The Lost Book of the White (The Eldest Curses, #2)

by Cassandra Clare

Alec turned and put his hand on Magnus’s heart, just above the wound. “If you died,” he said, “a part of me would die too. So remember, Magnus. It’s not just your life. It’s my life too.”

Someone, long ago, had told Magnus that human beings could never love the way immortals loved; their souls didn’t have the strength for it. That person had never met Alec Lightwood, nor anyone like him, Magnus thought, and their lives must have been the poorer for it. The strength of Alec’s love humbled him and lifted him up like a wave;

Magnus ran toward them—his friends, and the love of his life.

Jace took her hand, drawing her close. His arms went around her. Clary laid her head against Jace’s shoulder, and he closed his eyes; Alec knew what he was feeling, for he felt it himself, whenever he was with Magnus. That inner wonder at the enormity of love, how the joy of it was so intense it was nearly tinged with pain. Jace rarely spoke of his feelings, but he didn’t need to: Alec could read them on his face. Jace had chosen Clary to love, just as Alec had chosen Magnus, and he would love her forever and with his whole heart.

They would fight and live and die together.

You’re my heart, Magnus Bane. Stay unbroken, for me.”

“So far,” said Magnus, “life seems to me to be a matter of choosing love, over and over, even knowing that it makes you vulnerable, that it might hurt you later. Or even sooner. You just have no choice. You choose to love or you choose to live in an empty world with no one there but you. And that seems like a truly terrible way to spend eternity.”