***Alec's POV***

His wings brushed the cave walls as he descended further down. Magnus was still passed out in his arms. Alec was tempted to sling the hunter over his back. In his unconscious state, Magnus would not remember riding him. But he did not do it, even if it was only for the sake of Magnus possibly falling off his scaly back.

Darkness swallowed them whole this far down. His night vision took care of any concerns he could have about not being able to see. The floor was covered in old footsteps. Some of them were bigger than his own, others smaller. Alec had not been lying when he said the dragons did have a dungeon. It was where they were headed now.

"Mmmm . . . glitter glitter. Give me more." Magnus murmured in his sleep. Alec couldn't help but find his sleep-induced tone adorable. In his sleep, dark hair covered the young hunter's face, the fringe sweeping right over his eyelids. He was limp as a rag doll in his arms.

There was a small pitter patter of rain when they traveled down the steep decline. The adamas stones started to appear, their white light winking as his wings brushed them. Torch lights were an unnecessary burden when you could have motion activated light stones. Family crests were attached to several. Alec glanced briefly over them. Lightwood, Herondale, Blackthorn, Carstairs, Fairchild, Bridgestock, Wayland, Morgenstern, Greenfern . . . the list went on and on.

"How dare you . . ." Magnus's sleepy shout made him freeze in his tracks. Alec looked down at the other male, scanning his face. The hunter was still asleep, one his arms thrown out as if in a dream. "Take my glitter . . ."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Hold still Magnus. We're almost there." Readjusting the hunter's small frame, he continued his walk down. It wouldn't be much longer now until he reached the dungeons. The place Magnus would be staying until all this was sorted out.

***Magnus's POV***

Dream Sequence . . .

He was a small child. The yard of his home stretched on for acres, the grass clean-cut a perfect two inches. Horses galloped off in the distance, whinnying as their long manes fluttered. The ground was dewy wet. It stained his legs all the way up to his shorts. The cuffs of his long sleeved shirt was rolled up and greased with an old stain from a lunch long past. Magnus was skipping on the path of stones pressed in the dirt. It led back to his home. The castle he had always lived in since he was born.

"Mama! Mama where are you?" Magnus called out.

She was out front working on the mailbox earlier. She'd given him a kiss before he went inside for lunch. He was coming to bring her in now, before her food got cold. At this point it probably was.

Father was nowhere to be found. Presumably he was out with Malcolm, going over a new plan of his to make the kingdom better. Magnus never cared for their meetings: Malcolm was much to weird for him to understand.

Magnus got to the mailbox, the metal box coated in glitter just like he asked his mother to do. He reached out a small hand towards it, patting the wooden post. The glitter was still wet. He would not ruin the beautiful masterpiece. Magnus watched Melati painting the first strokes, asking for more and more glitter.

The crow landing on the mailbox had a different idea.

"Caw!" The bird crowed.

"No! Get off stupid bird. How dare you take my glitter!" He waved his short arms at it, trying to shoo it away.

"Caw caw!"

"Get, get, get you glitter fiend! Begone fowl beast!" He reached down to grab his shoe. If he had to, Magnus was willing to chuck it at the crow.

"Caw!" The bird flew at him.

"Ah!"

The bird's talons scraped the tip of his dark hair before flying away. Magnus glared at its retreating form, shoe clenched in hand. "That's right you better run! Or, well, fly. Same difference."

With that horrific matter handled at last, Magnus trudged his way back to the house. If Melati wasn't in the front yard then she had to be in the back. Sun dripped through the tree tops, casting warmth on everything below. His skin felt warm as he slipped through the small gap in the fence.

Magnus kept his eyes searching as he ran his hand on the the several metal bars. Each thud was music to his ears. The birds were chirping as they flew by, though none of them were those nasty crows. Flowery smell filled his nose as he arrived at the gate of the greenhouse garden. His small hand gripped the glass door before swinging it open forcibly, the rusted hinges making him have to tug the handle just that little bit harder.

"Mama! Are you here?" He called for her again, still blissfully unaware of what he was about to find.

All sorts of flowers were in the garden. They were grown in neat rows, cut on an arranged schedule best suited to their growth. The room temperature was extra warm, the irrigation system active somewhere in the back. He could hear the chipping sound of water spraying over the roses. The petals were pink, red, white and yellow. Magnus stopped by the white ones, staring in confusion at the drops of red on it.

Are those mutations? Sometimes different specks of color would appear on the petals. His mother called them kisses from dragons. She told him stories about how they breathed fire over the flowers they grew. Their favorite flowers were star-shaped with the rarest coloring of all: blue.

But on closer inspection, Magnus realized exactly what the red was for. His heart dropped. Blood. It was blood.

One step farther was all it took. Magnus took that step. There the truth was revealed, a horrific scene he was sure to never forget.

His mother lay a broken figure on the ground. Blood was everywhere, spewing out of her grotesque cut up ribcage. Her eyes were lifelessly glazed over. He could see no love left in them. Skin a pale white and her mouth was open in an endless scream. A scream with no sound. Magnus's own vocal chords provided a choking, broken noise.

"MAMA!"