Belonging
This is an updated version of the chapter I posted a few days ago. I wasn't completely happy with the previous version because, upon reading it, I felt that Magnus' emotions felt flat somehow and that the chapter didn't really do justice to the internal struggle that Magnus is experiencing. I still feel I could rewrite it, but I thought I should stop. Let me know what you think and, again, thanks for reading.
"What was that?" Magnus asked as soon as he emerged from the portal that had just transported him from the grounds of the Berlin Institute to an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar place. "I thought we were going to meet Annaliese."
"Just making a statement," replied Khuno, a coy smile on his face, his hand still firmly holding Magnus'. "I thought you liked making an entrance; or, in this case, an exit."
"Of course, I do," Magnus replied, disentangling his fingers from the warlock's firm grip. "But I would appreciate some warning next time. I don't like candid pictures; they don't always capture my best side."
"You do not have a bad side, honey" Khuno said, gently pressing a hand against Magnus' cheek before walking off towards an antique cabinet on which drinks had been laid out.
As it had become routine since his ordeal began, Magnus had had no control or knowledge of his destination when he stepped through the portal, and had to rely on Khuno's guiding hand. The fear of getting lost inside the portal if he let go added to the anxiety that was already wracking havoc with his usually calmed and cool temperament.
Magnus swiftly looked around the room searching for clues as to his location. He was in the foyer of what appeared to be a grand country state, its white walls adorned with expensive tapestries and paintings. A pair of roman vases sat on the marble surface of a wooden table by the entrance; and a thick Persian rug with an intricate design in earthy tones rested on rose marble floors, and laid out a welcoming pathway into the house's interior. A high vaulted ceiling supported by arched pillars led to a bright and spacious seating area furnished with heavy antique tables, bookcases and overstuffed couches on which several warlocks sat, talking in soft but relaxed voices. Magnus looked out the enormous arched windows that covered the back wall of the seating area, and saw green hills in the distance, a garden and, in between, a country road lined up with tall and slim cypresses, their tops reaching up towards a blue cloudless sky. He was somewhere in Tuscany, Magnus suspected; he would recognize anywhere that landscape and the scent in the air.
At least they were still in Europe, Magnus thought with relief, his hand briefly resting on the spot atop his heart in a gesture that in the last few days had become almost instinctual. The fading feeling of burning in the self-inflicted wound on his chest comforted him and reminded him that what he was doing had a purpose.
Magnus thought of Alexander every time his hand rested on the wound; of the broad and innocent smile Alec regaled him with that first evening they spent in Magnus' apartment; of the same smile that barely concealed Alexander's self-satisfaction when he surprised Magnus with the Omamori charm after their night in Tokyo; of the shine in Alexander's eyes the first time he told Magnus that he loved him. So many small moments of love, care and acceptance; so many small moments of completeness and peace; so many small gestures stitched together into a story of a love more intense than any Magnus had ever felt. Each of these moments now contained in a spot atop his heart, where no one could take them away, where no one could ever erase them. That spot in which he carried the only treasure that truly mattered to Magnus. At the same time, so many regrets, big and small, the biggest of which was to not have been the first one to prevail over his own fears and tell Alec that he loved him; not "I love you too," but "I love you and I want you to love me too." Perhaps if he had been brave enough to be the first one to confess his love, everything that had happened later would have acquired a different meaning. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, so many perhaps, so many "what-if's", and so many regrets, each one linked in a chain that coiled itself around Magnus' heart.
Magnus sighed and looked at the warlocks sitting around the room, drinks in their hands while they animatedly talked to one another as if they had gathered for a cocktail party, and not to carry out a plan of destruction. He suspected the house and likely also the grounds were heavily glamoured, warded, or both. For the atmosphere was unusually relaxed and, for the first time since Barcelona, he was not shackled or under heavy guard. Still, he suspected that he was not free to come and go as he pleased.
Since the night that Khuno got him out of the cell in the basement of the Royal Palace, Magnus had slept in comfortable rooms, and servants had made sure he had food, drink and clean clothes. He had never been left alone, though, and was constantly under Khuno or the other warlock's watch. Khuno had also made Magnus wear an enchanted bracelet that blocked his capacity to access the full range of his magic powers, making it difficult for him to perform all but the simplest and weakest of spells. The bracelet was the warlock equivalent of both handcuffs and, Magnus suspected, the ankle tracking devices mundanes put on criminals. He was a prisoner even if he was no longer in a cell.
