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darkcolinodonorgasm · 4 years

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the space in between (1/2)

A/N: HELLO @courtorderedcake IT ME! Your @cssecretsanta2020 !! I am so so so so sooooorry about this delay, I swear I hoped I would have it completely ready for Christmas but I’ve found myself late and having to split this in two. I won’t tire you out with the whys, just know that the fact it was you I was supposed to write for brought me back a bit from the writer’s block so I will have to thank you - I really hope this fic will be worthy and show all my gratitude. Love ya girl, hope you had amazing festivities (and don’t worry, smut will be in part 2 ;3). For now, enjoy kickass witches ♥ (Also, a certain asshole behaviour will be explained, because you really can’t expect me to do my boy dirty like that, can you???)

Summary: Emma knew it was bad when her "brother-in-law" sent his girlfriends to ask her for a favour on his behalf. That was bad. So what was worse? Well, worse was realizing the half-elf she was supposed to find was the one she'd hooked up with a few months ago and never called her back.

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«No.»

No.

Such a simple word, full of meaning, one that should always be respected and honoured. Sometimes it was a plea. Some other times, an exclamation, but it usually was an answer to someone else’s question.

This time, it was the latter: a firm response, an irreversible decision. Emma Swan was adamant in following through.

Although it was very hard for her to say no to two of the three people she considered sisters. There was no chance in hell she would mix with half-elves.

Not. A-fucking-gain.

She wasn’t fuming, not yet, but she knew both Elsa and Ruby would support their boyfriend’s cause.

Of course, that was not the problem.

The problem wasn’t even how much of an asshole Liam was: as charming as he was with her sisters and pretty much everyone else, he was… dare she say, beyond horrible with her.

And to say he was her sisters’ true love.

Which meant she couldn’t just make him disappear from the face of the earth.

Pity.

«Here you go, lovelies,» Grace’s voice interrupted their stare-off. The lovely barista sat their warm drinks down in front of them.

Just by looking at each, Emma knew what kind of emotion they contained.

Her hot chocolate could very well have been a fucking tea with how much calmness had poured into it.

Well, Emma figured, two witches breaking into a fight wasn’t good for business. Add a werewolf to the mix and Emma should probably start charging more for her services or just learn how to spin gold.

Elsa’s drink of choice was hot cocoa too, but instead of cinnamon, she favoured a probably unhealthy amount of peppermint.

As for Ruby, she may have been raised with sweet tea by her lovely Granny, but she had developed quite the taste for spiked black coffee.

All their drinks had been dosed with one of Grace’s brews, which made Elsa bristle at the realization. A light snowfall started to swirl around her.

Despite her young age, Grace glared at the ice witch. «If you’re gonna keep that up, you know where the mop is.»

Ruby grinned as she took a sip of coffee. «Mhm, rum. You’ll have to keep it hidden, or I’ll be able to sniff it out, Gracie.»

Grace huffed out a laugh. «You already know where it is, you nosey wolf.» With that, and one last glare at Elsa, she went back behind the counter. Once again, Emma admired the colourful display behind her, her creations, what she had become famous for, almost endless rows of bottled emotions to help people during their day, just like any coffee shop would… just with a special ingredient to it.

Unlike love potions, Grace’s creations were more of a stimulus, useful to boost someone up during a bad day or give them a drop of luck if they have something they need to ace. Sometimes, though, Grace faked that, for she knew what these people needed was just the illusion that they could make it. She felt bad for tricking her customers, which was why she gave them cupcakes with a relax-infused buttercream. Also known as pot, the good kind, the kind wizards and witches grew.

These emotions weren’t an illusion: they did affect a person’s sensations, but they didn’t radically change nor created them.

Emma had been in awe of the young girl, as had pretty much everyone else. When vultures came into town and wanted her to sell the recipes, the whole population of Storybrooke protected her, although she demonstrated that she needed no protection.

With her witty brain, Grace had managed to turn the law against those greedy assholes. One does not simply ask a witch to sell her potions.

