If Any Would Avenge

Chapter 37: The Author and The Raven

Storybrooke: A Few Hours or so Earlier:

The air of the woods was crisp and the morning sunlight shined down through the leaves, a serene setting that could improve anyone's mood. Still Henry scowled, his motorcycle was by the side of the road, refusing to start and his cell phone was completely drained of battery. Both having gone kaput not long after he crossed the townline back into Storybrooke. Mumbling a few swears under his breath along with words of disbelief at his luck, Henry glanced up and down the road.

"Caw!" A large black plumed bird screeched and swooped down at him, surprising Henry, the 19 year old stumbling backwards towards the side of the road. His phone dropped from his hand and slid across the asphalt, while he nearly fell into his motorcycle. "Caw!" The bird screeched again, its onyx eyes seeming to bore into his, angrily.

Henry blinked, studying the bird - he recognized it as the same one that had helped him figure out about another vehicle being involved in the crash. Though he wasn't sure how he knew it was the same one, he just felt it. Those onyx eyes seemed to have the same intelligent gleam as before, the only difference was that this time he felt a chill staring at the bird.

"Hello. You...you scared me." Henry spoke to the bird and approached it cautiously, understanding in his gut that it was more than an average bird. "I…."

Before he got more than three steps closer, the bird swooped at him again, this time hitting him and making him fall into a ditch on the side of the road. Henry fell hard, his head banging against the cold ground, and he could barely move his head without a keen stab of pain. Even so he opened his eyes and tried getting up, only to be pushed back down - this time by a person.

"Tsk. Tsk. You really should've left things be. You know?" Nemesis drawled as his brown speckled eyes peered down at Henry. "Getting Isaac on board with my plan was trying enough, but now that you told him just what it entailed….You're a nuisance." Kneeling beside the 19 year old, the cold eyed youth pushed Henry down again when the latter tried rising; and chuckled when Henry then tried reaching for his Author pen. "None of that, now." Nemesis grabbed hold of the pen and ink, and tossed it aside. His lips twisted into a sneer. "What to do with you?"

"What...who are you? Why…?"

"Take a guess, Author, dear. I'm sure your predecessor mentioned me during your little diner date."

"I…." Henry started to refute the other but then stopped, instead he gasped and his stomach jumped. "The Unwritten child….you're the child Isaac wrote for…."

"For your paternal grandfather, yes." Nemesis tilted his head, observing Henry with intrigue. "That makes me - or would've - your uncle. Half uncle. Doesn't it? But…." He bit down on his inner cheek. "You're also my...executioner of sorts." His lips twitched seeing the color drain from Henry's cheeks.

"I...I didn't...didn't know…."

"No, you didn't. Guess that makes you a tidbit better than those who forgot me. But only just. You're still as responsible leaving me to the insatiable void…." Nemesis growled and slammed his hand against Henry's chest, his fingernails poking painfully into the Author's skin. He clicked his tongue dismissively when Henry tried to explain himself and that he had only done what needed to be to save those he loved. "Enough. You have no idea just what…." He paused, tempted to squeeze harder and actually pierce the other's skin with his nails. To rip the Author's heart out the non-magic way. "Hm, I know...perhaps a bit of first hand knowledge will teach you just how you screwed me over."

"Wait, wh…." Henry shivered as Nemesis' brown eyes shifted to onyx and a searing, golden glow emanated from the youth's skin. The fingers poking painfully at his chest grew searing hot within seconds, scorching his skin and he gasped, unable to even curse from the pain. Before he blacked out, he noticed a gilded mark appear on the other's forehead and another on the hand digging into his chest.

X

Gasping for breath, his chest burning where Nemesis' fingers had scorched his skin, Henry awoke in a forest. The sky above overcast and the trees dark gray with needle thin leaves of a similar but lighter hue. The air was heavy and was perfumed with a coppery scent that sickened Henry, despite not being able to quite place it.

