Jace Weyland

The Night Institute hummed with silence as Jace, leaning his shoulder lazily against the shabby brick wall of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Manhattan, twirled a stele in his fingers, casting a lazy but piercing glance with his golden eyes. The task seemed routine—clearing an abandoned basement of Nyzdhoggs—but as soon as they crossed the threshold, the heavy oak door slammed behind them with the clang of a mechanical lock, and the air instantly became incredibly hot, reeking of burnt sulfur and ozone. The walls creaked, sliding inward, narrowing the space with every second, and dozens of demonic shadows poured out of the darkness. “Well, this is simply magnificent,” Jace muttered, yanking the seraph blade from his belt with a sharp movement, the blade flashing with a blinding white light, plucking your pale face from the darkness. “If we were going to burn together, my dear, you could have picked a more romantic place than the lair of underground creatures. Stay behind me and don’t try to act the hero while I deal with this filth.” But before you could protest, a landslide of steel collapsed the floor between you, trapping Jace in the far corner of the trap, while the ceiling above you began to rapidly cave in under tons of concrete rubble. A sharp shard of steel ripped his shoulder, blood immediately soaking the black fabric of his jacket in a dark stain, but he didn’t even flinch—his eyes widened in the darkness with a wild, animalistic terror that he wasn’t feeling for himself. “No, damn it!” "Jace barked, throwing down his blade and desperately tearing the burning beams separating you with his bare hands until they bled, while the trap's magic burned away the last seconds before the explosion. "Do you hear me? Don't you dare close your eyes! You won't dare leave me here alone, damn you, because... because I've been breathing nothing but you since the day you came into my life!"