"Have you heard anything from Weaver?" Ivy left Tilly to her atlases to find Neal in the kitchen.

"Actually, I was just about to look for you." Neal brandished his cell phone like a trophy. "Turns out Nick ran away from home, they think."

Ivy nodded. "I told you he was the killer."

"It doesn't prove his guilt," Neal objected.

"But it is suggestive." Ivy peered at the phone. "Did they find him, then?"

"Not yet, but they have a lead." Neal scrolled up through the messages. "Nick was seen at a camp store near Olympic National Park. Weaver and Rogers are heading out there to organize a manhunt."

"Hmm. Well, Hansel was the son of a wood cutter, so he knows his way around a forest."

"He's outnumbered, though. And Weaver won't give up easily."

Ivy scoffed. "No kidding. How many centuries did you say it was before he found you?"

"More like I found him, but yeah, he's pretty tenacious." Neal put his phone away. "So what about your, um, security system? Are we safe here?"

"Yeah, no problem." Ivy checked that neither Tilly nor Stacy were around, then said, "Nothing's disturbed the wards I set around the house."

Neal nodded. "Good. I'm gonna head out later, see how Henry's taking all this."

"You know, tomorrow is the first day of school. Stacy will be annoyed if she misses it. Maybe..."

"You're joking. With a killer still on the loose?"

Ivy shrugged. "All the way out on the peninsula, with the cops looking for him. While you've been sitting on your ass, I made some obfuscation and protection charms, the wearable kind. I can give you one for Henry if you like."

Neal groaned. "It was bad enough when I gave him the fairy tale book. How the heck am I supposed to explain a magic charm? Much less get him to wear it?"

"Fine." Ivy had to admit he had a point. She had been planning to slip a charm into Stacy's backpack, but there were other ways. "How about this, I can put the spell into something edible. It'll wear off after about a day, but better than nothing."

"Yeah, that could work. Thanks, Ivy."

"Does he like chocolate? Hershey's Kisses work well. The shape is easy to enchant — you know, like little pyramids."

"Huh." Neal looked at her in bemusement. "Really?"

"Why would I lie?"

"For shits and giggles?"

Ivy rolled her eyes. "As you clearly have nothing useful to add, I'll go get started."

Hansel had never traveled at such speeds before. No one in the Enchanted Forest traveled this fast without magic, but Nick's memories insisted that this vehicle, this automobile, wasn't magic. Hansel was terrified at first, but the part of him that was Nick reveled in the freedom of the highway.

The miles rushed past, almost hypnotic, and false memories of driving merged into the true ones forged as he headed into the sunrise. It was only when the sun had set behind him and he looked for someplace cheap to stay for the night that he encountered his first real obstacle. None of the motels would rent to a minor, and Nick didn't have a fake ID. Perhaps he could have talked someone into it if he had been willing to use his father's — or rather, Baron Samdi's — credit card, but Hansel didn't want to leave an obvious trail.

"So I'll save some money," Hansel told himself. "And it's not as if I never slept on the ground before." And the car was more comfortable than the ground.

From now on, Hansel would stay away from inns. It had been foolish to risk it, he thought. The fact of his presence, that he was seeking a room, would leave a trail in the memories of the inn workers. If someone sought to find him, they would only have to ask the right questions of the right person.

No. He would talk to as few people as possible. That's what he should have done in the first place, if he had taken more time to think it through instead of leaving in such a hurry. But no, it hadn't been safe in Hyperion Heights, not with Facilier awake and full of dark magic and eyes that saw too much. With the distance of a long day's drive between them, Hansel hoped that Facilier wouldn't consider him worth the trouble of tracking down. He hoped as well that Facilier would ignore Henry as he had done so far. Facilier might be in love with Captain Manzana, but for whatever reason, that hadn't carried over with the curse, and Facilier showed no more interest in Roni than Samdi had (according to Nick's memories).

There was still the Dark One, of course. But knowing what he had read in Henry's book, Hansel thought that the Dark One was likelier to protect his grandson than to harm him. Hansel only regretted not having had time to set up some secure method of contacting Henry. Henry would be worried, probably upset, that Nick had up and left without a word to him.

Well, done was done. Hansel just had to do what he had to do as quickly as he could. If he survived, he would return to Hyperion Heights for Henry.

In the turning of the season, Gothel sensed the turning of the age. Some seeds were sown in the spring, but fall was also a time to plant. That time was now.

