Zelena knew she was dying. That wasn't the surprise. It was the fact that she was still alive that came as a shock. She had gone to Nevethe expecting to win or die. Surviving failure had not been an option, yet here she was in the Dark Castle.

Somehow her Dark One had sent her here before his death, here to the tower Zelena had made her own. She scrabbled desperately through a cabinet, quaffing every healing potion she had in stock. At the end of it, she collapsed in an armchair, breathing hard, but still alive. Still dying, but she had bought herself time to come up with a more permanent solution.

The tears surprised her. There are other Dark Ones, her rational mind told her, but her heart was stubbornly fixated on the one who had been her Rumple. The one who had sacrificed himself for her and for their child. The thought of vengeance came as a comfort. They will pay for what they did to us. She could capture another Rumplestiltskin (it wouldn't be the same, she wouldn't love him) and this time they would succeed. Nevethe might have won, but at a cost. Surely the Wood Beyond was weaker than it had ever been.

Unfortunately, so was Zelena. If the Queen sent more assassins, Zelena didn't have the power to fight them off. She needed to heal herself fully, then find somewhere to hide until she could bring her new plans to fruition. The idea came to her when she was spying on her half-sister via crystal ball, brooding over the way the pampered brat had managed to waste every opportunity dumped in her lap, unlike Zelena who had had to fight tooth and claw for everything in her life. Even now, when Regina had been exiled to a tiny, remote island, their mother came back from Wonderland to support her. Where was Cora when Zelena needed her?

Zelena was ready to smash the crystal ball in outrage over the life that should have been hers when she suddenly smiled. Well, why couldn't it be hers? She had killed another version of Cora and Regina — she could do it again. The tools she needed lay in the vault under the Dark Castle.

A heart. A candle that burned at both ends, one black and one white. An enchanted knife.

She lit both ends of the candle, held it over the heart and whispered a name. "Cora."

Zelena had commanded her Rumple to steal the heart — the one belonging to the Cora who had actually given birth to her and was thus linked by blood — a long time ago as insurance. It was an investment that would pay off today. Not wanting to waste her own magic on transport spells, Zelena took the Dark One's carriage and hitched up a pair of wooden horses (the enchantment on them still had a few charges remaining) and drove through the standing portal to her home realm (a bit of spellwork set up by her Rumple soon after Zelena had first won his love).

She navigated easily through the Infinite Forest, emerging on a rocky shoreline on the south coast. Regina's island was a dark splotch on the horizon. The carriage transformed into a boat, the horses to a pair of dolphins harnessed to the boat. On reaching land, she used the last of the enchantment to turn them into a massive pair of wolves to escort her to Regina's door. It wasn't much of a door, since Regina's home in exile wasn't much of a house — hardly befitting royalty. Well, at least the roof looked sound. It would have to do for now.

Cora answered the door, Regina a step behind her mother. Neither showed any sign of recognition, but Zelena knew that Cora, at least, was lying.

"Aren't you going to ask me in?" Zelena said. "Not that I'm expecting hugs and kisses, but common politeness is something even a peasant can manage."

"Hugs and kisses?" Regina looked incredulous. "Who in any realm would want to risk catching... whatever grotesque disease it is that afflicts you?"

"Oh dear, you never told her about me?" Zelena shot Cora a withering look. "I'm starting to feel a little unloved, here."

"Very well." Cora relented enough to step back from the door to allow Zelena in. "Come in. I'd hate for you to waste the journey." She eyed the two wolves icily as they squeezed in behind their mistress. "I do hope your pets are house-trained."

"Mother..." Regina looked from Cora to Zelena in bewilderment. "Who is she?"

"The name's Zelena," supplied Zelena. "I am Cora's firstborn, the happy result of her little indiscretion with a humble gardener. Which is to say, I'm your older half-sister."

"Raised by the wolves, were you?" sneered Regina.

"That's what happens when one is abandoned in the woods as an infant," said Zelena. She waited to be offered refreshments. Nothing doing.

"Mother, is any of this true?" Regina demanded.

Cora gave a minute nod, her expression one of faint distaste. She gave Zelena a long look. "You're here for revenge, I take it?"

"Heavens, no!" Zelena laughed a false, tinkling laugh. "I simply wanted to meet the woman who gave birth to me. And to give her a gift..." She mentally signalled the two enchanted wolves, simultaneously ducking the blast of magic that Cora sent her way.

Glasses and plates shattered behind her. At the same time, the wolves lunged, one knocking Regina over, the other going for Cora's throat.

