Exile of the Clave

Exile of the Clave - Epilogue

Later, Alec wouldn't be able to remember returning to the tiny cabin to find it heavily damaged by some of the flying demons that had evaded the Faerie warriors in the skies above. Hunter and Aspen had fought side-by-side with Jem to keep the creatures from getting inside once Magnus' protection spell had faded when he was out of range, and both teenagers were exhausted but elated at having gotten to fight.

When the onslaught had suddenly ceased, they had known it would only be a matter of time before the group returned. Alec was the first to push open the battered door that was barely hanging on by one frozen hinge.

Jem rose from the couch expectantly, eyes bright with excitement for what must have been a success.

Alec felt a lump rise in his throat. I can't do this.

"Jem..." he began, reaching out to rest his hand on the other man's shoulder tentatively. Others started filtering in behind him, still quiet out of deference.

The former Silent Brother's eyes darkened as a shadow of fear crept across his face. "Where is she?"

Alec looked down, and Jem shook the hand from his shoulder. "What happened, Alec?"

"I-" the Consul hesitated.

"It was my fault," Jace said quietly as he stepped inside. Tessa's form looked even smaller in the gear she had been wearing to complete her role as a decoy for him. The chest piece had shifted while he had walked back across the island, and the terrible wound was no longer visible. He cradled her carefully against his body and dared to look up and meet Jem's eyes.

Devastation froze Jem's face into a mask. He crossed the space between them woodenly and reached out to take his wife from Jace, unwilling to believe that she was gone. She was light in his arms, but it was the weight of his grief that made him sink to his knees. He clutched her tightly to his chest and rocked back and forth in mute horror.

All of the Shadowhunters bowed their heads. Death was part of their life, but it never got easier to witness the anguish of one of their own.

"Ave," Clary whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. The warlock had been so much more than a friend to her for more than half of her life. She couldn't even imagine Jem's pain.

"Ave."  Murmurs rippled around the room as others paid their respects not only to the half-Shadowhunter, but to the eight other warriors who lay in the snow outside the cabin to await their final rites in Alicante.

After a minute of silence, Alec turned to address the shivering group. "We can't stay here any longer," he said quietly. The broken glass of the windows, the rents in the roof, and the door were only the physical reasons they needed to leave. The Shadow World had been rocked to its core and the survivors needed answers. They would look to the Clave for guidance, but from Cartwright's assessment, the city was nearly deserted, and Sera had already admitted that even Everett was out of the picture, locked in a cell under the Gard.

Diego straightened up. "You're going back, aren't you?" The Executor was no longer a pristine vision of Centurion excellence in his shredded gear, but he still held his head high.

"We're going home," Alec confirmed.

"Do you think they will accept you?"

"I have to try."

The Centurion offered his hand to Alec and clasped it tightly. "You're more than they deserve, Consul." He pulled him into a quick embrace and then stepped back and gestured to his surviving fighters. "We will return to the Scholomance. What you have done here will not be forgotten – we will see to it that others know the truth."