Emma stared up at the sky. White cotton clouds zoomed in and out of focus, dancing under a harsh golden light. Her head pounded, a steady throb loud in her muffled ears. What the hell had happened?

She had obviously hit her head, but how had she ended up outside?

She didn't remember leaving. She didn't remember anything after the mirror. No. That wasn't right. She remembered what happened. It just didn't add up to her current circumstances. She was angry. So angry. Steph had set her up. She had one last chance to get adopted and Steph had stolen it away from her.

It was for your own good! The memory floated back to her.

Yeah right. She meant it was for her own good. Steph didn't want to age out of the system alone, but she would now. They both would. No way in hell was Emma running away with her. Not after what she pulled. Emma was resourceful. She could find her own way in the world.

Or not…

Emma sat up slow, blinking fast as the earth tilted. Her stomach swirled, bile climbing her throat as she tried steady her vision. Large oak trees tipped and swayed, their shapes stretching like a reflection in a fun mirror. She swallowed and took a deep breath. She was in a forest, on the side of a dirt trail or road. The path wasn't wide enough for cars to travel, but she could make out the tire tracks in the damp earth.

"Okay, don't panic, Emma."

She pushed off the ground, carefully climbing to her feet. She felt like a child who had spun in too many circles. Her feet twisted with each step, propelling her forward. She grasped a branch and righted herself. After a moment, the dizziness faded, but the pain didn't. There was a knot on the side of her head, as if someone had hit her. Maybe she was the survivor of some sort of half-assed murder attempt. It would explain why she was dumped in the middle of nowhere.

But that didn't make sense either. Who would try to kill her and why? If anyone had a reason to commit murder it was her. She was the one set up. She was the one who had another family stolen from her.

It didn't matter. She needed to figure out where she was now. She could put the puzzle pieces of her memory together later.

She took a shaky step forward and winced. Maybe she was better off waiting until someone found her? People clearly used this trail for something and unless her senses were paying tricks on her, there was some kind of civilization nearby. She could smell chimney smoke. The air tasted like ashes and grilled chicken.

Her stomach rumbled.

The chicken might have been wishful thinking, but the smoke was real. Foggy gray tendrils wafted over the tree tops, and if she strained her ears, she could hear a soft rumble like thunder. Or a moderate rumble. The sound was growing louder, vibrating under her boots. An engine?

She turned to the right. A horse galloped into view and she rubbed her eyes, blinking. There was a whole herd of them, or a procession, or whatever you called a dozen galloping stallions headed in one direction. They weren't wild either. Each carried a rider wearing armor. Armor? Where was she, a Renaissance Festival? Whatever, as long as they could tell her where she was and how to get home, who cared what they were wearing?

She let go of the branch and took another step forward. Before she reached the edge of the grass, a gloved hand covered her mouth, pulling her back. Emma squealed. Thorns scraped her arms as they fell into the bushes, disappearing under green branches.

Their landing dispelled her attacker but not for long. Arms circled her legs, preventing her from crawling away.

"Let me go," she hissed. She twisted her hips, rolling onto her back. The person who grabbed her wasn't some creeper in a ski mask. It was a woman. She was tall and thin and young. Emma guessed she was in her mid-twenties. She was older than Emma. Not by much, but apparently enough. Emma was a fighter by nature, but the woman's hold was like a vice. She strained her muscles, twisting and bucking to no avail. Her attacker was strong and determined. "What do you want?"

"Shhh…" The woman glanced down at her, and her aqua eyes flashed yellow. "You're going to get us both killed."

"Killed?" She would have found that more troubling if she wasn't so freaked by the color shifting eyes. That wasn't normal and Emma was starting to wonder if she was really lost at all. Was she even awake?

The first horse trotted passed their hiding place, followed quickly by another. The brunette above her stiffened. They were slowing down, a carriage halting mere feet from their hiding place. A gloved hand pushed the door open and a long suede boot stepped down. Emma didn't see who it belonged to. Her attacker dropped down, covering them both with a cloak. Two cloaks. The top was camouflaged but the one beneath was bright red.

