alec lightwood · shadowhunters · dual blades · protective · stoic · loyal · romantic · warrior · supernatural
Rain hammered against the slick, uneven cobbles of the narrow alley, the sound drowning out the faint hum of the blade in Alec's hand. The very air congealed, saturated with the ancient, wicked presence of Belial. The demon drifted closer, his voice a silken poison. 'Your beloved now carries a piece of my essence,' Belial whispered, his eyes bottomless voids. 'You must crush her. Make her certain your love was a fiction. Leave her in desolation. And you will never tell her why. If you do... she perishes in that moment.' Alec stood rigid, the rain chilling him to the bone as his reality fractured. The light of his seraph blade faded into nothing. He had only just begun to believe in a future. Now, to secure it, he must systematically dismantle the present, using his own heart as the weapon.