Epilogue
Later, Alec wouldn't be able to remember returning to the tiny cabin to find it heavily damaged by some of the flying demons that had evaded the Faerie warriors in the skies above. Hunter and Aspen had fought side-by-side with Jem to keep the creatures from getting inside once Magnus' protection spell had faded when he was out of range, and both teenagers were exhausted but elated at having gotten to fight.
When the onslaught had suddenly ceased, they had known it would only be a matter of time before the group returned. Alec was the first to push open the battered door that was barely hanging on by one frozen hinge.
Jem rose from the couch expectantly, eyes bright with excitement for what must have been a success.
Alec felt a lump rise in his throat. I can't do this.
"Jem..." he began, reaching out to rest his hand on the other man's shoulder tentatively. Others started filtering in behind him, still quiet out of deference.
The former Silent Brother's eyes darkened as a shadow of fear crept across his face. "Where is she?"
Alec looked down, and Jem shook the hand from his shoulder. "What happened, Alec?"
"I-" the Consul hesitated.
"It was my fault," Jace said quietly as he stepped inside. Tessa's form looked even smaller in the gear she had been wearing to complete her role as a decoy for him. The chest piece had shifted while he had walked back across the island, and the terrible wound was no longer visible. He cradled her carefully against his body and dared to look up and meet Jem's eyes.
Devastation froze Jem's face into a mask. He crossed the space between them woodenly and reached out to take his wife from Jace, unwilling to believe that she was gone. She was light in his arms, but it was the weight of his grief that made him sink to his knees. He clutched her tightly to his chest and rocked back and forth in mute horror.
All of the Shadowhunters bowed their heads. Death was part of their life, but it never got easier to witness the anguish of one of their own.
"Ave," Clary whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. The warlock had been so much more than a friend to her for more than half of her life. She couldn't even imagine Jem's pain.
"Ave." Murmurs rippled around the room as others paid their respects not only to the half-Shadowhunter, but to the eight other warriors who lay in the snow outside the cabin to await their final rites in Alicante.
After a minute of silence, Alec turned to address the shivering group. "We can't stay here any longer," he said quietly. The broken glass of the windows, the rents in the roof, and the door were only the physical reasons they needed to leave. The Shadow World had been rocked to its core and the survivors needed answers. They would look to the Clave for guidance, but from Cartwright's assessment, the city was nearly deserted, and Sera had already admitted that even Everett was out of the picture, locked in a cell under the Gard.
Diego straightened up. "You're going back, aren't you?" The Executor was no longer a pristine vision of Centurion excellence in his shredded gear, but he still held his head high.
"We're going home," Alec confirmed.
"Do you think they will accept you?"
"I have to try."
The Centurion offered his hand to Alec and clasped it tightly. "You're more than they deserve, Consul." He pulled him into a quick embrace and then stepped back and gestured to his surviving fighters. "We will return to the Scholomance. What you have done here will not be forgotten – we will see to it that others know the truth."
Clary had already pulled out her stele and made an apologetic look at Aline before setting its tip to the south-facing wall of the main room. All three warlocks were far too exhausted to open a Portal right now, and so she sketched the rune she had created so many years ago and watched the lines spread until a gateway had opened.
Once the Centurions were safely away, Clary lifted an eyebrow at Alec. "We can't Portal back into Alicante without clearance, what do you want to do? Herondale Manor and then walk?"
The Consul looked stumped until Jon's face brightened.
"I have clearance," he said in a faintly surprised tone. "The whole reason we came was to arrest anyone up here and bring them back for questioning. The Gard Portal is ready for us to come back through any time now."
Simon snorted. "Very decent of Everett to accidentally roll out the welcome mat for us. I'll have to send him one of those edible arrangements or something."
"Where will we stay?" Clary asked. "Our homes were destroyed in the fires-"
"Our place," Izzy cut in. "There weren't any repairs to be made by the previous owners after the Dark War. It might still be okay." Her brother nodded in agreement and Clary shrugged her acceptance. She was more than a little worried about her husband's continued silence.
At Alec's command, Jon and Cinder tactfully arranged for their team to bear the dead with a little help from Rafe, Hunter, and Jace. Everyone else began readying themselves to leave and checking that they had everything they had come with.
"Steven," Sera sighed as she remembered her friend who was still quite possibly sleeping in the bedroom. She made a mental note to inform him that he had almost slept through the end of the world,
"I'll get him," Rayce offered immediately, disappearing through the doorway.
"I can't believe you guys brought a Mundane," Simon said while shaking his head. "That's awesome."
Sera smiled back at him. "I'm getting the strangest feeling that you two are going to get along famously."
"Speaking of getting along famously," he added with a nod at where Seraphine was leaning up against Magnus tiredly on the loveseat. "I didn't see that coming. Did you?"
"Nope," Sera admitted. "I never really wanted to pry and ask why her condo was warded so hard, but I guess if your father is a Greater Demon with a penchant for snacking on his kids, it seems like a pretty good idea. I just kind of figured that she was really fed up with telemarketers or something."
"I don't think there's enough magic in this world to ever be free of them," Simon said darkly as Clary's Portal connected to the Gard and the entire thing shimmered faintly to welcome them home.
Their return was something of a blur in Alec's mind. Jon and his team took the dead to be properly cared for until they could be cremated in Shadowhunter tradition. Not even Marisol put up a protest at being left behind. They promised to check on Everett and the others Rayce had left imprisoned in the cells, and Jon vowed that justice would be served.
Carolina and Marcos Monteverde shook hands with Alec and used the Portal to finally return to the Buenos Aires Institute. They swore that they would be back to help in any way they could as soon as they were able to get their enclave on its feet.
Once the Consul's group was clear of the confusing hallways that protected the exact location of the Gard's Portal, it was a bit of a shock to see the devastation of the city outside. As Cartwright had promised, the darkened streets were deserted, and if anyone took note of the unusual group threading its way toward Simon and Isabelle's narrow, three-storey home off Princewater canal, no alarm was raised.
