Magnus returns to Edom in a rage of confusion.

A demon shrieks curiously at him from some sparse shrubbery at the door of Lilith's Keep and he snarls at it, his magic lighting the creature afire, burning it to ash in mere seconds of screams and dying gurgles. He moves on without giving it another thought.

He had kept his cool in front of the shadowhunters, but now he permits himself to his mortal-given emotions. It is mostly bewilderment and all that confusion—the simple fact that he doesn't know what he is feeling—makes him angry. His memories are clear, but tainted with lack of recognition.

The people are familiar, the places, even the situations he was in, but it feels so wrong to have them in his mind. He is not the person in those memories anymore.

The one he sees there is a warlock, the former High Warlock of Brooklyn, a man harbouring power like no one else and concealing it, using it only for trivial matters or to help shadowhunters with such little appreciation for what he was. Magnus isn't that man anymore. He doesn't want to be on-call for shadowhunter problems. He doesn't understand why he ever would be.

"Magnus," a voice says and he glances back to see Lilith melting out of the shadows behind him. He doesn't remember the journey to the height of her towers. "Were you successful?"

Magnus huffs, half amusement and half bitterness. "Well, my father is now a pile of ash in the New York Institute, if that's what you mean."

Something dawns in Lilith's eyes. "The New York Institute…?"

"Yes, he was being kept in their cells," says Magnus, looks down to his hand, to the storm of golden magic bursting at his fingers. He doesn't bother trying to force it back. "Alec was there… I felt… strange when I saw him. I thought I would feel relief or joy or… anything… but I didn't. I didn't feel love."

"You are strong now," says Lilith. "You're above their level of emotion. A higher being."

Magnus shakes his head. "No, I'm not. I still feel. I feel… confused. I know I loved him before. Now, I just feel… lust. He is mortal and a Nephilim, but he's still…" Magnus curls his hand into a fist, breathes out slowly. "I don't know what I feel anymore. I'm just angry."

"Do you want him?"

Magnus closes his eyes. "I…"

"You are the Prince of Edom," Lilith reminds him firmly. "Royal blood runs in your veins. He will not refuse you if you wish to have him. We take what we want."

"No," says Magnus, shakes his head. "No, I won't have him against his will. He doesn't want me." He clenches his jaw. "He wants Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn… That isn't me anymore. I haven't been the High Warlock for a while now… I am the Prince of Edom. He is a shadowhunter. He will not have me like this."

Lilith narrows her eyes at him. "What do you plan on doing?"

Magnus is quiet for a moment. He ponders it, thinks upon his mind and his past. It is difficult to see himself like that anymore. His memories are not unclear to him, but they feel as though they belong to another. All those bright moments, those warm mornings and hot nights, those images of a young archer with a mess of dark hair and hazel eyes and a rune across the side of his neck; Magnus doesn't recognise them as his own.

"Nothing," he decides aloud, lifting his eyes in time to see a sliver of relief touching Lilith's dark eyes. "I don't want him here, and he doesn't want me like this… but this is who I am now. There is no changing that. He cannot change that." Magnus hesitates a moment, thinking back upon the meeting. "He wanted me to stay. He offered to help me."

Lilith shakes her head. "It must have been difficult to hear that. I'm sorry."

Magnus looks to her, a frown furrowed upon his brow. "Why are you sorry?"

"He wanted to help you," says Lilith, tilting her head as she puts a hard emphasis on that word. "He wants to change you, Magnus. Suggesting that you need help means that he believes you are sick. That you need to be altered… He doesn't understand you anymore. He doesn't know you."

Magnus hums. "Well, it is of little consequence. I will likely never see him again."

"Yes," Lilith agrees and she seems pleased now. "We can be grateful for that. It is better to distance yourself from the Nephilim… You don't belong with them anymore, Magnus. Your home is here. Your people will accept you as their prince. The shadowhunters would never continue their affiliations to you now that you are so powerful. They fear power."

Magnus frowns softly. "Affiliations," he echoes thoughtfully, glancing back to where the portal had snapped shut. "The shadowhunters… Some of them value downworlders… Perhaps they would be glad of demonic intervention from time-to-time."

"What are you saying, Magnus?"

"I'm saying that maybe we needn't be enemies all the time," says Magnus, a pinch to his brow. "If we kill Jonathan like you want… it wouldn't just be revenge. We would be saving the shadowhunters from his wrath. They might be grateful."

Lilith curls her lip in disgust. "They are Nephilim. They can be grateful if we decide not to tear those runes from their flesh."

Magnus hums and moves wonderingly to the vaguely squared gap in the wall that might have been a window. Through it, he overlooks the red wasteland of Edom, the sparsely scattered trees, dead and dark, the demons snarling and striking one another. His people. His prison. His kingdom.

"Magnus," says Lilith behind him. "You cannot be friends with the angel-blooded."

Magnus tilts his head. "I am not suggesting friendship," he says. "I am merely stating we could at least consider an alliance of some sort."

