Not with a whimper. That was the way he knew the world would end. The world set ablaze with demonic fire, a conflagration so huge that it would reach the heavens and scorch the white wings of the angels. So that they will all fall, like how Lucifer did, like how Azazel did.

Amidst the fires, he would march triumphant with his army of demon Shadowhunters, a race more superior than the Nephilims Jonathan Shadowhunter had created. And even more superior than his dearest brother and sister with angel blood in them. Angel bloods. They were weak and pathetic. How could he have lost his hold on Jace? The binding was supposed to be perfect. He did have that little angel boy wrapped around his finger, invading and taking possession of his weak mind, making him believe everything he had told him.

And Clary, he wanted that she wasn't lost to him. If only he could convince Clary that this was a new world order, where Shadowhunters would be stronger with demon and angel blood, if only he could convince her to join with her in every sense of it. A new world order meant that the old one had to be purged by burning down the world with all its archaic rules and traditions.

He saw in all in his mind. Demons springing out from the lower dimensions, evading the wards and barriers, overtaking the earth and destroying anything in their path. Fire, bloodshed and explosions. Angels fallen, wings ripped out from their backs, feathers scattered on the scorched ground. His breed of Shadowhunters with blood and ichor on their weapons, victorious in their battle against heaven and hell.

And that was how everything would end. With a bang.