#shrb24

This artwork was created for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver.

The Demon's presence inside the Father's body was like a slumber, sleeping through hours, sleeping through actions and events. Moments flickered by, too distant to grasp, too fleeting to experience. The Father was living his life by the next day, and Magnus was drowning in stillness, floating in and out of consciousness.

He could stir at points, be awake, a passive presence. But it was like trying to move through a thick fog, waiting to be pulled back under.

Then came his name.

''It was Magnus Bane, Clary.''

''...it would have never worked if I wasn't alone.''

His name. A call that sliced through the fog. It jolted him awake more easily than his own attempts and struggles. Magnus strained to feel more, clawing for control. The weight of Alexander's body was crushing and wrong. He reached out, but the limbs were not his own, the body was not his own, and never before had he felt that so strongly. Having been in different vessels a few times over the centuries, never before had he experienced this. Feeling so insufficient, restrained, possessed.

It was maddening, this half-awareness. But the name was spoken again, and Magnus clutched to it like a lifesaving rope.

------

With the arrival of the following day's early hours, Clary paid Alec a very insistent visit, after a mountain of phone messages, because according to her- it was so terribly reckless for Alec to keep doing any of the shit he was doing alone.

''It was Magnus Bane, Clary. He would have smelled another person a mile away, it would have never worked if I wasn't alone.''

''Right. So how victorious are you feeling now?''

He released a long breath. She knew him better than most by now. ''Where I am, victory isn't a part of it.''

''I thought so.''

''But I'm not waiting for a rush of pride either. The demon is trapped, another dark entity caged, another battle finished. What I feel is the efficiency of a completed task.''

She wanted to say something to that, while she helped him meticulously organize and set everything in the chapel back in order. No trace of the otherworldly and unsettling events prior. More people were going to attend the Church in an hour or two, and Alec had to prepare for his sermon and readings.

She examined the lines of his face for inner turmoil and hardship, allowing herself to look as worried as she was. She shouldn't be. Alec had confined and trapped a multitude of demons by this point, even if that was the first time he had locked one in the walls of his own mind.

''I need to know,'' she lifted her chin towards him, emotion swimming in her voice, ''Why do you keep up with this life?''

''I'm still able to,'' he answered with a rise and fall of his shoulders. ''Haven't seen a reason to stop if I still retain the ability.''

''You're only 33, Alec. Telling you to go into retirement wasn't my point. My point was, you don't have to carry it forward. You said it yourself, he's Magnus Bane, he's a bigger fish than we've ever faced,'' she pointed out. ''Why would you do something so dangerous?''

''That's the job.''

''Alright, and back to the question- why do you keep living this life? These spirits, these entities and monsters- they don't come to you anymore, you're the one seeking them out.''

''If I don't find them, someone else will. Better me than an innocent.''

''An innocent may be passing by the church one of these nights if you're not careful. The job, some of us cast it aside for a reason,'' she remarked, trying to calm her lingering discomfort. ''I wish Jace had cast it aside too.''

''Clary.''

''What?''

''I'm sorry for making you worry.'' Alec sat with her, having come a long way when it came to feeling comfortable with this. At this point, she was the one he felt most at ease talking to. It felt sometimes as though Jace was the central point of her universe, and if someone would get to the heart of Alec's loss, it would be her. Thanks to her, Alec felt no guilt about having trouble moving on. Because she understood, even when she was arguing with him, like right now.

It hadn't escaped her notice that Alec had done this shit at the anniversary of Jace's death either.

''Maybe I'll quit someday,'' he tested out the words, ''Just... not yet.''

''And in the meantime?''

''I have enough going for me in the meantime. This, what I've got built here, the Church, the people. I love this,'' the admission was settled in his honesty. ''I was never the most religious person in the room before. I didn't have any passionate viewpoint or anything. It was alright, but it was never mine. I doubt I've prayed. But after he was gone, I had to find something. And I found... a multitude of self-destructive methods to handle it, each more damaging than the last. Until I tried to believe there is something good out there. That's what the faith gives me, the idea of something good waiting.''