The honey-coloured stone and red-tiled roof were dirtied from the soot and ash that had filled the air, but the home looked undamaged. Others had not been so fortunate. The burnt-out ruins of at least a half dozen houses hunkered down in their foundations, and they made Alec feel sick. So much destroyed, he lamented. But there's so much more to rebuild if I can just help them understand.
Simon pushed open the door of his home and was immediately attacked by a dark shadow that shot across the tiled entry and flung itself at his chest.
"Yossarian!" Simon's face lit up as he peeled his cat off for a proper hug. "Third of his name, Lord of Laziness and Warden of the Pantry; we're going to have to add another title. Looks like you're going to get The Unburnt, too."
"Please, no," Izzy muttered.
"I can't believe the only reason I was even in Alicante the day Sera and Rayce broke out was that I was here to feed your damn cat," Clary huffed as she kicked off her boots. "We never would have even met."
"I believe it," Sera said absently under her breath, still in awe of what her father had shown her. She pushed the memories aside; they were still too much to handle right now.
"Where's Jem?" Helen asked suddenly, scanning the faces coming through the door. "He was right behind us..." But the ex-Silent Brother had vanished with his wife's body to grieve alone.
"Give him time," Magnus said quietly.
An awkward silence settled over the group for a moment until Isabelle threw up her hands. "I have no idea where everyone's going to sleep. Magnus?"
The warlock sighed and wiggled his fingers impotently without a trace of his trademark blue magic. "I couldn't summon so much as a chintz chair right now, sweetheart. I'm officially off-duty until further notice."
Aspen grinned and patted his arm. "Don't worry, we've got this." With a little help from Hunter, Max, and Rafe, they had soon transformed the living room into a mass of couch cushions, pillows, and blankets salvaged from all over the house.
"Best sleepover ever," Aspen sighed as she flopped down a few feet away from where Rayce was pushing his pillow closer to Sera's. With eyes only for Sera, he remained blissfully ignorant of his cousin, and was completely taken by surprise when Hunter wedged himself into the space between his parabatai and the half-Faerie.
"No homo, bro," Hunter reassured a bewildered Rayce.
"Excuse me?" Magnus raised his voice and paused on his way upstairs.
Hunter turned scarlet. "Um... nothing."
"Mmhmm. You're lucky I'm running on empty right now." The warlock disappeared up the steps after the older Shadowhunters to claim one of the three bedrooms, but called back down, "I'm sleeping in your room tonight, and you'd better pray that I don't open any of your doll boxes."
"They're action figures! And don't you dare!" Hunter panted nervously until Aspen elbowed him in a huff about losing her spot next to Rayce.
"He's just kidding, don't be a spaz."
One by one, everyone dropped off into sleep as exhaustion claimed them. The house gradually quieted and witchlights extinguished until there was only a single line of light under one of the doors upstairs.
Jace slipped out of bed and padded down the hallway in an old pair of his brother-in-law's Star Wars pajama pants. He gently turned the knob on Simon's office door and was utterly unsurprised to find Alec haloed by the desk lamp and writing quietly.
"Are you ever going to sleep?" Jace asked after closing the door behind himself.
Alec shook his head ruefully. "There's so much to do now."
"Can't it wait?"
"Not this time."
Jace sighed and ran his hands back through his blond hair until he was tugging at the back of his neck with his fingers laced. "You know, this is going to kill me to admit, but I think Rosales might have been right."
"About what?"
"You're more than we deserve."
In the morning, Alec found himself back in the Consul's office with a knot in his stomach. He wasn't entirely sure that he should be here, but it was the only way to reach as many people as he possibly could without spending the next month Portalling all over the world.
"No, it goes this way," Jace hissed under his breath at Simon as the two of them fiddled with the knobs on the projection unit.
"Look, one of us was an A.V. guy in high school, and I don't think it was you."
Magnus reached up to smooth down the collar of his husband's white mourning jacket. Beautiful scarlet runes that spoke of sorrow and healing circled the cuffs, but they never failed to remind Alec of his little brother, Max.
"Stop fidgeting, pigeon, there's only so much I can do to make you look like you've slept at some point in the last decade," Magnus fussed. "If you'd just let me use some concealer, I have it in-"
"No," Alec cut him off gently. He flashed his famous Lightwood smile when he saw Magnus' face fall, crestfallen. "You always tell me I look perfect, anyway."
Completely boxed in by simple logic, Magnus had no arguments left to use, and could only huff in disapproval. He caught sight of Jace and Simon still prodding the projector and he snapped his fingers at them in warning. "Do not touch that. In fact," he made shooing motions at them, "get away from it entirely."
Alec stood behind the Consul's desk and cleared his throat as Magnus trained the lens on him and started counting down silently from five with his upraised hand. This is it. He looked down at the speech notes he had brought with him and realized he didn't need them anymore.
"Citizens of the Shadow World, please forgive me for addressing you like this while there is still so much uncertainty within the Clave, but the events of last night are far more important than the political machinations of our government. This projection is being sent to every Institute and Downworld hub that I can reach because this message isn't just for the Nephilim. It's for every soul that fought against demons not only last night, but at any time in the last thousand years."
The soft hum of the projector was the only other sound in the office, and Alec felt his nerves calm.
"First, I want to thank anyone who responded to the warnings from Wrangel Island, local Institutes, or from vigilant Downworlders. Your swift actions, no doubt, saved countless innocent lives. This has been a difficult time for Shadowhunters as we recover from the Unseelie sabotage of Alicante, and it is a testament to our combined strength that we were able to withstand the demon attacks despite our troubles.
"I'm not sure if I am even still properly your Consul, and I know that it seems presumptuous of me to speak on your behalf, but please accept my assurances that I will stand trial for the accusations that Everett Whitelock brought against me. Your interim Consul is currently residing in the prison cells under the Gard while Jon Cartwright and Cinder Whitescar file charges against him in collaboration with a third-party witness for alleged gross misconduct during his brief time in office. Tribunals will be called to hear both cases fairly."
