A/N: This is a story that takes place after CoLS. It's mostly Malec-based, but the rest of the characters are here as well. No copyright infringement is intended. This story has not been run through a beta, so I apologize for any errors. As always, all the characters are property of Cassandra Clare.

Warnings: This story is rated M for later chapters. Contains mature content.

Chapter One—Betrayal Most Foul

There was a slight chill to the wind that Magnus hadn't noticed before. Even as he stepped onto the darkened streets of Manhattan, he wasn't prepared for the icy blast that stemmed more from Alec's absence than the actual November weather. He felt empty inside, as if the injury he'd suffered by Amatis's hand had split wide open, leaving his innards vulnerable to the elements. But that wound was healing while another slashed him from the inside out.

Magnus ducked his head as he passed by two Mundanes bound for the subway. The specific station he'd left to his heels held nothing more than a Shadowhunter and the scent of death. They would be either disappointed to discover the lack of transit, or unfortunate enough to run across Camille. Either way, Magnus didn't care. He was through with pesky emotions that sought to tear him apart.

He wondered for a moment whether or not Alec suffered as he did. Would his Shadowhunter feel this loss? Would he feel that instant split resonating through his chest as Magnus did now? There had been a time when Magnus believed Alec loved him, but that time had passed the moment he had received Camille's letter.

Anger had risen in him then—anger towards Camille, anger towards Alec, and more importantly, anger towards himself. If he had been more forthcoming about his past, perhaps Alec would not have seen fit to seek out the likes of Camille. But his ex-boyfriend had no right to meddle with his life. A person's life was their own to command, and one could not hold it in the palm of their hand without acting as God. Although the thought of God giving a damn about him made Magnus chuckle under his breath, it was a vacant laughter that sounded hollow and surprisingly alarmed him. He had felt loss before, but never on such a grandiose scale as this. The world without Alec Lightwood was already turning out to be a bleak place indeed.

Magnus plodded on down the cracked pavement, doing his best to subdue the past few minutes. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his depressing, plain denim jeans, cursing under his breath as he dipped into the familiar alley. Even the fabric seemed dull to his cat-like eyes, as if his usual compulsive desire for all things shiny had lost its luster. He hadn't bothered to use a portal, wash his face, or run a brush through his hair; he'd simply followed Alec to the abandoned subway station just as Camille had instructed.

Lover turned enemy, Camille was as cunning as they came. Long ago, in Victorian London, Magnus believed Camille's affections to be honest and pure. He'd loved her for a brief period, and had thought she'd returned that adoration. But she'd loved him as one might love a disposable pet—keeping him close for comfort, but discarding him the moment she grew weary. How Alec had ended up forging an alliance with the vampire was beyond Magnus's comprehension. It didn't matter if Alec had no intentions of going through with the deal; the simple fact that he'd thought about it at all was enough.

Camille was as deadly as she was beautiful, her still heart like poison to the soul. Her greed and vanity consumed her, washing away any lingering effects of humanity. There was nothing human about someone who would willingly cut short the life of another in exchange for power.

Realizing he was thinking more of Alec than Camille, Magnus quickly dismissed the thought from his mind. Alec—his Alec—would have never entertained the idea of removing his immortality. What had happened to the boy he knew and loved? Alec had been distant from Magnus for weeks, and although he knew it had something to do with Jace, it didn't give Alec the right to sneak around behind his back. Lies were one thing, but Alec had been prepared to cut Magnus's life short all for the sake of jealousy. Magnus could live forever, whereas the Shadowhunter would perish. Whether it was in a battle as Magnus feared, or in his bed as an old man, the chilling reality was that Alec Lightwood wouldn't live forever.

It made no difference to Magnus now, or at least that was what he told himself. The mantra of "it's over, it's over, it's over," constantly thumped inside of his head, though he hadn't spoken the words aloud since leaving the subway. He had said it twice already to Alec's face; he could not bring himself to do it again.

Dwelling on the past had never been Magnus's strongest suit. It only dredged up memories best left to the ether. Memories brought pain, and pain led to weakness. If he was to distance himself from the Shadow World, he would need all of his strength. And even that was compromised thanks largely to the slow-healing wound embedded into his ribs. Alec's energy combined with rest had enabled Magnus to venture outside of his home, but the effects of his anger wore greatly on those reserves. It wouldn't be long before that strength gave out completely.