«So,» Ruby began, «why exactly don’t you want to help Liam?» At Emma’s arched eyebrows, Ruby gave her a tight-lipped smile. «Yeah, no, forget I even asked. It’s just… it’s his brother, Em, the only family he’s left. Liam raised Killian like a son after their father sold them to this crazy wizard to escape a gambling debt, and considering they were young half-elves...» She swallowed, and Emma couldn’t help the pang of pity and sorrow for the two young kids. She’d heard the stories, and given how serious they were, she bet Liam had opened up to them about his past.

Though stories usually were worse than the truth, twisted one way or another, Emma just knew those tales of torture and abuse were better than the naked truth.

«Why me?» she blurted. «I’m sorry, I know he’s basically family, but he’s been treating me like shit since the very beginning, never even making an effort… And now he’s asking me for help? Fuck, it’s almost as if I went back to Neal and asked him for a favour!»

Elsa’s eyes bulged; she’d clearly not realized how deeply Liam’s attitude hurt Emma. Her icy mask slipped back into place, concealing her emotions. «You are his only hope, Em.»

Her pleading tone almost broke Emma’s heart. Elsa never begged, ever. She always tried to find a solution on her own, sometimes even pissing her sisters off, and though she had barely learned to ask for help, never once had she begged.

Emma frowned. «I know I’m good at finding people, but he would be able to track him down without a problem, his kind has specific spells for that. If he can’t, there still is the globe, and even then, he would just need a drop of his own blood.»

The two lovers look at one another, a worried tension flowing between them.

Biting her lip, Ruby produced a slip of paper, handing it to Emma. «I suppose this is why.»

The moment she saw the symbol, Emma felt the paper burn her skin. Actually, it caught fire for real; the magic inside of her burned the paper to ashes, calming only when it was completely gone, the dust floating away from her.

Once her heartbeat had slowed, Emma looked up at Elsa.

they had lost so many to the Coven, some they cared about and loved, some they despised, but still, they knew they Eight very well.

Emma would never dare forget Ingrid, her and Elsa’s and Anna’s adoptive mother, how she’d sacrificed herself, dying at the hands of the Coven to protect her daughters.

Grace’s mother had been a victim as well, joining them only to protect her family and dying when they realized she was trying to destroy them from the inside.

They had almost lost Ivy and Anastasia, but the sisterly love, along with Henry’s desperation and love for Ivy, as well as a healthy dose of friendship from the people of Storybrooke helped them stay on the right path.

The Mills sisters were a different kind of mess altogether: ambitious, power-hungry and reckless, they’d jumped at the opportunity to join the Coven.

Emma didn’t mind not seeing their faces around town anymore, but the thought of anyone willingly accept to join those bitches…

And now they had a half-elf in their clutches.

She worried her lip between her teeth. The power of the Eight was beyond Emma’s comprehension, so powerful it was able to able to break blood magic.

What would they possibly want with him?

Half elves, or at least their descendants with enough elven blood in their veins capable of guaranteeing them the title, were still extremely powerful, but, more than that, their blood was sought out as much as their magic.

The blood of an elf was the rarest ingredient for longevity potions: it didn’t warrant immortality, but whoever drank it could live even a thousand years, if not more. Half-elves weren’t precisely immortal, much like witches or werewolves and many other creatures, they aged quite slowly instead.

However, it was their power that stunned Emma the most: while Elsa had ice magic and just that, and while Emma herself possessed pure white magic, elves used their link to nature to alter the elements, to use the inner power of whatever surrounded then to craft, to heal, to fight…

Their power was similar to Anna’s who could master the elements, all four of them, but elves were different: not only they could shape the elements as it pleased them, but sunlight, darkness, weather, even time and space were all at their mercy.

Nowadays, half-elves didn’t dabble in the darkest spells, preferring to keep a low profile.

It seems it didn’t work out well for Killian.

Her shoulders momentarily slumped in defeat, but she squared them up, turning fully into the detective witch that she was.

«What do we know?»

