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"Break his heart, to save his life," Asmodeus drawled, his eyes bright, even as he stared at the Nephilim in front of him, the way he twitched with fear and power.
Alec closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought of the smiles Magnus forced himself to give now, the ones that screamed of a pain he kept to himself, the same ones that would do nothing more than hide until he could no longer do so. Until he would, once again, break apart, crying and trembling in Alec's arms. He opened his eyes and looked at Asmodeus again.
Moving quickly, he threw the small charm he had clenched in his hand at the Greater Demon in front of him, watching as it flew through the air, landing on his chest, right at the heart of his power. The same spot he had once sent an arrow into to kill Azazael. The medium jolted and Alec watched Asmodeus start to fade, his eyes wide and furious. "Marked," he whispered, the single word reverberating through the room, until Asmodeus was gone and the medium remained, panting, her eyes wide as she stared at him.
"What did you do?" she snapped. "What did you do to him?"
Alec turned his back on her. "He won't come back," he promised her instead, striding out into the night.
He had hunting to do.
~!~
It was easier to prepare than it should have been.
A simple call to his mother, almost the identical one that he had made earlier in the week. The ring box still burned in his pocket, and he ordered himself to remember that this was for Magnus. He could feel the Mark singing under his skin, calling him forward, demanding he follow through with the promise that he had made, that he had put into place with his blood.
"Alec, there you are, have you been waiting for me long?" Maryse asked.
Alec looked up at her, and hesitated in giving his answer. But telling her what he needed would explain everything. "I need the Trueblood blade."
Maryse froze, her back straightening as she stared at him. "What?" she breathed.
"The target has been Marked. I feel the Call. I need the blade," Alec said, the nigh ritualistic words ringing through all of him, his blood singing with the demand. He had made the Mark, and now there was nothing left but to answer the Call.
Maryse stayed stiff before she carefully reached down and removed a ring that had been invisible up until that moment. "You are sure this is your Mark?"
Alec accepted the ring from her and breathed out, long and slow. "I am sure." And he was. The certainty of it was a joyous song, racing through him, the demand for blood, retribution, and pain to be delivered at his hand. There would be no escape from his Mark.
"Tell me who it is," Maryse demanded. "Tell me, Alec."
Alec raised his eyes at her and started to grin, well-aware she could see the light shining through his eyes of a Trueblood on their Hunt. "Asmodeus," he answered, the single word explaining to her everything that she could want to know. "Keep him safe," he added, turning to the door. "He'll know when to come."
Alec heard his mother call out to him again, the shock at the name of his Marked, or perhaps fear for him wielding the blade that could easily kill him, but he ignored her. Now? Now there was only the Hunt that remained in front of him.
The final three stops were easy. To the Institute armory to collect his bow and other equipment. To his Office to file the paperwork for a formal leave of absence. However long it took, he would not fail in his Hunt, and the Clave had ancient laws in place to respect the bloodlines of the original Houses. His leave would be approved without question. His siblings would understand the instant they saw the insignia. What he had done, where he had gone.
All that remained was Magnus.
Alec turned down the hallway to his bedroom, stepping into the room, pausing at the sight of Magnus asleep on their bed. He stopped and let himself smile, the pounding demand and Call of the Hunt fading to a backdrop as he stepped forward. He approached the bed and sat down on the edge, reaching out to comb his fingers through Magnus' hair, soft and swept over his forehead, even as his nose wrinkled in sleep. Magnus reached for him, as he always did in these moments, and Alec lifted his hand, kissing the back of it.
"Alexander?" Magnus murmured, opening his eyes slowly. "Are you finished with your work?"
"No," Alec answered, keeping it simple. He kissed Magnus' hand again, breathing in the comforting scent of his skin. He Hunted for Magnus, that was the reason for this. His Call, his Purpose, all of it, was to save the man in front of him. "But I wanted to see you."
Magnus smiled and stretched lazily on the bed. "Can I entice you into bed?"
Alec could have let himself fall into the comfort of Magnus' arms, but it was not what his blood demanded, it was not what the magic needed. He offered Magnus another smile and kissed his hand, before leaning down to kiss him properly. "Not this time, Magnus," he whispered. "I have work that I have to finish, first."
Magnus huffed and reached up to tangle his fingers in Alec's hair, pulling him into another kiss until Alec's eyes, when they blinked open, were dark and more than a bit wild, exactly as he liked his shadowhunter. "You sure?"
