Hey, IT HASN'T BEEN SIX MONTHS SINCE I LAST UPDATED! There are miracles! Many thanks to spartanguard and always-been-a-pirate for their beta services, and distant-rose for being an awesome sounding board!

As always, enjoy, and reviews keep the muse going!

Chapter 6: Promises Whispered in the Dark of Night

"I need to tell you something."

Glancing into the mirror above her vanity table, Elizabeth studied her fiance's reflection as she continued to brush the last few tangles from her long hair. Liam was bare from the waist up and already in their bed, his back resting against the ornately carved headboard with the thick blanket they used to ward off the chill that continued to cling to the late witching hours this time of year pooled at his waist. His eyes were fixed on a closed book in his lap—some nautical adventure about pirates and krakens he'd borrowed from her mother—and, though she could only see his profile, there was no missing the aggravated way his jaw clenched or the tight set to his shoulders. She wasn't sure what she had expected to find when his hesitant tone had interrupted her soft humming, but the anxious look that marred his handsome features certainly hadn't been it.

"Tell me what?"

Not moving his gaze from the book, Liam cleared his throat. "I… I almost decided something without consulting you that pertained to our wedding."

The disparity in his tone had Elizabeth pausing her movements with the ivory-handled brush mid-way through a downward stroke. Things had become overly hectic for them in the last few weeks, what with her trying to plan the last month of her tutoring lessons and him still being on duty for the Royal Navy amidst daily War Council meetings over Maleficent. It had forced them to make a number of decisions about the wedding without the other one present, but she couldn't recall anything he would have decided being brought up at her last sit down with Snow that would warrant him being nervous.

"Well, it can't be that bad—"

"Oh, but it is, and if I know you as well as I think I do, you're going to be furious I even considered it."

Frowning in confusion, Elizabeth turned in her chair so she could talk to him rather than his reflection. "Liam, what is it?"

He didn't answer her right away, instead focusing on picking at the frayed book cover. She was about to remind him that her mother would absolutely make him organize the library even at twenty-seven if he didn't stop doing that, nervous tick or not, when Liam finally looked at her.

"I almost postponed the wedding."

Blinking in surprise, the only thing she found herself able to do was to stare at her fiance. After all, what did one say to something like that?

"Not because I was getting cold feet," he quickly added, his blue eyes begging her to understand something he hadn't yet voiced. "It was… I was just being foolish in my thought process over something. I swear to you though, Elizabeth, it wasn't because I didn't want to go through with it."

More confused than ever—but knowing he was at least being genuine when he said it had nothing to do with his desire to get married—Elizabeth placed her hair brush on the vanity and made her way across the room. She didn't miss the apprehensive way his eyes followed her movements, or the slight twitch in his right hand when she sat down on her side of the bed, as if he wanted to reach for her but had thought better of doing so.

"Liam, what's going on?" she whispered. "If you still want to get married, why would you be thinking about postponing our wedding?"

"To ensure we find a way to defeat Maleficent, but more importantly for your safety."

It was the last thing she had expected to hear as far as a reason for postponing a wedding was concerned, but Elizabeth stayed silent and listened while Liam continued on. It was somewhere between Avalonian artifacts and the way Maleficent operated that she finally understood what had happened, and she had to fight to keep a smile off her face. Of course he would. She'd known Liam her entire life, and had been well aware of his tendency to focus on things he couldn't change until he was consumed by it long before she had ever looked at him as more than her best friend's brother.

When he was finished, and looking at her like he was expecting her to bring the wrath of Zeus down on his head, Elizabeth chuckled to herself.

"You're an adorable git, you know that?"

Liam hadn't been expecting that reaction from her if his raised eyebrows were any indication.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me—an adorable git. Or adorable fool to use your own word against you."

"Adorable fool." At her simple nod, the perplexed look on his face only deepened. "I tell you that I was going to postpone our wedding—though I had very good reasons to do so—without consulting you on the matter and you… you call my actions adorable?"

"I do. What else am I supposed to call them?"

"Idiotic, presumptuous, rash—take your pick."

"Well, as you pointed out, the reasons you had for postponing the wedding were good ones, which negates all those adjectives." Moving until she was sat next to him and mirroring his position of having her back pressed against their headboard, she added, "Besides, you didn't postpone the wedding in the end."

"Only because Mom and Dad talked some sense into me," Liam pointed out, still clearly trying to wrap his head around the way she had responded to his big confession. "Though, in all fairness to Mom, she was the one that finally got me to see the error of my thinking."

Elizabeth hummed thoughtfully. "Makes sense since you got the 'worry until it consumes your ever waking thought' thing from her."

Before she could even blink, the muscle in his jaw began ticking even harder than before. "Bloody hell, does everyone know that I do this?" he groused, his gaze sweeping across their bedchamber as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Instinct and nearly twenty-eight years of being around him told Elizabeth that he was irritated not at her, but with himself. She could practically see the brooding shadow start to fall over his face, and Elizabeth reached for his hand that was now aggressively pulling at the frayed book cover. Although her mother really was going to have his head for that, the physical state of some adventure book was the last thing on her mind as she entwined the fingers of her left hand with his right one.

"Hey… This is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you remember what I told you tonight at the ball before Erin arrived? Worrying about those you love is what makes you who you are. That's still true, just as the color of your eyes or your intense hatred for anything that looks like it came from the forest does. You can't change either of those things and, though you certainly can work at not letting the worry eat you alive, you can't change that it's the first thing you do."

"It's still a rather annoying personality trait to chain yourself to with marriage for the rest of your life," he muttered as his head fell to the headboard with an audible thunk.

"I'd rather chain myself to someone who's going to worry too much about my safety than someone who doesn't even care." Hoping to lighten the mood, she bumped his shoulder with her own. "Besides, aren't you marrying me even though I have a sickeningly optimistic view of the world?"

It seemed to do the trick as the tension that had been in his shoulders since he started this conversation disappeared. Chuckling, Liam turned his head towards her. "I love that you always try to find the positive of a situation, even when its bleak."

"And I love that you worry about things you can't control," she said with a small smile. "Without it you wouldn't be my Liam, just as I wouldn't be your Elizabeth if I didn't grasp at the silver lining of every situation. So no more feeling ashamed about how you are, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied, using his best 'royal' voice and laughing when she swatted at his shoulder with her free hand. "Does this mean you aren't mad at me for lying to you and almost postponing our wedding without consulting you?"