Ruby’s smile was so wide and bright it could rival the light of a full moon.

«Just to make this clear, I’m not doing it for Liam,» Emma emphasized with one finger pointed at the brunette.

«Sure not,» Elsa shot back from behind the rim of her mug, sipping the hot chocolate as if it were the sweetest tea she ever spilled.

-/-

Emma traced the photograph Liam had given her. It was of two young boys, barely eighteen, with striking blue eyes and dimples in their smiles.

They looked free, free of demons and pains of the past.

Liam looked softer, the type of guy you’d love to have as a friend, a big brother, or even as a lover.

But Emma couldn’t stay focused on Liam for long, her attention enraptured by the other young man, with his mop of black hair falling over his forehead and his pointed ears.

Killian. So that’s your name.

To her, all those months ago, Killian had ben Rogers. A fake name, she’d known that, but probably that was another way for elves to protect themselves, even despite the dead giveaway that were his ears.

She would have given everything to know his true name that night, the only thing he’d lied to her about. He’d just called her love or Swan all night long, but at least her surname had been the truth.

«I will call you, and I will tell you my true name.»

So this is why never called, Emma sighed to herself, feeling her heart tighten in her chest.

She’d met Rogers - Killian - about two months earlier at Aesop’s Tables, the pub where one went mostly to drink and get into a brawl rather than hook up with someone, which was what The Rabbit Hole was for.

And drink she did, to the point that she began flirting with the handsome bartender.

His drinks were pure magic, and she knew a lot about magic.

He’d told her his name was Rogers, and she’d told him he could call her however he wanted. Emma had never felt so free. It hadn’t been the alcohol, it had been the way she felt when she was with him, as if nothing scared her anymore and she could take over the whole world with him by her side.

It was magic.

And then they’d kissed in the storage room, and he’d made her come so fast it had sent her usually controlled magic crazy. The whole block had suffered a very long and inconvenient blackout.

But that had not stopped them.

That night, Emma had done something she’d always been adamant on never, ever doing: she brought him home with her. To her own house.

The sex had been out of this world, and they’d not even used any magic spell, the chemistry and lust between them needing no help in getting either of them off. In fact, Emm had not even needed to get herself off. Fuck, she’d even come just from penetrative sex alone.

And then he’d left early in the morning, promising he would call - she might or might not have written her phone number on his forearm. With magic.

And now she was fuming at the disappointment her love life had always been.

Had she been so thoroughly fucked that her lie-detecting power had fucked her up?

Guilt twisted her insides: she’d thought poorly of him when he surely was now in worse shape… if he even was still alive.

Liam was sure he was, just not within this world.

«Try to imagine a portal,» he said, treating her like an actual human being for the first time ever. «We use them to travel to other parts of the world, summonings open portals to other worlds entirely. Mermaids’ magic allows them to cross underwater portals. However, that’s not the point. Inside portals, time doesn’t exist, and space is crafted accordingly to the creator’s magic. Usually, you don’t see what’s inside of one, you don’t stay inside of it long enough. Sometimes, you feel it, especially if it belongs to you.» He swallowed, horror crossing his face. «Being stuck inside a portal is life-threatening in more ways than one. It doesn’t happen often that people have been killed by a portal gone wrong, and even then, you don’t hear about it until the magic drains out its master and it spits out their remains.»

Emma had heard tragedies like that could happen, it was a warning everyone had better heed when learning about portals or simple “poofing”, as many called moving from one place to another.

However, being warned and knowing it happened, fearing the same could have happened to Killian were two very distinct things.

«So he’s stuck in a limbo?»

Liam nodded, eyes downcast.

«I wouldn’t worry about it being a portal summoned by my little brother: they want him alive, and they want his power to be fully accessible and intact.» Liam cleared his throat. «Someone, or multiple someones, created a portal specifically to hold him prisoner.»

Emma’s brows crinkled. «It can be done?»

Portals were not her strongest suit; to her, they were just a mean to an end, nothing more.