Alec stole another kiss, this one quick and hard. "It is work for you, my darling," he breathed, even as he watched Magnus' eyes go wide, his breath catching. "It is work for you, and I will not let it be delayed a second longer than it has to, so I can return to you that much quicker." The words felt wrong, were wrong, but they were the truth.
"Alexander?' Magnus asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"
"I have to go," Alec repeated, pressing their foreheads together. "You know I love you?"
"I do," Magnus agreed. "Just as I love you. But Alec, where are you-"
"Trust me," Alec breathed. "Trust me, that I love you, and that I will call for you." Before he let Magnus say another word, Alec pulled away from him and headed to the door. If he looked back, he would never leave and the demand of the Hunt would be gone. He had to follow it, let it consume him, and let him follow the path he had set.
He had his Mark. Now he had to finish his Hunt.
"Alec," Magnus said, watching Alec freeze in the doorway. "You'll come back?"
Alec smiled and nodded his head. "I will come back, Magnus, and everything will once again be made right." It was a promise that he meant with every single bit of angelic power in him and the Call rang through him again, demanding that he move. Alec felt the ring on his hand start to shimmer, weight growing in his palm before he stepped out of the room.
A phone call to Meliorn, a favor called in that had once belonged to Isabelle and Alec stared at the doorway into Edom. His Marked called to him.
"Lightwood," Meliorn said. "I cannot guarantee a portal to return."
"I am aware," Alec said, the ring on his finger heavier than it had ever been, the sword demanding that it be summoned, that it be brought onto this plane, power leaking from the ring and into him. "I am very, very aware."
Meliorn frowned, watching as Alec Lightwood's whole body seemed to shimmer in the air. "You're on a Hunt, aren't you, Trueblood heir."
It was a statement, not a question. Alec didn't feel the need to answer it as he stepped through the portal and into the desert hot heat of Edom. Here, in the inky blackness of the sky lit by the faintest red of fires, the Hunt leapt to life.
He had his Marked to kill.
~!~
Every Trueblood was taught, from the time they were born, about their history, and what their history meant for their lives. As one of the original Houses, a House descended from an angel, not the Mortal Cup, they all had... Abilities.
There were so few of them now, and rarely did they manifest. Rarely did they become an urgent need that burned through all other things - love, duty, honor, to become a demand that they must meet. It showed in horrible and powerful ways, and each of the families, they knew to warn their children, so they might be aware of it.
Truebloods, they had the ability to place a single Mark.
Once a target was Marked - there was no escaping the ensuing Hunt. The Trueblood who had Marked them would find them, and kill them with the Trueblood blade, a blade that was passed down from the angel that sired them to the first of the line.
Alec felt it sing through him, pushing him in the direction he needed to go, every single cell and all of the power in his body focused on the Hunt. He would not fail.
The blade threatening to manifest into his hand pulsed its agreement, and even now, on a demonic plane, Alec could feel the angelic power dripping from it. It meant the demons in front of him kept a wide berth and did not approach him, even as he was a beacon of light in their dark and desolate realm.
Following the Call was easier than he had expected. His mother had told him stories of Marked that resulted in the death of the Trueblood on their Hunt. They had failed, or they had chosen poorly, resulting in their demise. A proper Marked, with a Mark placed with the intentions and power they were born with, will die. It is their fate as one of the Marked.
As he approached the desolate castle, Alec let the blade finally, at last, shimmer into his hand. The wave of power from the action swept across all of Edom and he breathed through it. The blade was sacred, and for every Mark it claimed, it stored the power and the soul of that creature. Alec breathed through the weight and tightened his hand around the blade. He'd been warned if he had ever had cause to use it, what he would feel.
Angels, first.
The Trueblood sire had been the Scourge of the Nephilim. The blade was his, and it belonged to him, pulsed with his power, once one of the highest echelons of angels in heaven. The true Nephilim, born of the bodies of men and not of angels, abominations, had all Fallen to the blade he held. Then war and true angels fell to the blade. Thousands of them, clamoring for his attention, their power at his fingertips.
Then, being handed to the Trueblood line.
Every Marked was easy to feel. The joy of the Hunt. The passion of chasing the Mark. Of finding them, and bringing the deepest levels of angelic vengeance upon those who had dared to wrong the Truebloods. They were children of the Angel, but there was one angel, an angel who had been god's anger and wrath upon the earth, and it was that angel who gave them the ability to Mark.
It was that angel whose power sang through him as Alec led the way up the steps of a castle. It was not time to fight his Mark, but it was time to weaken the Mark, to make way for a clean Hunt and ensure that he would accomplish what he had set out to do.