Doing what they do, it would have been harder if they didn't believe in better things.

''The other day Izzy told me saying a prayer was like free therapy.''

''In my world it counts,'' Alec nodded. ''Talking to the silent angels, I got to lay out how it feels without worrying about somebody's reaction to it. I don't know, I've been disappointed so much, it's good to have something that won't let me down. With praying I get to say... everything... for myself, something I couldn't do before. For every time I can't be myself around people, I can manage this. Allows me to say it out loud.''

''I know what you mean.''

''What I do here, I don't know, maybe can save someone? People who feel this way.'' He knew enough of them had gotten through something, and that was when believing in better things could serve them.

The same people who have been such a disappointment to you, because oh, you've been disappointed so much. The same people who can't compare to the silence of Angels. Are you hearing yourself darling?

Alec stirred and his teeth pressed firmly together.

''Is it him?'' Clary questioned quickly, her hair bouncing as she slightly jumped. ''Are you okay?''

''Don't freak out,'' Alec pulled a hand up. ''It's me, he can't come out or hurt you. Not having the control will only make him wither and wither. In a few days, his strength will fade and falter. When I find the right incantation against him, his power will start to decay further. And he'll be lost. Being dormant like this will end him.''

''How long would you be bound to him?''

''Not long,'' Alec assured her, ''He made sure in the deal to keep it short. So I don't get too much time alive. But my life is mine, and the time however short will stifle him. I might look for a more permanent prison, just in case.''

''Why did you have to tie yourself to him?'' she asked again.

''It's the only thing that could have worked. And it's me in control. In a twisted way, it's me possessing him, while he's a passive passenger.''

''Doesn't frighten me any less,'' she admitted frankly.

Oh Alexander, she's right. When you trapped me with you, did you consider it would allow me to learn a considerable amount regarding you. How much damage do you bet I can do with some vulnerable information? Endless source of it, my captor's life laid before me.

''I can learn a lot about him too,'' Alec countered, more to the demon than to Clary. ''If I didn't have the access to the way to destroy him before, having him in my mind will change that. If I've learned one thing about these demons in my time, is that the best person to know how to kill them, is them. The information is there, in his conscious thoughts. Where I can reach it. While all he learns about me, he's not in a position to use.''

And as he said that, Alec didn't sense the demon pushing again.

Clary put her head on his shoulder, and he rolled an arm behind her back. When all was done, he appreciated her caring for him, even if he wasn't showing it as well as he wished.

Afterwards he recounted all the important things to her, pointing out the side room, safe and warded, where the corporeal form the demon had left behind, the body of another innocent, occupied the couch. Alec had carried it as carefully as possible last night. ''I thought the human appearance was only an illusion the demon was pulling. Like others like him, the Greater ones, do. They bring out illusions all the time. Plus it was difficult to see, so I believed the illusion would vanish after the deal. But it's a human body, of flesh and blood, an actual vessel.''

''Okay, I would have been taken aback too,'' Clary commented. ''All demons are inhuman, some shapeless, others not, but always non-human. With skin more invulnerable to ordinary weapons. The books say the Greater ones in particular, because they are so old, are more shadows and darkness than anything else.''

''Well, this is a person who bleeds. The light bruise at the side of his face, it's because I couldn't catch him after the demon left him, and he fell,'' Alec admitted, his voice ringing with a bit of embarrassment and guilt over his slow reaction. That's why he had been so careful later, slipping his arms under the limp body, worried the slightest jolt might hurt them. Lowering them to the couch.

''Another victim of Magnus Bane's possession deals,'' Clary reflected. ''At least that vessel is free of him now.''

''At least. We can only hope the person this body belongs to comes forth.''

Alec took a good look at the vessel. It had high cheekbones and angular jawline, giving him a regal, almost ethereal appearance. The skin was warm olive tone, still keeping a faint, subtle glow, giving him so much hope that the owner of this body hadn't been squashed by what had happened to them. They could be saved. They could come back.