Tilting her head, Elizabeth gave his question a long and thorough moment of thought. She should be angry at him—most women in her position would have been—but the truth was she couldn't find an ounce of the emotion inside her. Maybe it was because, at the heart of the situation, it hadn't been a lack of wanting to marry her that had propelled him into thinking about postponing their wedding. Maleficent was a very real threat, and Elizabeth had certainly seen the consequences of the fairy's vendetta first hand with her best friend's grief. She more than understood Liam's fear that the Dark Fairy would use their wedding as a means to strike against him, and she certainly couldn't fault him for thinking it was best if her mother got a head start on the search for Avalonian artifacts.

"No, I'm not mad," she conceded. "I get why you felt that was the only course of action to take, and I also can see why, in your obsessive thoughts, you would have lost sight of the fact that I entered into this relationship knowing the dangers that came with it. I am, however, disappointed that you felt like you couldn't talk to me about any of this."

Liam sighed. "It's not that I didn't feel like I could talk to you—"

"I know. You didn't want to ruin tonight for me, but Liam…" Bringing her hand up to caress his scruff covered jaw, she sighed herself. "An engagement ball, or any function for that matter, isn't more important than your mental well-being. I still would have enjoyed tonight even if you had told me while we were getting ready."

"Would you have, though?" he murmured, the question so quiet that she almost didn't hear it despite being mere inches from him.

"Absolutely. I could still bask in the joy of finally being able to celebrate our relationship in public while being there for you, you foliage-hating gnome."

A bark of laughter escaped Liam, and Elizabeth couldn't help but grin at the sound. When they were barely nineteen, a simple misunderstanding over a misplaced book had dissolved into an all out yelling match between the two of them outside the library. In the heat of the moment—while desperately trying to hide the crush she had on him—Elizabeth had flung the insult at Liam with every ounce of frustration and annoyance she could muster. Her straight face delivery of the absurd barb had immediately diffused the situation and left both of them holding their stomachs from laughing so hard. It had become their thing after that; her muttering it in exasperation when he was being outrageous or, just as she had done now, in romantic affection.

"It's been awhile since you've called me that," he said once he had managed to stop laughing.

"You haven't needed to be called that in some time, Lieutenant."

"Aye." Smiling softly, he added, "I really am sorry for not talking to you."

"I know, and I accept the apology. Just… next time, talk to me, okay? No matter what else is going on around us."

Nodding, Liam brought their entwined hands to his lips and sealed the promise with a kiss to the back of her hand.

At the height of the witching hour, during that brief time when magic and supernatural creatures were at their strongest right before night began to retreat from the oncoming day, an unnatural fog appeared in a remote part of the Camelot countryside. It seeped from the very ground like steam rising from a hot spring, billowing out from its point of entrance and curling upward until the charcoal gray mass was in the loose shape of a humanoid form. What nocturnal animals had stayed to bear witness to the peculiar fog turned and ran as it disappeared in a crackle of electric blue light, leaving behind a scowling and annoyed Lord of the Underworld.

He usually enjoyed visiting the Upper World. Unlike his younger brother, Zeus, who was pompous and thought he knew everything there was to know simply because he had been created with divinity, Hades had never thought his status as a god made him an expert on every subject. No, he had always had an inquisitive nature. He might have despised the mortals who called the Upper World their home—and avoided interacting with them at all costs—but it had never stopped him from traversing the mortal world on more than one occasion simply to observe and learn. This visit, however, wasn't about saiting his thirst for knowledge.

With the scowl on his face deepening at the thought, and paying no mind to the soot that was left on the dew covered grass in his wake, Hades began making his way towards the spot he had picked for this forced endeavor.

It had been two days since Maleficent's unwelcome visit to the Underworld and, staying true to his word, he was here on the promised date after saying good-bye to his wife to open the portal Maleficent thought would be the answer to all her problems. Hades still didn't agree with what he was about to do. He might despise mortals, but bestowing upon any of them the existence Maleficent was condemning them to went against his very nature as a benevolent god. He had created that law for those who sought to steal the souls he had been placed in charge of—not for innocents who were dragged into his domain at the behest of a revenge driven fairy. Even with his plan to circumvent the Dark Fairy's request while still fulfilling the promise he had given in naivety, one of the living souls that would enter the Underworld would still pay the ultimate price.

Coming to a small clearing that was ringed with oak trees, Hades stopped in its center and surveyed the area with a divine eye. The war that had been waged here centuries ago when Uther the First pulled Excalibur from its stone was long forgotten by Mankind, but he remembered. He could still see the blood that had been spilled as Uther fought to reclaim his kingdom from Mordred, and hear the sound of thousands of men taking their last breath before their souls descended to his domain. A place rife with as much bloodshed and tears as this one had seen was a perfect location to ensure the tethering spell he needed to perform would hold, and was a discreet location for a portal to mysteriously appear in it yet close enough to the nearest village to not go unnoticed for too long.

After all, Maleficent's plan hinged on the Captain and Savior hearing about the portal and sending their children in their place to investigate it.

With an annoyed sigh at the predicament he had found himself in—and all because he had been stupid enough to utter those two words—Hades reached into his black robe and pulled out the Wonderland blade that was stained with Prince Liam's blood. His eyes lingered on the heraldry engraved on the pommel as light from the half moon made the gold leafed eight pointed star within its design shine almost magically. He hoped that, wherever she was, Asteria would understand why he was doing this. The prophecy had to be fulfilled, and that couldn't happen without both of the Twice-Blessed Children.

With the dagger in his right hand and a heavy heart, Hades stretched his left arm towards the center of the clearing and called upon his divine powers.

What in the seven hells had she done?

Tossing in her bed at the thought, Erin punched one of the goose feather-filled pillows beneath her head in agitation.

That had been the prevailing thought running through her mind since Liam's engagement ball two days ago. She'd awoken the morning afterward with a smile on her face and an odd sensation of warmth filling her chest, one she hadn't quite been able to ascertain its source to as she got up to start her day. There was even a spring to her step that hadn't been there in years, but Erin had written the oddities off as the result of a good night's sleep in a proper bed after spending nearly a week on a ship. It wasn't until she had dressed and was halfway out her bedchamber door, her stomach demanding she put something other than hot cocoa in it, when the events of the night before had come back. The mug of hot cocoa she had created with a wave of her hand had nearly tumbled to the floor as images of her dance with Eric flashed through her mind, and the warmth that had been in her chest was instantly replaced with blind panic.

