Locked in a box with an unreadable message had to be some kind of torture. Lily would admit that her life had been less than stellar. She had made mistakes, and they were many, so maybe she was dead and this was some kind of hell. She'd had her mother's company just long enough to love her, to be close to her, to enjoy this, on some level because she finally had just her mom, and she'd never had that.

And Mom was so happy, patient, and content to be with her. She'd been safe, even here. She's still safe. There's no rent, no electric bill and she doesn't have to bring food to people who barely look up. Her feet don't hurt and she doesn't have to go home to a big empty house. It's just a little empty room, like a cell. Ten paces by ten paces, but there's no phone call and no parole. She's just here, alone.

Forever.

Shutting her eyes, Lily let the ash and dust fill her ears with silence. She was kidding herself if she thought her life was any different. She'd always been alone, this was just the most official. Death wasn't even an option here, though she'd hadn't considered it, not really. Maybe that was part of the immortality she'd always had, not never known about, never believed, until she'd had Mom and her strange memories of hundreds of years ago. Maybe this was why she'd never had to had that talk with one of the many social workers.

Didn't matter, because she wasn't getting out of here, unless the blue light grabbed her the way it had Mom. She opened her eyes again, daring the light, but nothing happened. Nothing changed. That was this hell. She did not want all the time to think, or to be with herself because her own company had never been pleasant. Lily knew what she was, and her own mind, and that for eternity, well-

Her eyes fell on the scratches on the wall. The only thing that marred the smooth surface of glass bricks. Mom had done that, and she must have had reason. She'd pulled out her own tooth, which had to hurt, even if she hadn't been that concerned about it. Mom didn't feel pain the way the others did. Maybe she'd had enough over her lifetime that it blended together and wasn't as acute, or perhaps she was just that tough. Lily didn't want to try the same trick and see if she could pull one of her own. She didn't need to scratch anything into the wall that badly, not yet anyway.

Besides, it wasn't like she had days to count. There was nothing, and her, and more nothing.

The only thing she had that wasn't her was the message her mother had spent so much time carving into the wall. It was just history, stories of dragons, at least, that was what Mom said as she carved it. Lily couldn't read it, not without Mal guiding her hands. It was locked in her mind somewhere, wrapped in the DNA of her. She didn't know it. None of the script made any sense. It was all foreign, worse than Greek, worse than Chinese because this didn't even go in neat rows, like human writing.

It resembled claw marks, slashed into walls, and apparently had been developed over centuries of ignoring other dragons, because they were terribly anti-social. Lily might never speak to a person who wasn't dreaming again, so perhaps in that at least, she'd live up to being a dragon.

She had to try. She couldn't give up. She knew this.

Lifting her hand, she traced it over the first word. How had Mom started that story? "The beginning was fire," Lily said, trying to ignore the way her voice echoed. "No. The beginning was darkness." She knew this. "And fire brought life."

Dragons were the only life under the stars then, and they were cruel, nasty creatures who fed on each other because there was nothing else to eat.

At least, that was what she could make out. When she didn't concentrate, when she just ran her fingers across it like she knew, then, somehow, the scratches were words. Or the words were already in her head, and all she had to do was remember.

Like fire, starlight tumbled to the earth and became life, joining the dragons. Those twinkling pieces of life were fairies.

She read on, her fingers finding the way in a way her eyes could not. This was a story of when the world was fresh, the stone of its body recently dried, and the flesh not even clothed with earth and water. The heart of the world bled fire, and that was dragons. The roof of the world wept starlight, and that was fairies, and for a very long time, they were alone together, ignoring each other as they went about their lives. Stars were cold, far and immortal so they preferred quiet, and order. Dragons were fire, hungry and ever-growing, feeding upon each other in the constant fight for survival.

There was no order in magic, no fate, no rules. Just the blue-white of starlight and red-gold of fire, constantly at odds with each other. When the world began to grow green and lush, other creatures crawled from the sea, water creatures and creatures of air, and dragons had others to eat and were less angry, less made of fury and hunger.

And time passed, meaningless, like Lily's time in the netherworld. Time without measure.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten, but she hadn't been hungry until she'd read these words. When her hands passed over the words, she'd shared the hunger of her ancestors, the gnawing in her belly that was a step away from death. She became aware of her teeth, how sharp they were in her mouth, and if she needed to, she could have killed.

Why was this important? It was a creation myth, the dragon genesis story. Lily had never been religious, even ever been that good at history. She didn't need to know this now, but Mom had thought it important enough that she'd torn her own tooth from her mouth. She'd bled.