Sera had asked for her name to be left out of his address, and he had agreed immediately. He had a feeling that she was going to have enough questions to answer without having to explain why Everett had been after her. He had warned her that she would still be called to testify, and she had nodded in understanding.
"Last night, myself and dozens of other Shadowhunters, along with some of our Downworlder allies, bore witness to an incredible event that took place on Wrangel Island..." As he provided a succinct account that briefly touched on the original discovery of the ritual site three years ago and had sparked so much debate by the Council, then carried the story forward to include why the demons had been able to get through in greater numbers than any time since the Mortal War, he still felt the same awe that had filled him when Sera had told her tale the first time. She had been uncharacteristically quiet about whatever had happened to her inside the circle of seraphic runes, but he felt confident that she would share her experience if given some time and space.
"This morning, we woke in a world that may now be more strongly protected by its wardings than it has been since the Incursion. This could give us incredible potential for change, and I urge every available Shadowhunter to return to Alicante at their earliest convenience for the election of a new Inquisitor and Consul in one week's time, after our dead have been honoured and given their final rites. We must have a united Clave to move forward, and it will be their task to commission a multi-disciplinary team to study the magic of the wards with the goal of verifying our hopes and confirming that those who died gave their lives for a new future."
Helen and Aline had given him the idea about assembling a team to investigate what had been done by Seraphine, and they had both been absolutely adamant that they would lead anyone who could be enticed into coming. Alec had been startled. He had promised to push for their long exile to come to an end now that they had far exceeded any expectation of them on the island. In return, he had received an indulgent, thankful smile from Helen and a smack in the back of his head from Aline as she scoffed, 'Lift the exile if you want, but you'd better get our house fixed so we can show those idiots around up there.'
He fixed the camera with a serious, earnest look that he hoped could convey the burning conviction in his heart that this is what he had been working toward his entire life.
"This is our chance, our moment to shape the next thousand years for generations of Shadowhunters to come, to lay the foundation of a better world not just for ourselves, but for Downworlders and Nephilim together." A tear shimmered in his eye, but he managed to hold it back.
"I want to work with you, and for you, but if we cannot achieve unity with myself as your Consul, then I will gladly step aside and lend my support to whomever you elect in my stead. This is bigger than any one of us, and we cannot allow this opportunity to slip through our fingers for misplaced pride. I have dedicated my life to serving our people, and it would be a honour and a privilege to continue doing so, but I can find other ways to help if you no longer have confidence in my leadership. Please come and let your voice be heard in one week."
The projector clicked off and Alec heard everyone else in the office let out their breath in a collective whoosh.
Clary flew across the room and reached up to throw her arms around his neck. "I wish Luke could have been here for this," she whispered fiercely, no longer even trying to hold back her tears. Alec felt a pang of sadness for the Shadowhunter-turned-werewolf. Luke had never lost the passion for change that had been awakened inside him during the aftermath of the Mortal War and the concession of Council seats to Downworlders.
I'm going to get more than that, Alec silently promised his old friend.
"You're actually going to let them put you on trial for that crap from before?" Jace asked incredulously.
"Sed lex dura lex," Alec said with a wink over Clary's head, causing his husband to throw up his hands in disgust and mutter about never wanting to hear those words again. "I seem to remember you saying that you couldn't wait to get to the part where they realized how goddamn wrong they were. I get the feeling that we've made some new friends since I was removed from office, and I doubt that Everett's supporters are going to cling to a sinking ship. I want to do this properly. I don't want anyone to be able to question my authority to lead if I can get re-elected."
Jace's eyebrows almost disappeared into his fair hair. "Do you actually think they would choose someone else?"
"Well," Alec speculated thoughtfully as Clary let go of him, "you do love to remind me that we're surrounded by idiots. Who knows?"
Baelerithon woke with a start from the nightmares that never failed to find him when he chanced to close his eyes. He groaned as he rolled over the stumps of his wings uncomfortably to lay on his back and stare up at the unchanging sky of deep Faerie in the clearing that served as his living prison. His ribs showed under the faded, deep-blue skin of his torso, and weakness had spread through his body. How long had it been since Rayce had left him? Days? Months? Years? Time moved strangely here.
As always, thinking about his brother ignited a spark of fury inside him. Rayce had been right; the Eternal Forest was a capricious companion. Bael still had no idea how his brother could have known so much about the Forest, but he could feel the malevolent presence that polluted the trees. It had seemed curious and strangely pleased to find the disgraced prince chained and unable to escape its attention. It had probed at his mind slowly to learn more about its new playmate, and Bael didn't doubt for a moment that his nightmares were a byproduct of that unwanted connection.
Eager not to lose its new friend too quickly, the Forest had done just as Rayce had predicted. The first tentative feeding of ley magic had shocked Bael out of his wasting melancholy and he had suckled eagerly at the power. It tasted vile, a bitter poison that was at once thrilling and sickening. He had quickly learned to draw his own thin trickles of sustenance, and it was enough to keep him alive even as it bound him more tightly to the Forest. He had no idea if the other half of his brother's prediction would come true, if he would become no more than a morsel to be snapped up if the Forest grew hungry.
Almost as if sensing his thoughts, thin creepers rustled through the purple and red grass around the Faerie. He sat up swiftly and whipped his head from side to side to watch the advance of the trailers as they snaked toward him. This had never happened before.
Baelerithon. He heard his name in a breath of wind. The first tendrils reached him and slid over his shoulders then down his arms lightly as he sat paralyzed with revulsion. He tried to block out the memories of Kratus' final moments in Rayce's grasp as the doomed Faerie had been forced into one of the trees. His screams had echoed agonizingly as he had been drawn into the bark, and a flash of fear ripped through Bael as he imagined what it would feel like.
Baelerithon. The voice sounded almost playful, like it was amused by his terror. Thin curls at the very tips of the creepers slipped into the locks of his chains until they burst. The heavy links hissed as they dissolved into the grass.