She had danced with Eric D'Harper.

Not only that, but she had done so in a private and, whether she liked to admit it or not, romantic setting. It wasn't as if they were on a retrieval and needed to play a part, or in a formal setting—like the ballroom that was literally a few hundred feet away—where that kind of thing wasn't odd for someone of Erin's station to do. No, of her own free will, without being coerced or under the influence of any magic, she had chosen to do it—and that was what absolutely scared her. She had always been so careful to keep a hold on her walls when it came to Eric, and yet not a single one of them had been present in that cloister with him. Because she hadn't just danced with him. She had also talked to him about her grief over Matthew's death, and had mentioned an aspect of it she never even told her father about.

What had made her do that? Why had she lowered her walls so much in a single hour when, for the past four years, she had had an ironclad grip on them? And what in the pantheon of gods had made her tell herself that dancing with him wouldn't be intimate?

Erin turned onto her back with a groan, her eyes following the shadows created from the still burning fireplace that flickered across the ceiling of her bedchamber. In the wake of the panic setting in, she had done the only thing she could think of to keep it from overwhelming her—she'd pulled away from Eric. He had been nothing but smiles and warm welcomes when she finally forced herself down to the dining hall the morning after their dance, and Erin had responded to everything he said with short, lukewarm responses as they consumed breakfast. When her grandfather asked if anyone could oversee some council meetings since Neal hadn't returned from resigning trade agreements with Queen Tiana, she had enthusiastically volunteered before anyone else could so much as bat an eyelash—a fact that had shocked the King of Misthaven into silence and caused her father's eyebrows to rise nearly to his hairline. She loathed attending council meetings, even if it did put to use the tedious lessons on kingdom law her Aunt Belle had given her, but she needed to do something that would keep her as far away from Eric as she could get.

It had certainly worked. Erin had been so busy with the meetings that she only saw the outside of the study they were using for a few brief moments, most of which were spent checking in on Hope. When she entered the dining hall for supper that night, it was to a completely different reception from Eric. The smiles that had greeted her earlier in the day were gone, and aside from a few clipped interjections to the conversation, he hadn't said anything more—even to her. The next day hadn't fared any better, with his demeanour as closed off to her as Erin's was to him the few times they had run into each other. She couldn't ever recall them physically being in the same space and going this long without talking, and even Erin couldn't ignore the ball of apprehension that had started to sit low in her gut at the development.

She knew he was hurt by her pulling away after what had happened, but she just needed time to sort out her jumbled emotions. That, and to trust herself not to lower her walls again when around him because that could only lead to one thing, and Erin Jones wasn't sure she could handle another broken heart.

Sighing at the futility of trying to sleep when her mind wouldn't shut off, Erin threw back the thick blanket covering her bed. Perhaps a walk and some rum would help ease her turbulent thoughts enough to let her sleep, she thought as her bare feet padded to the door that lead to Hope's adjoining room. The fire she had stoked after the eighth bedtime story was still burning, and in the flickering amber light she could just make out her daughter laying across the large bed horizontally, the six year old's arms clutching her stuffed crocodile tightly to her chest and the blanket completely wrapped around her multiple times as soft snores filled the room. Content that at least Hope was sound asleep and wouldn't be waking any time soon, Erin left through her bedchamber and—forgoing a robe or even socks—quickly headed towards the lower levels of the castle.

Taking a sip of rum and grimacing as the strong liquid slid down her throat, Emma stared pensively into the seldom used study's crackling fireplace. She'd had yet another nightmare, leaving her to spend the night as she had so many others over the last six months—devoid of sleep and drinking more hot cocoa or rum than she usually did until she finally collapsed from exhaustion a few hours before dawn. It was an expected and exhausting routine, one she hadn't been able to break no matter how hard she tried.

And God how she had tried.

When her nightmares first started, a mere two days after Killian had awoken her from the sleeping curse with True Love's Kiss, Emma had told herself that she could handle them on her own. She would work through the core issues that had led to their creation within the Netherworld and then go to Killian for comfort, just as she had done when Liam was poisoned with Dreamshade twenty-four years ago. After all, she clearly had long buried guilt over certain things—otherwise she never would have seen the scenarios she did while under the curse, and at the end of the day, the only person who could deal with them was her. Not wanting Killian to know how deep her regrets went when it came to things that had altered his and their children's lives had also played a part in Emma not telling him about the nightmares. There was a vulnerability in showing those feelings to someone so soon after she had lived them on a continuous loop for what felt like years, even when that person was the love of her life.

Time had not brought clarity, however. The longer she tried to deal with the nightmares on her own the worse they became, and it wasn't long until they increased in frequency. In the beginning they had been sporadic, only plaguing her once every few weeks, but two months after they had sent their past counterparts back in time they were waking her up multiple times a week.

By the time Emma realised she needed her husband's help, she physically couldn't tell him about the nightmares.

She tried to, on numerous occasions, but every time she opened her mouth to do so the words wouldn't come. Any attempt to broach the subject of her nightmares was met with silence, as if someone magically had a hold of her vocal cords and only stole her ability to speak about that one subject. Emma had lost count of all the times she kneeled on their bed after waking from a nightmare, desperately looking down at her sleeping husband and with tears blurring her vision as she tried to speak. It was a battle she always lost, however, and not just with Killian. She physically couldn't tell anyone—not her parents, her children, or her friends—and it left Emma feeling utterly isolated and frightened.

When she realized something beyond her control was keeping her from reaching out to her loved ones, Emma had discreetly began pouring through every magical book she could get her hands on to try find its source. She'd immediately ruled out any kind of curse. There hadn't been a chance for her to become cursed since waking up, and even if someone had managed to do it, she'd kissed Killian numerous times since. A kiss from him, or any of the platonic ones she had received from her parents and children, would have broken it. Could it be a spell, then? Some rare side effect of a sleeping curse she had never heard of? Or did it have something to do with her past self coming to the future, despite the fact they had done everything they could to preserve the integrity of the timeline? She hadn't even been able to ask Rumple, Regina, or Merlin—the other knowledgeable magic users—about it, and her own research had come up empty. There was absolutely nothing written anywhere that explained what she was experiencing.