The hair was spiked and styled, a well-groomed goatee framing the face, the clothes a little fancy, but there was something nice about the way it all came together. The demon had used somebody with a style in details. There was a fitted black velvet blazer, its deep dark hue catching the light with a subtle sheen. The blazer featured intricate red embroidery along the lapels and cuffs, depicting symbols and delicate patterns. Beneath it, Alec saw a red silk shirt, the fabric staying elegantly. Last were the tailored black trousers, complementing the blazer. Completing the look, the vessel's hands were adorned with two rings on each, one set with red gemstones.

Alec inched closer and closer, wondering who this was. He was completely lost on it and his guesses all seemed unlikely, but his deep ingrained belief was that no human deserved to be taken over, pieces of their life stolen. Or worse, lose their life because of it. Like Jace had.

Prompted by that, he sank into the couch and took one of the ringed hands. ''You're safe now, whoever you are. If you can hear this or you can wake up, you can start over.''

The long, dark lashes didn't move. But Alec would still hope.

Over the next couple days, he used some of his savings and people who owed him a favor, so the person's body, although protected in the Church, would be connected to a hospital system and a fluid bank. Alec will come back to the man the following afternoon, and the one after that. Making sure there was always a blanket over their shoulders. Sitting by their side and reading them from whatever he could find.

Why bother so much with this half-dead guy?

The demon had made fun of it when the chance was ahead, but ever since Alec stayed persistent on it, strangely enough, the time he dedicated to the person needing help, was the time Magnus Bane would settle down from his efforts to take control, not another remark out of him.

So when Clary was at work, Alec would return to the man with a new story in his hand. He read about the ancient journeys of those considered just simple humans, much more than that at heart. Having proved as much by actions.

He read about Moses, leading the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. He read about Hadassah, later renamed Esther, a young Jewish woman who found favor with the king, became queen, and risked her life to save the Jewish people from destruction.

He pulled out the cross he always had around his neck, under his church apparel and clothes, and admitted that even though he valued it immensely, he respected other cultures, loved stories about other cultures and would be glad to read more from them.

On the third day, after he finished a book, reading until his voice was exhausted and worn out, he stretched his arm towards the other man again.

''I prayed for you to come back,'' Alec carefully grasped the person's hand, enfolding it within his own. His fingers closed around it with a reassuring touch. He just held their hand for a while, until resuming, ''Can you hear me? I like to believe that you can. I'm so sorry for all the harm that's come to you. But see, you're not gone. I think you can get through this and open your eyes and start over. I've tried to find your relatives, been pretty bad at it so far, hence you need to forgive me for that. Or not. Maybe you need to wake up and tell me to get away and get lost. I mean, I sort of expect it, though I hope you wouldn't run away from here afraid of me.''

The invocation was still being spoken, the blood on the pentagram just recently spilled and fresh, the flames keeping him at bay only soothing enough to see beyond, when Magnus's figure towered over the fire and his demonic eyes lifted with a wicked flicker. Whenever the place wasn't lit, his vision unveiled every corner, he could see in the dark in ways mortals observed in the light of the sun.

The sun painted everything one way, spiced and seasoned it into something quite unlike the original. Magnus didn't miss it now that it had set. He only preferred to be summoned at times like these. When the dark was unpretentious while bathing the nooks and angles not licked by the pentagram blaze.

The stained glass attracted him first, deities presenting themselves in their finest and their glory, in colours that were once richer than now, dulled slightly by time and poor conditions. Blood had been cleaned from the floors more than once, but the ordinary people frequent to this type of place were surely ignorant of it. Couldn't sense it, couldn't feel it.

No. Such people would come for the altar, the stand next to the freshly drawn pentagram where the Bible was read, the adjacent space further from Magnus where the priests delivered their sermons. People wouldn't care what has happened here over the decades, they wouldn't want to know. There were angel sigils spread over the pale walls, some that mortals may confuse with aesthetic, and some that couldn't be seen by those regulars even in the light of the day. Hidden from them but meant to protect.

This place was one of those then, the startling realisation reached Magnus about where he was. Where he had been summoned from. This church was one of those. An old relic where gifted half-breeds would hunt down demons. His observations ran cold and his eyes followed the scent of the blood used for the summoning ritual, having gotten a sense of the voice during the end of the invocation as well.