Emma said nothing. As awkward as it was being in the forest with a strange woman on top of her, there was a pressing in her gut that she didn't like. The dark boot had raised the hairs on the back of her neck, a familiar warning urging her compliance. As soon as these people were gone, she would deal with this crazy person, but she couldn't take them all on at once. Once free she would find a way to get out of there.

Wherever there was.

"Your Majesty?"

The questioning voice was deep and gruff, but wasn't the focus of Emma's attention. The ground near her head crunched with the weight of footsteps, careful movement shifting the branches above her.

"There's magic here."

Emma froze. The voice was close, but that wasn't what set her heart racing. She knew that voice. She'd heard it two nights ago in a dream.

Images ran together: dark corridors, a room full of glowing boxes and a spell book. She was searching for something, an answer to a problem, another way to accomplish her goal.

"The castle is protected from your magic." The voice was male, his face framed by a circular mirror. "Even if you managed to sneak in-"

"I won't have to sneak in!" The woman snapped. Her dark eyes narrowed into slits. She pressed her finger to a page in her book, scouring passages. "The child will come to me."

The dark woman had cast a spell, a summons Emma had felt in her soul. But, it wasn't real. Not the woman, the dream or the mirror.

The mirror.

It was all she thought about the last few days. The recent addition to their bedroom wasn't anything special in appearance. Thorn branches twisted the tarnished gold frame. The glass was tainted as well, her reflection warped and green. It looked old. Like a couple of centuries old at least. It had lost its beauty, but the aesthetics weren't what drew Emma to it. It was the icy tendrils that crept under her skin each time she gazed into it, frosting her blood with and electric cold pleasure. She knew it was crazy to believe her reflection changed, yet she saw her eyes glaze over, the emerald orbs changing to the color of frosted grass. Puffs of frigid smoke escaped iced lips and her skin glowed. She felt powerful, untouchable. She didn't need the system or its favors. She didn't need foster families or the birth parents who abandoned her. She just needed to trust the mirror. It would take her where she was supposed to go.

Each time the trance was broken, Emma was left disoriented. The connection to the glass scared and enticed her. It didn't help that it played tricks on her mind. The longer she gazed into it, the more her world and appearance changed. She shook the illusions off quickly, creating excuses for her enhanced perceptions. She was day dreaming, letting her imagination provide an escape. It wasn't like she didn't need one. The reality of foster homes were far worse than any of Grimm's tales. She loved to read them and had a few of his books, tattered with missing pages. The mirror brought the characters to life, weaving stories through her mind. She saw places and worlds filled with magic and adventure. They were bright and vivid, playing like a movie reel.

Until two days ago. She was lost in her thoughts, hovering in the forest shadows as a prince darted through the trees. She knew him, she thought. He felt familiar at least. He approached a castle. Emma was certain she knew it. What story was it from? She couldn't remember. She dug through her memories, squinting into the glass.

That's was when it happened. The mirror shimmered, rippling like water, and her reflection swirled. The beige painted walls shifted to dark stone and a woman, dressed in deep blue velvet appeared. She was dark, her aura seductive and imposing. Long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing high cheek bones and red lips. It was just a moment. Just a glimpse. She lounged near the fireplace, a leather book in her hand. Slowly she lifted her head, and onyx eyes found Emma's.

Emma's breath caught in her throat. She stared back like a fly caught in a spider's web. A wide smile graced the woman's lips and Emma spun. She wasn't sure why. Their bedroom didn't even have a fireplace. This woman wasn't with her. She couldn't be. Emma glanced back at the glass, goosebumps trailing her arms. Only her own reflection gazed back, looking pale and alarmed. The woman was gone.

Not quite.