The demons hiding in Lilith's castle avoided him as all the demons in Edom did and Alec, when he stepped into the chamber that housed Lilith herself, waited for her to turn to look at him. Her dark eyes were narrowed and suspicious, darting from the blade to his face, and then back again.
"You have not Marked me," she said, lifting her chin. "You cannot kill me, little Nephilim, no matter the sword you hold, or the power you carry."
Alec felt the truth of those words, but even still, the power, the Hunt, drew him forward, until he faced her, loosely holding the blade. Following the Call was a demand he could not deny, and when he met her eyes, they widened only a fraction in fear.
"Leave," he breathed. "Leave this realm, leave my family, leave them all alone."
Lilith let out a tittering laugh, her eyes wide. "Or what? What will you do to someone who is not your Marked, little Lightwood?"
Alec spread his wings, the ones that had been aching to manifest with the sword itself, and launched himself forward, millennia of learning to fight with wings and using them to his advantage singing through the blade in his hand. He knew how to move, how to duck under the wave of power she sent at him with a horrified scream, to sink the blade deep into the heart of her magic, to feel it begin to shatter around the blade. It would not absorb her, she was not Marked, but it would be lethal to a demon, teeming with angelic energy.
"For Jace," Alec breathed, watching as the Mother of Demons screamed and collapsed in a shower of ichor, an explosion of power wracking the entire castle as it began to fall apart. He escaped it with another few pumps of his wings, landing once again in the desolate lands of Edom. Now that the remaining distraction, the only thing that could have prevented the death of his Mark, was gone, all that remained was the final Hunt.
Turning to look into the distance at the only remaining blot against the landscape, Alec spread his wings wide, heading for the castle. His blood sang, and the voices in the sword grew louder with each passing second, advice, power, and encouragement, all of it sinking into him until there was nothing more left of him than the conviction he had and the Hunt of his Mark.
Asmodeus was waiting for him, as he had suspected, and Alec stared at the blazing red Mark on his chest, watching as it vibrated with power. The blade in his hand trembled, eager to bite into the creature in front of him, to absorb the power, to claim it for their own.
"What have you done to me?" Asmodeus snarled, power gathering around him. "You think your paltry attempts at angelic power will stand up to me?"
Alec watched, detached, as black, sludgy power gathered around the Prince of Hell. It was easy to see, in another world, another life, where he did not hold the blade that contained the power of thousands, that he would have been killed nigh instantly at such a display. But instead, all he felt was the Call, the demand of the blade to claim that who had been Marked.
Once the magic was fired at him, Alec held up the blade and let the magic fade away against the shield of light. The angel, their sire, screamed, and Alec felt it. This was a fight that he had had before. It would not be the first fight between Asmodeus and this blade, but it would be the last.
Asmodeus' eyes widened. "Where did you get that blade?"
"I am a Trueblood," Alec breathed, staring at him. "You have been Marked."
"How do you bear the blade of an Archangel? They were all destroyed!" Asmodeus continued, his eyes drifting to the blade. "How can you hold it? How can you wield it?"
Alec looked down to the blade and then back up to the demon who had to be destroyed, who was Marked, and who would fall to Alec's actions and no one else's. "It is my inheritance."
There was a scream, and Alec watched as a blade, eerily similar to the Trueblood one, was drawn by Asmodeus. He watched as wide, leathery black wings erupted from the Prince of Hell's back and he blinked slowly, the image juxtaposed against one seen before time had been what it was. The same position, but with white wings, a face twisted in anguish. Words that meant nothing, only for him to fall beneath the blade.
"I will not fall to that blade again!" Asmodeus shouted, launching himself forward.
Alec, lost in memories, but following the pull of his Hunt, lifted his blade and watched as the ensuing power clash echoed across the entire realm, causing it to quake. He stared up at Asmodeus, the way his face was twisted in power and anguish and, despite the Mark blazing on his chest, felt pity for the demon above him. He had been a brother once, he had been a sibling, he had laughed, held joy, helped in creation before he had succumbed to the blade he held.
They separated from each other, their wings spread out, ready to leap forward and dive in again. Alec followed the pull of the Mark, the insistent tugs and encouragement of the angel who sired them, who knew this fight, knew this battle as intimately as a wound that had never fully healed. It was raw, and again and again, they came together, demonic power clashing with angelic, the eruptions of power tearing at the very realm around them.
His focus on his Mark never left him.