He rounded the alleyway filled with clutter, a single bulb shining dimly above the door. Everything looked as he had left it, but tonight he returned alone. There would be no warm body next to him in the morning, and no one fuss over like he enjoyed. All of that was fragile memory in the back of his mind now, something that pained him more than he thought it would. When the sun broke through the clouds at dawn, he would feel no peace or sunshine. Alec's betrayal had taken that warmth clean out of whatever soul he had left.

He padded up the stairs and kicked open the heavy door, adding to the splinters left behind from Jocelyn's hasty exit a few days prior. Chairman Meow scurried across the hardwood floor and took refuge under a plush, velvet couch next to the empty fireplace. Even he knew better than to get in his master's way when he was in a mood. Magnus ignored the cat and cursed once more.

Everything smelled like Alec, of sandalwood and boy. On the counter sat Alec's black jacket—the one that Magnus thought made him look too drab, too ordinary. He hated that jacket now more than ever. Somewhere in the house a toothbrush and some clothes rested in a single drawer. Magnus knew Alec would return for his belongings, and he had no intentions of sticking around for that moment. He'd almost changed his mind about Alec in the subway; he couldn't afford for that to happen again.

Charred marks on the floor left behind from the pentagram mocked his every step. He'd gone above and beyond the call of duty where Alec was concerned, and yet that boy had tossed him to the night children at the first opportunity. He was prepared to cut Magnus's life short and hadn't even bothered to tell him. Forgiveness was divine, but not even Magnus could forgive this. He'd worn his heart on his sleeve only to have it thrown back in his face.

No, forgiveness was not an option.

"We're leaving," Magnus said to the frightened cat.

Blue sparks shot out from his fingertips, crackling and hissing as the room began to change. He could transform anything he wished, and this house was no exception. He refused to be a captive in his own home. The memory of Alec, of his kisses and warm breath, was too much to handle. Alec was meant to be his forever; he would have gladly given up his immortality for the boy if only he had asked. That was how much Alec had meant to him. Now he saw the error of his ways. Immortality was his burden to bear, and the Shadowhunter would have to find solace with someone else. A betrayal of this magnitude was just the kick Magnus needed to see the truth—he was not part of this world, and could never be the man Alec wanted.

Twisting, merging, and folding in like the corners of a cardboard box, the room shifted from the spacious Victorian manor with three spare bedrooms to a disheveled warehouse. Magnus's rage and sadness unleashed on the room, throwing chairs, tables, and clothes against the walls. As was his mind, the room became a mess of confusing, impenetrable passageways of anger. Slivers of wood danced above his head; the swirling debris shredded the remainder of the once beautiful, ever-changing home.

He felt the power of his demon genes coursing through his veins, fueling the destruction. Strolling into his bedroom, he spared only those items he wished to keep—a few mementos of his past, the snuffbox, Will's letter, his books and other magical items, and a handful of outfits he rather liked. The rest of it went up in blue flames, returning the forsaken memories of Alec Lightwood back into the darkness.

He dumped Alec's personal items into a singed box and hurled it to the top of the stairs where it landed with a thunderous clank. The picture of his Shadowhunter love that had always sat beside the bed rose up above the flames. The frame shattered into a million pieces of tainted glass when he squeezed his hands around it. Magnus cursed again as the photograph ripped in half, then in thirds, and fell to the ground at his feet. A pair of deep blue eyes stared up at him from the floor. He quickly turned on his heel, unable to take the pain.

It no longer smelled of Alec, only the scent of burnt ash hung in the air.

Chairman Meow yelped from the living room as his shelter lifted up and exploded near the ceiling. But as if he was used to Magnus's temper, he quickly adjusted to the outburst and stretched out his limbs on the cluttered floor.

"Come, my friend," Magnus said, scooping his companion into his shaking arms. The magic drained from his fingertips, taking his strength along with it. The cat grumbled, causing Magnus to chuckle lowly. "Do not worry. It will all be as we left it once we return to England."

This seemed to placate the feline, who snuggled into the crook of Magnus's neck and let out a sleepy howl as the pair entered through a portal that would take them to the other side of the world and away from the memory of Alec Lightwood.