I don't own the characters, but I do like to dabble in their lives. Enjoy.

Chapter One

"I felt it," sighed Jace as he padded back and forth along the stone corridor. The torches were lit as they always were, shining brilliantly against the smooth walls and set at specific intervals that seemed to frame the golden filigree carvings etched into the crystalized rock. The four C's—standing for Clave, Consul, Council, and Covenant—stood out between the lights, mocking every anguished step Jace took.

Three doors down, a flurry of chaos was taking place within the Institute. Silent Brothers had gathered to give, what Jace feared, would be the last rites. He'd tried several times to gain access to the small room, but at each attempt, Brother Zachariah had turned him away as though Jace had no right to be present at this final hour. And then there was Isabelle. She too had been forced from the room by Maryse, told to wait out in the hallway with the others or do something constructive to pass the time. But the only thing Isabelle had successfully managed to accomplish was punching a hole in the kitchen door, and grate on Jace's nerves. He could sense her dark eyes now, following him, assessing his every move as if he was a ticking time bomb in need of defusing. In truth, she was probably right; Jace felt like the heavenly fire inside of him could detonate at any moment.

"He's just in shock—"

Jace held up his hand, cutting off her repetitive argument. "You weren't there. You couldn't possibly understand what it felt like to have a piece of your soul torn from you." Tears threatened and stung his eyes, but Jace forced their retreat. He wouldn't cry. "He's dying, Izzy."

"Don't you say that," snapped Isabelle. A fierce defiance swept over her face, contorting her previously nervous smile into one of anger. Good, Jace thought, anger is at least one step closer to acceptance. "I can't lose them both. We can call Magnus. He can hel—"

"No!" The sharp word hung in the air and rattled the brass torch above Jace's head.

Jace remembered with perfect clarity only a few days before when he'd dispatched a message to the High Warlock of Brooklyn. His answer had been clear when the very same letter showed up on the Institute steps within an hour, unopened and the Lightwood family seal still intact. But the elegant script on the back of the yellowed parchment was unmistakable:

Do not bother me with your trivial matters. Any further correspondence will be returned in the same manner. Yours no longer.

No, he could not call upon Magnus Bane again. Even if Alec hadn't forbid it in the first place, it was too late for Magnus to be of any service.

"You're his Parabatai!" shouted Isabelle. "Are you telling me that you're just giving up? I thought you would do anything for Alec?"

Rage boiled in Jace's veins, making his skin glow a sickly yellow color—a sign of the power within him. He watched as Isabelle took a step back, no doubt frightened of being anywhere near Jace as most were at this point. And when he spoke, his voice was cold, lifeless and void of any emotion save for that rage, his hands shaking violently with every word. "I would go to Hell and back for Alec. Don't you dare question my loyalty. He's more than just my brother. But Alec has made his will known, and as his Parabatai I can't interfere."

"Then as his sister, I will."

Jace reached for Isabelle's arm to stop her as she stomped her foot on the cold stone floor, like a spoiled child denied a second helping of ice cream. Isabelle recoiled instantly, shrieking in pain as the heavenly fire that brewed within Jace lashed out at her pale skin, leaving three faint red burns across her forearm.

"Izzy, I'm sorry," he groaned, taking a breath to calm his nerves.

Isabelle ignored his apology—as she usually did—and glared straight ahead, as if she was looking through him rather than directly at him. "So, you're just going to stand here and watch my brother die when Magnus can save him?"

Of course not, Jace sighed internally as he calmed the aching fire within. "No, I'm going to stand out here while Maryse watches him…die." Die. The word caught in his throat. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly welcome in there."

"How can you make jokes at a time like this?" asked Isabelle, indignant and appalled.

"Because it's what Alec wants," sighed Jace, tugging on a few strands of his golden hair. He'd had only a few days to come to terms with his Parabatai's wishes, but he would not go against them. Alec wanted everything to continue as normal, to not cave to the grief he knew everyone was enduring. Alec had always been the strongest of them all, always the one with a level head. Who was Jace to deny his dying wish when Alec had given him reason to exist again? They were Parabatai; there was no greater oath in the Shadowhunter world than that. Jace would see to it—no matter how much it pained him—that Alec's final wishes were carried out. "Before he lost consciousness, he told me that Magnus could never know of how he died. I disobeyed his request when I contacted him. I won't do that again. He wants us to carry on like the family he has always known."