For Magnus, for his family, for himself. He would not fail in his Hunt. Asmodeus, fallen angel and Prince of Hell, would fall to the Trueblood blade, as he had once before, long before it had the name it now did. With a spin, Alec used his wings to slide, down and under a sweeping wave of magic from the demon, and thrust up, sinking the blade deep into the wings above him. Asmodeus screamed, the sound rending the realm in two, an echoing tremble beginning in the furthest reaches of hell that became a cacophony the closer it drew back to them.
Alec surveyed the demon in front of him, the agony in familiar golden eyes, the Mark glowing on his chest, and the power he tried to draw in around him. He held the blade out in front of him and waited for the demon to attack again.
"Just like Gabriel, with those dead eyes of yours," Asmodeus spat, glaring at the boy. "Archangel of Justice and he never paused to consider what the word justice truly meant. A fool who did nothing more than follow orders."
Alec felt the power of his sire flinch back from the caustic, and, he suspected, truthful words, but his hand did not tremble. He held it steady as he stared at the demon, every muscle aching under the weight of the Hunt, now demanding he end it, that he claim the Mark he had placed, that he fulfill the destiny that he had been made for. His lips twitched and he kept his eyes on Asmodeus.
"Gabriel," he started, the name foreign on his tongue, even though he had known, had always know whose blade their family carried, whose blade they guarded like the most terrible of secrets. "May not have known those things. May not have known what their true definitions are," Alec continued, stepping closer to the demon. He smiled faintly and stopped, blade still held at the ready, relaxed and certain in his hands.
The Hunt, the Call, was screaming now, demanding, pushing at him, pulling him closer to the Mark that sang to him like a siren.
Alec watched Asmodeus scoff and roll his eyes before he kept speaking. "But I am not Gabriel. I never have been. I understand justice, and what it means. I understand what it is to deliver it, the difficult burden that it is." He paused and held up the sword, ready to strike the Mark, to do as those in his family had done before him, time and again, spanning centuries.
"You're a fool," Asmodeus spat. "You'll destroy everything."
Alec stepped in and grabbed the front of Asmodeus' clothing, yanking him in, even as he sank the blade deep into the Mark, the Prince of Hell screaming loud enough to make the realm tremble. "Better to destroy everything in the name of your son, the one I love, than to allow injustice to reign," he breathed, pressing the blade in deeper, the Mark beginning to shatter about as it drew in Asmodeus' power.
"I claim my justice," Alec said, staring at Asmodeus, as he started to shake, the weight of his magic, all that he was, being pulled into the blade. "Not for myself, but for Magnus. For him, I have Marked you, and for him, I have Hunted you, and for him, I will tear down everything you have built to give him back that which has always been his."
Yanking the blade back, Alec watched as Asmodeus crumpled, falling into a puddle of ichor like every other demon he had ever killed, but this ichor was the same gold as his eyes. The blade in his hand pulsed, bright enough to make his eyes hurt as he felt it slowly assimilate the power of the Mark he had claimed. He breathed through the rush. It was the strongest Mark the blade had absorbed in centuries and now, with the Hunt successful, he could feel the rush of power that was flooding into him, in turn. His gift for a triumphant Hunt.
How long it took to subside, he didn't know, but when Alec came back to himself, it was to the sound of his name being called.
"Alexander!"
Alec turned, the blade immediately fading from his grasp and back into the form of the ring on his finger. It would never be removed now, until it was passed to the next Lightwood with a Mark. He watched Magnus burst out of the doorway, and stared at him, unblinking, frowning.
"Alec!" Magnus shouted, launching himself forward and into Alec's arms, sinking into them with relief. "What the hell did you think you were doing? Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
Alec blinked at Magnus slowly, the pull of the Hunt, of the Call starting to fade at last, the voices of all those in the blade melting away until all he was, once again, was him. He took a deep breath and focused on Magnus again. He reached out and cupped Magnus' cheeks in his palms. "I had to get your magic back," he breathed, shaking a little as he said the words. There was a gasp behind him, but he kept focused on Magnus in front of him. "I went to go get your magic back."
Magnus' mouth dropped open and he stared at Alec. "You, you what?"
Alec closed his eyes and breathed in. If he reached for it, he could feel the power that the blade had drawn from Asmodeus, but it did not include what belonged to Magnus. Magnus had not been Marked, so his magic was still his to be had. "Breathe in," he ordered, turning to look at Magnus. "It's here."
Magnus frowned in confusion. "Alec, what are you talking about, my father-"
"Will no longer stand in the way of this," Alec said, interrupting him. "Now Magnus, please. Breathe in. Reach for your magic. It's here."
Magnus closed his eyes and did as Alec asked, reaching out for the magic that was nothing more than an empty place inside of him.
