A/N: This chapter is available in a Podfic read by the wonderful DarayFlair, which you can find at this link: /works/26061766/chapters/64043464#workskin

Alicante lies in ruins.

Silence is rare and near impossible and it does not grace the city now. Fires still crackle and flare, shadowhunters yell for their friends, their families, for salvation or death. A guttural scream echoes the desolate city, the harshest sound of grief and loss and pain of which all shadowhunters have an almost innate understanding.

This particular one is new to them, however.

Alec forces in a breath, fights to come to terms with the fact that he was the one who had screamed. He doesn't know when his knees hit the floor. All he knows is that Magnus is gone, disappeared into Edom. Alec is knelt on cobbled ground where the portal had snapped shut just seconds ago. Tears run hot and unchecked down his cheeks.

Uncurling his fingers, Alec stares down at the ring sat in his palm. The capital 'L' in its crest, shining silver in the firelight, mocking him. Magnus had pressed it into his hand just before vanishing through that portal. Alec clenches his fist around it, holds it so tight that it leaves marks on his skin.

Hot tears burn his cheeks.

It is supposed to be with Magnus by now, glinting on his finger, standing out among the rest of his rings. Now, it is just a reminder of what Alec has lost.

"Alec," a voice murmurs behind him and he closes his eyes, tears pushing free and sliding down his cheeks. A hand falls to his shoulder. "Alec, we need to go. Jonathan is still—"

"I don't care," Alec grumbles, lifting a hand to rake through his hair, bowing his head over the hand that holds his family ring. "I don't care about Jonathan. I need to get to Edom."

There is a moment of almost silence and Alec glances up to see Jace crouching beside him. "Alec, I'm sorry, but you can't. We're Nephilim… You can't enter Edom without demon blood."

Alec shakes his head. "I need to get to Magnus."

"Magnus… he's gone, Alec. I'm sorry, but he's gone. You can't stay here."

Alec shakes his head. "No, no, he's not…" He chokes on a sob, ducks his head again. "He can't be…"

The rest of it is a blur. Jace talks, but Alec doesn't listen. His parabatai coaxes him to his feet, an arm around his waist to keep him steady. Without his touch, Alec believes he might collapse on the spot. His throat hurts. He wonders how long he was crying before Jace had approached. It must have been longer than he knew to have his throat so raw.

He understands now that Magnus is gone.

It doesn't make it any easier.

He loses himself in his mind, in the memories of Magnus, in his smile and his laugh, the soft voice he uses exclusively for Alec, his warlock mark, gold and gorgeous. Magnus was everything. He was kind and wise and beautiful and strong. The world didn't deserve everything Magnus was. Alec didn't deserve him.

The institute startles him with its noise. Insistent voices with desperate questions about the city, about their loved ones. Jace steers him away from it all. Alec vaguely hears Isabelle call to the shadowhunters, gather them together so she can tell them what happened in Alicante. Part of Alec wants to stay, to listen to how she explains what Magnus did, how he saved them all at the cost of his liberty and his life, how he is bleeding to death in Edom with no one to help him.

The wound had been traumatic. Alec glances down at his hands, stares at the one still coated in Magnus's blood. There is too much of it.

Hands are pushing his shoulders and he obeys on instinct, blinking rapidly when he manages to lift his head. He is in his room in the institute, sat on the edge of his bed. It feels strange. He should be in Magnus's apartment. Although, he doesn't know if he could stomach the emptiness of the loft now that Magnus isn't there.

Jace is disappearing into the en-suite, reappearing seconds later with a washcloth and a towel. He kneels silently in front of Alec, gently takes his wrist to keep his hand steady, begins wiping the blood from his palm and his fingers. The cloth quickly stains crimson, leaves watered droplets of red on Alec's skin.

Alec realises suddenly that he feels nothing. Jace is being so kind, so silently understanding, but Alec can't feel anything towards him. His body is numb, his mind is filled with pain and nothing else. Tears keep sliding down his cheeks. Alec makes no attempt to stop them.