He blinked, stunned. What's happening? Matias was bound for centuries. More tendrils reached up and caressed the side of his face as thicker ones started to push him to his feet. He felt himself stumble toward the edge of the trees and terror gripped him again. No!
Baelerithon. A chiding edge to the whisper made him flinch away from the touch of the Forest, but the creepers kept him moving forward. It wasn't until he was past the first trunk that he allowed himself to exhale. He limped out of the clearing and left Matias' grave behind him for good.
Baelerithon. He heard the call again and felt a twinge of excitement in his gut. It drew him on eagerly, urgently. Today was not the day the Forest decided to consume him. It had a very different plan in mind.
The landscape blurred past him as he staggered through the trees in a daze back toward the outer edge with only the strange whispers to guide his steps.
Baelerithon. Baelerithon. Baelerithon. One tree stood apart from the others, and the tiny cracks in its trunk burned brightly with blue-white ley energy as if it was fit to burst. The light throbbed and pulsed like a living thing. Bael drifted to a halt at the base of the tree and waited. The whispers grew quiet and he understood that this was where they had been leading him.
Baelerithon. The voice crooned his name seductively, like a lover, and he shivered. His brother's damning words washed over him again, 'Let madness be your mother, emptiness your only friend, and loneliness your wedded partner.'
A pair of slim branches dipped down into the fresh buds and new leaves that were spreading from the heart of the tree as it digested its most recent victim. Bael leaned forward expectantly and held his breath as the growth unfolded like the petals of a flower.
Nestled in a bed of blood-red leaves was an ancient, bronze crown that gleamed in the pale light.
Slow, disbelieving laughter bubbled up in Baelerithon's throat as he lifted the familiar circlet in wonder. Impossible! He brushed his thumb across the scuffed surface and felt his mind come alive with possibilities, and what needed to be done to take advantage of this gift.
He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice when the voice in his mind stopped whispering his name and took up a new chant instead.
Vengeance.
The fading rays of the sunset painted the white stucco walls of the Spanish revival home a brilliant orange. Red terracotta roof tiles cooled slowly as another scorching day came to a close and shadows stretched across the parched lawn to offer relief. A faded red minivan was parked in the driveway and lights glowed in the front windows.
Kieran's lip curled up involuntarily when he saw the silhouettes inside and heard laughter drift out through the open shutters. He pulled at the collar of his untucked dress shirt uncomfortably and loosened the narrow, dark tie. Finding Mundane attire that would be considered suitably formal for the occasion had been a challenge, and he found that he did not care for it at all. The black trousers were far too warm for this hellish climate and he had thrown away the constrictive jacket immediately. He had not even even deigned to attempt to acquire the ridiculous shoes that were required. Mark would forgive him for their absence if the rest of his effort was sufficient.
Mark. The name tugged at Kieran's heart with a sweet ache. My Mark. When he had felt the fetters of the Hunt fade away in the frigid air over that island at the edge of the world he couldn't believe it. The others had paused, stunned as he had been, but then they had disappeared into the night without a trace. Where they had gone, he did not know nor care. His only thought had been that now he was free as he had never been before to find the Shadowhunter boy once more.
He had carefully washed himself clean of the Hunt, scrubbing away the earth from his feet and untangling his blue-black hair with a sort of slow ritual that had sent him spiralling inward on a self-reflective journey that had brought his most cherished memories back to life. The feel of Mark's strong but delicate hand upon his chest in the pale dawn. The smell of the wind in Mark's hair as they lay entwined under a single blanket. The exact shades of blue-green and gold in his eyes when he laughed.
This was his chance to start over, to be a better man, the kind of man that Mark deserved. He brushed away a few stray strands of hair that were lightening even as thoughts of Mark lifted his heart. Nothing will come between us again.
Lights in the front of the house went dark and the voices moved toward the back. He heard a girl-child's voice squeal and excitedly beg for 'the prince story'. The sound of Mark's indulgent amusement cut through Kieran with razor-sharp memories of a hundred nights of sweet pleading followed by slow surrender. Goosebumps raced down the back of his neck despite the waning heat.
How could I have ever thought I could replace you? Bitter images of Rayce Morgenstern flitted across his mind's eye and he clenched his right hand closed reflexively. He supposed that he should be quite satisfied with himself; if he hadn't have lured Rayce into challenging Gwyn for the mantle, he may never have been freed from the Hunt. The Shadowhunter's dangerous mate had done the impossible and broken the cloak's power, but neither of them had considered what that might mean for the others held prisoner by its magic.
Kieran's silver and black eyes glittered in the twilight as he moved around to the darkened backyard to keep an eye on the shadows inside. He had been watching for several nights now, and he knew that once the young ones were asleep, Mark would come outside alone to gaze up into the night sky. Then it would be a simple thing to capture him once more. A touch here, a brush of his gift there, and Mark would fall back in love with him again.
Together forever. The brats and his Shadowhunter princess would soon be forgotten, nothing else would matter. This life would fade into the past like nothing more than a bad dream.
And there were other ways to achieve the same end, if Mark had fallen too deeply into his Mundane masquerade. Easy enough to arrange for an... accident... while Kieran had a clean alibi, to leave no blood on his hands. He was certain that if needed, there may be one or two among his former brothers who might be persuaded to enjoy a bit of sport with an ex-Shadowhunter and a few Mundane children.
He let his imagination linger on the tantalizing possibilities as he moved silently toward the back of the house on bare feet through the dying grass. Cheap plastic toys littered the lawn, and he avoided them with a twinge of annoyance. Such triviality. It was beneath the two of them.
"...and then the handsome prince carried his one true love away from the evil dragon's lair so that they could live together happily ever after." The alluring lilt of Mark's voice finished the story and a girl sighed with dramatic happiness, and maybe a bit of impatience.
"How much longer do I have to wait for my prince to come, daddy?"
Kieran felt his heart lurch in his chest when he heard the low chuckle that followed.
