They were all miserable but if Clary could carve out some piece of happiness she would. So far her efforts have been pointless. She's taken comfort in her art, getting the demons from her head onto the paper in front of her, but she wasn't happy. Some days, she wondered if that was even possible in a place like this.

She walked towards the inn door and pushed it open. Everything felt familiar but a little different too; like it was a copy. There was no flamethrowers but someone had started a fire in the fireplace.

"You dry off. I'm going to run and see if my room is still here. I want to test a theory." She also wanted to change out of her scrubs.