Alec knew the moment Magnus touched his magic, because the entire realm responded. Magic flooded around and into Magnus, no longer tethered to Asmodeus, magic that had been adrift, broken apart, and left hanging by the Trueblood blade. In an instant, or perhaps hours, Alec caught Magnus when he sagged forward, his body hot and thrumming with every ounce of his magic and perhaps even more than he had bargained for.
Magnus struggled to breathe, even as he stared at Catarina, once again able to feel her magic, once again able to brush his magic against hers, but even now, the well inside him grew deeper and deeper, more power falling into it as though it had simply been waiting for him all along. Asmodeus would know, would come to rip it away, would... he blinked, his attention drawn to what was now in front of him.
"Alexander, do you have wings?"
Alec looked behind him at the wings that were now carefully tucked against his back, but he could feel the power shimmering in them, responding to the ring he now wore on his finger. His mother had never used her Mark, as far as he knew, the past few generations of Trueblood had not participated in a Hunt, so knowing if this was normal or not was a bit outside his expertise. "I do appear to have wings, yes."
Magnus blinked and looked back from Catarina, to Alec again. And now, with his magic thrumming through his veins, he could see the magic that was in Alec's. Magic that rivaled almost his own in strength, but was purely angelic, flooding every single inch of him. It didn't flinch at his touch, and instead reached out, pulling him in closer.
Alec relaxed when Magnus stepped into his arms and let him hold him close. The faint remembrance of the Hunt, of the Call, all for the man in his arms, echoed in the chance to hug Magnus as tight as he dared. "Your father and Lilith are no more," he breathed. He heard Catarina gasp beyond them both and smiled, even as Magnus tensed. "Your magic and the magic of this realm is yours, if you choose to use it."
Magnus swallowed hard, tightening his hold on Alec, even as he felt more and more of that angelic magic reach for him, wrapping around him protectively, holding him as close as Alec's wings were now trying to do. "How did you do this?"
Alec let out a low, tired chuckle. "Do you want the detailed explanation, or do you want the quick bare bones version?"
"Both," Magnus said immediately. "But I'll settle for the quick version if it includes you telling me that you are all right and everything is okay."
Alec hummed and closed his eyes, holding onto Magnus as tight as he dared. "I am all right, and everything is indeed okay." He let out a slow breath. "You and Catarina will have to uh. Figure out if this is permanent."
"This?" Magnus asked, pulling back just enough to look at Alec. Only for, an instant later, Alec to summon a ball of blinding white magic to his hands. He blinked and stared at him. "You have magic now?" he asked, his voice incredulous. "Are, what, how?"
"It's..." Alec paused and reached for the voice that was trying to speak with him. "It's called Grace," he managed, clearing his throat. "They, they called it Grace. I, I have it now. I'm not entirely sure how. But it has the same effects on me that your magic has for you, I suspect."
Magnus blinked, staring at Alec.
Alec gave a small shrug. "To be fair, I was just planning on making sure your Dad couldn't bother us any longer, that wasn't something I expected."
"You're..." Magnus choked on a breath of air, tears gathering in his eyes before he pressed his face against Alec's neck, holding onto him tightly. He couldn't bring himself to say the words, but by how tightly Alec was holding onto him, he understood.
"I'll stay," Alec breathed, wrapping his wings around Magnus properly. "For as long as you want me, Magnus. I will be here."
Magnus let out a wet laugh and clung to Alec all the more. "I think you and I both know what my answer is to that."
Alec smiled and pulled back to look at Magnus, pressing their foreheads together. "I do," he breathed, the two words enough to have both of them trembling with the certainty of them. He opened his eyes again and reached out for Magnus with the power he could feel thrumming through him.
"I did it for you," Alec added. "All of it. Destroying them both, returning your magic. I did it, did it for you," he whispered.
Magnus shook, trying to clear his throat enough to speak. "Alexander, I-"
"You deserve it," Alec cut Magnus off, staring at him. "You deserve someone to love you as deeply, and as truly as you love. You have always deserved that, and I will never cease doing my best to show that to you."
"I love you," Magnus breathed, pulling Alec in for a desperate kiss. "My angel."
Alec chuckled into the kiss. "Literally now," he managed, feeling Magnus laugh before kissing him again. He melted into it, into the feel of Magnus' hands, his magic, his love. "I love you, Magnus. And I will never, ever let you forget how much you deserve everything I can ever give you."
Alec sealed the promise with a kiss, his power echoing that same certainty as it tightened around them.