The warlocks in Khuno's party had been constantly on the move, always by portal, and always dragging Magnus along. Until this morning, Magnus had not been allowed outside, and he had been kept in rooms without windows. As a result, he couldn't tell where he had been or where he was going; the sensation adding to the general feeling of disorientation he had been experiencing since the night he knocked at the door of the Royal Palace. He had learned more about the attacks in Barcelona, Paris and New York by listening to the excited, and sometimes worried conversations between the warlocks that, in increasing numbers, had begun to arrive to join Khuno and, of course, Annaliese in their new crusade.
Now, Berlin had been the latest target. Annaliese and Khuno's version of poetic justice, thought Magnus. It was in Berlin, after all, that Magnus had last seen Annaliese and it had been there where he had stopped her previous attempt to carry out her plans. Magnus hoped that none of Joshua Pineshade's children or grandchildren were hurt in the attacks and he did a quick mental inventory of their known location. One of Joshua's grandchildren was currently stationed at the New York Institute. He had seen him a few times, his young face and his chestnut eyes a startling reminder of his grandfather. Joshua's daughter was the current head of the Berlin Institute, which likely put her directly in Annaliese and Khuno's path of destruction. He would never forgive himself, he thought, if the mistake he made over two hundred years ago now caused the life of Joshua's descendants; his friend who had only tried to help.
The Berlin attack had been a surprise, even though Magnus should have expected it. Khuno had come to his room a few hours ago and had told him that Annaliese would finally see him. He had then handed Magnus the expensive looking shopping bags he was carrying and instructed him to get dressed for the occasion, telling him that Annaliese would want to see him looking his best. So, Magnus had bathed, put on the new Armani black tight jeans and white shirt, and the Louis Vuitton boots and black leather jacket that Khuno had brought him. As he opened the bags, he had teasingly asked Khuno whether he had robbed the Louis Vuitton and Armani stores in Milan, and Khuno had answered with one of his seductively coy smiles that once upon a time had made Magnus lose sleep.
They had met Gwydion, Rufus and two other warlocks in the living room of the apartment in which they were staying. Rufus had looked nervous, his eyes shifting around the room, and his hands shaking. Magnus had tried to make eye contact, hoping to get information about what was going on, but Rufus had avoided him, turning his back on Magnus.
"You will be fine," Khuno had said to Rufus and one of the other warlocks, a young-looking man who looked equally nervous. "Our mother loves you and will not let anything happened to you. What you are doing is for the benefit of all warlocks. You are fulfilling a sacred duty."
Khuno had then patted Rufus on the back and, giving him and the other warlock a reassuring smile, had instructed them to go ahead. The warlock accompanying Rufus had opened a portal and, as soon as the two men disappeared through it and the portal closed, Khuno had smiled broadly and had rubbed his hands together in a gesture that Magnus recognized as one of anticipation and excitement. Something momentous was happening, Magnus had thought, a black hole opening in the pit of his stomach.
A handful of minutes later, Gwydion had opened another portal and, at the same time, Magnus had felt Khuno firmly interlace his fingers with his, the grip strengthened by an unexpected surge of energy that kept Magnus' hand imprisoned in the grip.
"Do not let go; we don't want you to get lost," the warlock had said as he gently but determinately pulled Magnus through, the statement no more than a formality considering the supernatural strength with which he held Magnus' hand. A second later, they had stepped out of the portal amid a scene of utter destruction, flames and smoke surrounding them, glass and debris falling from the sky, and the heat so oppressive that Magnus felt his lungs catching fire. He didn't need to look twice to recognize where they were. The Berlin Institute with its neoclassical architecture was all too familiar to Magnus, and he recognized the grounds and the building despite the destruction, the heavy smoke, the debris and the fires devouring everything on their path.
They had walked a few steps, Khuno's stepping decisively and pulling Magnus along. Magnus had looked around trying to get a sense of what was happening, but then his eyes landed on the two bodies still burning on the ground, a scorching round well between them, heat and demonic fumes rising from it and mixing with the stench of burning flesh, making it almost impossible to breathe. Oh no, Rufus, Magnus had thought, recognizing one of the burning bodies, not by his features which were beyond recognition, but by his size and shape. The warlock that had been a permanent pain in Magnus' side every time he had come to New York to cause trouble now laid dead, his life a sacrifice in a war that Rufus most likely didn't even understand.
