry down the hall with a basket in your arms, or the way you smiled when you said you were allowed to speak to Will however rudely you liked (and he did deserve it at the time!) or the way you laughed with Gideon over scones.
So: Cirenworth. I live here with Jem now, you know. He is no longer a Silent Brother—well, that is not relevant to my entry today so I suggest you consult one of the earlier diaries to catch up and come back when you’re done. And we have just been visited by his cousin Emma Carstairs, and her paramour, Julian Blackthorn. (Don’t worry; the Blackthorns of his generation are quite kind and friendly!) She has been keeping a diary herself, to record their restoration of Blackthorn Hall in Chiswick, which has remained mostly unoccupied all this time and has fallen into ruin. (Well, further ruin, I suppose.) And, of course, that old pile of bricks has all kinds of magical problems that they’re having to sort out, although of course they were also eager to see us—Jem and I, and Mina and Kit.
Yes, I’m a mother again, Sophie, and that makes me miss you. How good it was to have you by my side in those early days. I remember one evening, when there was a gathering at the Institute—some sort of party, it doesn’t matter, but James was a baby and Thomas was a baby. Someone, maybe old Lysander Gladstone, was trying to engage us in conversation, and I remember we fell asleep against one another right there on the loveseat, and the babies too. When we woke up it turned out Lysander had been highly offended and Will had had to explain to him about babies and new mothers. And we both startled because the children were gone, but of course Will and Gideon had come and retrieved them and put them in the nursery, and let us nap together there.
I miss those moments with you.
Mina is only a toddler, and Jem’s daughter, and thank the Angel she has something of his temperament. It has been a long time since I had to chase a little one across the dining room floor, but she is sweet-natured and easygoing, most of the time. And we have an older son, Kit, who came to live with us after his father was killed. He is a distant relation in the Herondale line, but he does not feel distant at all. He completes our family in a way I could not have imagined, and in a way I’m sure he never expected. He is also a teenager, and he had his own life before he came to us, so between those truths he often keeps things to himself. And so—as one does with teenagers—I worry about him. He has friends—even a girlfriend, if I’m correct in my observations—and he loves Mina with a fierceness that often surprises even him. But there is a heaviness in the way he carries himself sometimes, a sadness that he won’t, or can’t, speak to us about. And maybe it is only that he’s faced so much loss so young, but I can’t help the feeling there’s something more.
I do want to tell you more about Kit, and where he came from—it’s all much more dramatic than you’re probably imagining—but it is late and I can talk to you about Kit anytime. I wish instead to digress and tell you about Julian and Emma’s visit.
They are pulling at the knots of a few mysteries regarding Blackthorn Hall—a curse on the house that dates back to guess who, Benedict Lightwood (I know, Sophie, who could have guessed). And a ghost, benign but faint and unidentified, probably trapped by the curse. There are a whole set of objects, it seems, connected to the curse, and the ghost told them to bring one of them here to Cirenworth—hence their visit, though as I say, I don’t think they minded an excuse to see Kit or Mina.
We were washing up after supper and Jem—you know how Jem is—said straightaway to them, well, let’s see these objects you found.
Julian fetched them from his bag and put them on the counter: a silver-plated whisky flask, quite tarnished, and a dagger, also quite banged up by time. Neither meant much to me at first—as you’ll know, both flasks and daggers are very common in London Shadowhunter homes, even today—but Jem recognized the weapon immediately.
He pointed at the inscription on it and read out, “I wanted so much to have a gleaming dagger, that each of my ribs became a dagger.”
Both Julian and Emma fairly goggled at him. (I also think they don’t realize that Jem does things like this precisely so people will goggle at him; he only pretends to be perfectly dramatic by nature.) “You know it?” said Julian, while at the same time Emma said, “You readFarsi?”
“I’d recognize it anywhere,” Jem said. “It belonged to my cousin, Alastair Carstairs, though it came to him from his mother’s family.”
“The ghost said to bring it here,” Emma said. “To bring it home.”
Jem picked up the flask, which turned out to have a monogram on it. “Oh my,” he said, his voice quiet, and showed me the initials.