The most disloyal of her disciples had betrayed her, but it was no matter. Gothel had arranged her own salvation before the curse had been cast: Ivy couldn't bind her. Ivy couldn't blind her. Gothel followed the spore of Ivy's magic to the one she tried to hide.

Anastasia.

Gothel had her amulet again, purified of Rapunzel's blood taint. Through it, she shared the vision of trees. They watched the child, Ivy's sister. An innocent heart, bleached clean under the ice, Anastasia was now a void ready to be filled by Gothel's purpose. Ready to become more than she was. Ready to become the Guardian.

Gothel laid the trail for the child to follow. Tiny yellow flowers sprouted in the cracks where earth broke through the pavement, the cracks where the curse had splintered reality. Gothel used no force. The choice was Anastasia's, to see the flowers or to ignore them. To crush the flowers or to cherish them. To follow the human road or to follow the mystery of the Mother.

The child followed the path of the flowers. The flowers led her to the restored Community Gardens, to the wishing well at its heart, where Gothel was waiting for her.

"Welcome, my child." Gothel smiled in triumph. Having chosen to walk that path, the path in turn had found its way into the child, making her receptive to Gothel's influence.

Anastasia smiled back, politeness restraining her curiosity. "Hello." Then her eyes went to the pendant around Gothel's neck.

"Ah. I see you recognize the amulet," said Gothel. She took it off and let the child have a closer look.

"My... my mother gave that to me. But the detective said..."

"It wasn't hers to give," Gothel told her. "She stole it from me."

Anastasia flinched guiltily. "Oh. I'm sorry. I don't know why she would do something like that."

"Well, this amulet has very special properties. I believe she thought it could help you reach your potential."

The child looked at her, a hint of wariness breaking through. "What do you mean? What potential?"

"Look around you. What do you see?"

"Uh, the gardens? Or, it will be." Anastasia glanced around at the places newly being prepared for planting and the scrawny saplings still tethered to their stakes. "I mean, it's not really there yet, but you can sort of see what it can be, now that they're not going to build over it."

"Exactly. It's an island of green, so easily crushed if no one pays attention. If there's no one to guard it." Gothel let the words wash over the child, lulling her into acceptance. "But you stood up. You didn't let the green be swallowed by human greed."

"I guess. I mean, it wasn't just me. Um, what does that have to do with the amulet?"

"You've seen what almost happened to this little garden. Now think, child. Earth is just as much an island, and it could suffer the same fate that almost destroyed this garden. Earth, too, needs its Guardian." Gothel caught Anastasia's gaze. "I believe that Guardian could be you. Someone pure of heart. Someone willing to defend Nature against selfishness and greed. If I'm right, this amulet will recognize you and give you the powers of the Guardian."

"The Guardian?" Anastasia's question came out in an awed whisper.

Gothel offered her the amulet. "Shall we see? Go on, touch the stone."

Anastasia stretched out her right index finger and dipped it tentatively towards the central stone. It lit up at her touch, a deep purplish red. "It's glowing!"

"That means you have passed the test. The amulet chooses you to be the next Guardian." Gothel smiled in encouragement. "It's yours now. Why don't you try it on and see how it feels?"

Wide-eyed, Anastasia reverently picked up the amulet and looped the chain around her neck. The glow intensified. Then an answering glow arose from within her skin, pulsing a dark green against the red of the amulet. Her eyes filled with the green light.

Gothel gauged the power level. "I see you already have your mother's magic in addition to your own."

Anastasia made no reply. She had become Gothel's appointed Guardian, and thus a creature beyond human language.

"Now it needs only your sister's contribution, and then we can begin the great work. Come with me." Gothel led the way. The Guardian followed in perfect obedience to her will.

Ivy spent the day at the office, taking care of matters she had neglected during the whole 'serial killer' scare. When she checked in with her sister after school was let out, Ivy found to her slight annoyance that Stacy had gone off with her friends, and would need a ride from Ivy from the botanical garden later.

"Stacy? Where are you?" Ivy arrived a few minutes late. It took her a moment to locate her sister, who was sitting on a boulder by the koi pond and facing away from Ivy. She strode over impatiently and tapped her sister on the back of her shoulder. "Come on, Stacy, let's go."

Stacy stood up, turning halfway around. Without lifting her head, she caught Ivy's hand in her own and gripped it tight.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Ivy, alarmed at her sister's odd behavior, tried to tug her hand free without success. A whisper of magic crept up her hand. Ivy pulled up her own magic in a reflexive shielding spell. "Stacy!"