"Smile, you are on camera," Khuno had said and Magnus had looked up in the direction towards which Khuno was gesturing, and there he had seen the camera, a small red light indicating that it was still filming.
Magnus had made a superhuman effort to keep a stone expression, forcing his face not to betray the state of agitation and fear that was taking over every cell of his body. He didn't want Alec, who he was sure would see the film, to think he was in danger or that he needed to be rescued. It was critical that Alec believed that Magnus had betrayed him; the Shadowhunter's very life depended on it.
Magnus took another deep breath trying to calm his nerves and get rid of the smell of burning flesh and demonic fumes that still clung to his nose. He walked towards a corner of the room and sat on a lonely sofa beside an open window overlooking the gardens. He felt the eyes of some of the other warlocks on him, some of their expressions contemptuous, others fearful. He suspected that, despite the apparently jovial atmosphere, not all of them had joined the group voluntarily, and he wondered how Annaliese had managed to master the power to once again summon so many of his people. In the last few days, Magnus had searched for familiar faces in the warlocks that arrived, and every time someone knocked at the door, he held his breath hoping that none of the warlocks he considered his closest friends would respond to Annaliese' call. Magnus could only hope that Catarina, Kat and Tessa would manage to stay away, and resist whatever force was bringing the other warlocks to this place.
A minute later, Khuno joined Magnus and, after handing him a drink, sat beside him, his hand resting casually on Magnus' leg. Magnus gathered the remaining of his self-control to resist the impulse to push the hand away. The feel of Khuno's touch recalled memories that he wished he could forever forget, and awoke old feeling of guilt and disgust. He couldn't believe that once he had thought of Khuno and Annaliese as the most important people in his life, as his own kind.
"I thought you didn't want to be seen," commented Magnus, imbuing his voice with a casual tone that contrasted with the anger and agitation he felt inside.
"Honey, I love being seen with you, and Annaliese wanted to send a message."
"To whom?" asked Magnus, adjusting a lock of hair that had come loose in the events of the last few minutes and was now falling across his forehead. The gesture was an effort to settle his nerves and quiet his racing thoughts rather than a reflection of his usual vanity.
"You know who," said Khuno, his face dangerously close to Magnus, his voice no more than a whisper, a smile lifting the corner of his lips; "your Shadowhunter boy, of course."
"I told you that the Shadowhunter is just a client." The statement came out a little bit more forceful than Magnus would have wanted, but the mention of Alec sent a surge of adrenaline through his body and caused his heart to miss a couple of beats.
"You have always been a bad liar, Magnus," retorted Khuno, his lips almost touching Magnus' ear; "especially with me. I know you better than anyone. Do you think that Barcelona was the first time we saw you with the Shadowhunter? We have been following your European adventure for a while. Frankly, I never took you for a honeymoon kind of guy. Tell me, does he know you as well as I know you? Does he know what you like the way I do?"
Khuno then gently bit Magnus' earlobe, the sensation making the hairs in Magnus arms stand on end, and Magnus had to resist the impulse to punch the warlock, to grab him by the neck and squeeze until he erased that smile from his lips. Despite everything that had happened, Magnus had never thought of himself as a violent person, but this situation was putting his character to the test and he wasn't sure he would come out of it without sacrificing his own sense of self.
"You knew me once, Khuno," stated Magnus, his voice involuntarily caustic. "But that was a long time ago. People change, you know."
"Maybe they do," Khuno whispered, his hand gently squeezing Magnus' leg. "But you are still a hopeless romantic, that has not changed. Frankly, I am surprised that you would get involved with a Shadowhunter after all they have done to us. Annaliese is deeply disappointed."
"Is that why she has been avoiding me?" asked Magnus, taking the opportunity to shift the focus of the conversation.
"She is not avoiding you," replied Khuno, his hand now the one brushing the wayward lock of hair off Magnus' forehead. The intimacy of the gesture sent shivers down Magnus' spine, and he closed his hands into tight fists to control the anger surging through him. "She has been very busy. And now I must also leave you, my love. I have some things to take care of. But make yourself at home; we are safe here. I may come visit you tonight."
Before getting up, Khuno grabbed Magnus by his chin and forced his head to turn in his direction. Magnus tried to resist but the gesture had surprised him and before he knew it, Khuno's lips were on his, the kiss tasting bitter and burning like poisonous acid. For the second that the kiss lasted, Magnus focused his whole being on the image of Alec that he constantly carried in his mind, willing the memory of Alec's lips to erase the memory of this kiss from his lips.