Had she known something was coming? She'd been so calm about the sleeping curse. Lily had thought it was because they were together, and she trusted Emma and Regina to save them, but maybe she'd known this was halfway. Being here was only part of someone's plan, and taking Mom, that was the next part.

Then what happened? What was happening up above? No one had been with her since Snow disappeared. When they were sleeping, their appearances here were random. It didn't happen every night. For all she knew, no time had passed at all, and Regina and Emma were still trying to find her mother.

Or months had passed, and something so awful had happened in Storybrooke that no one slept. Would she know if they were dead? If the entire town was gone, would she eventually be out of this hell? Her body would sleep, forever, so maybe she didn't want to think about that.

She touched the scratches and let them become words in her mind. The fairies wanted order, and chose an author, to record their history. They couldn't use a fairy, because a fairy couldn't be trusted to be impartial. Humans were earth and water and life, so one of them became their vessel of truth. She'd heard of the author, Mom thought it was ridiculous to bind the fates of living creatures before they'd been born.

Dragons had no fate. Neither did fairies, until they decided to write theirs, and in doing so, that of other beings, because the stars shone on everything beneath them and few creatures were as stubborn as dragons.

Lily's hands shifted, because there was a note, outside of the story, and unlike the memories that stole her away, this note wasn't part of the history of dragons.

This was Mom, and she wrote that some dragons were affected by fate. Some became the villains in fairy tales and were slain. She suggested that Lily avoid that particular ending.

Her eyes stung, because that was Mom, looking after her, making her safe.

"Lily?"

The voice startled her as much as a hand grabbing her shoulder. She said something, at least, she thought she did, but it came out snarls and half-speech and dammit, she didn't even know that language. Except that she did, in her blood and bones. Regina didn't, though, judging by the confusing written in her eyes.

"Are you a hallucination?" Lily repeated, this time using words that Regina, if she was her, understood.

"No."

Lily extended her hand, taking a step. "Are you dreaming? I thought only those who'd been cursed could be-"

"Becoming cursed was easy," Regina said, her hand caught Lily's and she was cool and soft. So fragile, and yet, she was also mother. The dragon within knew that, insisted upon it.

"So you had someone curse you?"

"Snow White, actually," Regina said. She stroked the back of Lily's hand, and her expression became a smile. "Magic loves a little irony."

Shaking off the spell of the dragon-writing, Lily remembered that story from the book. It was good that she could smile about it now. Lily wasn't sure how Regina did that, or how Snow had forgiven her so utterly, but some people were better at it.

Like Mom.

"Why did you?"

Regina's face twitched, as if she were startled by something, or uncomfortable. Lily almost asked, but she didn't want to pry, and then Regina's smile came back. "I didn't want you to be alone."

Lily swallowed her first answer. Knowing she was always alone wasn't going to help Regina, and she was kind. Regina would be sad if she knew. "Are you okay, being here? Is the curse different for you because you're human?"

"I'm fine," Regina answered. It had a practiced nature too it, and Lily wondered how many times a day she had to reassure Emma.

"Where are you?" Lily asked, they wouldn't leave Regina outside like a dragon. "Is your body safe?"

"Snow has it," Regina said, pausing as if to decide if she was comfortable referring to herself as an it. "Me," she corrected. "In the spare bedroom. I didn't know how long I'd be here, and Emma-"

"Shit," Lily interrupted. "You wouldn't want to be in in your bedroom because Emma's got to sleep there and that's-" She flushed, her face stinging. "Sorry. Did Emma know? You talked about it, right?" The question got out before she had a chance to ask. Maybe she wasn't supposed to get involved. Regina was her mom, but Emma was her friend, and maybe she should have waited and asked Snow because she didn't really seem to care what kind of questions Lily had.

"We did."

Lily's stomach stopped twisting, because that meant Emma was okay. At least, a little okay. She smiled and Regina's answering smile made her so happy that it warmed all of her. "Good."

"Emma means a great deal to you."

Nodding, Lily turned back to the wall and the words. "She's special, and kind of my only friend."

Regina took a step, standing beside her. One of her hands moved slowly across the left side of her belly. "Your mother has always been my only friend."

Lily couldn't smell her, not the way she should, because this was a dream world and her senses were just echoes of what they should be. She seemed healthy enough, and if the baby was moving, that was good, right? Maybe it was Regina's pajamas, but she looked more pregnant than she had been at the picnic. Did it really changed so much week to week?