When she started hearing things, pieces of conversation that weren't really said by those around her yet she heard them as clearly as if they had been, the fear and isolation that she felt had only deepened. The first time it happened—during a conversation with Erin on the Jolly Roger four months prior—Emma had written the incident off as a side effect of not getting nearly as much sleep as she should have been because of the nightmares. But then it had continued to happen, and with no rhyme or reason behind it. They were always one-line snippets like she had 'heard' Killian say the night of the ball, sayings from the darkest moments of her nightmares that were randomly dropped into mundane conversations.

Sighing, Emma rubbed at her forehead with a trembling hand. That was another development of this whole thing she'd began noticing about three months ago. It had started off slightly, just a tremor here or there, but it had quickly escalated to full blown shaking. Like her hearing pieces of conversation that weren't really said, there seemed to be no logic for when it happened—though it seemed to happen most often when her anxiety over everything was up. Her magic had also started to become as unreliable as her mind, it seemed. There were days when it worked perfectly while other times, no matter how hard she concentrated, the thing she tried to magically do wouldn't happen. She couldn't even create a simple bottle of rum tonight with her magic. Instead, she had been forced to pilfer a bottle of Killian's 300 year old rum from his study. Not that she was terribly surprised. Magic was tied to emotions, and with Emma's being all over the place from one day to the next—as well her mental state—it was really only a matter of time before her magic began to suffer the consequences of what she was going through.

Whatever was happening to her it was only getting worse, and it was getting harder to hide everything, particularly her sleep deprivation, from her family.

She had been able to write off the extra dark circles under her eyes and delayed responses as exhaustion from working tirelessly over the last six months to first close the time vortex, and then trying to find Avalon. The threat of Maleficent forever hanging over their heads had also provided her with a reason for her odd behavior, but it wouldn't be long before she was unable to hide behind even those excuses—not at the rate this thing was going. Of course, she hadn't been able to hide anything from her husband, even from the beginning. Killian was a perceptive man, and it was only a matter of time before he stopped giving her chances to tell him and pushed her to reveal what was keeping her up at night. It's what she would do if the roles were reversed. In fact, it was exactly what she had done a few months after waking him from Maleficent's sleeping curse.

If only she could tell him. Tears sprang to Emma's eyes at the thought. She hated this. She hated the lying and secrecy, the unsaid words and concern that never fully left her husband's eyes. This wasn't how her marriage worked. They talked about what was bothering them, they discussed when a physical problem arose, and they certainly didn't keep life-altering secrets from each other. But that was exactly what she had been doing since she woke up from the sleeping curse—first by choice, and then against her will.

She just needed to find a way to defeat whatever was happening to her…

"Mom?"

Shouting an expletive—and nearly pouring her husband's pilfered rum into her lap—Emma placed her free hand over racing heart and whipped around to find her daughter standing in the doorway of the study.

"Erin!"

"Sorry!" the younger woman exclaimed, and Emma took some solace in the fact that Erin looked just as startled as she felt. "I didn't mean to scare you!"

Taking deep breaths, she forced air into her lungs that seemed to have stopped working momentarily at her daughter's unexpected arrival. "It's okay, kid. You just took five years off my life is all."

"You shouting a word I've heard you say maybe twenty times my entire life took five years off my own if it makes you feel any better."

"A little bit," Emma replied, her accompanying chuckle ending on a motherly hum as she finally took in Erin's attire. Her daughter wore nothing more than a quarter-sleeved cotton nightgown, the delicate hem falling to just above Erin's ankles and revealing that, for whatever insane reason, she wasn't wearing any socks or shoes. It was an odd sight to see, even with Spring having officially arrived at the stroke of midnight. The cold nights wouldn't fully abate for another few days, and the castle hallways certainly didn't hold in heat of any kind. Emma herself had donned a pair of cotton pants and winter socks to ward off the chill before leaving her bedchamber hours ago, and she had still needed to scrounge for the blanket currently draped across her lap despite the fire crackling in front of her.

"Erin, why aren't you wearing a robe or socks? Are you not cold?"

"Not really."

As if right on cue a violent shiver ran through Erin, and with a raised eyebrow Emma patted the empty spot next to her.

"Come sit by the fire. The last thing you need to do two weeks before your brother's wedding is catch a cold."

Muttering something that sounded an awful lot like yes, mother, Erin shut the door that Emma had been too lost in thought to hear open and made her way towards the couch. Once she was settled with her back against the arm rest and facing Emma, the Savior maneuvered the thick blanket so that it would cover both of their laps.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Mom."

"Of course. What are mothers for if not to keep their stubborn daughters from freezing to death when they decide to walk around with nothing but a nightgown on?"

Erin rolled her eyes. "It's not like its the middle of winter, Mom. I was just in a hurry and forgot to grab a robe before leaving my room."

She started to ask Erin why she was in such a rush when the obvious reason for why her daughter would want to quickly leave her room hit Emma like a ton of bricks. Of course. Except for the five months when she had had colic as a baby, Erin had never really had trouble sleeping. The schedule of rising with the sun and falling easily into slumber when the moon rose was ingrained into her daughter's very being as much as it was with Killian. The only reason she was ever up at this time of night—barring Hope or herself being sick—was her own nightmares.

"Do you need me to go get your father?"

Pausing in the act of attempting to braid her tangled hair, Erin frowned at her mother.

"Why would I need you to get Dad?"

"You're awake in the middle of the night," Emma stated, as if that alone explained why she had asked the question. It clearly didn't, however, judging by her daughter's deepening frown.

"I... am," she confusingly agreed. "I still don't understand what Dad has to do with that, though."

"Because of the nightmare you had."

Understanding instantly flashed across Erin's face. "Oh, I didn't have a nightmare. So no need to wake Dad up," she replied before going back to braiding her hair.

While she was more than glad a nightmare hadn't roused her daughter from slumber for once, Emma knew there had to be something responsible for Erin's middle of the night sojourn.

"If a nightmare didn't wake you, what did?"

"Well, in order to wake up one has to have first been asleep. My mind wouldn't shut off is all, so I thought a change of scenery would help." Finishing her braid, Erin left it hanging across her right shoulder and settled deeper against the armrest of the couch. "What about you? You don't usually haunt an out of the way study in the middle of the night."

"Same reason, though mine had to do with preparations for your brother's wedding," Emma lied. She knew better than to even attempt to say the real reason she was up with what had happened every other time she tried.

The corner of Erin's lips ticked up. "Is all of Grandma's elaborate plans what drove you to steal some of Dad's 300 year old rum?" she asked, inclining her head towards the bottle of rum that sat on the table in front of them.