"You still haven't forgiven me," Khuno said in a tone of mocked injury. He then laughed, and Magnus couldn't believe that once he had found that laugh musical and sexy. It now seemed to contain all the evil that he knew this man capable of.
As he watched the warlock walk away, Magnus couldn't help recalling the days when being with Annaliese and Khuno had given him more joy than anything else ever had and ever would in his very long life. That is, until recently when he had finally found peace and a home in the arms of a Shadowhunter; peace and a home he now had to sacrifice to atone for his old sins.
Looking at the warlocks sitting around the room –some familiar, some new –Magnus thought of the last time he had been among so many of his own kind. It was in Batavia during the first months of 1740. He had been in love then, as well as in lust, and the feelings had been so all-consuming that they had blinded him to everything else going on around him. The signs of the upcoming destruction had been there all along, but he had refused to see them, captivated as he was in the thrill of finally belonging to someone and to a people.
That first night of 1740 when Magnus and Annaliese left the party at the house of the Head of Dutch East Indian Company, they had gone to a beautiful house on a plantation in the outskirts of Batavia where Annaliese lived, and they had spent the whole night sitting on the terrace, talking, sipping champagne and looking up at the stars that illuminated the dark sky. Magnus had felt unaccountably shy, and made no attempt to approach or touch Annaliese. Perhaps it was that she appeared so fragile and innocent, not much older than a child, small and gentle. That night –and every night thereafter –he had felt that touching her was a crime, as if his hands were too big, too rough and too dirty; as if a touch of his hands could forever stain the beautiful and unblemished skin and soul of the enchanting warlock.
So, they had just talked, sharing stories of their travels and adventures; talking about what they liked about Batavia and the rest of the country; speaking of the challenges of being immortal while the world went on around them. When the sky had begun to change color and the stars faded, Annaliese yawned and Magnus, realizing his rudeness, had stood up and offered to escort her to her chambers.
"You do not have to put on a glamor in this house, Magnus," Annaliese had said as she walked alongside him into the house. "In this house, you can be just like you are."
The statement had surprised Magnus because he hadn't realized that, while Annaliese had let her glamor fall completely from the moment she stepped into the house, he was so used to his that he had forgotten to take it off. He smiled then and, as is removing a cloak, he let his glamor fall and, for the first time, showed himself to Annaliese completely devoid of all disguises. She had simply smiled and her smile was accepting and without judgement.
Silently, Magnus had walked her to her room and bid her good night. He hadn't touched her, not then and not for many days and nights after. Instead, he had desired her from a distance and with a burning fire that consumed him, that erased all thoughts of anything but Annaliese.
As he had walked away from her bedroom in search of a room in which to rest and think of her, Magnus had felt the warm touch of a pair of eyes staring at him from a dark corner and when he looked in their direction, he met the desiring expression and wicked smile of Annaliese's footman.
"Hello, did you have a good evening?" the man had said, and, as he smiled again, a forked long tongue – his warlock mark – playfully stuck out from between his lips in a gesture that was both surprising and incredibly seductive, and Magnus couldn't help imagining what that tongue would feel like on his skin. He must have blushed for the footman's smile broaden as he stepped out of the dark corner and into the morning light streaming through a window. Magnus had thought the sun made the man's eyes shine even more wickedly and accentuated the golden tones of his dark brown skin making him resemble a gorgeous bronze statute.
"Allow me introduce myself," the footman said as he took a step towards Magnus and bowed, his voice low and as sweet as candy. "I am Khuno Jarh. I am one of your kind; welcome to our home." He had then headed down the hallway and as he passed Magnus, Khuno run a finger gently along Magnus' arm, the touch, the voice and the eyes awakening feelings in Magnus that had been dormant for a long time.
Magnus would later wonder whether Khuno's presence outside Annaliese's room had been planned; whether the whole night had been a set-up, the trap that finally and hopelessly entangled Magnus in Annaliese and Khuno's web. For from that very first night, Magnus had become a prisoner of Annaliese's untouchable allure and Khuno's open seductiveness. The two were like two sides of the same coin; two parts of a whole; each incomplete without the other. Not only they completed each other, they also openly shared everything –eventually even Magnus –without a hint of jealousy, competitiveness or possessiveness.