In that moment of distraction, Zelena surged forward and shoved Cora's heart back into her chest. The candle's magic took effect instantly. Zelena felt invigorated, and was soon restored to full health even as Cora sank to the floor. Zelena called her wolves to heel with a snap of her fingers and stood in the center of the chaos, looking down at her victims in triumph.

Cora's head tilted towards Regina.

"Mother!" Regina rushed to her mother's side, crouching and cradling her in her arms. She turned to Zelena, glaring at her with impotent hatred. "You... what did you do to her?"

Zelena smiled lightly. "I gave her a chance to show a bit of love to her own flesh and blood. Too bad she won't have any further chances, but such is life."

Cora groped for Regina's hand. She whispered, tears in her eyes, "Regina. I'm sorry..."

Zelena snickered, cupping her ear. "Oh! Was that a last gasp I heard? I think it was."

Regina turned to her, fumbling uselessly at the cuff on her wrist that blocked her magic. "You monster!"

It didn't take much magic to immobilize Regina where she was on the floor. Zelena brought out the knife from the vault. "Patience, sister dear. I was just about to get to you." She leaned down, showing off the blade to her intended victim. "I brought this especially for you. Do you recognize it?"

Regina grunted a negative, looking as if she wanted to spit on Zelena's face. "I don't give a rat's turd what fancy cutlery you've decided to kill me with. Just get on with it."

Zelena's face split in a gleeful grin. "Wow, looks like you weren't quite the star pupil after all, if Rumple never told you..." She traced the tip of the knife around the curve of Regina's face, starting from under her left ear. "This came from his vault. It was enchanted to take faces, you see. Have you ever heard of the 'human skin masks' of Peach Blossom Island?"

Regina looked ill, but said nothing.

Covering up her fear. Did our mother teach her this kind of pride? The thought filled Zelena with rage. "No one will even hear a whisper of your death. I will take your face and your place! This knife will send you to hell, nameless and lost..."

Under the mask, Zelena would become Regina, the substitution undetectable even by the most powerful divination magic. Chuckling in anticipation, Zelena let the tip of the knife bite lightly into her sister's skin. "First it cuts, and then—"

STOP.

The rest of the sentence died in Zelena's throat. Frozen in place, she didn't realize at first what had happened.

Regina gasped, her eyes widening, focused on a point behind Zelena. A scrabble of paws, then two agonized yelps — cut off mid-cry.

What? A moment of complete bewilderment, while her sluggish thoughts struggled with the unexpected reversal.

Then Zelena understood the sudden dislocated pain, like a fist squeezing around her heart. Her heart — which was no longer inside her body! Her fingers loosened involuntarily, the knife clattering to the floor. Then her paralysis weakened just enough to allow her to twist around to look for her attacker.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the wolves cowering away, whining in terrified submission. Following their line of sight, she saw—

A dark, looming figure was silhouetted against the open doorway — the shape that of a gaunt, skeletal woman clad in black rags that fluttered in a wind that blew straight from hell. A flare of ghostly wings rose from her shoulders. Eyes glowed with demonic light. Her voice carried the judgement of the gods themselves. "Kinslayer, you are my lawful meat. It is you who shall be cast into hell, nameless and lost!"

"No!" Zelena fought for air, gasped a plea to spare her child. She reached desperately for her magic, concentrated.

"Your spawn dies with you."

A surge of hatred and terror gripped the knife on the floor, sent it in a deadly trajectory aimed to pierce the eye and drive deep into that demonic skull.

The demon caught the blade effortlessly between forefinger and thumb and laughed. With her other hand, she crushed Zelena's heart. As the dust trickled from between her fingers, so did Zelena's life leave her flesh.

And if there was a last, furtive shadow of magic, no one noticed.

When Bae showed up at the Dark Castle with Emma and Lily in tow, Rumplestiltskin was at first surprised, then amused, hearing the way his son spoke to (and about) them, especially Emma. So that was the way of it. Belle had probably guessed before he did.

"He's growing up, Rumple," she said later.

Bae had come to ask his father to reverse the spell that had sent Emma's darkness into Lily.

Rumplestiltskin considered the young dragon and the fated Savior (not that it mattered now) that had grown up as her sister. He hadn't had the attention to spare for them the first time he had seen them, in the battle in the Wood Beyond. "Do your parents know you're here, seeking to make a deal with the Dark One?"