"I'm borrowing your father's ancient alcohol," Emma corrected while internally sighing in relief that her perceptive daughter hadn't picked up on her lie. Not that she had any choice but to lie. "Would you like some?"

"I make it a point to never turn down Dad's best rum."

She laughed as a standard goblet from the kitchens appeared in Erin's right hand amidst a cloud of white smoke, and after Erin poured herself some of the amber liquid and topped Emma's glass off, the younger woman held her cup outwards in a toast.

"To unexpected yet welcomed run-ins during the witching hour."

Raising her own goblet in salute, Emma took a sip of rum and sighed as the strong liquid easily slid down her throat. A comfortable silence fell between mother and daughter afterward, the quietness of the study only broken by the crackle and occasional pop of the fire they both stared into as each became lost to their own thoughts.

Emma was still certain that there was a specific reason her daughter was awake right now. Every instinct she had as a mother was telling her so, and she had learned long ago not to ignore that inner voice. She knew her daughter, and it just wasn't like Erin to not be able to sleep when a nightmare or Hope's health wasn't involved—particularly when nothing had befallen any other member of their family. No, something had obviously troubled Erin enough to make her leave her bedchamber in the middle of the night, and Emma's conviction of that only strengthened the more she went over their conversation. There was something off about it that was niggling at her, almost teasing her motherly instinct, and as she stared into the dancing flames of the fireplace with her index finger tapping against the side of her goblet she realized what it was.

Erin had given a vague reason for why she was awake—"My mind wouldn't shut off is all,"—yet she had never said why her mind wouldn't quiet enough to let her fall asleep. To most people the phrasing of her response and lack of expanding on the answer wouldn't mean anything, but Emma Jones knew better. Ever since Erin and Liam had learned about her ability to tell when someone was telling the truth or not, they had done everything they could to circumvent it by telling a half truth or carefully choosing their words, and that was exactly what Erin had done in their earlier conversation. Her daughter had very deliberately left out what thoughts were keeping her from sleep and immediately directed the conversation towards why Emma was awake.

She had to hand it to her daughter, it was the most clever way she'd ever seen one of her children side step her super power.

Emma mulled over a dozen different ways to broach the subject as she took another drink of rum, but in the end decided the best way to catch her daughter off guard was the direct route.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Erin, who had been idly drawing random patterns on the back of the couch with her left index finger as she stared into the fireplace, turned her head to look at her mother and smiled.

"Of course, Mom."

"What thoughts were keeping you awake?"

She didn't miss the way Erin's finger instantly faltered along the fabric of the couch at her question, or the slight widening of her eyes that she tried—and failed—to hide.

"Just… things," she replied evasively before draining her goblet of rum and looking back towards the fire.

"Things, huh?"

"Mhmm."

And there it was. Her daughter's poker face was as solid as Killian's when it came to dice and life situations, but it completely fell apart whenever Eric D'Harper was involved. There was something that had kept Erin from sleeping, and Emma knew exactly what it was.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with you and Eric avoiding each other like the plague over the last two days, now would it?"

Groaning, Erin let the side of her head fall to the back of the couch with an audible thud. "Was it that obvious?" she muttered.

"To those who know the two of you and how you interact with each other… yes." Not wanting to give away the fact that she knew why her daughter was ignoring the pirate, but also wanting to give Erin an opening to talk about it, Emma added, "I just assumed he'd done something stupid again like the time he let Hope persuade him to break into your treasure box."

Erin snorted. "If only it was that simple." After a few seconds of silence, she sighed in resignation and lifted her head from the back of the couch. "Eric didn't actually do anything this time. It was something I did. Or, well, something I allowed to happen."

"Oh?"

Reaching for the bottle of rum, Erin poured a generous amount into her goblet and immediately drained a quarter of it, one eye closing momentarily against the potency of such a large gulp before she spoke.

"I danced with Eric." At the feigned look of surprise on Emma's face she chuckled humorlessly. "Trust me, the morning after I was just as shocked about my actions as you are."

"How did it happen?"

Erin sighed. "I don't even know, Mom. I left Liam and Elizabeth's ball to go to the cloister and Eric followed me. We talked for a bit and it just… happened."

"What, the two of you… just broke out into a waltz like in a musical?" she asked, genuinely curious since she had been trying to keep Will and Killian from alerting Erin to their presence during that pivotal moment.

Her daughter, having been born and raised in the Enchanted Forest, clearly didn't understand what Emma meant by 'musical' in that context and her look of utter confusion reminded the Savior of a time when modern references use to stump her husband.

"I've no idea what you mean by that but, no—he asked me to dance."

"And you said yes."

"Obviously."

Taking a sip from her own goblet, Emma paused for the briefest of moments before leveling Erin with the most loaded question she had ever asked her daughter.

"Why did you say yes?"

"That would be the question that has me sitting here with you in the middle of the night," Erin responded truthfully. Propping her left elbow on the back of the couch, she rested her temple on her hand and sighed heavily. "I don't know. If I'm being honest with myself… I said yes because I wanted to. At that moment in time dancing with Eric didn't seem like such a huge thing when I compared it to other things. I mean, we've been in way more intimate circumstances than a rigid dance form before and I—I just thought it wouldn't be any different."

"But it was," Emma surmised, and Erin nodded in agreement.

Glancing down to her lap where her engagement ring glittered brightly in the light from the fire, Emma carefully contemplated her next response. The direct approach to catch Erin off guard that she had used earlier wouldn't work for where this conversation was headed. No, she would have to take her husband's approach with this topic rather than her usual blunt method. This was a pivotal moment in her daughter's life after all, just as it had been for her a lifetime ago when she came to the same crossroads. The only difference was whereas Emma had to come to terms with her walls lowering and what that meant on her own, Erin had someone that had lived it and who could guide her through the emotional change she was clearly fighting against. Not that she's going to like what I have to say, Emma thought as she twisted her engagement ring with her thumb. She certainly wouldn't have wanted to hear any of what was about to be said, but it needed to happen if Erin ever stood a chance at claiming the happiness she rightfully deserved.

"And, because it was different from all the other moments you've shared with Eric, you've been avoiding him for the last two days," she said, leaning to set her goblet on the table before bringing her gaze back to her daughter. "I get that. I did the same thing when I kissed your father after we returned from our little jaunt into the past. Allowing yourself to dance with him meant that your walls were able to lower, and that absolutely scares you."

