"M-Magnus," Alec's voice was weak, and the stench of blood hung in the air, but he tried to lift his head, only for it to fall back down. Not a second had passed after he'd called for Magnus that the warlock materialized beside him, his hands caught in both of his.
Magnus stared down at the wreck that was Alec Lightwood and felt something tug at him, clench his insides, burn them. It had been such a long time since he'd felt such a thing, since he'd cared for someone more than himself.
"Burn...Me." Alec proceeded, his fingers slack, but Magnus did not let go, his cat's eyes glanced down at Alec and he leaned forward, his head bent down. With his other hand, he ran his fingers down the Shadowhunters scarred cheek, his bloody cheek, and felt a smile from the boy.
Smiles were not something he wanted to so.
And a smile would not brighten his features any time soon, not after what had happened.
"Alec, darling...You're going to fine." But Alec heard the own fear in Magnus's voice, knew that he wasn't going to be fine, knew that this would be the last time Magnus would bend over him, stroke him like that, assure him. He knew it, because he just did.
"No, Magnus...I want you to understand – " That the wreckage this battle had done, that the lives that were lost, that everything else is not your fault, and that me dying with the masses is also not your fault, but mine for not being capable enough. Alec took in a breath that rattled his insides and he saw, for the first time since he'd been sprawled on the ground, blood and broken, that Magnus did not have the usual get up – his hair was down, plastered to his face, and he could see his eyes now...Without the eyeliner, without the glitter. His lips were a pale red, and his cheeks were pale, not their usual healthy color.
"A day will come...When the fight is won," Alec paused, trying to gather enough strength. "That day...Has just begun,"
"Silly Nephilim. Don't speak of such things... Don't doubt my powers...I can fix you. I can, Alec. I can!" What had been said in a slow, soft tone had been amplified, and Magnus was clutching tightly at Alec, as if he could give his own life to the boy, offer him his immortality. But he could not, and his voice rose three octaves higher as his free hand clutched at Alec's neck, bringing the boy closer to him – not a care was thrown when the blood got to his clothes, no, not a care at all.
"Not this time, Magnus...Not this time..." His breathing had slowed, and Magnus saw the lights in his eyes slowly leave. And with a last final smile, Alec's heart beat for one last time before his eyes closed; Magnus's face, contorted with worry and then with rage for not being able to save the young man – the last thing he saw.
And Magnus did not let go, he clutched Alec tighter. He willed himself not to let go, not to ever leave Alec behind – But the last request was all he could hold, was all he could do for the fallen warrior.
Leave, Magnus Bane. Leave.
A voice resounded inside his head – And it was his own, but Magnus did not leave.
"The ashes...Are the reason for the flames. And Alec Lightwood, you are - - " He had cut himself off. The High Warlock of Brooklyn, and he couldn't even complete what he wanted to say – say his final words to himself, and then to Alec.
But this would not be his final words, no.
This would be a reassurance.
For it was near, Magnus knew. Alec was near.
Because what was a life with no end without someone to hold on to – What would a life spent worrying, spent mourning for someone gone forever...What would it be? Not a relief. Not bliss. Not sadness. But pure nothingness.
And relief would come soon – as soon as death would devour him.
Soon.