"If you mean Snow White and Prince Charming, they haven't known where I was for the past sixteen years or so," said Emma. "It would feel strange to start worrying about it now!"

Rumplestiltskin nodded, conceding the point.

"And as for my mother," Lily added, "she says you're the one who once promised her a happy ending and never delivered, so you owe her this."

"Besides, they helped me. I told you that," Bae put in.

"It's not that I'm unwilling, but it's not an ordinary spell. I've never seen it done before." Rumplestiltskin wagged a finger at the three of them. "It will require... research."

"Belle's good at research," Bae said eagerly. "She'll help us."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Well, then, shall we visit the library?"

Belle was already there. Rumplestiltskin knew she was researching the nature of dark and light magic, an interest prompted by the Timers and the roles they wanted Rumplestiltskin and Belle herself to fill. As Rumplestiltskin had refused them, Belle was doing her own reading without trying to rope her husband into her studies. Not that she made a secret of what she was doing, and now it occurred to him that her research could apply to Emma and Lily's condition.

None of the three teenagers were of a scholarly bent, alas. Belle, who saw fairly quickly that they wouldn't be much help with the reading, sat them down for a summary of her findings, then handed them off to Rumplestiltskin for a thorough magical examination.

Emma was much as Rumplestiltskin had expected: the daughter of true love, born with an abundance of light magic as befit a savior. He had foreseen as much, bottling that true love and using a drop to bind her to his curse. The curse had been meant to take them all to the Land Without Magic where he had hoped to find Bae. Of course, things hadn't worked out that way, and that vision was only a discarded possibility now. He wondered idly what Emma would have been like if she had grown up with Snow White. Would the girl still have found such a connection with the son of the Dark One?

He shook off the thought and concentrated on Lily. Her mother was a dragon, with enough Titan blood to make her effectively immortal. Lily seemed to have inherited the same traits (and he had seen her in dragon form) but also... something wholly outside his experience. It was more than the extra burden of darkness — that was ultimately a human darkness. No, there was something more... something inhuman and reeking of fate.

The Dark One was not so easily embarrassed as his son. "Lily, who is your father?"

"My mother never said." Lily shrugged. "She said it was a 'dragon thing'." Under Rumplestiltskin's searching gaze, she glanced aside and admitted, "I am curious. You're the Dark One. You're supposed to be good with names. Can't you tell?"

"He wasn't a dragon. Or a human. That's all I can tell." Rumplestiltskin wondered what Maleficent was hiding. Did the father even know about Lily? That was a thought that didn't sit well with him, but it wasn't a question that Lily could answer.

"Does it matter?" That was Emma, growing impatient. "Can you reverse the spell or not?"

"Hmm." He suspected he couldn't, not with the magic currently at his disposal, but perhaps Belle had found something useful in her books.

"Your best chance is to enlist the man Snow White told us about, this 'Isaac Heller'," was Belle's conclusion.

"He's living in the Land of Untold Stories," Rumplestiltskin mused. "I have a key to that realm. It's easy enough to reach from here."

Belle smiled brightly. "Good! Let's go talk to him."

"You're not going without us," Bae said firmly, causing Rumplestiltskin's anxiety to flare immediately.

His mouth opened to say "no", his thoughts running wild with fears of losing his son again to a portal, but Belle spoke up first.

"Of course." Belle touched Rumplestiltskin's hand. "It'll be fine, Rumple. Zelena's gone. That's what you said..."

He swallowed down his instinctive terror, forced himself to nod. "Yeah."

"So there's nothing to worry about."

There was always something to worry about. Rumplestiltskin smiled weakly and didn't say so. After all, if something did go wrong, better if he kept Bae close at hand so that he could protect him. "Fine."

He felt validated (either that, or he was going as mad as the hatter) when Jefferson caught them before they left with a warning.

"Step carefully, children." Jefferson spun his hat on the tip of his finger. "Word is, the big man in the sky is taking things up a notch."

Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes. "Direct action?"

"Not yet. But desperate times and all that."

"Surely not," Belle protested. "We're hardly about to march on Olympus! Can't you put in a word for sanity? Yes, I know what they call you, but this time I think someone else must be wearing the crazy hat."

Jefferson chuckled. "No one's going to hear my voice when the tree has fallen loudly enough to burst a few divine bubbles about how safe anyone is when an upstart mortal power can bring down Nevethe."

"It wasn't us," muttered Rumplestiltskin. "Not exactly."

"A mere technicality."