«It’s not easy, and requires great power. You’d wonder why, since creating a hole through space is quite challenging itself, but think of it like putting a barrier between places, between one second and the next.»

With a thoughtful hum, Emma nodded. «That sounds like something the Coven would pull off,» she muttered almost to herself.

«What’s the deal with these witches anyway?» Liam snapped, but Emma didn’t take it personally, this time.

Truth was, she didn’t know either. «When they approached me a few years ago, it was because their leader wanted to recruit me, to recruit eight of the most powerful witches of all time, to lead and command and keep under her thumb. She promised unlimited power and she would do anything to make you say yes. Some joined her on a whim, some were forced to do so, some others managed to resist that irresistible offer, but still, they are always eight. Eloise… Gothel, whatever her fucking name is, has an agenda but she never shares it, or she just lies to the rest of the Coven about her true goal. That’s pretty much all I know. But they left a message, they left the symbol, which means they want to be found, or at least they want you to know it was them.» She studied Liam carefully, wondering if he was ready for the final blow. «They want to gloat, because none of those who challenged them ever came out of that fight alive.»

Liam crumbled inside at that affirmation, and both Elsa and Ruby placed a comforting hand on each of his shoulders. Emma, too, felt a pang of sadness: it was clear that Liam loved his brother, probably even more than his own life, and being powerless when his family was threatened was a horrible sensation Emma knew too well.

Still, he clenched his jaw and looked at her dead in the eye. «Can you find them?»

The air crackled, electricity snapped like a ferocious wolf’s teeth. For a moment, Emma feared Liam would lose control. Slowly, scared that any rushed movement would set him off, she nodded.

«I can. I still have their invitation.»

She’d not pronounced the last syllable yet that two sets of eyes shot daggers at her.

«You what?»

«Excuse me?»

The atmosphere suddenly turned cold, icy cold, and not in a metaphorical way.

Giving Elsa an apologetic smile, Emma shrugged. «I kept it in case something happened to you or Anna or someone I know. I needed to be able to find them.»

To her surprise, or maybe not completely so, Liam nodded his understanding, soon followed by Ruby and, lastly, by Elsa.

«We will need back-up,» Emma warned them. «The Coven is powerful, and if they managed to drain even a smidge of Killian’s power… we might not make it.»

Saying those words out loud hurt: there was nothing more painful than knowing she could fail in saving the life of a stranger who’d become so important to her in so little time.

«I’ll die trying,» Liam swore, determination blazing hotly in his eyes.

Emma nodded, not only in understanding but knowing too well that she, too, would die if they failed, but she would happily sacrifice her life trying.

«Then let’s make a few calls.»

-/-

Emma shivered, teeth chattering, turning her glare toward Elsa less intimidating.

«Was it really necessary?» she managed to get out without biting off her tongue.

The other blond shrugged. Emma knew this was payback for keeping the invitation a secret. At least Ruby hadn’t tried to bite something off of her. Yet.

They were all gathered in the woods north of Storybrooke, the nature all around them the perfect catalyst to aid them in their quest. They had lit up a fire for the spell, but Elsa had kept Emma wrapped up in some sort of bubble of cold.

She ushered closer to the blazing fire, and to Anna, the redhead’s hair catching the light of the flames.

As someone who’d never had magic until several years ago, Anna was extremely controlled, which was unexpected given her bubbly character. Or, perhaps, that was just a perfect balance.

«You want me to warm you up?» Anna offered, eyes never moving away from the dancing fire.

«She would just wait after everything is done to torture me even further,» Emma grumbled, numb fingers tightening against her ribcage.

«She’ll get over it. Liam will see to that,» Anna winked at Emma, who smirked in return.

The opening of another portal stopped Emma from commenting on Elsa’s sex life. When she saw who had just stepped into the clearing, her eyes widened and a full smile appeared on her face. «Lily! You came!»

The dark-haired witch grinned. She and Emma went way back; she was one of those who had been courted by the Coven. Lily had almost betrayed Emma, but thought better of it and vanished for a while. Eloise had, after all, told her she had dragon blood in her veins, and for an orphan searching for a home, that was treasurable information.

