Cassandra Clare Infernal Devices Series Novels & Stories

In the reflection, he saw a memory: Cassandra at 10 years old, crying over a broken toy. Alex grabbed the shard. [ MEMORY FRAGMENT: FOUND ] Another shard flew by. Cassandra laughing at his joke in Iceland. Another. Cassandra screaming as they hooked her up to the machine. "I need the Core," Alex swam through the data stream. "Where is her heart?" He saw a small, flickering light in the distance. A blue flame surrounded by red walls of firewall ice. He flew towards it. Inside the blue flame curled a digital avatar of Cassandra. She looked translucent, fading away.

Elena whispered, her silver blade flashing in the amber light of the enemy fires. From the dark shadows of the ravine trail, twenty black-clad hunters materialized from the fog, their steel plate armor reflecting the eerie, corpse-like glow of the chemical fire. In the center of the line, his silver cloak untouched by the driving sleet, stood Cassian Vale. In his right hand, he carried a long, thin glass vial filled with a silver-veined fluid—the precise extraction compound of the King's blood-smiths.

“Die like a knight, not a coward then she shall deprive you of your life because she’ll unleash the demonic queen in her forever.” After she finished Lucy’s prophecy a beam of lightning stroked on her face, introducing the new Cassandra to Andrea and John. They yawped, covering their mouths. “Ahh…,” The battered her comprised of a six feet tall disgusting figure with no arms and toes but a mammoth face with thousands of flies like the chest-less man who made her his queen… by committing the final sin of a deadly kiss.

** Clarisse stood on the balcony of the Vendrake mansion, snow clinging to her hair and fur coat. She stared into the distance with a deadly gaze. “If Adrian wants to step on Vendrake territory...” Clarisse muttered. She smiled slightly, the smile of a woman who chose to survive by destroying. “...then I will destroy his trust first.” The winter wind carried whispers of the next war. And Cassel—with Enola and Damian in the middle—could only wait to see which demon would fall first.

Just a single message: **You think you've won, Cassandra. You haven't seen what I'm capable of. Be ready.**

A shadowy figure moved swiftly through a dimly lit corridor, her cloak billowing behind her as she glanced around cautiously. I smirked slightly, a surge of pride swelling in my chest. Selena had ensured that technology reached even the farthest regions of our world, seamlessly connecting the shifter and supernatural realms. Now, that innovation was playing a crucial role in our war. Jasper pointed at the screen. “She’s my royal witch, Cassandra. I’ve been suspicious of her for a few days. Now, I finally have proof that she’s been secretly helping someone. I planted a tracker in her staff, and I’m close to finding out exactly where she’s going.”

There were no words left. “I want to burn it all,” Cassandra whispered. “My journals. The documentaries. The interviews. All of it.” Claire didn’t speak. Cassandra’s voice grew hoarse. “He didn’t just touch me. He made me. He built me. I was his masterpiece.” She stood too fast, nearly stumbling. “I need air.” “Cass…” Claire reached for her. But Cassandra was already gone. The door slammed behind her. Across the city, Jason stood in a police interrogation room. His hands were still red from trying to stop Lila’s bleeding. The front of his shirt stained with her final words.

And a vow I’d never made—but would damn well finish. Cassian’s POV The instant Althea whispered the words break the blood, a chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t felt fear in centuries. I had ruled the underworld, devoured souls, built empires from ash. But something about her voice—low, hoarse, trembling with power—felt like prophecy given form. We moved fast. The portal snapped open in the basement vault of my estate, lined in volcanic obsidian and veined with glowing red sigils. The Infernal Archives hadn’t been touched in nearly a century. Most who entered left either mad or cursed.

Something is scribbled across it in Rachel's handwriting. "Lies and secrets, they are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away at what is good and leave only destruction behind". "This sounds like something an Arrowverse or Marvel character would say", I laugh at Rachel. "Cassandra Clare", Rachel calls out. "Don't know her." "She's one of my favorite authors. She wrote The Mortal Instruments." "Never thought of that either", I shrug. "Where are you with your speech?" "Literally nowhere." "Do you want to go grocery shopping? Your fridge is empty and I'm having this weird craving for gummy worms", I suggest, not wanting to spend a second longer watching Rachel write her speech.

As if sensing her trepidation, Cassandra offered a reassuring smile. "Your first lesson begins now," she declared, her voice laced with authority. "But I must warn you, this world can be as perilous as it is wondrous." Lyra's heart raced in anticipation, her green eyes reflecting the flickering flames of a nearby fire pit. She drew a deep breath, steadying herself for what lay ahead. "I'm ready," she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Very well," Cassandra nodded. She beckoned Lyra towards a wooden table, laden with various paraphernalia: vials filled with vibrant liquids, ancient scrolls, and ritualistic objects that gleamed with an otherworldly energy.