Magnus woke suddenly from where he sat in Ragnor's drawing room. He lifted his head from where it rested, an open spellbook – one of the two dozen beside him; on the desks he sat at, the floor around his chair, and in a pile beside him that was as tall as him when he sat down. Magnus was sure he had been woken by a bang. He listened hard, but there was no trace of it now. He looked up and, sure enough, the wick of his candle was burnt down to nothing, explaining why he was currently sitting in darkness. How depressing, he thought, flicking a hand at the candle to relight it. What on earth had his life become? Researching information for Nephilim children – for free! Unbelievable. He looked down to where a book lay fallen beside his hand, his fingers brushing the floor. That was what the noise must have been; him dropping the book. Well, there was no time like the present to keeping working on the case for the shadowhunters. Between the situation with Camille and the mission Will had set him, sleep had been scarce. If there was a noise, it was probably just a figment of some sleeplessness-induced hallucination. But, he was awake now, so he may as well shoehorn in some more work. Even if it was around two in the morning.

At that moment, there was another bang. No, definitely not Magnus. Then the noise began again, this time insistent and unrelenting. The front door. There was someone at the door.

If there was anything being a High Warlock had taught him, it was that late night visitors were never a good thing and always meant urgent situations. Or, more to the point, situations mortals thought of as urgent. They had the notion that everything was life or death, and he supposed it was for them. But there was no grey area, nothing between the two extremes. And, he had noticed, the mortal fear was more concentrated late at night, under cover of darkness. And whilst he knew it was their ability to die, for the worst to happen, that made them so susceptible to this brand of panic, the gripping fear that if they didn't find a solution to their problem right that instant, then all would be lost and they could never fix their mistakes. It took the luxury of immortality to see that, night or day, life went on.

Magnus heaved himself to his feet tiredly and opened the front door.

"Can I help you?" Magnus began, eyes blurry with sleep, then he stopped as his gaze cleared. Will Herondale stood heaving breaths on Ragnor's doorstep, hair plastered to his face with rain, water running in rivulets off his chin, slicking his face. Shadowhunters did not easily get out of breath, and Magnus wondered how far and hard he had run.

"Will, are you alright?" Magnus asked.

Will shook a little in the cold and sniffed. His nose and eyes were red, though he looked up determinedly.

"I am freezing."

"Come in." Magnus said, holding open the door was Will stepped out of the rain and into the dry warmth of Ragnor's entrance hall.

As Will dripped rain off his coat onto Ragnor's carpet, the warlock himself appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked confusedly at Will, then at Magnus, and his face hardened angrily.

"Magnus!" he cried. "Stop doing this!"

"But..." Magnus began in defence. Ragnor cut him off.

"No. Is this what it means? To live with the High Warlock of Brooklyn? Selfish, self-centred, arrogant children of the Nephilim appearing at my house at ridiculous hours? Two in the morning, I ask you! And for what? So they can cheat you out of some money, so they can manipulate you into doing their bidding? It isn't right, Magnus. It's always been this way. They'll never respect you, because of their idiotic small-mindedness. And they've given you have no reason to make you respect them."

"Ragnor, enough." Magnus said, sharply enough to actually silence his friend. "I am not doing this, and I am most definitely not doing it now. I will not throw Will out because you hate his people. It is not his fault what his ancestors did, and he shouldn't have to suffer our wrath because of their foolishness. He's never spat 'warlock', never broken a plate we had touched. He is not his ancestors. So I will thank you to treat him as an individual as complex as yourself and, as importantly, as the guest in your house that he happens to be."

Will looked on in silent awed horror. Magnus turned and took Will's shoulder.

"Come along, we can speak in the drawing room."

Will nodded mutely and let himself be led away as Ragnor, at the top of the staircase, declared he was going back to sleep, demanded they be quiet, and stalked off out of sight.