"Where am I?" He muttered and sat up slowly, rubbing his chest; his wounds feeling as though Nemesis' fingers were still digging into them. Pushing himself up from the ground so he could get a better gauge on his surroundings, a chill ran down his spine at the texture of the dirt. It felt like ashes or dust, but was warmer than he expected. Furthermore, he could've sworn he felt breathing coming from it. Staring down at the dirt, Henry muttered. "What the hell is this place?!"

"That is the question, isn't it? Or one of several I'm sure you have." A voice interrupted, one that chilled Henry, its tone familiar and unnerving. It gave a brief, breathy laugh at the way the 19 year old bristled before spinning around to face him. "Is that anyway to look at your great-grandpa?" Pan smirked, chiding Henry.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Henry exclaimed, his heart thumping in his chest and adrenaline pumping through his veins. He instinctively stepped back when the man-child drew closer. "You're dead!"

"Well….worse, actually. Did you know that if you go deep enough in the River of Lost Souls you can cross into the Unwritten Realm? No? Well…." Pan replied, stopping his approach towards Henry when he noticed how the other was backing ever closer to one of the trees. "Careful now, you don't want to touch the trees."

"Like I'd believe anything you say." Henry scoffed and started to back up another step, only for Pan to lunge forward at a magic enhanced speed and pull him back. The 19 year old struggled at first, terrified at the other's vise like grip. But as he did so he glanced behind him and froze. "...What the hell?" The 19 year old muttered, no longer resisting Pan's pulling him away.

"That," Pan said after making sure Henry wasn't in danger of touching the tree, which no longer was a tree but a mass of writhing dust struggling to grab the Author. "...is what those who fail Nemesis become." He stared unmoved at the tree, at its dark ash slowly stopping once the live visitor was no longer close enough to grab. Within seconds the writhing mass resembled the bark of a tree once more.

"That…." Henry swallowed, unable to form a response as he gaped at the tree and then the rest of the forest. He instinctively tensed gazing at the trees surrounding him, and only relaxed when he realized he was standing on a path with enough room between him and the forest. "How is that possible?"

"Magic, of course. Well, that is what I would say normally, but this realm shouldn't have any magic." Pan replied, glancing around at their surroundings same as Henry. "It shouldn't even exist."

Taking a few moments to study the forest curiously, Henry simply listened to his great grandfather but without really paying attention. His focus instead on the forest and then on his memory before he blacked out and found himself in whatever realm this was. "Wait…." He turned his attention back to the man-child. "Did you say 'Nemesis'? As in the assassins that killed Gideon?"

Pan cocked an eyebrow, before crossing his arms. "Depends.….How badly do you want to know that answer?"

Henry scowled at his great grandpa, who simply shrugged and remained standing idly waiting for the Author's answer. Things remained like that for a few minutes, both young men refusing to give up - a battle of wills, though any onlooker would mistake it as a staring contest. "All right." Henry sighed, growing more and more unnerved at their surroundings - the trees seemed to fluctuate between being normal trees and being built of constantly moving ash. "What do you want?"

"Want? Out of this place, for starters. It's too dismal for my taste." Pan replied, squatting down to pick up a handful of the ash that made up the path. Frowning, he held his hand such that Henry, peeking cautiously down at him, could see the granite hued ash. The Author's brow furrowed seeing the strange expression that Pan held as the man-child peered at the ash, and Henry was about to say something when his great-grandfather asked. "Do you hear it?"

"Hear what? There's…." Henry shivered then, realizing just how devoid of sound the forest was. Its silence impenetrable and complete. "...nothing."

"...of course you can't. You're both alive and unmarked." Pan muttered, answering his own question and ignoring Henry. Frowning again, but more depressed than angry, the man-child tilted his hand to let the ash fall back to the ground. "I can hear it. Their cries. Unintelligible shouts of despair. Pleads for mercy. I doubt Nemesis would show any even if he could restore them." He sighed and stood up, noticing only then that Henry was staring at him, suspicious and unsure.

"Restore who? What are you talking about?"

"The dust, Henry, it isn't dust." Pan gestured around them, and then at the spot Henry stood. "It's what remains of those who failed Nemesis or who he had no use for. I would've been among them if he hadn't discovered who I was."

"We...we're standing on the ashes of the dead?"