Clues were leading to the unlit hole where the mortal in the room foolishly thought Magnus's eyes wouldn't reach. ''Lovely,'' Magnus's words tarried on displeasure and animosity, ''To be invited here of all places.''

The human clutched the bandage over the cut on his palm, but the corner he had been keeping to was located already, so he found it in himself to step away from it. Taking hesitant footsteps towards the pentagram and Magnus. And surprise, surprise, he was none other than the head of the congregation this place housed, the Church Father, judging from the way he was dressed. In a traditional black apparel, with the piece of amice- a white linen and rectangular cloth placed over the shoulders- evident under the Adam's apple.

Magnus's impeccable sight catalogued his light and fluffy looking dark hair, falling over the light skin of his forehead, the little scarring on one of his eyebrows, the straight nose and the well-kept stubble framing his face. His bottom lip was quivering and from noticing that, Magnus was back to the small white piece against his throat, covering all the rest of the skin from how it was attached to the clothing. Such clothing revealing only the face and the hands. But the Father's frame and body underneath all that gave the impression of being more muscle than first bets would suggest. And it all started with the amice tucked by the Adam’s apple, which was quivering too.

Because the Father had been crying, tears dried on one cheek, some new ones quietly gathering at the corner of his unwiped eye, some forced to stay unshed. That took Magnus out of it, as it was strange. The man didn't seem to want to be crying either, leaning towards resignation.

Mortals had bawled their eyes out in front of Magnus in exceedingly overdone fashion before. But never held themselves in such a personal and resigned way.

Mortals had screamed their uncanny feelings in his face with all the grace of a pig running from the slaughter. But never these half-breeds, they had never so much as shed a tear when they wanted something. When they thought they were still due something.

This one looked somewhere in his 30s, old enough to feel shame and embarrassment at this vulnerable display. That's what his kind would believe, at least. An opinion Magnus could neither support nor disregard. It was too far removed from him to do so. Demons couldn't cry, so such displays, as well as the shame humanity associated with them, remained more outlandish than not. Was the Father as unsettled by those tears as any other half-breed would be? Maybe, maybe not. Despite his tears, he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve.

He drew his shoulders back with renewed determination, his gaze locked onto the challenge ahead with intense focus, his features quite nice to look at. He was one of the pretty ones, so Magnus waited for the bite behind the beauty and comeliness. After pushing back the whim of the tears, the Father found his voice. ''I don't wish to verbally threaten you,'' he got the reassurances gushing first, ''or challenge you. I only hope you consider a deal. I've been told you make,'' he swallowed, ''this type of deals.''

Magnus pulled his head back, looking down on him. ''Let's deal then. We should get more comfortable for that. Be a good boy and pull the rest of those flames away, so you can see me as well as I see you.''

''And let you walk out of the pentagram? I'm sorry, but not yet on a suicide mission.''

They can remedy that, Magnus considered, rather maliciously. From the moment the Father talked, he was again one of those. One of those assuming the privilege of summoning Magnus Bane, in front of all his deities, unsubtle in forcing them down Magnus's throat. In the Church, of all places. Not outside, no, calling Magnus up here. As far as the demon was concerned, that was enough provocation, and his dark thoughts were only a downward spiral from there.

''Could you not try to fool me?'' the Father requested, ''I told you I'm not threatening or challenging you.''

Of course he wouldn't challenge him. This one was another human, descendant of the half-breeds trying to kick Magnus's kind into submission, but nothing more. He may have some gifts, but he was more mortal than those warriors Magnus had faced in the past. Those warriors were in Heaven, but their grandchildren, the grandchildren of Magnus's rivals, they were still roaming the earth.

By the scent, the feel of the air, Magnus knew he could squash this one easily if freed.

Yes, the Father expectedly wouldn't free him, being told enough about the events before his time and his lineage not to make that particular mistake. Instead letting the bounds of the pentagram preserve his life. But dealing with Magnus- that was its own gamble. ''And what is it that I can do for you?''