"But that's an impossible request!" shouted Isabelle again, tears freely running the length of her blanched cheeks. Jace couldn't recall a time when she'd been as vulnerable, not even back in Idris on that terrible day. "We aren't a family without Alec. I lost Max. I can't lose him too!"

"Don't you think I know that?" hissed Jace. "Don't you think I feel helpless? I have all this angelic power inside of me, but what good is it if I can't even heal my own brother!"

Jace was starting to fray at the seams again, like a paper doll that had been folded too many times. He was tough and resilient on the exterior, but his heart was breaking with every ragged breath that Alec took. When would the last one come? When would he feel that instant split—the kind where your entire body burned in agony. When would his Parabatai rune fade, and show the world that the one person he had come to revere above all else was dead?

Dead.

The mere thought of it had Jace gritting his teeth hard enough for his jaw bone to ache and protest, practically snapping under the strain. But Jace felt nothing; he was as empty as a shell. He could not afford to give into that pain while Alec still had life in his fragile body. Alec could not see his suffering, but Jace was certain he could feel it.

"We don't know anything about heavenly fire, Jace," said Isabelle, a little softer than before. She had always been wise to his moods, and knew when to resign herself to the losing side of an argument. "You can't blame yourself for this."

"Can't I?" He was back to pacing again, tearing a pattern in the tiles beneath his feet. "I should never have let Alec face Jonathan. I was right there. If only…"

"No. Don't do that." Isabelle's hand reached for him this time, and in true fashion, Jace shrugged her off as she continued. "It was Alec's choice. He knew the danger and did what he was born to do. We all know the risks when we take an oath to protect this world."

Visions of the battle flashed before Jace's burning eyes. Alec, in all his glory, perched on top of the Eifel Tower, picking off dark Shadowhunters and Ravenor Demons one arrow at a time. He had always been the best with a bow, and Jace had admired his Parabatai from a distance while in the thick of the fight. If it hadn't been for Alec, they would have lost half the Clave to Jonathan's army that night. But Jace hadn't counted on his twisted brother's sense of macabre. Jonathan—or Sebastian as he was known to some—was out for revenge. Jace had been overwhelmed with at least a dozen or more Shadowhunters with nothing but pure evil coursing through their veins. He'd thought it odd that although they had appeared from nowhere, they were focusing on solely him. Then he'd been given a reason for it.

Jace had felt rather than heard Alec's piercing cry, like a knife to the heart. He'd left him unprotected while Alec protected everyone else; of course Jonathan would seek to harm him. Not only was Alec a better shot than anyone on Jonathan's army, but he was also Jace's Parabatai—harm one, you harm the other.

He remembered looking up through the sea of seraph's and drops of crimson that obscured his vision. He remembered watching as moonlight glinted off the tower, giving the stage to two figures struggling atop. He remembered hurdling himself through the crowd, pushing both sides away as he charged the steps, caring nothing for who he had injured in his hasty attempt to reach Alec. And he remembered the moment when the pain had struck him. A pain so intense that Jace had almost lost his footing on the slick metal staircase. Almost. Half leaping and half running, he'd scrambled to Alec's side. Jonathan had long since vacated the area in the time it took Jace to scale the monument, but he could feel his essence lingering in the air and knew it had been his blood-bound brother that unleashed the deadly blow. Alec had lain motionless in his arms for what felt like an eternity before a sudden river of blood came pouring from his mouth. A large, angry gash rested across the middle of his body from sternum to stomach that Jace had not been able to bring himself to look at properly; he'd simply held Alec and whispered that everything would be all right as soon as they got him home to Manhattan. But in his haste, he'd forgotten that he was now cursed. Heavenly fire bubbled up from the depths of Jace's chest in a dazzling golden light, scorching Alec's skin and burning through his gear. Alec's muffled cries of pain had cut straight through Jace, and he'd let his brother—his Parabatai—fall upon the blood-stained observation deck to writhe in sheer agony alone. When the others had arrived Jace had followed silently, his tortured thoughts a whirlwind of chaos and blame. If he had not left Alec alone, if he had insisted on staying by his side during the fight, maybe none of this would have happened.

It was because of Jace that Alec burned.

It was his fault.

Jace had put the final nail in Alec's coffin. Even the Silent Brothers agreed that the injuries sustained would have been survivable had heavenly fire not consumed Alec's body. Jace had only wished to comfort his brother, and now he was destined to lose him.

There would be no absolution for Jace.