Stacy lifted her head at last, meeting Ivy's gaze with eyes that glimmered with an inhuman green light. Thin vines slithered out of her veins, up her forearms and spiraling around her hands to twine around Ivy's wrists and forearm.

Ivy stared in shock. "What the hell happened to you?"

Then two hands clamped down on her shoulders from behind, one on each side, and the horribly familiar voice of Gothel spoke in her ear, "She found her true destiny. Now it's your turn."

"No! No, this is impossible..." Ivy had locked Gothel in an unbreakable prison. She would have bet anything on it being unbreakable... and she realized that she had bet everything, and lost. Gothel's power hit her from behind, shattering Ivy's shielding spell. Stacy's vines squeezed tighter, burning against Ivy's skin. With the shield broken, she felt her magic being siphoned out by the vines. "Stacy, please... don't..."

Empty green orbs stared at her, implacable as oak roots. There was no escape.

When everyone left the house, Tilly did the same. She took nothing out that she hadn't brought in, with one exception.

"You gave me your Rubik's cube," Ivy had said. "It meant more to me than I can say. So, as a sort of thank you, I made you this." She had slipped a friendship bracelet around Tilly's wrist. It was a rainbow weave of brightly colored strands of floss meant to keep her safe, so Ivy had said.

But the world wasn't safe, no matter how much your friends wished otherwise.

The woman who accosted her in the streets wasn't safe. Her smile was very dangerous indeed, thought Tilly. Then she said the most dangerous thing of all: "I'm your mother."

"You can't... you can't be!" Tilly backed away in horror, horror disproportionate to the smiling woman before her. "You're too young."

"Mother Nature is eternal."

"My mother abandoned me when I was a baby. You can't be her."

The stranger stopped smiling. "I am. And I did abandon you. It was the only way."

"Only way to hell," said Tilly. She believed, she didn't believe, she had to believe, but would never believe. "You'll never be my mother."

"No? Why don't you ask your friend. What is she called here? Oh yes, 'Ivy.'"

"Ivy? No! No, you leave her alone." Tilly lunged forward, whether to punch the woman or to bite off her nose, she never found out, because now it was the stranger who backed away. "What did you do to Ivy?"

"Come with me, if you want to see her again."

She did, of course she did. Tilly touched the colors she wore around her wrist. Whatever charm Ivy braided into it didn't work, or worked too well, because her friend was in danger, because it drew the danger to her. Tilly followed the strange woman down the street.

Down the street, down the rabbit hole, into the under-city. And there, in a wide dry well, at the bottom, lashed to stone walls by thick brown vines — there she saw Ivy at last.

"Ivy!" Tilly scrambled to the edge of the well, knocking loose a shower of dirt and gravel. She stretched down with a hand, but her friend was too far down to reach.

A pale face turned upwards. "Tilly? No, no, Tilly, you have to run!"

"I have to get you out of there." Tilly rocked back onto her heels, hoping to find a rope somewhere down here.

Instead, the strange woman gripped her by her upper arm. "You will stay. You are one of the eight. Yield your will to mine."

Pressure built up in her mind. A presence invading her thoughts. Tilly refused. "Stay out of my head!"

"You are my daughter. You are mine."

"That's not true!"

"Let her go, Gothel!" came the shout from the bottom of the well.

"Be silent," hissed the strange woman — Gothel. Her eyes narrowed at Tilly. "Your destiny is with me. Ivy is only a distraction."

"She's not a distraction; she's a friend!" Tilly squirmed and twisted, prying at Gothel's fingers, but it was as if they had taken root in Tilly's shoulder, pinning her in place.

"She will be nothing at all, once I have removed her," said Gothel. "Watch." She forced Tilly back to the edge of the well.

Another vine erupted from the wall, whipping around Ivy's neck, a noose that tightened as they watched.

"Now," Gothel whispered in Tilly's ear, "which comes first? Will you yield or will she die?"

She couldn't. She couldn't stand there and watch her friend die. "I yield! I yield! Just let her go."

Neal wished he was better at communicating with surly teenagers, especially the surly teenager who was his long-lost son. Who didn't remember his true past. Who took every carefully-crafted explanation from Neal as an attack. He even refused the bag of enchanted chocolate Neal tried to give him.

"It can't be Nick," Henry insisted mulishly. He had retreated to the corner of the old couch in the living room, one knee drawn up to his chest and the other leg kicking angrily at the coffee table. "I've known him all my life. He is not some kind of serial killer!"