"Weren't you scared when it happened with you and Dad?"

Emma laughed. "Are you kidding? I was terrified. You can't compare different pains, but I can safely say my walls were about the same level as yours, kid. When I woke up the next morning after kissing your father I… I can very distinctly remember looking in the bathroom mirror and seeing fear in my eyes once I realized what I had done. Lowering the walls you put up to protect yourself is extremely frightening, and I can almost guarantee you've been wondering why you allowed it to happen."

"That is another thought that has me sitting here with you," Erin admitted with another nod of her head. "Particularly since I've always been so careful at maintaining a hold on them when it comes to Eric."

"Because that's what is suppose to happen." At the confused pinch to Erin's brow, she continued. "By nature, humans are not guarded creatures. We don't begin life with emotional baggage or skewed views on the world—they are gained with the experiences we go through. Emotional walls are meant to come down. Our instinct upon being hurt may be to throw them up, but they aren't meant to stay there. I can tell you with absolute certainty as someone who once had them, that you can not maintain a hold on them forever."

She could see panic begin to filter across Erin's face as her words sunk in, and she wasn't one bit surprised when her daughter's wide eyed stare turned to a hard look of trepidation.

"What are you saying?"

This was the part Erin was going to rail against, and Emma squared her own shoulders for the battle of stubbornness that was to come.

"What I'm saying is that, no matter what you do or how hard you try to fight it, your walls will continue to lower when it comes to Eric."

Erin scoffed, and Emma could feel the stubbornness her daughter inherited from Liam Jones rising like a strong surge of seawater in a storm. "That's not going to happen, Mom. If it did, that would mean—"

"You'd finally allow yourself to be with him?" Erin's jaw tightened but Emma continued on. "That's what is suppose to happen in this situation, kid. Those walls will start lowering more and more until you finally let him in."

"No."

With a hard shake of her head, Erin threw off the part of the blanket that was covering her lap and quickly stood. She didn't storm out of the room like Emma would have if someone had told her that nearly thirty years ago though. Instead, she set her glass on the table next to Emma's with more force than necessary and planted her feet in the stance Emma had always termed her 'Captain's pose' before crossing her arms.

"This was absolutely a one-time thing."

Images of a dark, humid jungle and the feel of supple leather beneath her fingertips flashed through Emma's mind at the familiar phrase, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You know, I said that very thing after I kissed your father for the first time. It clearly didn't hold."

That didn't go over well.

"This is a completely different situation from you and Dad," Erin argued, metaphorically digging her heels in. "Your walls had already begun to slip before that kiss, you've said so a thousand times. That night with me and Eric was the first time mine has ever lowered."

Emma raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her daughter.

"You may think it has only happened once, but the truth is you've been lowering your walls for some time now. This was just the first major instance that you were able to tell it had happened."

"I have not—"

"Erin, remember who you are talking to," she said, her voice slipping into the firm, maternal tone she had used while disciplining her children when they were younger. So much for using Killian's approach. "You can deny it to everyone else but you've discussed your changing emotions about Eric with me numerous times over the last four years. The fact is when you first met Eric you wouldn't even admit that you were drawn to him. You eventually did and then—somewhere between retrievals and nightly talks aboard both of your ships—you were able to say that you cared about him, yet you didn't want to put a word to that emotion for fear of what doors it would open. Now… well, whether you like to admit it or not, you and I both know what word should be used to describe how you feel about him. I hate to break it to you kid, but that is the very definition of your walls lowering over time."

Erin's jaw ticked furiously as Emma spoke, but she offered no rebuttal once her mother was finished. She also didn't break eye contact with the Savior, her green eyes flashing with defiance and fear in equal measure. It was the firmest Emma had ever been with her daughter when it came to their discussions on this matter, but she forced herself to remember that it had to be done. Erin was still stubbornly fighting what she felt for Eric and until she stopped doing so, she would never be truly happy.

As a mother, she couldn't let that happen—even if it meant telling her daughter a truth she didn't want to hear.

After a few tense moments with mother and daughter staring at each other, Emma sighed. "Will you please sit down and cover up? You're still barefoot and only in a nightgown."

Erin opened her mouth—more than likely to lodge a sassy retort—but she clearly thought better of it and, snapping her jaw closed, did as Emma asked. When she was settled back into the position she had been in before she jumped up, Emma leaned forward and grasped her daughter's hands before she could recross her arms.

"It may not be what you want to hear," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "But you need to hear it, Erin. You're up in the middle of the night because you couldn't understand why, after so long, you let your walls lower the other night and I'm giving you the answer. It's because you've fallen in love with him."

All defiance fled Erin's eyes at the word 'love', leaving behind only raw fear, and Emma tightened her grip on her daughter's hands when she moved to jerk them away.

"I know it's scary. You can't even admit it in the depths of your own mind because it's so frightening. I've been there. When it truly hit me that I was in love with your father, I was so scared that I threw up! I know what you are feeling, why you are trying to run from this, but kid… it's a fact you can't hide from anymore. You're in love with Eric, and probably have been for longer than even you know."

Emma watched Erin swallow hard, a myriad of emotions filtering across her face, and in the space of a single heart beat all tension dissipated from Erin's body as she closed her eyes. She couldn't help but think that, aside from Erin's pointed ears and attire, it was like looking at herself nearly thirty years ago when the realization that her own walls were lowering had struck her.

"What did you feel?"

Taken aback by the random question, Erin's brow furrowed as her eyes reopened. "Pardon?"

"When you were dancing with Eric," Emma explained. "Don't think about it or try to dissect what it was, just… What was the main emotion you felt while it was happening?"

"Happiness."

Erin's hands began to tremble in her own as the word fell from her lips without thought, and Emma's hold on her daughter tightened even further. "Don't you think that you deserve to feel that way all the time, Erin?"

That was the tipping point to the emotional wave Erin had been riding for the last ten minutes, and with tears of acceptance and panic filling her eyes, she launched herself into Emma's arms without warning. With one hand rubbing Erin's back and the other cradling her head where it rested against her shoulder, Emma murmured words of comfort into her daughter's hair. She wished she could take the crippling fear away from her, or at least be able to show her that the other side of it was wonderful and worth letting go of, but she couldn't. This was a path only Erin could walk, and every fiber within Emma that was a mother railed against the fact that there was nothing she could do except hold her.

