Robert Lightwood had always been a man who had taken great pride in being a descendent of the angels. He felt, as many Shadowhunters did, that such angel blood in his veins meant that he was indeed better than the creatures that walked the earth: downworlders and mundane alike.

For long ago Jonathan Shadowhunter had been granted the power of the rune with the decree to protect the world from demonkind. There had been a clear distinction of the races for centuries that marked the superiority of the Shadowhunters above all else. It was an era that Robert had read about many times, and one that he longed to returned to. So when Maryse had told him about Valentine's plan to purify the world, to finally stake their rightful dominance over the demon spawn, he had readily joined the cause.

It was unfortunate that the Circle had been unable to accomplish their goals, but even as the Clave imprisoned, killed, and out Circle runes on the members, Robert held onto the hope that one day their vision would come to be. Except, he had learned well enough, it would not be done by Valentine. Instead, Robert made plans to rise in the Clave and change it from within.

Like most worthy goals, it had taken years to even come to a place where that goal could come to fruition. Robert had had to prove himself loyal to the Clave and to the Institute, going out of his way to make the Lightwood name reputable. And finally, the Clave had seen his deeds and promoted him into their ranks. He had the Clave members eating out of the palm of his hand. They weren't too far removed from his way of thinking, and all that was needed was a little push in the right direction.

There was only a minor problems, three to be exact: his children.

Jace though, as willful and disobedient as he was, could be cast aside. The blonde wasn't his blood after all, and Robert had no shame in letting the boy go, disattach him from the family.

Izzy, however, his once shining star of a daughter, continued to grow up and refuse to see the world for what it was. He had hoped - and continued to hope - that her infatuation with the downworld was only a phrase. She was misguided, and until she learned where she had gone wrong, Robert had to keep her locked up and out of trouble. It saddened him to think of her in such a way, for he truly did love her above all his other children (probably because she reminded him of Maryse back when Maryse had passion), but he couldn't allow her to get in the way of what he needed to do.

Then there was Alec. Though Robert had never had what one could considered a good relationship with his son, he had once seen his eldest's potential. Up until a few months ago, Alec had been the one with a conservative mind and the true character of an angelic soldier. Above all else, Alec was meant to be the one to help Robert rise to the top.

That perception had died the moment the warlock Magnus Bane had wormed his way in Alec's life. Because of Bane, Alec was suddenly announcing - completely out of the blue - that he was gay, and that he was willing to give up his own chance of making a reputable name for himself for the disgusting downworlder.

Well, that at least, Robert had found a way to fix. Taking his unconscious son, twitching in agony from the infected demon wound, Robert entered the City of Bones. There was a chill in the air, and a sense of foreboding, but Robert continued on. Through the dark, speckled stone walls and the cold stone floor, he maneuvered Alec's body to the gray ceremonial slab where two of the Silent Brothers waited.

Are you sure you wish to go through with this? The one called Benjamin asked through their psyche link. There are dangers to this type of ritual.

Robert didn't even hesitate before replying, It's worth it.

When Penhallow's guards had come to retrieve him, Jace didn't put up a fight. There was no energy in him to do so, nor the will. Still, the guards took necessary precautions and they each grabbed an arm to brutishly lead him out of the infirmary room. It was painful to leave Alec's side, but that sort of pain was buried by everything else he was feeling. Jace didn't belong there anyway - not when he had been the one to put Alec in that condition.

Underhill was standing just outside, legs positioned steadily, head held up high with watchful eyes, and hands clasped in a soldierly manner behind his back. His expression was stoic. It was only thanks to reading Alec's blank stare for years that Jace saw the disappointment. He ignored it.

The guards took Jace out of the back way of the Institute so as to avoid the majority of Shadowhunters. By doing so, they passed the in-house garden with the stained glass windows, completely void of any Shadowhunters. This part of the Institute was often empty, only visited by Church, Hodge's old cat, and Jace himself.

garden had once been a sanctuary for Jace, especially right after his father's supposed death - the father he had loved and who he had thought loved him. Unlike most Shadowhunters, Jace had been raised not only to fight, but to also create and appreciate beauty. The garden whose flowers seemed to bloom year-round without aid, was the only section of the Institute that could be called beautiful, and Jace had found a semblance of peace.

That was no longer true. Nothing could bring Jace peace; especially not a place that held too many memories of one of the people he had lost. The memory of kissing Clary while the sun hit her brilliant red hair just right. The memory of taking Clary's hand and walking through the rows of flowers as she giggled about how romantic he was. Or the memory of having woken up from a nightmare and Clary finding him here and holding onto him without saying a word.

It was all too much, and Jace dropped his gaze with unshed tears in dim, golden eyes.