"Dead? No. They're still alive. Well, those who didn't enter via the bottom depths of the River of Lost Souls." Pan smirked in amusement when Henry gasped and tensed at the revelation, the 19 year old searching around wildly for some place not composed of the living dust. "Come on, calm down."

"But...these ashes are living people, we shouldn't…."

"This whole place is formed from the dust. There's nowhere to go that isn't composed of it. Sorry."

Henry gaped and shook his head, unable to speak for a moment as he wrapped his head around Pan's words. Calming the nausea bubbling in his stomach at the thought of stepping on dust that was composed of living people, Henry took in a deep breath and turned back to his great-grandfather. "What sort of hellish place is this?"

"The Unwritten Realm, of course." Pan stared curiously at Henry, his forehead and brow creasing in confusion. "Didn't you have any inkling where you were going before you portalled here?"

"Portalled?" Henry mumbled, shaking his head and frowning. "I didn't come here by choice. I was attacked by…." He faltered a moment as he recalled the one who'd accosted him. His unwritten, should've been uncle. "...and then I woke up here."

Pan scowled, his expression shifting. "...please tell me you have the Author's pen with you at least?" The man-child's face contorted with rage when Henry shook his head.

"He tossed it away from me before…."

"What?!" Pan hollered, his cheeks drained of color and eyes livid. "What the fuck am I helping you for?! If you don't have the means to escape, why the fucking hell am I wasting my time with you?!" The man-child seethed and stalked down the path away from Henry, ignoring the Author completely.

"Hey! Wait!" Henry shouted towards Peter Pan's retreating back, the man-child sulking and muttering to himself furiously. Unable to get more than a grunt or shoo gesture in response, Henry sped-walked in the same direction of his great-grandfather. Pan simply walked faster, his speed enhanced by his magic, and didn't bother to pay any mind to Henry or stop until the forest ended.

Reaching the last foot of path, which continued slightly further than the forest, Pan scowled and gazed up at his bleak surroundings. The sky overhead much darker than the gray, ashy one over the forest, and the air heavier with the coppery scent plaguing the entire realm, the empty expanse before him chilled Pan. Despite seeing it multiple times since passing through a crevice in the depths of the River of Lost Souls, he still found it shocking.

"H….whoa. What's…." Henry stammered upon reaching the end of the path, his brown eyes grown wide. Stretching out before him was what he could only describe as an abyss, deeper and wider than anything he ever imagined. Devoid of light, matter, sound, etc, the void stretched on and on, into a non existent horizon. Only the sky above seemed to exist, but on closer inspection, he realized that was only because the gray ash clouds from the forest continued a bit further after the path's end. "What is that?"

"The Abyss. That's what I call it, at least." Pan grimaced, uncomfortable standing there and staring into the endless expanse. He hadn't meant to come this way, but had been blinded to what direction he was going after getting frustrated by Henry. "Nemesis calls it the 'heart' of the realm. It's been called the Void as well, many of the voices in the ash call it that when they beg to be thrown into it."

Henry gaped at Pan, his chest burning with the rapid palpitations of his heart. "They beg to be thrown into that?!"

"Yes." The man-child replied, staring into the Abyss, a seriousness to his tone that quieted any disbelief Henry had. "It's a much more...merciful fate. Being consumed and erased in the void, rather than existing as conscious dust." Pan shivered and suddenly turned away from the endless nothingness, unable to endure gazing any longer at it. Henry quietly followed suit, and further walked along with his great-grandfather when Pan continued back down the path. A handful or two of minutes passed before either spoke, and not until the void was out of sight.

"That...how...why does that even exist?" Henry questioned, fighting the urge to glance back despite the the distance between them and the void was enough to obscure it.

"Wrong question." His great-grandfather muttered, rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue. "This is the Unwritten Realm." He looked askance at Henry and sighed when the Author simply returned a confused gaze. "Seriously."

"What?"

"The right question is how does this exists?" He gestured to the trees, ground, and sky around them. "Nothing should exist here. Nothing." He paused, grimacing. "Of course, I appreciate that it does, otherwise I'd already be…."