"I need to be alone," he answered finally, feeling defeated and not up to the task of entertaining Alec's wish for things to carry on as normal. There was a hollow feeling in his chest; if the pain he'd experienced in Paris was a marker for the future, he knew the loss of Alec would practically kill him too.

Jace absentmindedly rubbed across his Parabatai rune and turned for the stairs. He could vaguely make out Isabelle's disgruntled words as he walked away from the one face that reminded him so much of the person he'd failed.

It wasn't working. Isabelle had drawn the rune to perfection, placed her hand upon the door, and had even prayed to Raziel. But no matter how hard she concentrated, Isabelle could not hear what was happening inside of the room. She thought of the last time she'd seen Alec. He'd been standing in this very spot—looking a little worse for wear like usual as of late, but in much better condition than he had returned in—rattling on about tactics and protocol. Of how he was the eldest and should lead the charge, which Jace had then laughed off and told Alec where he could stick his brooding sobriety. Alec had tossed their brother a sour look, and Isabelle had found it most amusing. For a moment it was like nothing had happened, that Alec was blissfully happy with Magnus and they were all just going out on a routine hunt like old times. Alec and Jace had bickered back and forth about who would go first all the way to the portal, but as was with most cases, Alec pushed ahead and had been the first to converge on the scene.

Her big brother had always been the one to think things through, the one with the strongest head on his shoulders, always looking out for others. Then something changed inside of him. He was still the same level-headed Shadowhunter he'd always been, but there was no longer a light in his eyes. Isabelle had thought his defiant streak would run its course. After all, people broke up all the time. She'd had more than her fair share of breakups before Simon, but there was something different about the way Magnus and Alec were together that had done some permanent damage to her brother.

He was never the same after Magnus dumped him.

It was as if Magnus had taken a part of Alec with him, the part that smiled and laughed and loved with his whole heart. Of course, it was Alec's fault that Magnus had left him in the first place, but he was not fully to blame. Isabelle had tried to speak to the warlock several times, only to be turned away with a box full of Alec's belongings—a toothbrush, some black sweaters, a photograph taken in South Carolina with Magnus wearing an awful pink toga (She shuddered to think of why), and a few blades with runes etched into the hilt. He'd outright refused to discuss anything, and had since all but vanished. Gaining an audience with Magnus now was as impossible as hearing what was happening around her brother.

Isabelle's thoughts drifted to Jace. He'd been gone all of ten minutes before she'd taken to eavesdropping on the Silent Brothers. She could still see the look of defeat on his face as he'd turned away. It was then that she realized he'd given up. Jace would listen to Alec's ridiculous notions because they were Parabatai. She knew Jace would do anything Alec asked of him, even if it wasn't the right thing. How could Jace just stand by and watch her brother die? That was not the Jace she knew. This Jace was different, changed by the actions in which he blamed himself. Gone was the cocky boy she'd grown up with, the one who never paid attention to the rules or the wishes of others. He'd been replaced by a shell. Isabelle silently thanked the angel for not giving her a Parabatai. The pain of losing one seemed to be worse than the act itself.

Isabelle knew where he'd run off to—the training room. In true Jace fashion, he'd take his frustrations out on the wall, much like she'd done earlier when she'd smashed her fist through the kitchen door. The sting had left her hand, but the burns left behind by heavenly fire still ached on her skin.

She glanced down to the pale red lines on her forearm and silently cursed herself for losing her temper in front of the glow stick. That was what he'd been reduced to—a walking, glowing stick. Jace hadn't eaten properly in months and the bones in his face seemed more pronounced, as if the power inside of him was gnawing away at whatever sanity he had left. Not even Clary could calm him. Things were falling apart, and if Alec died, Isabelle knew Jace would die along with him. Maybe not physically, but he would never recover from the emotional toll.

Jace wouldn't chase after Magnus because Alec had forbidden it. The Silent Brothers had all but confirmed that Alec would not survive his injuries, that sometimes the body could not be healed with runes alone. And in Alec's case, only divine intervention would cure him.

"Divine intervention my ass," Isabelle swore under her breath as she withdrew her hand from the thick wooden doorframe. Somewhere inside the room her brother lay dying. Isabelle had sworn no oath. She had taken no vow. She hadn't even spoken with Alec since he stood right where she was now and flashed a wink a few days prior. And she was damned if some idiotic request was going to stand in the way of saving her brother's life. "Sorry, Jace," she mumbled before turning on her heel.

She only hoped that Magnus would listen.