"He's dead," he says, half choked with grief and Jace looks up at him, the towel faltering on drying his hand. "Jace, he's dead…"

"I know," Jace utters. "I'm so sorry, Alec."

"He knew he would die if he went to Edom," Alec continues, his voice shockingly calm, blank. "He was too badly hurt. He used too much of his magic on the—the demons and the portal. He knew he wouldn't be able to heal himself." He swallows hard on an uncomfortable lump in his throat. "I can't live without him…"

Jace shakes his head. "He did it so you could live, Alec. He sacrificed himself for all of us. For Alicante… For you, because he loved you and he wanted you to live."

Alec closes his eyes, lies down on his side, his legs still hanging off the edge of the bed. Jace dutifully unties his shoes and sets them over by the wall, gently lifting Alec's legs up onto the mattress. Alec rolls to his other side, lets the tears burn hot against his skin.

"Take as much time as you need," says Jace. "We're all here for you, Alec."

Alec buries his face in the pillow, listens to Jace's footsteps retreating. The door closes. A sob wrenches Alec's throat, tears burning his eyes.

It is unclear how long he stays there, but the tears never cease and the sobs catch relentlessly in his throat. He thinks of Magnus, replays their final moments over and over. Despair grips his heart as he realises that he doesn't know if Magnus ever truly forgave him for what he did, for the deal he made with Asmodeus.

He just cries, his mind filled with images of his lost love, considering how he might have died.

The likeliest outcome is that Magnus bled to death in Edom. Demons might have gotten to him first. Maybe they killed him. Regardless, the wound Magnus had sustained was not one that he could recover from with depleted magic.

There is a weight in his hand—the one that hadn't been covered in blood—and Alec uncurls his fingers, looks blankly at his family ring. He knows he should return it to his mother (again), but some whisper in the back of his mind tells him that he can't part with it. This is all he has left of Magnus.

It is a grim reminder of his loss. He drops it upon his bedside table, closes his eyes to avoid dwelling on it.

Alec's heart is dark and empty. Magnus is dead.

The demons of Edom flock the castle in irritation and confusion.

Their prince is inside, the half-breed son of the greater demon Asmodeus, who now commands this realm. A boy with cat's eyes and multi-colour magic who they must now obey, the remaining blood of their absent king, the one who has ordered them to remain in Edom. Until that order is revoked, they cannot leave.

A darkness looms inside the castle and the demons shriek in panic and fear, understanding that the presence means danger and death. They flee.

Within the decrepit building, Magnus Bane lies in a growing pool of blood, the pallor of his skin an ashy grey, the sweat across his brow sheening in the firelight of Edom. All around him, the darkness distorts.

The shadows twist and shift, forming a humanoid shape, dripping with ichor. Clawed fingers stretch in readiness, a woman sheening with darkness creeping into the light, her attention fixed on the semi-conscious warlock. Despite his predicament, the creature remains cautious.

The tang of mundane blood fills the air, tainted with demonic energy. A warlock from the Earthly plane. The ichor-seeped figure stops at his side, looming over him. A crack of crimson energy comes to her palm. The light of it reflects from her black irises.

Magnus's expression furrows in pain, turning his head. "Mama…" he utters, lost in the throes of agony and blood loss. "Mama…"

The woman stops.

The crimson dies from her hand. The fire-light sky reflects in her eyes when her head shifts to tilt slightly, staring curiously down at the warlock. He is gravely injured. His life blood seeps out upon the rock beneath him. The light from the burning sky makes the liquid glow darkly.

Kneeling beside him, the woman reaches a black, clawed hand to the warlock's face, touching his cheek lightly. A single word forms her ichor-stained lips, a voice crawling and cracked in demonic tongue, a word so innocent but so tainted with the grit of Edom.

"Child…"