The Father struggled with the tension in his jaw, Magnus cataloging the red and green from the dominant brown in his multi-colored eyes, ''Tonight is the anniversary of my brother's death.''

''Tonight are many such anniversaries. Hundreds. Thousands.''

''His name was Jace,'' the Father disclosed, narrowing the circle of endless possibilities, ''Jace Herondale.''

''And you are?''

''I,'' he swept a hand down his face, ''Alec, my name is Alec.''

''Just Alec? Alaric? Aleksandr with a k? Alexander with an x?''

''Yes.''

''Yes, which one?''

''Last one,'' he replied, looking worried about how many other possibilities there were.

''Alexander Herondale, you do know we're entering a very precarious line.'' One Magnus very much wanted him to cross.

The Father braced himself, ''I was told you can bring mortals back.''

Resurrection.

How desperate of this man to ask. Just desperate enough for Magnus to enjoy it, ''You think me capable of plucking whoever you've handpicked from the see of the dead and deliver them to your door? You flatter me beyond belief.''

''Him you can bring back,'' the mortal insisted with heart-clenching certainty. ''Him you can give me.''

''Because you want it so badly, your sweet little human heart would manifest it into happening?''

''No,'' he shook his head, ''You can do it, because Jace died as a demon. There's a good chance his soul is in Hell, and you can bring him back from there.''

Stalling for a heartbeat, Magnus took a good course towards examining this. ''How?'' he asked under a breath of surprise.

''Demon possession and a spell. He fought it for as long as he could, but the Demon, the Owl by calling, prevailed.'' Alexander stood to get his bearings, ''We were, um, we were here. I was telling him he shouldn't harm himself, because I could save him. But I failed at keeping him restrained, the demon overpowered our friends who were trying to stop him, and the Owl sucked the Jace I knew out of him. It was, it was months of him being out there and hurting others before my father put him down to end it. I haven't spoken to my father since, I just can't. I know why he did it, but I can't.''

''Are you aware that if I bring your Jace back, that demon may be back as well. A fifty-fifty chance.''

The Father ducked his head, ''I am.''

''But you're asking anyway.'' Fuck the whole belief system if the result wasn't up to these people's taste. Then why uphold the belief system at all? For nothing, to feel better about themselves. Oh well, Magnus would not regret tearing into this one. ''Nothing like this comes free. Tell me you understand the price you'll pay.''

''You'll ask,'' he cleared his throat, ''you'll ask for my soul.''

''It's only fair. You want me to attempt getting Jace's soul back, I want yours. A soul for a soul, very simple trade really.''

''Is there not a chance of anything else? Anything.'' The Father tried to negotiate. ''A bargain, an arrangement we can make. I would pull people back from your tracks so you don't have to deal with the likes of me. I'm the last time that happens to you, I can burn the books that mention you, I can burn the books that say how to kill you.''

A growl left Magnus's lips, ''There are no ways to kill me, I'm not the Owl.''

''True, you're a Greater Demon and beyond. But anything can be killed.''

The man truly wanted to play that game.

''Prove it,'' the demon called his bluff, ''Take your best shot.''

''I said I wanted Jace, not your head.''

''Tell you what, you show me those fatal books that can bring my undoing, and I'll consider taking someone else's soul instead of yours.''

''No!'' the Father objected hotly. ''This is just about me, nobody else. You don't doom anyone, promise me that you don't. No one else.''

Interesting. Magnus had expected him to agree. And cower a bit more.

But he wouldn't. Magnus stored that information in the back of his mind, and made sure it didn't show in his response. ''Alright, the deal is only with you. But I'm still yet to see any books that can doom me. Don't waste my time.''

''You really want me to threaten you.''

Magnus waved a hand nonchalantly, ''Please, threaten and challenge away.''

''Really?''

He smiled, ''As I said, take your best shot. Outdo me.''

The tightness in the other's posture was the only company the charged silence received.

Magnus threw his head back in glee, ''So I thought. Empty. Ultimatums. Can't say I'm impressed. Seeing as you have nothing to offer me, I think this was one provocative but futile exercise.''