My poor dear Matthew. He came into my mind immediately, with his laughing eyes and his bright smile. Julian said they’d already figured out it was his. But that was very strange, I pointed out, because if Benedict was responsible for the curse, he was dead almost ten years before Matthew was even born. Julian started to say it didn’t make sense to them either, and was part of the mystery still. But then there was a sudden loud clicking, which turned out to be the Sensor they had with them that their brother Ty modified for ghosts. (Ty is a whole other fascinating topic, Sophie, but he will have to wait for another day.) They—I mean Shadowhunters in general, not just Julian and Emma—are still using Henry’s demon Sensor invention all these years later!
The Sensor led us to the library. Emma seemed dubious.
“Come on,” she said to the Sensor. “I’m sure the Cirenworth library has been haunted for years.”
“Not to my knowledge,” Jem said. “Although there are houses in the English countryside where if you brought that thing inside it would howl like a police siren. Cirenworth has been well-maintained continually and the owners have always been very thorough about ghosts.”
Using a Sensor to find a ghost is not quite like using it to find a demon. You can tell you’ve found a demon because, you know—the demon is standing there. With ghosts it’s much more a game of “hotter” and “colder,” and eventually we all agreed the clicking was loudest in front of one particular shelf. We took the books down from that shelf and lay them on the table and checked them with the Sensor, and the winner was a quarto book bound in leather. Nothing on the spine, but a quite beautiful compass rose etched into the front.
We opened it, and when I saw the inside, I gasped. And I knew I would be writing this new diary of mine, to you. You would know it yourself—cramped, neat handwriting, with a strong leftward slant, and entirely in Spanish. It was your son’s journal, of course. Thomas’s. My heart! My memories raced back to you holding him, such a small child (who grew to be such a tall broad-chested man!).
Emma was looking through it. This was the first she’d heard of Thomas, perhaps (there are still Lightwoods around, never fear, but they live in New York), so of course she didn’t have the sentimental reaction Jem and I did. “The problem, of course,” she said, “is that my Spanish is terrible.”
So then Julian of course teased her a little, because Emma’s best friend Cristina is from Mexico City. Emma said that was the problem, whenever she needed to read or say anything in Spanish Cristina could just help her.
“Do we need it translated?” Julian said. “We don’t know that it has anything to do with the curse or the ghost. The flask was just a flask as far as we know, right?”
Jem was shaking his head, though. He put the flask and dagger down next to the book and gave them a look. “I don’t know if you realize it, but these three objects all come from the same era. The owners of all three were the same generation and almost the same age. They were all friends.”
And then I could see all of them in my mind—Thomas, Matthew, Alastair, but also Christopher and Cordelia and my own James and Lucie. It was all so long ago, but I could call up their faces as though it were yesterday. As I can call up yours, Sophie. I looked at Jem and I could tell he was thinking the same thing, but all he said to Julian and Emma was, “It can’t be a coincidence. But Benedict Lightwood never knew any of them, he’d been dead for years by then. Are you sure he’s the one responsible for the curse?”
Emma said they were fairly sure—that they’d been reading a diary they’d found in the house that spelled it out. Whose? Oh, Sophie, you have already guessed. Tatiana Blackthorn’s.
“She was about our age, I think,” Julian said. “Maybe a little younger. He told her about the curse and the objects.”
I think Emma saw the expression in my face and Jem’s. “Did they…” She touched the flask, the dagger, the book, one after the other. “Matthew, Alastair, Thomas, did they know Tatiana Blackthorn?”
“She knew them,” Jem said darkly.
“She hated them,” I explained. “She hated all our families—the Herondales, the Carstairs, the Fairchilds. And the other Lightwoods. She became…rather more and more unpleasant as time went on. More and more obsessed, I might say, with harming us.”
Julian had been looking into the distance. Now he suddenly turned to take in the objects on the table. “She changed the enchantment,” he said. “She replaced some of the objects. Maybe all of them.”
Clever Julian! We all knew at once it was the likely answer.
“Why, though?” said Emma. “Maybe some of the things Benedict used were lost.”