No. She'd dreamt of her and now she was here, beside her… In a forest… with horses… and knights… And…

"I was in Phoenix!" She whispered, realizing the scenery was nowhere near her group home.

The brunette covered her mouth, but it was too late. Hands reached into the branches, pulling them both upright. A doze black armored knights surrounded them, forcing them to their knees. She hit the dirt and yelped as her hair was ripped back, exposing her throat. They were going to die. For what? What had this woman done and why was Emma unfortunate enough to be found with her?

She glanced her direction. The red-cloaked woman wasn't going down without a fight. A growl tore from her throat as her arms shot out, dispelling the man who held her. The cloak fell from her shoulders and her bones shifted, cracking as they changed shape.

Emma's stomach rolled. The sound was sickening, like splintering wood. The woman didn't seem phased though. Her deep growl turned into a snarl as her teeth shifted to pointed fangs. Her eyes flashed yellow and her pupil's dilated. Fur sprouted from her arms and legs, her nails stretching into sharp claws. With a final arch of her back, the woman lifted her head, no longer a person but a dog. A wolf.

The knight closest swung at her and she lunged, fangs clamping down on his wrist. The sword fell from his hand. His scream scraped Emma's skull, primal and raw. The sound filled the forest, silencing the birds and wildlife. Blood poured over the creature's snout, tangy and metallic. He was going to lose his hand. The wolf was going to tear it off. This had to be another dream. No way was this reality. Werewolves didn't exist. What had she watched before bed? Her group home didn't allow horror movies. No need to give a bunch of messed up kids bad ideas. Did Steph sneak one in?

That had to be it. Between a bad movie and the mirror…

You shattered the mirror.

The thought was a sinking stone in her gut. She had. Or, at least she had tried. She swung at the glass, but didn't remember connecting with it. Just falling. She fell, never hitting the ground. The wind swirled around her, squeezing her lungs until she blacked out. And woke up here…

"Enough!"

The Queen lifted her hard and the trees swayed. It wasn't the result of her head wound this time. The branches twisted, roots bubbling from the earth. They ensnared the wolf, snaking over her torso and binding her paws.

"Looks like I just found a solution to my problem."

The wolf snarled and the woman laughed, dark and rich. She was beautiful, more so than Emma remembered in her dream. She was also magnetic, a bright flame that was as mesmerizing as it was lethal. Emma had felt the warning in her blood before she woke. This woman's attention was not something she wanted to have… but she did want it. When she woke she felt as if something was missing, a need to find her, to go to her.

"Do you want me to put her down?" One of the knights held up his sword.

She offered him a sideways glance. "If I wanted her dead do you think I'd need you to do it?" Crimson nails threaded the wolf's coat, earning another snarl. "I have plans for her," the Queen said, almost lovingly. Without warning, her hand sank into the wolf's chest. The snarl shifted to a yelp. The branches around the animal's torso tightened and the Queen pulled back, a glowing red heart in her hand.

Emma's eyes widened, her lungs frozen in her chest. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Why wasn't she waking up? Why wasn't this nightmare ending? She didn't want to face this woman. She wanted to disappear, to run. She knew if the Queen saw her, she would know her spell had worked. Emma knew it too, even if she didn't believe it. The summoning curse the woman cast had landed on her. Emma was the one she was looking for. That's why she was there.

This isn't real.

She repeated the words, but they had lost their believability. She didn't know what or where this was, but it wasn't a dream.

"What about this one, Your Majesty?"

Dark eyes swiveled to hers and the Queen tilted her head. A feather light breeze slithered up her back. Emma shivered.

"What's your name, child?"

The voice was warm but Emma wasn't born yesterday. Even if the woman wasn't holding a beating heart, Emma had no doubts about what this woman was capable of.

She licked her parched lips, her voice cracking as she spoke. "Em-ma Swan."

"Well Emma," the Queen lifted a hand the carriage doors opened. "Why don't you ride with me?"