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Magnus hadn’t let himself feel the true pain of his mother’s death in a long, long time. It always came in short bursts, quick memories that he forced out of his mind the second they made an appearance. If anything, he relived what he had done to his step father on a regular basis.
He remembered how his grief had transformed so quickly at the sound of the man’s yelling, how with just a turn he lost every shred of his innocence that had managed to linger that long into his childhood. He recalled the way his glamour had dropped, how his view of the world changed in an instant as he took in the looming form in front of him. He could picture with disturbing accuracy how he had lifted his hand and released his magic like it was nothing, like he was meant to destroy.
It still haunted him centuries later, and no matter how often he was reassured that he wasn’t the monster his step father told him he was, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it, but nothing- nothing- compared to the rage that he felt when Asmodeus appeared before him.
For years he had evaded his father’s attempts to contact him, violently shoved away any jobs that stood even a slim chance of causing them to happen upon each other, because he knew that the second he saw him he would lose control in a way he hadn’t since he was a little boy.
He was wrong.
This was nothing like that moment, because the absolute fury that had surged through him within seconds of seeing his father’s face was insurmountable. He felt like his insides were burning, his heart pumping lava through his veins and arteries so quickly that his head spun. His magic glowed purple as it crackled between his fingers, a color he had never once witnessed it take on before, and even he gasped at the sight of it.
Images of his mother flashed through his head- her warm laugh, the way she smiled down at him before he went to sleep, the fear in her gaze the first time she saw his cat eyes, her still body lying motionless in her bed. His mind was past logic and reason as a smirk spread across his father’s face, his tall figure stepping forward, and Magnus curled his fingers inwards, a rush of power he had never experienced before flowing out of every cell of his body.
He was going to annihilate his father, even if it meant he had to do the same to himself in the process.
He was ready, seconds away from releasing every ounce of fight he had in him, but then long fingers pressed to his arm, and a soft voice spoke in his ear.
“Magnus.”
His chest was heaving as he opened his eyes, and a second hand pressed to one of his cheeks. For a moment he panicked as he took in the nearly pitch black surroundings and quiet atmosphere, but then his eyes followed the line of pale skin that was touching him all the way up to Alec’s worried expression, and he forced himself to relax, squeezing his eyes shut again.
“Are you okay?” Alec asked, hesitation evident in his tone, and Magnus shook his head.
Because even as he felt the silk sheets surrounding him and the familiar presence of Alec beside him, he knew they were not safe.
“My father is coming. Soon.”