Magnus put a hand on Will's shoulder and steered him gently into the drawing room, where the two of them sat down. The warlock's eyes were beginning to itch, watering with exhaustion, aching with enervation and a desire to be closed in slumber right now. But Will needed a two in the morning confidant, and so Magnus would oblige.

"What is the matter?" Magnus asked.

"What makes you think there is anything the matter?" Will countered. Magnus didn't reply, and the boy continued. "He has accepted it. He has just accepted that he will die. Tonight, he said to me 'When I die'. Not if. When. He's just accepted the inevitability of it as fact. It...why should he have to? Why should that be something he accepts as simply as the knowledge the sky is blue, that we both know the entirety of the opening speech in Romeo and Juliet?"

"Perhaps that isn't such a bad thing, Will." Magnus said gently. "Have you yourself not accepted that one day you shall die? Have I not accepted that I will not?"

Will looked across, deep storm blue eyes on Magnus, his gaze like looking down the barrel of a gun. His eyes were like triggers of beautiful guns, filled with sadness, not gunpowder. And as he blinked, slowly and with his eyelashes clinging together with moisture, Magnus felt the bang of a bullet fly and puncture his chest. He exhaled and Will opened his eyes once again, gaze steady again. Magnus wondered if Will knew how visible his own emotions were, and the pain of that gunshot wound of grief bled – and would bleed – in Magnus's heart for long after the initial pain.

"I don't know." Will said quietly, and wondered if he'd ever been so uncertain of anything in his life before. Magnus watched as Will put his head in his hands, fingers knotted into his black hair like he was trying to hold his thoughts still for long enough to process them, like he was trying to silence the buzzing fury of anger at how unfair the world was. A gamut of emotions flooded through him, making his head and heart ache.

"Will, what I'm going to tell you will in no way suffice, will in no way make sense of what you are feeling." Magnus said, reaching forward carefully and prying Will's hands from his head. He stroked a hand down Will's jaw consolingly as the shadowhunter looked up. Magnus's thumb circled Will's cheek, comforting and reassuring. "It will be alright. I promise. And I'm doing my utmost to help you. There is a cure; somewhere out there, there is a cure. It just might take a while to find it. But we will. I swear to you that we will. Everything can be fixed, and everyone can be saved."

"Not everyone." Will mumbled, dropping his chin and Magnus let his hand rest against Will's knee, solacing.

"Yes." Magnus said, so firmly that Will lifted his head to look the warlock in the eyes. "Everyone."

Will awoke slumped against the arm of the chair in Ragnor's drawing room. His arm, which he had laid upon all night long, was numb and tingling. He looked around blankly to find an equally dishevelled-looking Magnus waking from the armchair he sat in.

"Did you just hear something?" he asked.

Will shook his head, his vision clearing as his eyes adjusted to the daylight. Then, he thought, there must have been a noise. What else would have woken him when he was so exhausted? Magnus leaned back and twitched the curtain of the window that looked out over the streets before the house. He turned back to Will.

"Stay here." He ordered, and got to his feet.

He bent down to a metal pitcher on the small table and fixed his hair in the reflection, straightening his shirt. He then seemed to realise the redundancy of this action, waved a sparking hand, and was rearranged to his usual dapper self.

"Who is it?" Will asked, letting his head loll back against the chair.

"Gabriel and Gideon." Magnus said. "I'm to help them collect their things from their manor this morning. I completely forgot."

"Wait, what about me?" Will asked, scrambling to his feet.

"Ask Ragnor to let you out when he wakes up. I don't think sneaking around late at night and falling asleep in some downworlder's house is the way you would wish to be found by your friends."

"They are not my friends. And you are not just 'some downworlder'." Will protested, but he had to admit that it was probably for the best he stayed where he was for a while whilst the Lightwoods left.

"And Will," Magnus said as he left. "I meant what I said: everyone can be saved."

Then he pulled on his coat and stepped outside, allowing the Lightwoods to lead him into their awaiting carriage.