Outtake: Valentine and Luke.
In
the original first draft of Glass, after the Angel brings Jace back to life,
Clary and Jace were met at the lakeside by Alec, Isabelle, Jocelyn and Luke,
who have come from the battle to join them. This was changed because in the
original draft there was no epilogue; so this was all the closure the
characters had. I decided an epilogue was necessary to bring them more, and
resolve some of what wasn’t resolved—Magnus and Alec, Jocelyn and Luke’s
relationships, for instance. The one thing I was a bit sad to lose was that in
the first draft, Valentine had someone to be sorry that he died—in the final
version, besides Jace, there really isn’t any mention of it.
There
were figures racing down the beach toward them, their shadows made ungainly and
long by the still-shining glow of the witchlight torches. Clary was glad for
the torches now, glad if the glow made her and Jace easier to find. She
recognized the running figures as they drew closer—her mother and Luke, and
behind them Alec, and Isabelle. Her heart swelled hugely at the sight of them,
as if it would crack her ribs apart. She felt as if she were bursting with
relief.
It
was Luke who reached them first, running along the sand as lightly as if he
were still in wolf form. He saw Clary and Jace first and his face lit—and then
his gaze went past them, and he saw Valentine, and his face changed.
Jocelyn
was just behind him, and as she neared, Jace let go of Clary. She stood up,
brushing sand from her clothes, just as her mother reached her and swept her
into a hug. After her came Alec and Isabelle, full of exclamations and relief
and—joy. They surrounded a shell-shocked-looking Jace, hugging him and shouting
in his ears.
Only
Luke was silent. Clary, her hand in her mother’s, turned to watch him. He had
approached Valentine’s body and was looking down at it, his face a study in
conflicting emotions—there was relief there, but also regret and even sorrow.
In death, Valentine’s face had lost its hardness and for the first time Clary
saw what her mother had once been drawn to about him, saw how he might have
seemed gentle and even kind. As Luke knelt down beside his corpse, Clary
couldn’t help but remember what he had said about having loved Valentine once,
about having been his closest friend. Luke, she thought with a pang. Surely he
couldn’t be sad—or even grieved?
But
then again, perhaps everyone should have someone to grieve for them, and there
was no one else to grieve for Valentine.
Luke
knelt where he was for a long moment. At last he reached out and with a gentle
hand, closed Valentine’s eyes.
“Ave
atque vale, Shadowhunter,” he said.