Lily had well since found her birth mother, and now they both happily lived on the coast of France. «When will I ever have the chance to bring those bitches down and see my friend in the same evening?»

Emma laughed, hugging Lily tightly before stepping away. Her gaze swept all around her, taking in every person gathered by the fire.

Six witches, a werewolf and a half-elf.

Taking a deep breath, Emma signaled for the others to form a circle. «It’s time.»

Once they all had taken their places, Emma took the parchment with the symbol of the Coven out of her signature red leather jacket. The paper was yellow now, but the ink had not faded in the slightest. The invitation almost burned her fingertips; she tossed it in the fire, and began to chant.

Wind gusted between her legs, penetrating through her jeans and messing up her hair until its coldness replaced Elsa’s.

Twice they recited the spell before Emma felt something prodding at her magic, something that wanted to keep her away.

Out of nowhere, a new, unknown force came to her help, breaking the hold this opposing magic had on Emma’s, shattering the wall it was trying to form to keep them away.

It was a force Emma had never felt or seen before, only read about. It was bright, like the sun, impossible to look at even though she was dying to.

Liam, she realized.

Emma had no idea what sort of elements was he channeling, whether it was something to force space to open up for them or some sort of inner power that could absorb the attack of a witch as powerful as Gothel.

It felt like trying to push a door open when someone was forcing it closed: once the resistance crumbled, Emma stumbled forward, almost falling over into the world of the Coven.

Haunting was the perfect adjective to describe the space surrounding them.

Smelling of death was another.

Emma felt almost like retching what she’d had for lunch three days ago. One look at her companions told her they weren’t faring any better.

All around them, what once had been beautiful plants, flowers and trees, was now a macabre sight, lifeless and rotting.

Emma wasn’t sure this was what Liam had described, but she also couldn’t feel Killian’s presence, if not a lingering, faint trace.

«Oh, love, I’m so glad you brought company.»

Gothel’s voice came from all around them, echoing in the air like thunder. «Are you trying to make me forgive you for turning down my invitation?»

«Actually,» Emma spoke, «I’m here to kick your ass, but you do you.»

A sickening laugh almost pierced her eardrums and, in a rustle of dead leaves, Gothel appeared, her dark blond hair braided in a heavy hairdo, her red robes threatening to crumble to dust with the next movement.

Next to her, Emma heard Liam suck in a sharp breath. Did he recognize Gothel from somewhere?

As if on cue, the witch’s piercing eyes focused on him, an amused, almost mocking smile playing on her lips. «Oh, you brought the useless brother, I see.»

Both Ruby and Elsa snarled at the insult, and Emma had to admit, she didn’t like anyone insulting Liam either. Anyone who wasn’t her, of course.

Imperturbable, Liam cocked his eyebrow. «That so?» he asked, his amused expression resembling so much, too much, his brother’s.

Gothel laughed a loud, annoying cackle Emma wanted to choke out of her. «Of course you wouldn’t know. You elves claim to be the most intelligent beings on earth, yet you know nothing about your own formidable power.»

Yes, let’s get the bitch rambling, Emma cocked her head, her magic gathering within her, ready to strike.

In her peripheral vision, Emma saw swirls of smoke leave witches in their wake, the Coven finally coming out to play.

Though this was their playground, she knew her little entourage could take them. Or so she hoped.

Revenge is a more powerful fuel that thirst for power.

«You fool,» Gothel repeated mockingly, «your power has been tainted, it’s not… how can I say, pure. It doesn’t respond to you anymore, its focus is entirely on your true love. Or should I say loves?» Even when talking so passionately about magic, she still was derisory.

For a being that claims to be thousands of years old, she seems not to have developed a good sense of humour.

Humming, Liam tilted his head. «So you wanted Killian because he’s not met his true love yet?» There was… something in Liam’s voice, something irrisory that escaped Emma until she looked back at Gothel.