In time, Magnus had realized that Annaliese's attraction, what made everyone –mundanes, downworlders and perhaps even Shadowhunters –fall for her lied precisely in her capacity to appear innocent, distant, forbidden and unattainable. She had stopped aging when she was no older than perhaps fourteen and, as result, had retained, at least on the surface, the innocent expression, demeanor and forbidden allure of a child. However, her physical beauty was just the beginning, just the appeal that lured people in. Her true attraction was her magnetic and hypnotic personality, a personality with the power to enthrall everyone, as if she had been born with a vampires' gift for encanto. Many years later, Magnus would recognize a similar allure in Camile Belcourt, and his friends would think of the vampire as Magnus' downfall. But Magnus' attraction for Camile's was the result of her reminding Magnus so much of what he had felt for Annaliese, the woman that would remain Magnus' darkest secret.
Annaliese had a vulnerability that concealed strength and cruelty, and that made people want to protect her even as she was hurting them. She was like a carnivorous flower that attracts its prey with its incomparable beauty, a beauty that no one would ever think is dangerous for it presents itself in a package of defencelessness and softness, and sings in the musical and soft sound of rain falling on leaves. You never knew you was trapped in Annaliese's web; she confused and drugged the mind until you subjected yourself willingly to her will, even when she commanded you to walk towards your own execution.
No one could resist Annaliese despite, or perhaps because, she remained distant and unattainable; seductive, tempting but untouchable. Even when, weeks later, she finally allowed Magnus to kiss her and invited him into her bed, Magnus felt he could never truly reach her, as if she was somewhere between this world and another, not completely solid, but rather ethereal and insubstantial. Her distant attitude only increased Magnus' frustrated desire, and filled his mind with dark thoughts; thoughts of things he wanted to do with her but that also filled him with guilt. With her, Magnus felt that he was doing something forbidden, something that he was unable to resist; as if he was violating something sacred, but couldn't stop himself; as if he was drinking a venom so sweet that he could not stop despite the certainty of death and damnation.
Khuno, on the other hand, was the embodiment of open and unrestrained lust and joy. While Annaliese was prohibition, Khuno was possibility. While Annaliese was frigid ice, Khuno was burning fire. While Annaliese kept her distance, Khuno deployed all his skills of seduction to reel Magnus in, building on Magnus' frustrated longing for Annaliese, and offering an outlet for his desires; an outlet with no strings attached and no guilt. Every time Magnus left Annaliese's room, his heart in suspense and guilt weighting him down, Khuno was waiting outside the door with his wicked smile and the alluring brush of his fingers along Magnus's arms, down his cheek, or across his back, the gestures a promise of things to come, of sensations free of shame.
Magnus had experienced the desiring stares of other men before, and had himself experienced attraction for men. However, he had never actually acted on those desires. It wasn't that he was afraid or that some sense of morality stopped him. He just understood that taking that step required trust, and had its costs. Society in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, with its religious precept and its fear of god, was not what could be called enlightened when it came to different sexual preferences, and his condition as a warlock, as the child of a demon, made the possibility of being with a man even more complicated. Magnus understood that any man would perceive a relationship with him as a step into deviance, a step towards the darkness of hell, an act of transgression that would inevitably be associated with his condition as a warlock. He didn't want to be part of such a relationship, a relationship based on shame and transgression. Khuno was different; he was a warlock like Magnus, someone who accepted and was proud of his condition as one of Lilith's children. Being with him would not be a transgression; it would be like coming home, like being authentic and real for the first time.
So, one morning, instead of watching Khuno walk away, Magnus silently followed him towards the warlock's chambers. There, he allowed himself to be discovered by the wondrous eyes of a man; to be touched by his fingers; to be tasted by that wicked forked tongue that had invaded so many of his fantasies; to be possessed by the strong power of a warlock.
In Khuno's arms, Magnus had experienced a decadence and playfulness that he could never experience when embracing Annaliese's fragile body. Khuno willingly gave himself and, in the process, he enticed Magnus to let go of the last of his misgivings, the last of his doubts, the last vestiges of his religious upbringing and embrace his true condition as an inhabitant and an explorer of multiple worlds.
From that very first morning he had sex with Khuno, Magnus felt that he could love Annaliese with less guilt. He felt that while with Annaliese he had to be gentle as if he was touching a doll made of the most fragile of porcelains, with Khuno he could give free rein to his unruly lust. At the end of it all, Annalise and Khuno allowed Magnus to experience what it was like to have the perfect lover, gentle and energetic, chaste and uninhibited, restrained and licentious.