There is a strange sound behind him—like a bird flying too close to his head—and Magnus turns, completely calm, to see the room ablaze. Lilith stands in the centre of his all, her eyes black and reflecting the flames like the stillest and darkest waters. Her fingers end in talons, dripping ichor.

Magnus tilts his head, unaffected by the display. "I assume this is a threat. Admittedly, I'm unfamiliar with receiving them."

"You will not offer help to the Nephilim," Lilith snarls and Magnus turns to her fully, a slight pinch to his brow. "You do that and you will lose control of the demons. If they sense the angelic on you—if they sense weakness—then they will rip you apart."

"They won't," Magnus replies. "I can control them. You said it yourself, I'm strong. I'm stronger than my father." He looks to his hands, absently bringing the magic to his fingers, basking in the golden light. "I'm stronger than everyone… If I am challenged, I will prove my strength. I will slaughter the entire realm if I have to, but I will not accept death. Not again."

"The Nephilim—"

"If they won't accept alliance, they will die!" Magnus yells, gold flaring his hands and the light of his magic burns with hellfire.

A sly smile spread across Lilith's face, white teeth flashing in the firelight. "Now that is what I like to hear."

"Absolutely not."

They are piled into his office and Alec is glaring at his siblings, his friends. His arms are crossed firmly over his chest. He simply cannot believe what he is hearing. It was his sister who had first broached the idea and it is her who stands closest to him now.

"Alec," Isabelle says, tilts her head a little. Alec hates the sympathy in her eyes, like she understands. Alec knows for a fact that she doesn't. She could never understand. "You saw the warding analysis. You know it was Magnus who came into the Institute and killed Asmodeus. It wasn't a demon or a shapeshifter; it was him. We have to stop him."

"No, we have to help him, not cage him like a goddamn animal!"

Jace steps forward to clutch his parabatai's arm. "Alec, the Malachi configuration works. You used it to hold me, and if Magnus really is being controlled by Lilith like you say, then we know it can hold him. We can stop him before he hurts anyone else."

"He hasn't done anything wrong," Alec insists.

His siblings just can't seem to understand that. Magnus is the love of his life, his future husband, and he will not have them talking about him like this, like he's a dangerous beast that needs to be locked away. He is not a monster. Alec refuses to let them treat him like one.

Clary ducks her gaze slightly and takes a hesitant step closer. "Alec, he… he murdered his own father."

"You have no idea what Asmodeus did to him," says Alec, forcing back his anger but certain it made his voice tremble. "He abused Magnus for years, decades even."

"Do you think that justifies how he killed him?" Isabelle asks. "Alec, Magnus turned him into a pile of ash. He burned him alive."

Alec shakes his head, determined not to believe what Isabelle was trying to tell him, what they were all trying to tell him. "No, Magnus is… You never saw how he reacted about his father. Asmodeus manipulated him after his mother died. Magnus was afraid of him. Can you imagine him afraid of anything?"

Clary chews anxiously on her lower lip. "He was afraid for you when Valentine was in the Institute with the soul sword."

A weight slams down to Alec's stomach at that admittance and he takes a breath to calm himself. "That's exactly why I can't let you use the Malachi Configuration on him. Not yet anyway."

"Alec—"

"Jonathan is our priority right now," says Alec, cutting his brother off before he can finish. It pains him to place Magnus second, but if it stops the other from treating him like a criminal and a demon then it is the best thing he can do for the warlock. "As far as we know, Magnus isn't a threat to anyone."

"But if he's being controlled by Lilith…" Jace begins, his eyes bright with worry.

Alec nods. "She might want Jonathan back, I know. Which is why we have to get to him first."

He turns and casts a screen up in front of them. Upon it, the Institutes of the world are represented in small dots. Those that have fallen are a stark red. Those still standing are blue and hopeful. Alec has drawn black lines to map Jonathan's path and a single white line to his next likeliest target. He follows that one from London, taps at the end point.

The others edge forward to read the name that pops up.

"Toronto," Isabelle says, glances to Clary. "Can you portal us in?"

"You're not coming," Clary says firmly, looks to her and Alec meets her eyes when he turns back around. She's scared. "You can't. Alone I might stand a chance, but if Jonathon knows you're there… he'll kill you all. I can't portal you there knowing that you'll die."

Alec reaches to grasp her shoulder. "We go together," he says. "We die together if we have to, but we will stop him as a team." He looks over their little group, his family, and he can't help but feel the absence even more now. "Obviously there's no obligation to come, but I for one am going."

"Oh, shut up," Isabelle mutters, rolls her eyes. "Of course we're coming."

"Yeah," Jace agrees, meets his parabatai's measured gaze. "Jonathan might not have killed him, but he gave it a damn good try and he's the reason Magnus is in Edom right now instead of here with us, so I'm doing this… For Magnus."

A lump forms in Alec's throat and he swallows hard as Isabelle repeats the mantra, his eyes flitting across her and to Clary as the young red-head agrees. Alec nods to them, hoping his eyes convey his gratitude as he fears he might cry if he tries to voice it. He turns to the screen, his eyes fixing on their target, on Toronto.

"For Magnus."