Killian stood at the dock, his feet firmly planted on the weathered and warped boards that somehow felt pliable, as if after hundreds of years on the seas, any quay yielded to his sure step. He reached beneath his shirt to grasp a small pouch, it's lightly textured material now worn smooth in places from his constant touching. For months it had rested against his chest like a talisman, softly brushing the skin, the lightly fizzing magic the pouch contained warming him as he lay awake on sleepless nights. Plucking at the taut rawhide drawstring, his rough and calloused fingers undid the complex knots sealing the pouch. Hands trembling slightly, he extracted a luminous object-a magic bean-grasping it firmly in his hand, resisting the urge to clutch it fiercely. Smooth, yet prickling with the magic of many realms, it weighed very little, yet felt so heavy in his hand.
It was time. Breathing deeply, drinking in the cool air, tasting salt on his tongue and relishing the familiar briny scent of the sea, he steadied himself. He summoned an image of his Swan, all sparkling green eyes and shining blonde hair. Love and yearning flooded through him as he threw the now-glowing bean. He heart sped up, thumping madly against his chest, his breath coming in rapid gasps as the swirling vortex opened up, emitting flashing light in iridescent, unnameable colors. Sucked in, trembling violently, he almost felt weightless for a moment before the portal spat him out. He collided face first with the hard, tightly packed ground. The air hummed and vibrated with magic. Her magic. Unsticking his hook and pushing with his hand, he stood, pausing to let the tremors wracking his body to subside.
A frigid wind buffeted him, nipping sharply at his ears, pushing and pounding his whole body. He pushed through the blasts, head down like a battering ram and approached the stark object that was this hellscape's sole feature: a willow tree that crackled with dark magic, it's whipping branches trailing sharp sparks that pierced his skin. He drew close, shielding his face with his hand and squinting against the stark white light beaming from in front of the tree. Emma.
Her eyes were inky and hollow, her face a stark mask, but he could still see her. Read the anguish and longing that belonged not to the Dark One, but to his Swan. A glint to his side caught his eye. The dagger. Emma had cast it aside. Her surged forward and knelt quickly before her, grasping her face, the skin diamond-hard and unyielding. He pressed his lips against hers, softly at first, but then with overwhelming passion as he felt her respond, lips full and warm. A wave of pure happiness swept over him as felt the air around them shimmer and glow. Magic thrummed through him as held Emma. Bound together by an invisible, unbreakable thread, for several moments they clung to each other, every touch like the latching of a magnet. When they finally drew apart, gasping, he cradled her face, drinking in her flushed cheeks and soft smile. Her eyes were wide and green. She looked up at him, face radiant as she said, "I knew you'd find me." True Love's Kiss had banished the Dark One forever, the dagger mere dust in the softly waving grass.