The walk through the garden was unnaturally slow. Too ridden with pain and guilt, Jace didn't have the energy to move with any amount of speed, and the guards were practically dragging him along. Or maybe it wasn't the emotional turmoil that had Jace moving so slowly, but a sense of premonition.

For the second they reached outside, Jace fell to his knees in agony. The grip from the guards loosened in surprise, but they holding on and stayed close. Through the parabatai bond, it felt as if Alec was being tortured. Jace screamed.

Magnus couldn't remember ever getting back home; he was too drunk to think much of anything...and it was only just a few hours past noon. Though it was the type of dramatics and mystery that he had promised himself to get away from just that morning, but now it was his plan to remain in this pitiful state.

It was at this point that someone decided to knock frantically at the door. Magnus groaned. A moment passed and the knocking resumed, loud and agitated. "Go away," Magnus moaned but it was garbled into the couch that he had face planted into.

"Magnus!" the person on the other side of the door yelled, the knocking becoming more incessant. "Magnus!"

In the numbness and ache, it took longer that it should have to recognize that the person was Clary's friend, Simon. At first, Magnus thought to ignore the vampire. There wasn't anything he could do to help after all. Why deal with the headache when he was useless to do much of anything?

Moment moved painfully slow, giving Magnus the time to realize the selfishness of his decision to ignore the young man outside the loft. To be honest - heartbreakingly honest - Magnus understood that he wasn't the only one that had lost something that day. Simon, for one, had lost what little control he had just become accustomed to, and so much more than that, had lost his best friend.

Pushing aside the drunken haze and the emptiness that consumed him, Magnus forced himself up and to the door. He let Simon inside.

The boy looked terrible, though Magnus knew he probably didn't have the right to do so. Already dead, the vampire was lifeless now in every sense of the word. There was no energy inside of him, no hope...nothing.

"I just had a talk with Camille," Simon was stating, his tone dull and depressing.

"How enchanting."

"She said I didn't kill Lilith."

"No," Magnus was slow to respond, "most likely Lilith didn't die, at least not in the traditional sense. Unless killed in a very specific manner topside, Greater Demons tend to just go back to Hell, power diminished as it is." Simon nodded, but there was a look in his expression that Magnus couldn't exactly describe, especially not in the context of things.

Confused by the slight shifter in the vampire, Magnus waited for the boy to explain. Simon seemed to need an extra moment though to fully process. In the space of time that he needed to think, another frantic knock sounded at the door, "Magnus, it's Isabelle."

Quickly, Magnus opened the door. "Has Alexander woken up?"

The answer was clear without her ever having to say anything. Tears stung her dark eyes, staining cheeks. "He's missing," she cried. Whatever energy and control she had gathered to find her way to the loft was completely depleted. She fell into Magnus's chest, sobbing into the soft material of his shirt. "I went to the infirmary and he was gone."

Magnus couldn't accept it; he refused to. What she was saying was incomprehensible.

"Penhallow was at the Institute," she cried, "and...and I know she and the Clave are mad at us. I don't...I don't know what they might have done, but he...he's gone. I can't believe he's gone. I wasn't there for him. I shouldn't have left."

Ethan Underhill stood watch over the infirmary room. The Institute was in shambles, chaotically trying to run even as their leader was at the edge of death. No doubt, Ethan could have been useful doing something else, but he couldn't bring himself to step away.

He had always thought himself to be loyal to his Shadowhunter duty, but as he listened to his fellow Shadowhunters gossip about what may befall Alec even if he did wake up, Ethan realized that his loyalties had shifted. No longer was he determined to play that dutiful soldier to just anyone with a rank and title. He was loyal specifically to Alec Lightwood.

Which was why, when Robert Lightwood discreetly took Alec out of the room just seconds after Jace had willingly left with Penhallow's guards, Ethan felt obligated to follow. He didn't like thinking that Alec's father would do anything to harm Alec, but he wasn't about to take the chance.

He used his stele to mark himself with the stealth rune, along with speech and strength. Then he silently followed Robert as the man took his son into the City of Bones. Slowly, he crept around the corner of the black, cold stone wall.

There were too Silent Brothers present, doing so indistinguishable ritual. It made the young soldier inwardly flinch. Though the Silent Brothers were known for their righteousness, their powers always came at a cost, and Ethan was afraid what the cost of healing Alec's demon infected wound would be. What was really suspicious, however, was that Robert marking Alec's skin with runes. Ethan hadn't thought much of it when he ran his stele over Alec's deflection rune, thinking it was a means of defense. When he started designing a new rune on Alec's ankles, ones that Ethan had never seen before, his instincts drove him forward.

Too quick for the Silent Brothers or Robert to see, Ethan ran to Alec, picked him up, and took off. Careful to not have been followed, and to make sure that he was too fast to be seen, he carried the Head of the Institute to the only place he knew for sure would be safe: Mr. Bane's loft.