"What happens when I do finally admit it and something happens to him?" Erin whispered, and Emma's heart broke at the question.

While she understood that fear all too well—hadn't that been one of her own worries when coming to terms with her feelings for Killian?—the reasons behind that terror even existing for them differed vastly between mother and daughter. Both had lost romantic partners to the finality of death, but Erin was the only one who had done so at the peak of happiness. Neal, Graham, and even Walsh had been taken from Emma either after the relationship had already ended or long before love even had time to bloom. Matthew, on the other hand, was ripped from Erin's arms when love still existed and thrived between the two. This was where her expertise on the matter always ended and Killian's began, yet without him there to offer the perfect words of advice to their daughter, it was up to Emma to answer the question.

"Nothing may happen to him for many years to come," she said, winching internally at the lame response. Way to go with that horrid pep talk, Emma.

Erin sighed, and her body shuddered with the action. "You can't guarantee that, Mom. No one can."

"No, I can't, but you can't guarantee that something will happen to him either. The only thing I can say to assuage that fear—for you to remember when you do admit it—is that wouldn't you rather take that chance and know what it was like to be loved by him, than not take it and never know? If I had let my fear win I wouldn't have you and your brother. I also wouldn't have years of endless happy memories with your father or know the joy that comes from being loved by him." Tucking a few wayward strands of Erin's hair behind her daughter's slightly pointed ear, Emma rested her cheek atop Erin's head. "You don't have to admit it to me, or even to yourself right now, but I do want you to promise me that when the inevitable time comes, you won't run from those feelings. You deserve to be happy, kid."

For a long moment only the sound of the crackling fire filled the study, and just as Emma started to think she had pushed too far Erin spoke, her words whispered into the fabric of Emma's shirt.

"I promise, Mom."

Closing her eyes, Emma tightened her hold on Erin and sighed. She may not be able to help herself when it came to whatever was happening to her, but she at least could still help her daughter.

Lowering his arm, Hades stared at the swirling blue portal in front of him with disgust.

It was an abomination to his very way of ruling the Underworld, but the promise Maleficent had hoarded for centuries had been fulfilled. Well, and with an added bit she didn't know about, he thought as he looked down at the silver dust in his right hand. It was all that remained of the blade portion of the Wonderland dagger, his divine magic having disintegrated it in order to cast the complex and powerful tethering spell while the pommel part remained unscathed and tucked safely within his robes. As far as the Dark Fairy was concerned, he had opened the portal to his domain and tethered the souls of Prince Liam and Princess Erin to it—nothing more, nothing less.

Sighing heavily, he emptied his hand of the silver remnants and watched with a sadness he hadn't felt in eons as the light breeze scattered them across the clearing.

"Hades."

Startling at the familiar yet unexpected voice, Hades whirled around to see the one person that he absolutely did not want to be found by in this moment.

Persephone, Queen of the Underworld and his beloved wife, was standing serenely a few feet from him with her hands clasped in front of her and an unamused look on her beautiful face. Despite being a queen to one of the three major realms—and holding more authority in that realm than even Hera, Queen of the Gods, had on Mount Olympus—her attire was simplistic, something Persephone had always preferred to the lavish garments some of the other goddesses wore. No jewels or trappings of her station adorned her except a crown of flowers whose petals were in various hues of purple, and the gown she wore was sleeveless and as white as freshly fallen snow. Her waist was cinched with a golden cord and the delicate fabric of her hem fluttered around her legs ever so slightly in the breeze that continued to pass through the clearing. The auburn locks that were always left to cascade down her back while with him were now braided and laying over her right shoulder with a single narcissus flower tucked into its end.

Although it had only been a few hours since he had said good-bye to her for the next six months, Hades wanted nothing more than to take the beautiful creature that had somehow fallen in love with him into his arms for just a moment longer—but the unmissable, swirling portal behind him prevented him from doing so.

"Persephone… What are you doing here?"

"I think the same could be asked of you, dear husband," the Goddess of Spring replied, her sapphire gaze flickering between him and the portal. "Or, more appropriately, why you're here opening gateways to the Underworld."

Internally damning Maleficent to the ninth circle of hell for putting him in this position—and wondering why he hadn't worn the helm that granted him invisibility even from other gods—Hades raised his hands in supplication.

"This isn't what it looks like."

"Oh? So that isn't a portal to the Underworld that you clearly opened since only you and I have the power to do so?"

"No, it is, but—" At her raised eyebrow Hades sighed. He had hoped to complete this shameful errand without Persephone ever finding out about it, but Tyche was clearly not looking out for her uncle tonight. Not willing to lie to his wife now that she knew of the portal's existence, he told her about the Dark Fairy's visit. He watched a myriad of expressions cross her divine features—confusion, outrage, pride—all of which ended with stunned horror as he explained what Maleficent had asked of him in order to fulfill the promise he had given her.

"Hades… you can't do this. The horrors those children will be subjected to—"

"I know," he whispered, his tone so quiet that anyone but her as a fellow divine being wouldn't have been able to hear it. "But you, along with every other one of our kind in the pantheon, knows I am bound to honor my word when I give it. As much as I loathe the fact that I did, I can't go back on it."

"I'm aware that you can't break a promise—even if it was only given to try to placate someone—it's just… Whywould she be so vile as to condemn innocent souls to that kind of fate?"

"You and I are both aware of the lengths Maleficent will go to when she feels like she's been wronged."

Nodding, and no doubt remembering the night eons ago when the world of Man had forever been altered by the Dark Fairy's actions, Persephone moved to stand next to him at the very edge of the portal.

"How did I not sense her presence in the Underworld when she was there?" When he didn't immediately respond, she turned a narrowed gaze towards him. "Devil, did you shield her presence from me?"

Hades huffed at the inaccurate nickname. She knew how much it and the misconception in the mortal world of what the Underworld was annoyed him, but he also knew that was exactly why she had used it. Although Persephone was his equal when it came to ruling the Lower World, as an older god and one of the three original brothers, there were abilities he possessed that surpassed even the unparalleled power she had been given when she became his wife.

"I did, but it was to protect her against your wrath rather than concealing her presence."

Persephone scoffed. "She's an immortal being. I can no more harm her than I could Ares or any other god."

"Nymphs are immortal too and yet you found a way around that," Hades pointed out, referring to the naiad Minthe who had once tried to seduce him and been turned into a mint plant by his dark queen. Not that he blamed her for her actions—he had certainly done far worse to the mortal who had braved the Underworld and tried to take Persephone from him. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his wife rolled her eyes.