"Is she okay, being here?" Lily asked, glancing at her belly. Regina and Emma were too practical to risk the baby, but she wanted to hear it.

"She's fine," Regina promised, and this smile was shy and grew tentatively. "She's never wanted to sleep while I was sleeping. Emma just explained to me what it was, because I thought- I- I don't think I was ready."

"Makes it pretty real, doesn't it?" Lily kept her hands from the scratches, because if she touched them, she'd lose herself again, and Regina was here and it was nice.

"I like to think I was convinced of the reality before, but you're right. It's much more real now." Regina's eyes followed Lily's fingers. "How long did it take your mother to carve all of this?"

"No time at all," Lily joked, shaking her head. "I don't know. You start here," she said. Moving Regina's fingers to the beginning, she helped her trace the first character. Regina couldn't know it, wouldn't feel it the way Lily did, but she could find the shape.

"Did she say why it was important?"

Lily shrugged. "I thought it was something to pass the time. Keep us from going crazy in here, but I think there's something to it. Mom's never good at sharing her plans, but that doesn't mean she didn't have one." She guided Regina's hand across, and the chill of starlight and darkness ran up her spine. "This part is about how the fairies wove the system of fate that binds your world and this, I think this is about wishes." Hope rushed through her, futile, like wanting her mother as a little girl. "It doesn't read like words. Dragons don't think that way."

Regina nodded and let Lily continue to hold her hand. "But you know what it says?"

"Sort of, I have to lose myself in it." Lily shrugged again. "It's in me, somewhere, and if I stop worrying about what I can't do, I can do this."

"Of course you can," Regina said, and she did it so earnestly that Lily chuckled.

"Thanks."

"Sorry," Regina answered, still smiling. "Parenting a teenager is new to me, trying to parent a thirty-year old is going to take a while."

"I'm thirty-two," Lily said, teasing, "but thanks."

"Should I leave you to it?" She took a step back, willing to watch while Lily lost herself in the wall of stories.

"Stay," Lily asked, looking at the wall instead of Regina's dark eyes. "It's kind of intense. I don't know if I would have come out of it if you weren't here."

"Okay," Regina answered. She patted Lily's shoulder. "I'll be right here then."

"I promise not to eat you."

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Is that a concern?"

"Apparently it's all early dragons did," Lily said, glancing back at that passage. "Nothing else was around."

"Is this the 'dragons were the first life' story?" Regina asked, hands on her hips.

"Yeah."

"It would behove you to remember that all creation myths tend to be rather self-centered on the beings who are created," she said.

Lily nodded, sheepish but amused. "See, parenting a thirty-two year old comes just fine."

Regina's smile lit the room, and Lily turned from it, focusing on that as the center before she reached out to her other side.

Dragons had their own magic, because each spark inside of them is living flame. Fire continued to burn as long as there was fuel enough. Fairies too had their own light, but starlight is cold and distant and the sun and the moon can make it weak.

Old magic, star magic, works best when the moon is dark, in the dead of night. The spell that found her had been starlight and blood. What spells were at work now? What was happening to Storybrooke? Mom hadn't been that worried about the Blue Fairy. She'd even accepted that plant- and then they'd slept. So it had been her, must have been her.

But why?

Humans, and the beasts, not content to live their lives wondering at their fate, learned to wish upon the stars above, because on a clear night, the stars could hear them. The dragon side of the story muttered that the stars were petulant and answered when they wanted to and it suited them. Dragons did not need to grant wishes because fire thrived on change, but stars, who shine in the same place, even after they're dead and gone, were willing to help because wishes were power.

Wishes were hope, and that was a special magic. Hope was something the fairies could use, could make and focus.

Lily saw her hands full of diamonds and understood. Diamonds clarified and concentrated the power of hope, of fear, of trusting your fate to another being. Wishes were about surrendering your own power to change your destiny.

The author kept track, writing the ledgers because fate was a system that had be balanced. Good and evil had to struggle, and evil needed to exist because desperation built hope and no one wished when there was a good harvest, or the winter was short and mild.

The oldest of the fairies came together and wove fate in the darkness with the naked magic of stars and blood. Villains would rise and heroes to slay them. The lowly could become queens and kings, if only they were fortunate. Horrible diseases could be cured if you had a destiny.

And wishes poured in like rain on the fields.