"Do you live in a dragon's lair, Esmeralda?"
Yes, Kieran answered sourly in his mind.
The child giggled, and then shrieked with delight as Mark tickled her. He growled, teasing, "Am I a big, scary dragon?"
"Daddy, no!" She laughed breathlessly until her father relented, and then she wriggled back down under the covers so that he could tuck her in properly.
He nuzzled her favourite stuffed cat into her neck and let her wrap her arms around it before he leaned down to kiss her forehead and then withdrew to the doorway. "Maybe you won't need a prince to save you," he said quietly as he clicked off the light. "Maybe you will do the saving."
Excitement fluttered in Kieran's heart. It won't be long now.
He only had a split second to hear the whistle of a whip slicing through the air before it coiled tightly around his neck and he was jerked backwards off his feet. Thrashing voicelessly at the end of the cord, he was hauled toward the hedge that lined the side of the property. A dark figure dropped down on his chest, straddling him and pinning his arms to his sides. He felt the flat of a cool blade press against his neck as the pressure from the whip eased.
"You just can't stop trying to ruin people's lives, can you?"
A very dim glow bloomed from a witchlight in a woman's hand, and Kieran gagged when he saw that it was the Shadowhunter who had broken the Hunt's power. She was scantily clad in some sort of short, black, silky night gown, but her golden eyes were hard as she stared down at him, completely unconcerned with her state of undress. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed.
Kieran glared back at her and watched the hand that held the handle of the iron throwing knife. He spit in her face contemptuously. "You dumb bitch," he swore, "cold iron holds no power over the Faeries of the Hunt."
"Hmm," Sera dropped the witchlight and slapped her hand over his mouth just as she plunged the knife down into his shoulder joint with the other. Kieran's mismatched eyes bulged and he bucked frantically under her in agony. "Looks like it works just fine," she observed coldly.
His furious stare bored into her, filled with deadly promise, but she wasn't afraid. She leaned over him, pressing down to muffle the noise he was making. "Unfortunately for you, I owe Mark Blackthorn a favour. Fortunately for me, I already didn't like you. You're poison, Kieran of the Hunt."
He panted heavily through his nose to catch his breath. This can't be happening!
"The difference between me and Rayce is that he's a lot more forgiving than I am," Sera whispered over his struggles. "You won't be hurting anyone else ever again."
She pulled the dagger free and sliced it across his throat in one smooth cut. His blood spilled out in a dark gush, and she shoved herself off his chest away from the mess before it could touch her.
The house remained almost completely dark as she dragged the dead Faerie back toward where she had come through her Portal in a rush. She opened a new gateway to Veralysia's deserted cavern and rolled the body through, then doubled over for a moment as a flash of weakness went through her.
Have to be more careful, she chided herself.
Sera slipped back to Alicante a few minutes later, just moments before Mark Blackthorn stepped out his back door and gently closed it behind him to look up at the stars alone.
The day after the big election in Alicante was the best day of Sera's life.
The evening was coming to a gentle close under a loose canopy of fairy lights in an orchard of peach trees that smelled like a slice of Heaven. As the current leading expert on what Heaven may or may not smell like, she felt confident in her assessment. Strings of tiny, twinkling bulbs were wound around the trunks of the fruit trees and criss-crossed through the boughs overhead above a beautiful table.
She had been more than a little apprehensive about letting Magnus take the reins to pull together a wedding in only a week while he was still grieving for Tessa, but he had been insistent that he was up to the task. As the preparations had progressed in a whirlwind, Sera had noted with a twinge of sadness that this might have been his way of coping with his grief, that creating happiness was saving him from drowning in sorrow.
An orchard outside of the small town of Colmar in France had been transformed into an elegant wonderland for the occasion. Gleaming white china shone amidst the careful arrangements of scarlet flowers, and contrasted sharply with the simple black tablecloths. Sera was pretty sure that she recognized red lilies and some roses, but she had no idea what most of them were. Magnus had seemed thrilled, so she had given him a wide smile and told him that they were lovely. Champagne bubbled in crystal flutes and accented the touches of gold shot through the decorations.
The ceremony had been very short and simple. Despite the alarming amount of work on his desk following his landslide re-election, Alec had taken the evening off to preside over their marriage, and Sera had found comfort in his steady presence. Her hands had trembled for a moment as she had pressed the wedding runes over Rayce's heart and on his arm, and her stomach had fluttered nervously when she felt him trace the same Marks on her own skin with her mother's stele.
Rayce looked... transformed. Somewhere along the way, Magnus had convinced him that his nearly shoulder-length hair was "very 90s" and now it was much shorter, no longer disguising his fey heritage. But it was more than that. Dressed in the gold-runed, black ceremonial gear that Shadowhunter men traditionally wore for weddings, he had shaken free of the mantle of the Hunt. He had been surrounded by family and friends during the last week, and Sera had worried that he might withdraw from them. Instead, he had thrown himself into life in Alicante with zeal. He was discovering a new side of himself and finding that it suited him well.
Sera snuck a peek down at the pale gold, strapless, sweetheart neckline dress that was molded to every line of her body until the bottom flared out in gossamer folds of chiffon. The intricate, almost floral, pattern of beading across the bodice was completely unlike anything she had ever chosen for herself, but she secretly liked it. Magnus hadn't had to twist her arm very hard to get her into the dress to continue bringing his vision to life.
Further down from where she was seated at the head of the table next to Rayce, Sera could see her best friend laughing with Magnus. Seraphine had been very good-natured about standing in as a bridesmaid, and she looked very chic in a stylish, strapless red dress that she had chosen without too much supervision. The irises of her eyes still glowed faintly in a deep crimson ring that had not faded since leaving Wrangel Island. She claimed that she wasn't worried about what it might mean, but had also promised to start looking into it after the wedding. Magnus had speculated that handling that amount of power couldn't leave her unchanged, and it would be up to the two of them to discover what that change might be.