"Taking care of a nymph is far different than dealing with a Sister of Avalon," she muttered as her gaze turned back to the portal. "So this is how it all ends. Maleficent will become the Dark One as was prophesied by the Fairy Mother, and every realm will be plunged into despair and utter darkness."

"Perhaps not, my flower."

Persephone frowned. "How could it not considering the law of the Underworld?"

"I don't like having to fulfill debts, particularly to someone I despise," he replied with a knowing smile. "As luck would have it, Maleficent herself handed me the very means I needed to circumvent her request while still upholding my promise."

From the depths of his robe he pulled out the last remaining piece of the Wonderland blade and held it up so his wife could see it in the light from the portal. Hades could tell that she wasn't sure what she was looking at at first, but then Persephone's sapphire gaze focused on the heraldry that lay on the pommel and her eyes widened.

"Is that—"

"Indeed. I don't know how she didn't recognize it."

"From what I remember of that time of upheaval, the Mother Fairy didn't tell Maleficent what had happened to her sister," she replied as her fingers traced the gold leafed star. "Even if she had, there's no way Maleficent would be able to make the connection between Asteria and the Twice-Blessed Children, or be aware that you knew about it. Although, I still don't understand. How did this help you in circumventing her request?"

When he didn't immediately respond again to one of her questions, Persephone turned her attention from what was left of the Wonderland blade to him. His eyes moved from the dagger to the portal, and he saw the exact moment when his wife realized what he had done.

"Oh, no. Hades, please tell me you didn't."

"It was the only way—"

"It absolutely was not! How are you even sure he'll join them?"

"Because wherever the one goes, he usually follows."

She shook her head. "And you're okay with sacrificing him?"

"Of course not, but it was the only way," Hades stressed. "Persephone, the prophecy must be protected at all costs if we don't want the future you described to come to pass. There was no other way for me to ensure that both of the Twice-Blessed Children would be around to defeat Maleficent. I loathed to do it, and I will spend every moment of my immortal life hoping Asteria forgives me, but it had to be done."

Placing the bladeless dagger back into his robes, Hades looked out over the blue portal as his jaw clenched. If there had been any other way he would have taken that avenue in a heartbeat instead of the one he did. He had always been fond of Asteria, the fairy's curiosity and desire for knowledge as great as his own, and the two of them had shared an untold number of conversations on his visits to Avalon while he was courting Maleficent. To know that he had betrayed her, even if indirectly…

"Then let them do The Gauntlet."

It wasn't the first time he had heard those words fall from his wife's divine lips, but the last time she had said them had certainly been with less authority.

"Persephone—"

"I mean it. Send them through The Gauntlet."

Sighing, Hades returned his gaze to her. "You know what that tests, my flower. It can't work with an odd number."

"Except it can if he is the one that is told about the rule. A friendship can be just as strong as romantic feelings and pass the test."

She wasn't wrong, but his beloved wife seemed to be forgetting one very important thing.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you asked me to send living souls through The Gauntlet?"

"This time is different," she said, her face a mask of determination that he hadn't seen since she told her mother that she wouldn't be leaving him or the Underworld, no matter what Demeter said. "I can feel it."

It wasn't that he didn't believe her. Hades had learned long ago not to question his wife's instincts through watching others do so, but he also knew what would happen, again, when the mortals inevitably failed the test. As much as he wanted to believe Persephone so the guilt over his decision was lessened, he couldn't bear to see her like that again.

"You were melancholy for nearly three centuries the last time," he gently reminded her. "When they fail—"

"They won't. I've seen them, and they have what it takes to complete the challenge. You can protect the prophecy and not need to seek Asteria's forgiveness if you do this."

As the green color of her magic flashed within her eyes, Hades mulled her proposition over. What she said had merit. If they went through The Gauntlet—and succeeded where no one else had before—he wouldn't have to feel guilty over his actions to circumvent Maleficent's plan and protect the prophecy. If they succeeded, that is. Failure of the test meant Hades would have to fall back on the law of the Underworld which, while it would ensure Maleficent's defeat, would mean his guilt would remain.

"Alright," he said at length, "I'll send them through The Gauntlet. You have my word."

He could tell the importance of his word choice was not lost on Persephone. A God's promise was an unbreakable oath no matter who it was given to, after all—mortal, immortal, or divine—and Hades had just done without hesitation the very thing he had only allowed himself to do twice before in his centuries of existence.

Persephone sighed. "You didn't have to—"

"I know." Moving to wrap his arms around her, he added, "You won't be in the Underworld to ensure it happens, and I wanted you to leave here with the certainty that it would."

She smiled sadly at his words. "Speaking of my forced exile from our home, I should go find Mother. She'll be worried since I came straight here."

"Yes, lets not have Demeter thinking I've gone back on a centuries-old accord," Hades grunted, the lack of warmth he felt for his mother-in-law evident in his tone. "How did you know I would be here, anyway?"

"Hermes." He couldn't help but scoff at the name, which drew a momentary laugh from his wife. "He saw you leaving and thought it strange since you normally lock yourself away after I ascend to the Upper World every spring. I decided to seek you out to find out what was happening."

Of course it would be his nephew. "I should feed him to Cerebus for running to you."

"Considering he's a god as well, I don't think that will do much," Persephone teased. "Besides, I'll take any extra time with you I can get. Even if it is helping you from having an eternity of guilt."

Sympathizing with her on the need for more time together when they were about to be apart for six months, Hades leaned down and kissed her passionately. "You need to go, my flower," he murmured once they broke apart. She tried to hide the tears that formed but he saw them, and his immortal heart broke all over again as it had done hours ago when she'd left their home.

"Don't forget they'll need a guide for The Gauntlet."

"I won't. I already have someone in mind and will be sending my rat of a nephew to put everything into place."

With one final, quick kiss Persephone was gone—her form dissolving within the hold of his arms into hundreds of flower petals as she went to greet her mother. No sooner had she left and Hades had turned back to the portal when something across the clearing caught his attention. It was a lone raven flying in, and the unmistakable stench of fairy magic—her magic—denoted it as anything but an ordinary bird.

"Tell your mistress it's done," he growled as soon as the raven landed on a nearby rock. Without waiting for a reply, the Lord of the Underworld dissolved into a gray fog and seeped back to his unseen realm beneath the earth.