Old memories took her, wanting her to run with them, to fly over tiny villages and little mud huts, to see the squalor and the beauty of the old world through eyes long dead. Lily shook herself free, reaching for, and finding Regina, who looked at her, curious and patient.

"What did you see?"

"The fairies made fate."

Regina tilted her head to side, contemplating that. "It's possible that they developed the author, and set the rules for good and evil."

Lily's hands shook when she released Regina and she held them in front of her, watching her fingers tremble. "They did it for power. At least, some of them did. Wishes are power, they're like fire. You can turn a wish into anything."

"The power of fairies is based on being worshiped, at least, that's what one of my mother's books said. Fairies depend on the respect and belief of other creatures, because it is difficult for them cast magic from within. They're not like dragons."

"Or humans," Lily said. That was important, for some reason. "You and Emma, you make magic. Literally. You made this baby, you make fire. You get all of that from within you. My magic's inside of me. I think this story, the whole thing, it's Mom's way of trying to explain that the fairies can't get magic from inside of themselves."

"That's never bothered them before, at least," Regina paused. Her eyes slipped from Lily's face as her thoughts drifted. "Reul Gorm."

"She's the blue one, right?"

Regina shifted her weight on her feet, then started to pace. "She's the leader of the fairies, the oldest. Mal used to say that she was one of the first."

"The first of the fairies?" Lily asked, cold welling in her stomach.

"She's the oldest I've ever heard of," Regina said.

Her feet made no sound in her slippers and Lily had to smile at her because she so rarely saw Regina less than put together and there was something so familiar. Flashes of Regina smiling, looking up at her in a way she never had, interrupted Lily's thoughts. Those were Mal's memories, and she had them inside of her. Mal loved her without reservation, because that was the way Mom did things, without holding back.

"Would she want to hurt Mom?"

"They've never gotten along," Regina said, turning and pacing back. "They're not really enemies, unless-" Her gaze moved to Lily's face, her lips tight. "Diamonds and fairy dust concentrate hope, right?"

Lily nodded. "And fear, all the emotions behind wishing."

"And if no one wished?" Regina continued, walking straight up to Lily. "If no one needed to wish, because life in Storybrooke is safe, and good, and there are witches around to cast spells and heal you and fix the streets-"

"The fairies would still have starlight."

"And streetlights, and headlights, and the world just isn't ever dark here." Regina continued, almost as if she spoke to herself. "Mal's heart is the strongest magical object in town. Taking it wouldn't be easy."

"Blood and starlight would do it," Lily volunteered. "That's in there," she said, pointing at the story. "The strongest of spells can be written in blood and starlight."

"She never wanted power," Regina said, shaking her head. "Even if she had the means to do it, Reul Gorm never wanted to rule."

"Maybe because she couldn't," Lily said. "Didn't you have a hell of a lot more magical people in your world? More dragons? Here it's just me, and Mom, you, Emma, Ursula and Cruella. No one else has magic but the fairies. The Dark Thing-"

"The Dark One," Regina corrected.

"Right, he's gone. His dagger isn't good for anything. It's a little kingdom, and it's just the six of us and the fairies. You and Emma kind of rule things."

"We're both elected," Regina reminded her. "Fairly, I might add."

Lily smirked, even though she didn't have time to argue. "Maybe she's never had a chance to rule before and this is it. She knew Mom was weak. Everyone in town knew that Mom nearly died trying to get me, so maybe, maybe this is her chance."

Regina's lips curled into a snarl. "The moth should have stayed in the shadows."

The last time the whole town had been in the gym, the roof had been about to fly off in the storm and everyone had still been less afraid. All around Henry, people shuffled their feet, looked at the floor and clung to anyone near them.

They'd been sent here, lined up in alphabetical order, and because his last name wasn't the same as his grandparents, or Emma, he had to stand by himself and he wasn't afraid, not really. He knew he didn't have magic, and logically, he was then no threat to Blue and whatever her plan was. Logic didn't make the device any less terrifying.

On the table in front of her, sat a glass ball, floating in a bowl of water, as if it were made of ice. When someone rested their hand on it, it either glowed (that was bad) or it sat still and quiet. For most people it sat still, for a few people it had glowed a little, and Blue took their wrists and inscribed something.

The first child she'd grabbed cried the whole time, even though it didn't seem to hurt that much. It was just a mark, but he'd read about history, in this world and the old one. When you marked people as different from the rest, it never went well. Red was a few steps in front of him, with Granny just ahead of her. Mulan stood next to the table, with Emma next to her. Mulan stared straight ahead, but her hands were gentle when she led people away.