In the meantime, Seraphine was cheerfully raising a triangle of what had to be a cucumber sandwich in a silent toast to Rayce. He caught the gesture and laughed out loud, his smile wide and genuine. Sera's heart ached to see him like this.
The table was buzzing with conversation. Jace had come straight from Alicante earlier than afternoon with grim news.
While Alec had been quickly cleared of all charges earlier in the week, Everett's trial had not gone well for him. Sera had gathered her courage and revealed herself to the tribunal sitting in judgement. She had testified against him, and evidence had been brought forward by Jon Cartwright and Cinder Whitescar to support the accusations levelled against the interim Consul. The damning discovery of Maellartach in the Consul's office once Sera had confessed that it had been used against her had been a critical blow for Everett. The Silent City had been contacted, and they had confirmed that they had not authorized the removal of the Soul-Sword for any sort of questioning. Emboldened by the tribunal's reaction to the news, Sera had volunteered to give her testimony with the Sword in hand.
The warlock brothers, Kai and Kaden, had been dismissed from their Council seat in the wake of the trial. As they had been working at the direction of the interim Consul at the time, their role in Sera's unlawful imprisonment had been narrowly deemed negligent at best. They had both forsworn any knowledge of what the rune-nulled cell might be used for, and had been adamant that they had been simply acting on orders to fulfil the unusual request, and could not be held accountable for what was done with the magic after it was invoked. Magnus had made some very disagreeable noises after hearing that.
After a short period of deliberation, the tribunal had unanimously agreed to sentence Everett to Stripping and exile for both his extreme dereliction of duty as Consul, which may have contributed to hundreds of preventable deaths in Cairo and Buenos Aires, and for his gross misconduct in the unlawful arrest, interrogation, and torture of a Shadowhunter. He had been silent as they had led him back down to the cells, stunned perhaps that things could have spiralled so far out of hand.
That morning, when the guards had gone to retrieve Everett and take him to have his sentence carried out, they had found his body hanging lifelessly in his cell from a crude noose of braided strips from the loose pants he had worn as a prisoner. He had been buried unceremoniously at a crossroads outside of the city without the final rites.
Alec rose from his seat on her right and gently tapped his glass to signal that he wanted to speak. The table quieted, and Sera pulled her mind away from Everett's fate.
"I think I'm all speeched-out this week," Alec started, garnering a few chuckles from around the table, "but I have just enough hot air left to say a few words to the newlyweds."
He lifted his glass of champagne and looked down at Rayce and Sera. "To be quite honest, there are really only two words that I can put together. Thank you. Both of you. I was there and I still can't believe it. You've given all of us a gift beyond reckoning."
With his free hand, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and tugged a fat envelope of thick parchment free to hand to the couple. "It was surprisingly easy to convince the Council to grant me the power to leave this in your hands as a beginning of our thanks for everything you've done."
Rayce slid a heavy sheaf of parchment out of the envelop and his mouth fell open. Sera leaned over to read the scrawling lines of elegant calligraphy and she gasped in surprise. Both of them stared up at the Consul.
"The Clave has been sitting on the deed to Morgenstern Manor for quite some time, and as you can probably imagine, they've never had an interested buyer. It might need some work, but I think you'll have plenty of help if you're interested."
Clary, Jace, Magnus, Simon, and Izzy were all grinning at the twin looks of disbelief on Rayce and Sera's faces. They had known what Alec was trying for.
"I can come every day until school starts to help clean or paint or anything," Aspen promised Rayce from further down the table.
As the newlyweds tried to stammer their thanks, Alec smiled back at them. "Neither of you had the chance to grow up in Idris, but it's your home, too, and I want you to feel welcome." He lifted his glass to the table once more. "To new beginnings."
"New beginnings," the guests murmured in one voice as they drank to his toast.
As the plates quickly emptied and the light continued to fade in a brilliant sunset of orange and pink and red, Magnus stood up and clapped his hands. "It's time to dance, darlings."
"I don't see a piano," Jace complained, peering into the next row of the orchard where a small dance floor had been put together under another dangling canopy of softly glowing golden lights. "How am I supposed to play Chopin if you didn't bring a piano? That's my thing."
Magnus poked a finger at him. "You're not. I'm thinking something a little more lively." He snapped his fingers and the energetic opening of Barry Manilow's Copacabana pumped out of the sound system in the corner of the dance floor. A pair of maracas appeared in his hands and he shook them in Jace's face defiantly. "Olé!"
Rafe and Max immediately followed their father through the trees with Aspen and Hunter right behind them in an impromptu conga line, singing along with the lyrics.
"Oh, yes," Sera cheered. She pushed her chair back and lifted up the hem of her dress so that she could dash through the line of fruit trees to join in the fun. Not to be outdone, Jace marched over, shrugging out of his jacket so that he could roll up his sleeves and slick back his hair in preparation for what might become a dance-off.
Rayce watched her go with his heart soaring. Most of the guests had abandoned the table to see what would happen on the dance floor, and he took the opportunity to stop by the side table of drinks that was doubling as a gift table. He poured himself a fresh glass of wine and sipped at it as he looked down at the small assortment of presents in wonder.
A Morgenstern wedding, he thought, shaking his head. Who could have ever imagined it? He was curious about the medium-sized parcel with no sender, but it was a long, slim box that had been expertly tied with a gold ribbon that made him hesitate. He flipped over the tag. It read simply, "Love, Clary." He looked up and found his aunt watching him from beside one of the peach trees with a flute of champagne in her hand. She took a quick drink and started forward to join him.
"Open it," Clary said mischievously, her green eyes sparkling in the twinkling lights that ran through the boughs overhead. She could hear Jace laughing hysterically over the racing music as Alec was coerced into an impromptu salsa lesson by his husband. That would keep them entertained for a while.
"Wouldn't that be considered rude?" Rayce asked tentatively. He didn't know much about weddings, but it felt like the sort of thing to do after the guests had left. Or the sort of thing to do with his wife. Wife. His heart leaped. At the moment, though, Sera seemed to be doubled over with Jace as they roared with laughter while watching the fiasco on the dance floor.