When Jem spoke, his voice was harder than I’m used to hearing it. “I don’t know how she comes across in her journal. When she was younger she was more mild. But in Tatiana’s heart was a terrible, grasping desire for power. For control. There need not have been anything wrong with Benedict’s curse, for Tatiana to have wanted to make it hers.”
He was right, my dear Sophie, and his words filled my heart with dread. Tatiana cannot hurt Julian and Emma. She is long gone. But she reaches out from the years past to bring her evil even to today. Whomever this ghost is at Blackthorn Hall, I pray, at least, that it is no one that we loved.
So Emma and I took the train from Paddington Station pretty early in the morning (I suppose we could have gone to the Institute and seen if they’d let us use their Portal, but it seemed like trouble and besides, it’s not our first train trip in England.)
We got off the train at Exeter, a sprawling town with a big Gothic cathedral. Tessa was waiting to pick us up in a racing-green Mini Cooper with Mina strapped into a kid’s seat in the back, wearing goggles. She reminded me of Tavvy when he was littler. Emma got in the back and played peek-a-boo with Mina, and I chatted with Tessa while we rolled through gorgeous green countryside. I hate it when people say “It looked like it does in the movies,” but it kind of did. I kept wanting to get out and paint the scenery.
We drove through a big gate, and then up a long road lined with oak and poplar trees. I thought we were in a national park of some kind — there were trails, and lots of greenery and flowers. Tessa told me the purple ones were bluebells (you’d think they’d be blue), and the yellow ones were celandine. We passed a big glass house and then we came out in front of what I swear I thought was a castle.
I think I knew Cirenworth was fancy, but I don’t think I realized how fancy. It’s this huge pile of gold-colored stone with little turrets, and windows full of leaded glass. There’s a big circular driveway in front, and we parked there in front of steps that looked like they could be outside a museum. Jem and Kit were waiting for us at the top and Mina started squealing with delight the moment she saw them. It was pretty cute.
We got a tour of the house — it turns out they only use about half of it, and the other half is closed off because it’s too much to take care of. I asked if they’d had to renovate the place and Jem said no, it had never fallen into disrepair like Blackthorn Hall. Tessa said she’d had to redecorate because it had been pretty dark “and a little moldy” when they moved in, but she said she’d redecorated before — apparently she fixed up the whole Institute a long time ago. I asked her about renovations, but she pointed out that back when she’d done the Institute, indoor plumbing had been a new thing.
Kit said they had put the internet into Cirenworth (do you “put the internet into” things? Emma says you “wire things for the internet.” I think neither is probably right) for him, because he uses it for school. I think he’s happy here. He pointed out things in all the different rooms that he liked — and there were a lot of different rooms. A big library with gold rugs, a games room with a pool table (only they call it something else), an inground swimming-pool, a bunch of offices, a music-room, a sewing-room, I mean, they probably have a room just for licking stamps and putting them on envelopes.
I realized this was the most I’d really seen of Kit since he left to go live with Tessa and Jem. I fell back to talk to him while Tessa was showing Emma the portrait gallery of Carstairs Past. He’s so much taller, almost my height now, and his voice sounds deeper. And I realized he looks older just like Ty looks older; I’d been almost thinking of him as the same age he was when I first saw him. But no, he’s growing up. Is grown up, maybe. Almost.
He said he wanted to show me something in the garden, so I followed him out through a French door. It was an overgrown spot — there were strawberry bushes, though no strawberries (not the season) and there was a cracked sundial in the middle. Kit said, without looking at me, that if it made me uncomfortable to be around him, or I didn’t want to see him, he could claim he had a headache and go to bed.
I was thrown. I asked him why I’d mind if he was there. He kicked some dirt around with his boots, and finally said, “Because — because of him.”
I didn’t say anything at first. I was a little frightened to. Kit had seemed fine inside, laughing and joking around and picking up Mina so she could climb on his shoulders. Now he reminded me more of the way he’d been when we first met him, or even the way Mark was when he came back from the Wild Hunt … Fragile.
“You mean Ty?” I said.
He nodded stiffly. “You’re his brother,” he said. “I mean, I talk to Dru, and she’s his sister, but — you were always more than just his older brother. You were like his father. I know you raised him. I guess I just meant that if you were on his side — I wouldn’t blame you.”