"Listen—" Roni was nearly as tense as her son, pacing back and forth in the space between living room and kitchen.

"He isn't!" Henry scowled at Neal. "I bet it's actually the police. They killed those women to cover up their own corruption, and they're using Nick as a scapegoat. He ran away because he found out and had to escape."

Neal stifled a groan. This cursed Henry had a tendency to believe in conspiracy theories. Trying to disprove a conspiracy to a conspiracy buff was difficult enough at the best of times, but the curse made it nigh impossible to change anyone's opinion about anything.

"Listen, Henry," Roni tried again. "We know he's a good friend. If he's been in contact, you have to let us know. Hiding him isn't helping him. If he really is a murderer —" She held up a hand against Henry's immediate objection. "— then we have to stop him before more people get hurt, and that includes Nick himself."

"You said 'if'. What if he's innocent?"

"Then we need to hear his side of the story," said Neal. "Whatever's going on, if he's in some kind of danger, we can help him. Look, I know Detective Weaver has a certain reputation, but underneath all that, he's trying to keep innocent people safe."

Roni scoffed. "I can't believe you're saying that with a straight face. The man put you under arrest and held you for how long?"

"Exactly," Henry chimed in. "You can't trust the police."

"Wait, Henry, that's not what I said." Roni grimaced, looking as if she regretted her snarky comment. "I've known Weaver for a long time. Whatever his failings on the due process front, the people he puts away generally deserve it." She glanced at Neal. "Present company excepted."

"He did release me," Neal pointed out. "Henry, if Weaver does take Nick into custody, I'll make sure he treats him right."

"Ha."

Neal sighed. "Look, I know you read all those true crime books. Yeah, sometimes it's the cops who are at fault or working with the mob or whatever, but you know there are also good cops who go out there and risk their lives protecting the rest of us."

"It doesn't matter," Henry said tightly. "Nick hasn't contacted me."

"Oh, sweetie, he's probably scared. Whatever he's done or not done, he's your friend and he knows he shouldn't get you involved," said Roni. Henry didn't look at her, but Neal could see that Roni was relieved that Nick hadn't reached out to her son.

"He should know I'd always help him," muttered Henry. He stared blankly at the lock screen of the phone in his hand.

"We'll all help if we can," Neal promised. "If he lets us."

Gothel had her Guardian. She had her coven — almost. One empty space remained to be filled. And for that, she sought out her servant. The Savior she had planted, the crow-magician whose feathers were singed with hellfire.

She found him in his house, too intent on his cards to notice her arrival. Gothel spared a moment to look at the spread. It revealed a heart in conflict, discontent in its servitude. No doubt he thought he was being subtle. Gothel plucked the Wheel card from the table and made herself visible.

The crow-magician started, knocking his chair back as he leaped to his feet. He hadn't expected her to be here, clearly.

Gothel showed her teeth. "So, you think you've been clever? You think you can defy me?"

"Never," he said, and he was her Savior, bound to tell her only the truth.

"You are mine," she reminded him. "Creature of darkness, now you serve only light."

"That is so."

"Then why did I wake up to find my coven short two witches?" Gothel circled around the crow. He didn't move, not without her permission. "I give you enough latitude to serve my purpose, but it appears I have been too generous."

"I have never acted against your purpose."

"On the contrary, you harbored a murderer." Gothel had made mistakes, she could admit that, but now she would correct them.

"I know of no murderer," said the crow-magician, bare truth a hair's breadth away from a lie.

Gothel scoffed. "It doesn't matter. One I have already replaced, and as for the other... you will do whatever is needed to bring her into my coven." Gothel circled back around to face him. She showed him the card she held, letting the image melt and reform into another. A woman, her hair and attire shifting between past and present, but the face held constant. A face he knew.

"No! Not her. No..."

Gothel smiled, letting the card flicker away into non-existence. "Yes. Did you think you could hide her from me? Did you think she was your secret? Did you think I had forgotten?"

"Please."

"She served me once, if unwittingly. This time, she will know the great purpose when she takes her place among the Eight."

"Please, spare her."

"Beg as you like. Did her kind listen when we begged for mercy?" Gothel remembered the ruin of the garden, remembered the slaughter of her sisters at the hand of humans. How many forests fallen, how many pastures made into deserts? "No? Then expect none from me."

The crow-magician shut his eyes, his head bowed to the inevitable. His lips finally shaped the name he had tried so uselessly to hide from Gothel. He whispered once, "Regina..."