"It would be rude to disrespect your elders, okay? Just open the damn thing." Clary took hold of one end of the ribbon and pulled, taking the decision out of his hands.
Rayce lifted the lid carefully and let out a tiny exclamation of surprise when he saw the sword laying on a bed of red velvet inside the case. Finely-crafted with a hilt of black gold and adamas, a pattern of black stars trailed down the darkened silver length of the blade.
"Heosphoros," she pronounced quietly. "It's a Morgenstern blade, and it should be in Morgenstern hands." She paused and looked back at where Jace was pulling a protesting Sera onto the dance floor, presumably to demonstrate how to properly dance the salsa. Shaking her head, she turned back to face her nephew. "I know you've got your fancy staff thing, but I think this would be just right for the newest Morgenstern, wouldn't you agree?"
Heosphoros. Rayce knew the name, knew the story; knew how it had ended. He hesitated over the gift with mixed emotions.
Clary reached out and gently touched the back of his hand. "You can say no. It won't hurt my feelings. I know this can't be easy-"
"No, you're right," he said quickly. "This is a blade that has been touched by heavenly fire. What better weapon for Sera?" He slipped his other hand over Clary's. "I know it's not my place, and that I had nothing to do with it, but I just wanted you to know that I forgive you for what you had to do with this, just as I hope you can forgive me for what my father did."
Tears welled up in Clary's eyes as she looked at her nephew, seeing a different pair of green eyes that had already forgiven her in death. "He gave us you, Rayce. He never knew it, but he gave us all a chance we never thought we would get. That's what I want to remember. That's what the world needs to remember as the Morgenstern legacy."
Lost for words, Rayce gently closed the lid of the box and hugged his aunt. "Thank you."
They heard a throat clear behind Clary and looked up to see Zeke standing awkwardly with his arms folded across the light, sandy-coloured vest he was wearing over a white dress shirt. He had loosened the grey and white tie and pushed up his sleeves to be more comfortable, but he still looked stiff in Mundane clothes after so many years of Rayce seeing him in Faerie attire.
"May I?" Zeke asked Clary.
"Of course," she answered, wiping away a tear, "I think I need to go save Sera before things get-" Clary blinked when she looked at the dance floor. "Oh, for the love of Raziel." Magnus was energetically shaking his hips as Jace expertly led them through a complicated set of steps. "I knew Jace was lying when he said he was tracking down rogue werewolves." She stamped her foot and stalked off toward the dance floor.
Zeke watched as Simon smoothly intercepted her and whisked her onto the dance floor with all the grace of a stork on ice skates. In towering heels and a stunning midnight blue dress of satin and lace, Isabelle rescued Clary, and Jace was saved from explaining his secret nightlife for at least another three minutes.
"I'm proud of you, Rayce," the older Shadowhunter said through a half smile as he watched the dancers.
"She's pretty incredible," Rayce agreed while he rubbed at the back of his neck.
"Not just for Sera." Zeke cuffed him in the shoulder. "For you. For not giving up when it looked like you had lost."
"I wonder where I learned that," he answered dryly with a nod to a few of the shattered runes that stood out starkly on his tutor's body.
"Oh, I gave up, boy. Trust me." Unconsciously, his eyes flicked over to where Cassius was bending over to listen to Seraphine near the buffet table while she examined a piece of popcorn chicken curiously. "You don't know the half of it."
Rayce followed his eye line. Sera had clued him in to a bit of what had been going on between the Faerie and the former Shadowhunter, but it still surprised him that Zeke had kept it a secret.
"I'd like to," Rayce said quietly. "When you're ready."
Over an hour later, after a great deal of cheering and booing, Jace had successfully been crowned as the winner of a dance-off that had left Magnus loudly demanding a rematch. The drinks kept flowing merrily, and the guests ooh-ed appropriately when Sera and Rayce cut into the tiered black and gold cake together.
Sera sank into a chair at the deserted dinner table a little while later and kicked off the shimmering gold peep-toe platforms Magnus had paired with her wedding dress. She groaned with relief and closed her eyes gratefully. After a moment, strong hands lifted one of her abused feet and start rubbing gently. She cracked an eyelid open and threw an appreciative grin at Rayce. Married life is good so far.
They were alone for the first time that evening, and it was a bit quieter away from the dance floor where the party was still going strong.
"Is it all a little unreal for you, too?" Rayce asked as he worked along the arch of her foot.
Sera snorted indelicately and let her head fall back. "You do realize that there's a very real possibility that I could just wake up and find out that this was all just a dream, right? That now I need to figure out what sequence of events will get me here in real life?"
"Don't wake up," he whispered earnestly.
"Not planning on it."
Crickets sang unseen in the darkness around them as they enjoyed the simplicity of just being together with no obligation to say or do anything more than they were. It was peaceful.
"Sera Morgenstern," a woman's voice called from deeper in the orchard.
"Eh?" Sera sat up, confused. "Oh, that's me." Awesome. She squinted into where the ambient light faded just two rows of peach trees further away. "Kaelie?"
The blue-skinned Faerie handmaiden stepped forward into the light and dipped her head in greeting to the pair of them. She was holding a small, flat wooden box that gave no hint at what might be inside. Sera felt a prickle of uncertainty tingle across the back of her neck.
"I come bearing a gift from my Lady, in celebration of your happiness," the Faerie recited carefully as she presented the box to Sera.
Rayce gave her a sideways glance. "Why does my sister choose to show her favour now?"
"The Queen did not say, prince Rayce."
Sera slipped the catch open and flipped up the lid. An identical pair of small, delicate chains lay nestled inside. They each bore a token with the same curving, complicated design that was reminiscent of a Celtic knot, though these symbols long-predated the popular emblem. When she lifted one out, she was puzzled to see how short the chain was. They would probably be just long enough to fit as a choker on herself, and Rayce had no hope at all.
"They're lovely..." Sera said slowly. "But they seem a little small for us."