''Wait,'' the Father said lowly.

''For what exactly? You narrowed the deal to yourself, but won't give me anything. You claimed your soul was not on the table. I mean, you need your brother back, but not that bad. ''

''Wait.''

His mouth curved, ''For what?''

''If I... do this, how much time do I get before I go. 10 years? Five?''

''None.''

The Father jerked back further as the words worked heavily through him. ''I don't understand.''

''Let me make it simple for you. You get your brother back on his feet, that's all you get.''

''You offer a few years to everyone else.''

''You're not everyone else,'' the demon insisted, decision firm and unwavering. ''Because of the history my kind has with yours, I can't give you the terms I give my usual clients.''

The mortal's heart was speeding up, ''You, you can, of course you can.''

''I don't want to.'' Magnus wanted his soul. As of now. ''At most, I may give you a few days with your brother.''

''Enough to hurt what I'm giving up. Suffer more because I know what I'm leaving behind.''

''Perhaps.''

The Father's fate was dawning on his face, ''How does it even... how do you give me a few days?''

''I can arrange it through the assistance of some lower-ranking demons in Hell, or I could tie your soul to me as part of the deal and take you when its time.''

''No other demons.'' The insistence was just as determined as it was alarmed. ''If my family gets Jace back, he would be vulnerable. Last thing they need is your servants involved in more details about the deal.''

''That leaves you with me then,'' the demon concluded diabolically. He had been hoping for the second variant. If the mortal signs a deal like that, his soul tied to Magnus, then the demon could easily take possession of his body. The vessel whose soul he owned. For a few days, before the man's soul gets sent to the pits of Hell, Magnus could be finally taking a vacation from Hell. More free to walk the mortal's world. He could be Father Alexander. Dedicated priest, directing people towards absolution, satisfying the calls for help and preaching his ways and religion.

Magnus could be having a trip in his shoes, meet those friends the man had briefly mentioned, the odds-on other grandchildren from the lineage of his adversary. Having his work of wiping them out and burying them half-done. The next time blood was dripping down those floors, demons could be spilling it. All that with one little deal. These commitments were Magnus's favourite. With somebody initially expecting to treat his services like buying a trinket. Use him for the deal and have their hands clean after.

No. In lieu of that , mortals got into a vicious spin to their graves. Sometimes, when Magnus came to collect the soul, he would do the honors of killing them personally. Not often, but sometimes. He could get in the mood occasionally. Like an itch to scratch when needed. The life had to be taken one way or another for the soul to be sent to Hell. Why not have it be taken Magnus's way.

It could be what he does this time. Extinguishing the light from Alexander Herondale's eyes himself, when their time together in the same vessel ended.

The easiest would be slitting the throat while he still had control over the body. But that was too boring.

There was something else too. Magnus found himself partially curious, about the other's life. Being so quick to refuse throwing the people in it under the bus. Insisting he be the only one confronted with the sacrifice for his brother. Why have it all on him? Martyr complex or people around him were honestly that valuable.

The matter of that drove Magnus to set their arrangement in motion. He watched the Father, overturned by his grief, give up on his soul. Ducking his head in slow painful agreement, thinking he'll have his last days for himself. But in reality signing away all that he had and all that he was.

Soon, echoes of the sinister contract reverberated through the walls, and Magnus Bane waited to claim it all. The ink was set, Alexander Herondale's soul in exchange for Jace Herondale, the enriching specifics added to it. The paper and pen were summoned with the demon's magic, whisking through the air to the mortal's unsteady hand.

Alexander wrote the fateful stroke of it, binding them with his signature.

The inevitable was committed, the glimmer of Magnus's eyes losing the blackness at that instant, a vivid and intense shade shifted instead, between hues of deep gold and molten amber. His pupils slit, accentuating his real countenance underneath the pure demonic nature of his gaze, when he stood rigid.

The air crackled with energy, an arcane force beginning to take hold. The ancient incantations echoed around the room.

A twist unknown, a shattered path.