It was just for a moment, for the fraction of a second, but it happened: the witch’s face fell, soon to be masked again, but Emma had seen that.

Does this mean…

Did that maybe mean that Killian had found his true love, after all?

Had he found her - or him - after they met? Had he-

Suddenly, grief ripped through her, making the ground beneath her feet crack a little. she had no power over the elements per se, but her light magic allowed her a few tricks. If controlled, Emma reminded herself, clenching her fists at her sides.

Did Liam know something? Did he know Emma was pining after his brother and had been horrible on purpose? No, that was ridiculous: he’d always been like that, had been for years.

She just wondered how could he be so smug in a situation like that.

Still, Emma could see through his playful act: beneath the mask, he was simmering with rage.

«I suppose it’s common for the Jones men to be tough to break, but to break someone’s mind and willpower is oh so satisfying.» Gothel grinned, probably aiming for a Cheshire cat kind of smile, but ending up just resembling some D-rated horror movie’s villain. «I’ll make sure to bring Killian your regards, love.»

That was the last straw.

Emma’s magic acted on instinct, blasting from her palms like lightning.

The fuck? Have I turned into Thor or something?

To her surprise, Gothel had unfortunately dodged the blow, which instead caused one of the trees behind her to catch fire.

As if hurt herself, GOthel snarled and soon vines snapped through the air, enveloping Emma’s forearms in a tight vice.

Though focused on getting free, Emma saw hell break loose all around her: fireballs, Regina’s signature attack, flew around them, only to be frozen and shatter to the ground thanks to Elsa. Zelena’s attacks were wicker and sneakier, but soon Ruby was tackling her in wolf form, the road to the witch’s neck paved clear by Anastasia.

More witches used their devious spells against them, never able to overcome their strength. Emma had to wonder, since the Coven was supposed to be the most powerful force out there. Had Gothel become so sloppy she couldn’t see true power anymore?

Soon, Emma’s entire focus switched back on Gothel, her magic unsuccessfully trying to burn the vines that trapped her.

Four small feet and something long and warm, trailed down her arm stopping at the elbow.

Hello, Bruni.

It took the blue fire lizard just one sweep of its flaming tail to free Emma just in time to counter Gothel’s blast of magic with one of her own, the explosion blinding her for a moment.

It was quite obvious that Gothel’s magic was related to nature, but she seemed to be draining it from all around her, unlike elves or smart witches who just took what nature gave them without demanding more. Emma had heard of witches tainting the elements, but she’d yet to meet someone who’d drained every plant in sight.

The fire lizard freed Emma’s other arm before climbing back up to her shoulder. «Bruni,» she murmured, «go have fun.

The creature tutted, scrambling off her body in a rush and leaving a trail of bright blue fire behind.

Emma turned triumphantly toward Gothel, now torn between focusing on Emma or the pest setting her lair ablaze.

With a grin, Emma cast a binding spell, but though weaker than her other attacks, Gothel managed to avoid it, casting a spell of her own, a blast of thorns that Emma miraculously dodged. Only a few sliced through her hair, cutting off a few strands. She almost gasped in horror at the sight of her golden locks on the ground, squinting at the grinning bitch.

All around them the witches of the Coven were falling, but not without a fight. One of Ruby’s paws was covered in blood but the wolf was showing no sign that she would stop, her tongue sweeping over bloody fangs, hungry.

Ivy was injured, her clothes torn and Lily had burns all over her thigh, though Emma knew better than worry about that: it wasn’t just blood that ran through the brunette’s veins, after all.

«You’ll never get him back!» Gothel taunted them, too calm or Emma to think the battle was over. She was right, even if they did kill them all, they still would have to find Killian.

This time, it was Liam who chuckled. «You forget, witch, that all I need from you is a single drop of blood. I’m surprised you let us in your… garden. Were you hoping more of us would come and fall so you could grow us all into trees to drain? Oh, aye, Gothel, I know about your reputation, how once you get tired of one of your precious followers or they begin to question you, they just seem to disappear. Not just that, I also can feel them. That’s right, I feel their dying spirits. It took me longer than I’d expected to realize what you are, but now I know. We’ve heard so much about you, nymph.»