During those first few months of 1740, Magnus had spent almost all his time at Annalise and Khuno's house. Eventually, he stopped going home all together, and even stopped seeing his clients and friends. Instead, he remained at the plantation going out only with Khuno or Annaliese. Intoxicated by the feeling of being in love, of belonging for the first time, of freedom from disguise or glamor, Magnus begun to believe that he had finally found a home, a place in which he belonged. He also convinced himself that he deserved that home, that it was his right and that he should do anything to defend it.
During this time, more and more warlocks had begun to arrive in ships coming from all over the world, as if they were summoned, or as if some ancient call was attracting them to the same happiness and bliss in which Magnus had found completeness. The plantation became a sort of commune, a place where warlocks could be free to practice their magic without restrain or disguise; a place where they could unleash their powers and try new spells without concern for consequences. Eventually, the plantation became a place that Batavians feared and avoided at all costs; a place where dangerous experiments were being conducted, where terrible things were done to mundanes and downworlders. Overtime, only the slaves that Annaliese owned and who laboured from day to night on the plantation remained, and only because they were not free and couldn't escape. If Magnus heard the rumours or saw what the warlocks were doing, he ignored it all, and the few times his consciousness threatened to awaken his guilt, Khuno and Annaliese swiftly quieted his doubts.
One night, a couple of months after his arrival, and during one of their evenings sitting, drinking and eating by the fire, Annaliese told Magnus and the other warlocks the story of Lilith, of how Lilith had been expelled from the garden of Eden, outcast and condemned to live in exile, to wonder through the underworld in search of home. She spoke of Lilith's incursions into this world, and how she sent her demons to procreate with humans, to perpetuate her lineage, to create a new race of beings that were superior to the humans that god had favorited.
"We are her children and she is our mother," Annaliese had said at the end of her tale. "It is our duty to bring her back into this world from which god expelled her. She made us powerful, more powerful than mundanes, yet we are forced to live in shadows as if we were impostors and outlaws. We deserve a land of our own, a place where we can be free and owners of our own destiny, a place where we can live with our mother. We must fight for that place, no matter the cost."
Annaliese had planned to build a country for warlocks; a place where no one would look down on the children of Lilith; where no one would spat the word warlock as if it was a dirty word or an insult. Back then, she thought Batavia was that place; that Batavia was the place were Lilith could be welcomed back into this realm and where warlocks could build a nation of their own, a nation in which mundanes and downworlders would finally have to vow to the children of Lilith.
How naïve and how blind he had been, Magnus thought as he looked out towards the Tuscan landscape, oblivious to the conversation of the other warlocks gathered in the room. Yet, he could not excuse his actions, for blindness and naiveté were not justification and, in all honesty, Annaliese had never deceived him. Nothing Magnus ever did was under duress. Instead, Annaliese had enthralled him the way she had all the other warlocks, as she had likely enthralled Rufus to walk towards his own death this morning. That was one of Annaliese's powers: to make those around her follow her, yet without completely losing awareness of their actions; to destroy in her name, willingly and without will at the same time.
After what happened in Batavia, Magnus had hated himself, along with Annaliese and Khuno for the destruction they brought on the land of his birth. Yet, until Berlin two hundred years later, part of him had been unable to completely stop loving Annaliese, despite or perhaps because of the destruction. When it came to Annaliese, love and hate seemed to lose all meaning, the emotions melting together into one. For you couldn't love Annaliese without also hating her for what she made you do in her name.
Magnus thought that guilt was like a serpent that coiled itself around your body, making it impossible to walk or even move, at times, reaching your neck and squeezing, until you could no longer breath. He refused to ever live with the weight of that kind of guilt again. He would do everything in his power to stop Annaliese from fulfilling her plans, even if the price he paid was his own life. The only regret he would have is that Alec would never forgive him, not only for breaking his heart, but also for Magnus' role in the terrible tragedies of the past as well as for the destruction that would likely ensue in this latest battle.
The sound of animated voices brought Magnus' attention back to the room. As he looked around, he saw the expectant expressions on the other warlocks' faces as they stood up and turned towards the foyer where a portal was opening. He too stood, curious to see who was the latest arrival. Suddenly, a familiar figure, small and child-like materialized by the entrance of the portal, and Magnus' hand instinctually searched for the comforting sensation of the wound on his chest, as his heart went into freefall, and his eyes rested on the deceptively vulnerable and still youthful face of Annaliese Fen, her eyes the color of fire and as shinny as precious rubies.