A/N: I had a cold, and somehow got this idea. I warn you in advance: it's tragedy. Sorry it's so short.
This is my first try at fanfiction. Well, my first one I consider worth publishing. Please review; I need to know what I can do to improve! Things you need to know: It's many, many years in the future. Humanity is dead, and all other immortals either died trying to gain power, or just gave up.
The moonlight sparkled on the ocean. Long ago, it would have been a beautiful view. Now it was desolate. A speck of beauty in a lonely world. Some would say that lonely is beautiful, with its stoic tragedy and mystery. This was just one more thing to remind Magnus of his loss.
Immortality was like the view: a lonely beauty. It had its good points, sure, but so did death. And as far as Magnus was concerned, it was the same thing.
The loss wasn't the world, although it was lost as well. It was Alec. Magnus had known he would outlive the shadow hunter. He had known it since they first kissed, since they first said "I love you." It was always there, always darkening the short time they had together. Still, he had not then known the full meaning of it.
It was worse than he expected. So, so much worse. He had tried to move on. It had worked for a couple weeks, but then he would find himself dreaming of the boy with black hair and eyes that could compete with the sky in beauty and expression. Of the man who aged when he himself was left behind. Of the grave he now resided in.
He had tried to move away from it. To live so far away it would just be some forgotten memory. But who could forget Alec? Finally, after all humanity had perished, after all the immortals had gone to war and most had died, he moved back to New York. It was far from the city he had once lived in. It was desert now. Continents had moved, the climate changed. The biggest difference was not the temperature, but the absence of life.
The grave was gone. Dust in the wind. He had no idea where in the world Alec was, as cliché as it sounded, resting. But, maybe they would meet again.
And with that in mind, the last little spark of life was overcome by the darkness. It went without a sound, without hesitation. And the lonely beauty was all the more beautiful; terribly, wickedly beautiful.