Emma stood like a dead thing, almost as much of a zombie as Maleficent. Blue had locked her in a cuff of iron, not even leather like the one Hook had used on his mom. This was a nasty iron shackle that kept Emma's magic down.

It gave her headaches first, and after a week of Blue's rule, when she'd emptied both bottles of painkillers in the house, he'd made her talk to his grandparents, then Belle, but there wasn't anything Belle could do. Emma's magic was tied to his mom's, and while Mom was asleep in the guest room, Emma's link had been severed.

And she wasn't Emma. She was, sort of. She still smiled, but she hurt down to her bones, and she was never warm.

She'd been so worried about Regina; what cutting the link between them would mean for the baby, that Emma hadn't thought about herself. Now she rarely spoke unless someone asked her a question, rarely moved if she didn't absolutely have to. His grandparents plotted, Belle smuggled messages between Red and Snow, and everyone researched whenever they could. Reul Gorm hadn't closed the library yet, but no one trusted her. Why would they?

Red touched the glass globe and the responding glow lit the room.

"Of course, well then." Reul Gorm stood, holding a ring of iron. "This will bind your powers. You may wear it or be exiled beyond the town line."

"What a fantastic choice," Red muttered, holding out her arm.

She'd wanted to fight, and Henry didn't blame her, because Storybrooke had never been this quiet. No one went out to play, school was too quiet and no one got anything done. Granny's barely had an customers, the supermarket was full of people grabbing what they needed and leaving. Blue had made it a ghost town.

Ursula and Cruella's tavern sat empty because they were gone. They'd disappeared the night Blue had taken over. Red thought they might be able to reach them and Belle had been looking into it, but seeing how Blue treated Emma, when she was the savior, made Henry wonder if Blue would have even allowed villains to live. They were 'wanted for questioning' now, but that meant nothing.

"All magic users must have their magic dampened for the good of the town. Magic has run rampant through Storybrooke long enough," Blue repeated, calling Granny forward. The ball glowed, not as bright as it had for Red, and Granny extended her hand to take the mark.

Some kind of needle scratched it into their flesh and it hovered there, blue beneath their skin.

Henry stepped up to the table and Emma smiled at him, just a little. She'd made him promise to follow the rules, because Blue had Mal, and a dragon could destroy the town before any of them could escape.

He knew that she worried for Regina most, because she was asleep and Emma had no magic to protect her. Mal could easily smash the house kill her, or take her, and Henry didn't think Blue was behind blackmail.

Maybe that's what all of this was. Submit or watch your family die.

He reached out his hand, trying to be fearless. The more Blue stared at him with that insincere smile, the easier it was to stare back. He wasn't afraid of her. He wouldn't be. Not when there was hope.

The glass ball was warm against his hand, even though the water was cold. Henry only needed to hold it for a moment, but nothing happened. He did not have to be marked, and Mulan led him to the much fuller side of the gym.

"Stay quiet," Mulan whispered. Belle touched his arm, nodding. She also had no magical inclination, so she'd been safe. Across the room, Emma fit an iron cuff onto Granny that matched her own. Her fingers fumbled with it, and Red helped her.

Did no one else see how bad that was? Emma still got up when the phone rang, or when her alarm went off, but she wasn't her. She tried to protect him, and she talked to Mom, but part of her was gone.

At the end of the seemingly endless line, a tiny group of those with magical potential stood in the corner of the gym. Red and Granny stood at the front, their bodies between Blue and the others. One of them was a little girl so tiny that she barely stood on her own feet. Another was a boy Henry knew, Ben from his science class. He'd never talked about magic, but his wrist bore the mark.

Would Mom be able to take those off when she got back? Would Mal eat Blue for what she'd done or would she let Mom put her in prison?

Emma moved through the little group, trying to keep everyone calm.

Magical beings could be just like everyone else, if they followed the rules.

Henry had heard that, but he didn't believe it. Rules weren't arbitrarily splitting one group from another. Rules didn't mean saying that some people were different.

And they couldn't fight, not yet, but they would. Maybe Blue hadn't realized it yet, because she still thought of herself as a hero, as the savior Storybrooke had long needed.

While she stood in the center of the gym and told them how she would build a better world, the eyes of the greatest heroes of fairy tales were all on her, and none of them gleamed with forgiveness. It wouldn't matter that she had a dragon, or that she could kill all of them in a moment. They'd find a way to defeat her.