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The Sword falls with a loud clang and Jace follows it to the ground. Pain skitters throughout his veins, arching up his body in pure, burning light. His lips part as his vision blurs and his muscles lock.
He cannot move, he cannot speak. His hearing dips in and out, but he can hear Clary whisper a question, and through the tears clouding his eyes, he can see Valentine rise. Jace wants to reach out, he wants to be on his feet and in his deranged father’s path, but he cannot. His body fails him and he fails yet again.
Valentine scoops up the sword and says something that gets lost both in the roaring in Jace’s ears and in the thunder of armored feet that even he can hear. Even with the pain, Jace can still feel his heart leap into his throat as the first Downworlders race into the room.
Their warcries break through the haze in his mind. Seelies heft their weapons, vampires bare their teeth, and werewolves crouch low as they begin to turn. And Jace’s chest heaves because they’re going to die. They are all going to die, and it would all… all be on his hands.
Valentine steps towards the Downworld army, confidence written in every line of his face and every curve of his body. His hand curls around the Sword’s hilt as the Downworlders charge.
A small circle of yellow blooms in the center of the room, and in the world that appears to be shrouded in shadows like the one Jace sees, it appears like the morning sun; bright and ready to chase away the dark.
Magnus Bane steps through the portal. Gone his is dark jacket, leaving on the gray shirt he wore underneath. His jaw is clenched and his shoulders are tense. Every inch of his being screams anger.
He turns on his heel, away from Valentine, away from the monster that would kill him, and away from the weapon that could do it. He turns towards his siblings of demon blood and he raises his hand as panic flashes across some of their faces.
A portal the size of the entire room opens and envelops them all in a soft, yellow light. It swallows the Downworlder army to the sound of Valentine’s scream of rage and Raphael’s cry of Magnus’ name.
Valentine lifts the sword heavenward, and his fury twists his face into something uglier than the most monstrous demon Jace has ever faced. The Sword lights up in a way Jace would describe as soothing if it didn’t spell death for any Downworlder who stood in its rays.
Clary gasps and Simon ducks, Clary covering his body with her own in a desperate effort to preserve his life. But Magnus…
Magnus has no shield. He stands, hands that are curled into fists spurting with violent, red magic, and he is bathed in the pure, white light of the Sword.
That light is blinding and almost as painful to look into as it was for Jace to pick up the Sword at all, but still, he stares into it. He looks towards Magnus, determined to witness his death, for Magnus deserved more than a genocidal madman being the only one to see his fall, even if the only other one who did witness it was his murderer.
But Magnus did not fall.
The burning white light washed over him, but he stood strong in the center of its deadly rays. And then he took a step forward.
Gone were his brown eyes and in their place were golden, slitted eyes filled with a rage that would buoy even Valentine’s. His muscles rippled like those of a tiger as he stormed forward and stalked his prey.
Bathed in the white light, he looked like an angel of death.
Valentine’s jaw had fallen open and in his shock, he hadn’t been able to move at all by the time Magnus’ fist connected with his face.
Valentine went flying backward, his back hitting the steel arch behind him as the red magic that swirled around Magnus’ fist and elbow dissipated with the light of the Sword as it fell once more to the ground.
Magnus watched with golden eyes, as Valentine tried to haul himself to his feet, his shattered legs scrabbling uselessly on the ground. His face was a frightening, inhuman mask as he stepped forward slowly, surely.
Confidence, anger, fury… all were emotions Jace had become used to seeing on Valentine’s face. Even love, deranged as he now knew it to be, was something he had seen before. And if he looked hard enough, Jace could still see a lingering fury on Valentine’s face, anger that this being he deemed lesser than he could overpower and break him so easily.
But the emotion that ruled Valentine’s face and his mind was terror. Sheer, unadulterated terror, as pure as the light that had filtered from the Mortal Sword moments ago.
Valentine’s voice caught in the roaring of Jace’s ears but he could still make out the words, “it’s… it’s not possible,” he said. He whispered, as if putting those words out into the universe would make them true, and that Magnus would suddenly fall dead at his feet. “What are you.”
Magnus’ response was a small, cruel smile. He crooked two of his fingers and red magic arched out of them in two small bursts that crackled with something akin to electricity. They wound around Valentine’s legs and pulled . The smile stayed on Magnus’ face as Valentine screamed.
He dragged Valentine across the floor until he was curled into a bloodied heap less than an inch away from his shoes. Smile suddenly gone, Magnus gazed down at Valentine in disgust, and the slitted pupils of his gold cat eyes contracted into a barely-there line.
Magnus cocked his head to the left just slightly as he shifted his weight. “You wanted to know what I am,” Magnus said suddenly. His voice pierced through the fog that shrouded Jace’s ears.
He reached down and pulled Valentine up by the shoulder of his shirt into a hunched sitting position. “I,” Magnus said as his hand drifted up with an easy grace to each side of Valentine’s head. “Am an angel.”
Angry red magic sparked to life under Magnus’ fingers and it jumped and sparked like electricity up and down his arms, chest, and back. With a crack and a near-blinding red flash, Magnus broke Valentine’s neck.
Magnus stepped back and let Valentine’s body fall to the ground with a thud. His golden eyes were fixed elsewhere.
Alec stood in the doorway of the room, his gaze fixed firmly on Magnus. When he moved, he ran, so unlike how Magnus had slowly stalked around the room seconds before. Alec ran to Magnus, hand outstretched like he couldn’t bear to be separate from him for longer than need be.
Alec’s reaching hand slid onto Magnus’ cheek like it was meant to be there. His thumb brushed over his high cheekbone and under his glittering eyes. “Are you hurt?” Alec asked, his voice shaking.
Tension and anger bled out of Magnus all at once as he leaned into Alec’s palm. “No,” he said in a voice so different from what it was. “No, I’m okay. Are you -- ”
“I’m fine,” Alec said quickly and he chased his words with a kiss to Magnus’ lips.
Jace’s began to fade to nothing more than pins and needles, and slowly, he began to push himself to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both Clary and Simon straighten too, and they both turned to stare at Valentine’s crumpled, broken, and unbreathing body.
Clary took a few hesitant steps forward, and Jace saw her mouth begin to open and her eyes begin to question. Simon reached out and grabbed her forearm. A silent shake of his head stopped her words and made room for Alec’s.
Alec, who had broken the kiss. Alec, who had rested his forehead against Magnus’s, and who, as he stared into Magnus’s glowing gold eyes, whispered, “I love you.”
And Magnus, with a smile on his face, did not hesitate to whisper back, “I love you too.”