Nymph?!

It was as if the world had stopped turning, time standing still as those who had not lost consciousness or were still alive, on both sides of this war, watched on, pausing their fight to listen to Liam’s accusation, to his truth.

Gothel bristled, green rippling beneath her skin. «Shut your bloody mouth, halfling.» Thick black vines covered in oozing thorns reached for him. With a mere wave of Liam’s hand, they fell on the floor, writhing like snakes whose head had been removed before they stilled and turned to dust.

Emma was impressed, she had to admit. And maybe a little bit jealous, but just because she’d always had a bit of trouble with fire spells and her magic had been… defective until she was a teen and Ingrid had taught her how to control it.

His words, though, were even more shocking.

Her mind was reeling: if Gothel truly was a nymph, she had to be powerful, or at least she shouldn’t have to resort to drain the nature around her to cast a simple spell, and she definitely shouldn’t need to feed off another witch’s power, or a half-elf’s wor that matter.

COuld it be that she’d lost her powers altogether? Was that even possible?

Emma wasn’t so sure about that: there must be something else, something she couldn’t quite grasp.

«I don’t think I will,» Liam went on. «You, on the other hand, will.»

A sphere of pure energy, which was also called the fifth element or quintessence, left Liam’s hands, causing Emma to actually fear him for one moment.

Gothel’s screech was so deafening Emma brought her arms to cover her face, head ducking between her shoulders as she pressed them against her ears, the light blinding her even with her eyes closed.

When her vision cleared, Emma saw Gothel still standing, unscathed, a portal swirling behind her. Her eyes widened in realization: Gothel had diverted the blow and whatever was on the other side of the portal had taken the damage.

Unless…

Emma’s brows knitted together, wondering, her thoughts interrupted by a muffled, bloodcurdling scream.

All the colour drained from Liam’s face, shock and unbearable pain slowly leaving place to pure unrestrained fury. It was like looking straight into the eye of the storm.

Before she could take the next breath, Emma was moving. She didn’t even remember telling her legs to move, her arms to reach forward or her hands to tangle in Gothel’s braids. She pulled, using all her strength until the muscles in her arms screamed, begging her to let go as Gothel struggled, her long talons painfully digging into her wrists.

Emma hissed, gritting her teeth against the powerful bursts of magic that were making her bones rattle inside her body. Yet, despite her pain, she didn’t yield, dragging her feet until she stumbled past the portal, its magic ruffling her hair like a caress.

One of Gothel’s desperate kicks hit home, and she fell with one knee on the soil just as the witch’s nails dug into her flesh, allowing magic to penetrate her veins.

«Close the portal!» Emma yelled in agony, fighting the tears of pain and hoping that someone, anyone, would follow her order.

She knew, as did everyone else, that it was a risk.

Nah, fuck that: it could be a death sentence.

But if I let her go, Killian will die.

That was unacceptable.

Gothel struggled against Emma’s hold, the portal wavering, closing down like an open mouth for a moment, too close for a moment before it went back to its original shape.

Reaching into the very core of her magic, Emma felt it surge from her palms, the white light absorbed by the mass of hair, spreading all through Gothel’s body.

The former nymph screamed, her whole body thrashing, but Emma held on, letting her magic flow until Gothel went limp in her arms, momentarily paralyzed in a stunned state.

The gods Gothel prayed and that nature she’d devastated so thoroughly didn’t have mercy on her, for they let her mind stay alert, awake, swimming in the terror that the knowledge of her condition brought.

Had she had even just an ounce of regret, she couldn’t have even spent a tear, nor couldn’t have she closed her eyes or screamed when Death showed her face and kissed her on frozen lips to steal her last breath as the portal closed around her, hugging her for a moment before shear through her body, severing it in two.

Emma sucked in a disgusted breath, the stench the inhalation brought didn’t help the nausea clawing at her throat.