I said, “Ty has never indicated to me there’s a side to be on.”
Kit looked up. “He — hasn’t?”
“I know you two don’t talk,” I said. “I don’t know why. Ty’s never told me why. But he’s never blamed you, or said it was because of anything you’d done. People fight,” I added. “It happens. I wish you were friends again, because when you were, it was pretty special.” Ty was so happy. But I didn’t say that. “But either way, regardless of anything happening with you and Ty, we all went through so much together. You’ll always be one of us. Family.”
He said in a hoarse voice, “That means a lot.”
We all went and had dinner after that, and a lot of stuff got talked about — including that Tessa’s son James Herondale once had a gun that worked on demons, which Kit was pretty excited about — but this letter is getting pretty long, and I mostly wanted to tell you about Kit. I guess I didn’t realize how unhappy he was about the situation with Ty. I wonder if our whole hands-off attitude is working? I mean, I know it’s their business, but what if Ty is unhappy too? Is there something we should be doing?
I mean, not that you should be mad. I don’t think it would make sense for you to be mad, because you always say “wish you were here,” and soon I will be there. I heard from Ragnor that you just asked him to come to Blackthorn Hall, and I talked to him, and I’m going to be coming with him to London.
There are lots of good reasons for me to come to London. For one thing, I am curious about what it is like to be in a house that is cursed. You always say that the most important thing is my schoolwork, and up-close experience with a cursed house will definitely help in that department. Which is another reason that you should not be mad.
Ragnor says he’s going to bring a ley-line map of London that he thinks can be used to discover likely locations where Tatiana put the objects that keep the curse in place. He also said he would show you how to read a ley-line map. I thought Ragnor was going to say something about how Shadowhunters ought to know these things already. I said that to him, in fact, but he said no, apparently the Spiral Labyrinth only standardized leyline mapping about fifty years ago and before that every warlock used some different method. I asked if he knew who had made the map and he said no, but maybe he would when he looked. Anyway, ley lines are also something I’ve been studying, so this will be an excellent chance for me to learn more. Another reason for you not to be mad.
I was just going to show up and surprise you but then I thought about it and I realized I wouldn’t like it very much if someone showed up and surprised me, so…I’m going to show up but warn you ahead of time. I also thought if I told you ahead of time, and you were mad, you could be mad before I get there and not after.
(I was going to bring Irene, too, but Anush said that would be more likely to make you mad than me just showing up on my own, especially since Irene eats curtains and it sounds like there are a lot of curtains on the upstairs floors. I really want you to meet Irene, though. She’s gotten big but she’s really well behaved. And I taught her to high-five! Next time I’ll bring her, when I’m not traveling with someone as grumpy as Ragnor.)
I also feel like it would be a good idea for me to check that the Ghost Sensor is working right. I want to take a look at it when I’m there. Anush and I have been working on Sensors some more, because there are a ton just lying around here. We’ve been experimenting with setting them to detect other kinds of supernatural things – we made a vampire Sensor and a werewolf Sensor, those were pretty easy. We’ve got a Fey Sensor that works on about one-third of the faeries we’ve tried it on; that one needs some improvements. I made an angel Sensor but I have no idea how I would ever test it. Anush says that so far it is functioning perfectly as it has correctly detected that there are no angels around.
Surprisingly, it’s much harder to make a Sensor detect something not supernatural. I tried to make one to detect gold and then one to detect bats. Neither of them really works. The only one that’s been a success is the lynx Sensor. As you can imagine, that one went off pretty much continuously for the three days we were testing it. We had to break it with a hammer to stop it. And by we, I mean eventually a bunch of people showed up at our room and demanded that we break it with a hammer.
That has nothing to do with why I’m coming with Ragnor to visit you, by the way! Nothing at all. I am just really looking forward to seeing you and Emma and the house, and I want to learn something about reading leyline maps. Okay, I’ll see you soon! Remember you said you wanted to see me! Don’t be mad!
![[Hell is empty and all the devils are here]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/2192c16808c93b1cf368aae62c17d380/32b0a592dbea4765-e0/s30x30u_c1/c569d1157e0227d5d1312759646ea38053d37d1e.png){kind=small}