"Erased?" Henry whispered, chewing on his lip, guilt nibbling at his gut and wondered if this is what the Unwritten child meant by the hell he experienced. Pan nodded. "So...how...is there a way out?"

"Heh." Pan chortled, bitterness soaked in each laugh. "Aside from Nemesis' magic? Only powerful outside magic, like that which the Author wields can allow passage out." There was another handful of moments of quiet, both of them walking slowly forward.

Henry stopped, mulling over an idea. "If we just need powerful outside magic, then my mom could help. Savior magic should work, right? We just need to get ahold of her."

"Maybe." Pan frowned, wincing a bit as one of the voices crying out from the ash grew louder and more incessant. He rubbed his head, listening to the voice without any real choice and his expression shifted. "Actually, no. That won't be enough."

"Why not? I'm sure my moms will do everything they can to…."

Pan merely pointed towards one of the trees, its branch shifting into a faceless, humanoid figure. "Apparently a savior before your mom found their way here. And well…it wasn't enough to escape."

Henry froze, blanching even as the tree branch shifted back to a normal one. "I…." Shaking away his despair, he muttered. "My moms will find a way. Our family always find a way out of situations like these. We just need to get ahold of them and tell them where we are."

"You have a lot of faith in your family…." Pan mumbled, grimacing and crossing his arms. "It won't matter, according to the dust, the only one who ever escaped without Nemesis' say was an Author, and…." He paused, listening to another voice calling from the dust, this one coming from a mass of moss clinging to an approaching mountain base. "Oh? Of course he would…."

"...What?" Henry asked, curious but also suspicious at his great-grandfather 'communicating' with the living dust.

"Apparently, someone else escaped the realm without Nemesis' aid. That blasted son of mine."

"Wait. Grandpa was here? And he escaped?" Henry blinked, relief sinking into him the next moment. If Gold had come to and left the Unwritten realm before, then certainly he could do so again.

"No." Pan pursed his lips and shook his head, understanding his great-grandson's thoughts just by glancing at him. "That's not….there needs to be some other way. Not him."

"Why…." Henry sighed and rolled his eyes. "He'll likely help me but not you, that's why you don't want to contact Rumplestiltskin." He grimaced, mulling things over. "If you help me get in contact with Storybrooke, then I'm sure I can get my moms to help bring you back to the Underworld. At least it'll be away from this...place."

Pan's lips remained pursed and he shook his head, a bizarre glimmer of fear in his eyes.

"Wha…."

"Ah. Interesting." Nemesis chuckled, appearing behind the man-child. His voice caused Pan to bristle, while Henry tensed before furrowing his brow, confused by his great-grandfather's fear. "Here I was under the impression you could beg forgiveness and that would make the Dark One come here. That's what you told me anyway."

"Nemesis, I...I can…." Pan muttered, shaking; his eyes darting towards the trees as though terrified of his future. In front of him, Henry first raised his eyebrows in disbelief and then gaped, shocked. Whether more from his great-grandfather's fear or the name Pan used was uncertain.

"But that was...a lie?" Nemesis whispered, the next moment sinking his hand in the man-child's back, his brown speckled eyes glowing ochre in hue. Within seconds Pan turned into an ash statue and then crumbled, his remains dispersing in the air.

Henry gawked, horrified as he saw his great-grandfather crumble into dust, and his breath caught when the unwritten youth flitted his gaze to him. The youth speckled brown eyes stared into his, the heavy darkness of the realm shaded Nemesis' eyes and made them appear like the abyss at the end of the path. His heartbeat quickening, Henry backed away from Nemesis.

The youth merely grinned coldly and then vanished, leaving behind just a single, ebony feather

Author's Note: It's been a while since I updated, partly due to tweaking what I wrote until I was satisfied with it and partly due to me wanting to finish the story in its entirety before uploading again. I've been wanting to start writing another story that I have brainstormed after rewatching Once Upon a Time from the beginning, but I'm reluctant to do so without having a significant amount of chapters ready to post for this story, since I have a terrible habit of not finishing stories once I start new ones. I have 3 chapters ready or nearly ready to post to this story, including this one.