Chapter 29 : VICTORY'S PRICE
Valentine's forces broke at dawn.
I watched from the ops center windows as the last of the Circle soldiers fled through whatever portal they'd used to arrive. Magnus's reinforced wards had sealed the Institute like a vault, trapping the attackers between our defenses and his magic. Those who didn't surrender died. Those who surrendered would face Clave justice.
We'd won.
The thought should have brought satisfaction. Instead, I felt only hollow exhaustion and the growing awareness of what winning had cost.
"The count's in." Hodge appeared at my shoulder, a datapad in his hand. "Seven dead. Twelve seriously wounded. Max included, though his injuries are listed as... 'miraculously healed.'" His eyes found the evolved iratze still visible on my arm. "The witnesses are already talking."
"I know."
"Valentine will hear about this. Within days, if not hours." Hodge's voice was carefully neutral. "He collects Shadowhunters with unusual abilities. Studies them. You've put a target on your back."
"Better than putting Max in a grave."
Hodge nodded slowly. "The Circle assassin who got to him — it wasn't random. Someone told Valentine exactly where the non-combatants would shelter during an attack."
The suspicion I'd been nursing since the library crystallized into cold certainty.
"You're the only one in this Institute who would know that information and have a connection to Valentine."
"I know what you're thinking." Hodge met my gaze directly. "And you're wrong. I didn't give the assassin's location. I didn't even know about the attack until the alarms sounded."
"Then who?"
"I don't know. But Valentine has other assets in New York. People I was never told about." He paused. "He compartmentalizes. Always has. Even his most trusted lieutenants only knew pieces of his plans."
Convenient excuse. But also possibly true.
I filed the question away for later investigation. Right now, I had more immediate problems.
The whispers followed me as I walked through the Institute. Shadowhunters falling silent when I approached, eyes tracking the transformed rune on my arm. I heard the words even when they tried to hide them.
Heretic. Forbidden magic. Not in the Gray Book.
"Alexander."
Magnus materialized beside me, glamoured as a delivery worker but unmistakably himself to anyone who knew how to look. His presence in the Institute during a crisis was technically against protocol, but no one was going to challenge the warlock who'd helped save them.
"You have a problem," he said quietly.
"I noticed."
"The rune on your arm — it's not just evolved, it's different. The magical signature..." He shook his head. "I've never seen anything like it. Neither will the Clave."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning they'll want to examine you. Study you. And if they don't like what they find..." He let the implication hang.
Trial. Imprisonment. Possibly execution.
"I saved Max's life."
"With magic the Clave has forbidden for centuries." Magnus touched my arm, fingers tracing near the glowing rune without quite making contact. "I'm not criticizing. I'm warning. They'll frame this as contamination, corruption, demonic influence. The fact that you saved a child won't matter to people who've built their entire worldview on following rules."
"Then I'll show them they're wrong."
"How?"
I didn't have an answer. The exhaustion pressed down like a physical weight, making it hard to think beyond the immediate moment.
Izzy found me in the corridor outside the medical wing. Her face was tear-streaked, her combat gear blood-stained, but she moved with the particular energy of someone running on relief and adrenaline.
"Thank you." She threw her arms around me, holding tight. Through our secondary bond, I felt her gratitude — overwhelming, fierce, and complicated by the fear underneath. "You saved Max. I don't care what you did or what it cost. You saved him."
"The Clave might feel differently."
"The Clave can go to—" She caught herself, pulling back slightly. "We'll deal with the Clave. Together. Whatever it takes."
Through the network, I felt Jace's agreement — distant but present, his own relief at Max's survival coloring the damaged bond between us.
The fire message arrived three hours later.
Official Clave seal. Formal language. A summons that brooked no refusal.
Alec Lightwood, acting head of the New York Institute, is hereby requested to appear before Inquisitor Herondale to address reports of rune modification and possible violations of the Accords.
"That was fast," Hodge said, reading over my shoulder.
"Valentine works fast. Or someone in the Institute does." I set the message aside. "When?"
"Tomorrow. Midday. Idris."
The storm I'd been avoiding since waking up in this body had finally arrived.
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