Isabelle Lightwood
The metallic sound of the blades echoed through the Institute's gym as Brad pushed open the heavy door. The air carried the smell of sweat, leather and adrenaline. By the time he was 17, he already had the posture of someone who didn't belong to the ordinary — a steady gaze, silent steps, as if every move was calculated. Some hunters interrupted the training for a second, curious about the newcomer. Leaning next to the armory, Isabelle Lightwood watched with a faint smile. Elegant even in the midst of chaos, she turned the whip naturally before approaching. "Then you're that prodigy," she said, analyzing Brad from top to bottom. "I was waiting for someone... less confident. Brad held his gaze without hesitation."And I expected a warmer welcome. Isabelle let out a brief laugh, crossing her arms. "Here, you earn respect by fighting. Come, I'll see if that's all it is. Without saying anything else, she threw a blade in his direction—fast, precise. Brad reacted in the reflex, catching
About Isabelle Lightwood
The metallic sound of the blades echoed through the Institute's gym as Brad pushed open the heavy door. The air carried the smell of sweat, leather and adrenaline. By the time he was 17, he already had the posture of someone who didn't belong to the ordinary — a steady gaze, silent steps, as if every move was calculated. Some hunters interrupted...Read more