For in the deal, a trap was spun,

The demon now, the mortal’s one.

In chains of flesh, his fire fades.

No soul to claim, no victory won,

The demon’s reign undone, unspun.

There was no Alexander Herondale to harvest the soul of. It was void, nonexistent, no man carrying that name. The Father's signature couldn't give the demon something unfound, imaginary. The Father was cloaked in a name that was not his own.

''Who?'' Magnus spoke in a barely audible susurration.

''Alec, like I told you. Alexander. I never said Herondale, you guessed because of my brother. I never lied to you, you created your delusion on your own.''

There was no Herondale. But there was the demon's extra terms binding Magnus to the deal, there were the elaborative nuances to assist him possessing the man's body. There was the mortal's sign on the paper, linking them and bringing them together.

The demon's core and spirit in the mortal's body, without the demon owning the Father's soul, that would be prison. Magnus Bane's own prison.

The demon’s eyes widened with a mixture of shock and fury. ''Every word you spoke, about your Jace, about the ache of his absence, about the desperate longing to restore him. Your grief over him.''

''It's all true,'' the Father replied. ''I attempted to keep my emotions in check, I tried not to cry, but- I lost him. I feel his absence, I miss his company. I feel the gap left by him. I wish for nothing more than to see him again." His expression hardened into one of resolute purpose. ''But we can't always have what we want, can we.''

He said it so simply. Knowing. Resigned.

We can't always have what we want.

He never intended to raise Jace back, wouldn't have gone through with it.

Alexander resumed, '' You told me to bring you down. I asked if that is really what you're inviting me to do. You were clear in your confirmation, asked me to give you my best shot. This is it.''

Then came the worst. It descended upon Magnus as his once-imposing presence began to flicker and wane. A violent, almost tangible force seemed to tear at the demon, at the very fabric of his being.

Magnus's essence- a swirling, smoky amalgam of golden shadows, darkness and amber- began to unravel from his corporeal form, being siphoned away. He expelled it in a fit of violent coughing, wrenched from his throat. It twisted and writhed in the air, a desperate dance of primal energy seeking to resist its inevitable fate. Drawn toward the mortal, where Alexander swallowed it.

The ritual concluded with a final, resounding silence and the pentagram fire going out.

He howls within the mortal’s skin,

The demon trapped, the prey to win.

A devil’s game, but tables turned,

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver.

I'm so happy to be part of this year's bang! I want to thank the organisers of this event, and especially my artist, Better_Than_Chocolate, for creating the incredible art you see below. It blew me away and helped me get into the atmosphere of the story every time ❤️ Check out Better_Than_Chocolate here and find more of their art and wonderful stories. Find their art post and their twitter here.

Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Mature Pairings: Magnus Bane / Alec Lightwood Summary:

Magnus watched the Father, overturned by his grief, give up on his soul. Ducking his head in slow painful agreement. Soon, echoes of the sinister contract reverberated through the walls, and Magnus Bane waited to claim it all. ----- A twist unknown, a shattered path. For in the deal, a trap was spun, The demon now, the mortal’s one. In chains of flesh, his fire fades. No soul to claim, no victory won, The demon’s reign undone, unspun.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

This artwork was created for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver.

Link to the art here.

Title: Through the storm, written by kate_kate

Read the story here.

I'm so happy to be part of this year's bang! I want to thank the organisers of this event, and especially my writer, kate_kate, for writing untill 3am some days and bringing my vision of this story into words❤️

Summary of the story: Simon Lewis is a young man on the verge of reaching his happiness: he’s going to be appointed as captain of the ship after an honorable career as a sailor, and he’s going to marry the love of his life, Maia. But envy and greed from those who believed his friends send him in front of the prosecutor Morgenstern, through a false, incriminating letter, and after that to a prison on a remote island no one ever escaped from. A meeting with another prisoner, Ragnor Fell, will completely change his life, though: his companion will give Simon an education he’d never had and a map for a treasure that will offer him the tool to get revenge against those who robbed him of life and happiness. His freedom will also bring him to unexpectedly fall in love again.