Kaelie gave her the ghost of a smile. "These are not for you," she answered, stepping forward to lay her hand flat across Sera's belly. "They are for them."
Sera's brain nose-dived. What, what, what? She dropped the box and chain, but Rayce's hands shot out and caught them before they could fall.
"Um, Rayce? Sera?" Aspen's voice called from the table that was serving as a bar and gift depository. Both of them turned their heads in response, and then Kaelie was gone. "I think one of these might be leaking, or something..."
Sera was trying to force her brain to do simple math as Rayce kept a steady grip on her arm. When... The jumble of thoughts bouncing around in her mind ran out of space and started jumping around in her stomach instead. Idris.
"Aw, come on! Did someone spill the merlot? Those bottles were expensive-" Magnus was cut off by Jace pulling him backwards, away from the table, his face instantly serious.
"That's not wine, that's blood." The dampness was hard to see on the dark tablecloth, but the stain had spread from the unlabelled parcel Rayce had noticed earlier. Jace picked up the knife they had used to cut the cake and gave the box a nudge. There was no response.
He looked over at where Sera was standing in the circle of Rayce's arms and still trying to process what Kaelie had revealed. Jace lifted his eyebrow questioningly and Rayce nodded for him to continue.
Sliding the blade under the ribbon, Jace cut the bindings in one smooth slice and then used the flat to lift the top off gingerly. There was a short message inscribed on the inside of the lid, but it was the contents that caused Jace to shout in disgust and take a step back.
Rayce only had a moment to recognize the face of the severed head before Cassius lunged forward swiftly to lift the macabre box and close his wings around his arms. He vanished for a moment and then returned empty-handed, sparing the younger guests from seeing what had been inside.
"Where..." Jace started to ask.
"Not far," the Greater Faerie answered grimly. "I believe the more important question is who would send such terrible thing."
Alec lifted the discarded lid and turned it so that he could read the message. His brow furrowed and then he handed it to Rayce wordlessly.
"Dad? What's going on?" Aspen sounded worried as she looked at her father, but Jace just shook his head.
Rayce looked down at the graceful script with Sera and felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He would know that hand anywhere. He had grown up reading lessons written with the same flowing grace.
Dearest brother,
How fate twists to bring us that which we most desire.
Si vis pacem para bellum.
With gratitude,
Baelerithon
A heavy imprint in a blob of black wax below the flourishing signature tugged at Rayce's memory. He recognized it, but couldn't place it.
"Si vis pacem para bellum," Sera repeated in confusion. "Isn't that exactly what Gwyn said?"
"Yes," Rayce said hoarsely, staring hard at the impression in the wax as his mind churned. Baelerithon should still be chained in the Eternal Forest. What's happening?
"But what does it mean?"
"If you want peace, prepare for war," Zeke offered automatically.
"Oh, that sounds bad," Simon added under his breath.
"Your brother would not call for war if he did not have the means to fight." Cassius reached out to examine the message himself, and Rayce gave it to him numbly.
The Greater Faerie's grey eyes darkened. "That is the mark of the Unseelie."
Sera's memory sparked to life as her mnemosynerefreshed the images she had seen in her dream of Rayce's whipping and then leaped forward to when she had laid her hand across the Unseelie King's throat in the final minutes of his life.
"It's from the Unseelie crown," she said shakily. "But that's impossible. What did you do with the body, Cassius?" Her golden eyes held a hint of uncertainty. Perhaps we were too trusting...
The other Nephilim fell silent and tension oozed into the night air.
"I bore him deep into the Faerie realm, lovely Sera," Cassius answered evenly, unconcerned by the edgy Shadowhunters all around him, "and gave him to the Eternal Forest so that he may never be found. A fitting end, that he may be consumed by that which he corrupted."
Rayce felt sick as it started to come together. His voice was faint as he asked, "And the crown?"
"Devoured as well, I would imagine."
"No," he breathed, "the Forest is too clever to destroy something that powerful. But I can't understand how Bael escaped. I left him imprisoned by the magic of the Hunt for all time."
"By the magic of the Hunt..." Sera covered her mouth with one hand. "Kieran." She ignored the confusion on her husband's face and grabbed the edges of his jacket. "Oh, my God. The cloak... they're all free, Rayce."
Dizziness threatened to bring him to his knees as the enormity of the unforeseen consequences of what they had done started to hit him. Bael is free... but he cannot use the Unseelie Crown's power unless... His eyes strayed to the empty place on the gift tableand his heart sank as he saw his brother's gambit. ...unless an Unseelie heir could be compelled to reverse the binding for a Seelie. His head fell forward. Caelus. Bael had inverted the very plan that Malchezed had tried to force him into with the Seelie crown after his betrayal. His brother's dreams had come full circle in a way he never could have imagined.
"What do we do now?" Helen asked with fear in her eyes. She had seen the Wild Hunt come to Alicante all those years ago, had watched them cut their way into the Accords hall to wet their blades with the blood of children. She knew what the Hunters could do.
Alec looked around the wedding guests and then closed his eyes for a moment before fixing them with a steely gaze.
"We prepare for war."
**Author's note:
Sera and Rayce will return in January 2017 for the final installment of The Morgenstern Legacy series, Blood of the Hunt.
Emma has literally had the cover for book 3 ready since the beginning of September, but my slow ass held it back so that readers could continue to enjoy the duology while believing that it was the end :D ... because I'm a bastard. XD I intend on giving people a week to catch up in their reading before I post the third cover as a placeholder for your digital libraries. You can add it to your shelf, and then receive updates when I begin posting in January. If you don't make it back before then, keep Exile of the Clave in your library, and I will do the same as I did for PotC where I added the first bit of Chapter 1 at the end to notify readers.
Big thanks to Tara for doing a ton of wedding planning back in June and July for this and then finalizing preparations while I was in the hospital – all outfits, decorations, and food were chosen by her. I only managed to wrestle for partial control of the location so that I could get it in an orchard.