She looked down at what was left of Gothel’s body just in time to see it turn into infertile dirt, so black it became a stain on the wet brown ground.

Lifting her gaze away from such a macabre spectacle, Emma took in her surroundings. Horror dawned on her: the space in between that Gothel had created was a perfect replica of her lair, of the dying forest full of trees Emma now knew had once been witches. Her heart beat painfully at the thought that maybe Priscilla could be there, too.

Tears pooled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. Grace didn’t even get to say goodbye to her own mother, and who knew how many other children and spouses and parents and friends never could.

Sweeping the wetness off her face, Emma whirled around, searching for the place where Killian was held prisoner, trying not to worry about how long it would take the others to reopen the portal again. If Liam can’t do that, we’re both going to die in here.

Her eyes settled on him before her mind could even begin to wrap around what she was seeing, and an anguished scream bubbled up her throat.

Chained to the big tree at the center of the dead garden, was the bruised, bloody, battered form of Killian.

More tears escaped their prison as she rushed to him, taking in every bruise, burnt, cut. She fell on her knees in front of him, right between his splayed legs. One knee had been broken, though it was probable that the leg had multiple fractures. His black jeans were ripped or were glued to burnt flash. Emma almost gagged at that.

His leather jacket, the same jacket she’d worn on the way home because he truly was a gentleman, was burnt and covered in blood, so ruined she could even smell the smoke left from a recent fire.

And his face, oh, his beautiful, beautiful face.

One eye was swollen shut, clearly the aim of multiple beatings; a cut ran along his right cheek, just beneath his eye, while his lip had been split open various times upon remargination. Bruises marred his once pale complexion, which now was a sickening yellow, not to mention his eyes and cheeks were hollow, clearly because of starvation.

With trembling hands, Emma brushed blood-matted hair away from his forehead. «Killian,» she whispered, «Killian, it’s Emma, I’m here.»

She only got a faint grunt in response, at which she rushed to break his chains with the aid of her magic. Thankfully, they didn’t require much to be undone, she couldn’t just lose time. She had to keep Killian alive, and without a thorough exam she couldn’t intervene on his wounds, as much as she wanted to.

«Killian...» she tried again, gentle fingers bringing his numb arms to rest at his sides before she reached up to cup his face almost reverently.

He blinked slowly, his only good eye now staring at her through a narrowed eyelid. The blue she’d looked into that night was duller, and it took a bit for him to focus on her, but once he did, a strange relief filled him before panic settled in.

«Shhh, Killian, it’s over!» Emma wondered how many times they’d tricked him into a false sense of peace before striking him again. They will fucking pay. «It’s me, Killian, it’s Emma, your swan.»

His tense body took several minutes to relax, but once he did, he croaked out: «Swan?»

More tears pooled in her eyes as she nodded. «Yes. Your brother asked me… well, it’s a long story. But you’re safe, Killian. It’s over.»

Hesitantly, Killian nodded, probably not believing her completely, and honestly, who would blame him? He stayed silent for a few minutes, Emma stroking his undamaged knee, too scared of moving from her crouched position and to caress him in any other place.

Clearing his throat, Killian drew her attention back to his face, where a crooked smile had broken his lip once again. «I’m sorry I didn’t call you. As you can see, I’ve been detained.»

Emma huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. Without her realizing it, her arms wound around his neck, gently, and she burrowed her face in the ruined leather. «You’re an idiot.»

«Apparently, they’ve established I’m your idiot, so you’ll have to bear with me for a long while,» he murmured in a hoarse voice, nosing her hair and inhaling deeply.

Emma frowned. Was he rambling some nonsense? She was about to ask him what he meant when the swirling sound of a portal opening behind her robbed her of words and answers.

She was supposed to let him go, to let the others help, but she didn’t let Killian go, not even when the others helped her drag him out of the portal into the real world.

Emma just hoped said world wouldn’t come crumbling down on her and break a heart that wasn’t hers anymore.

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