"And yet... still not interested." Rumplestiltskin caught the brim of Jefferson's hat just as the man was about to flip it onto his head. "Tell them it would spare everyone a universe of pain if they adopt a policy of boring us to death..."

Belle nodded. "You'd think they'd never heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy before!"

Jefferson yanked his hat free, tossing it onto his bowed head in the same motion. Then he met Rumplestiltskin's eyes. "Oh no, no, no, that sounds far too much like a threat. I'm telling you all this because I want to de-escalate things, you idiot of a Dark One."

Rumplestiltskin stepped back with a sigh. "I'll try to stay out of their way, but if someone goes after Belle or our children..."

Jefferson adjusted his hat. "Well. That goes without saying. Really. Shhh!" He waved jauntily and spun on his heel, walking off again. Over his shoulder, a cheerful, "Good luck!"

Rumplestiltskin and Belle exchanged a look. He said at last, "Not especially helpful, but he's the best of the lot!"

Belle smiled ruefully. "He means well, I'm sure."

They collected Baelfire, Emma, Lily, and the two griffons and found a likely-looking door in the corridor behind the kitchen.

Rumplestiltskin put the key in the keyhole. "Try not to be kidnapped, for once!"

Lily held up a piece of dragon-sized egg shell she wore on a steel chain. "I can summon my mother if it comes to that."

"I'm surprised she didn't insist on coming along," said Belle.

"She said something about not putting all the eggs in one basket," explained Lily. "She has a crystal ball and she knows how to use it."

"That's all very well, but from what Snow said, it's more of a 'story' than a 'basket'," Belle cautioned. "As the Author, Isaac Heller has a supernatural ability to know things in whatever story he happens to be focusing on."

"Be boring!" Rumplestiltskin had lived several centuries. He was fairly sure no author, magical or not, would have had the stamina to document every last moment of it. He tried to drape the dull passage of uneventful years over them. "Nothing to see here, nothing worth wasting ink on..."

"Yes," nodded Belle. "Because if he sees us coming, he can write himself out of our thoughts and we'll be left with a handful of nothing."

That was why Rumplestiltskin, who like Maleficent, had a crystal ball, made use of it as soon as they passed through the door into the Land of Untold stories. He summoned an image of the Author to enough detail to lock onto his location, then immediately transported all of them there, catching him off guard.

Otulissa flew at Isaac's head, and Eskereye took advantage of the distraction to snatch the pen from his hand. Lily stole the ink and Emma the book he had been writing in. Belle took the opportunity to poke into Isaac's book collection.

"What the hell!" Isaac jumped to his feet. Seeing Rumplestiltskin, he paled. "The Dark One!"

"Just thought I'd pop in for a visit, dearie." He was both smug and relieved that he had succeeded in catching the Author off-guard. "All this?" He gestured at the others. "A mere precaution. Mr. Heller, we have a business proposition for you..."

Isaac looked ill, though his tone was grimly sarcastic as he returned with, "Let me guess. An offer I can't refuse?"

Rumplestiltskin tsked. "I have a proposal that benefits both parties." He looked around, affecting a judgemental sniff. "Is this truly the life you want, mouldering away by yourself in the Land of Untold Stories, where nothing ever changes while you remain at the beck and call of a sanctimonious mouse of a wizard?"

"Well..." Isaac dragged out the syllable, eyeing the Dark One with suspicion.

Belle turned to them, one of Isaac's books in her hands. "How many of these books did you write, Mr. Heller? It's very impressive!" She smiled with the sincerity of a true bookworm, and even Isaac seemed to soften.

The Author cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I've had a lot of time on my hands."

"And how many people have read your books?" The Dark One's instinct for scenting any trace of blood in the water led him straight to the wound — that he offered to heal, for a price. At Isaac's disgruntled look, Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Not many. I would venture to guess... yourself, the Apprentice, and a few stray chapters here and there to the likes of Snow White and her Charming husband. In other words, fewer than the number of people in this room right now."

Isaac glanced around and scoffed. He adjusted his chair back far enough to keep them all in view and sat down again, feet pushed against the edge of the table and arms folded across his chest. He said sourly, "He said they were a publishing house... and now that I'm locked into a contract with him, no one else will even look at me. Some damn spell or other. He's even worse than my old boss — he was an asshole, too, but he never pretended it was all for some 'higher cause'." He lifted his hands to form vicious air quotes.

"It does seem a shame," said Belle. "All this work, and you can't even share it."

Isaac shrugged in a wordless "well, what can you do?" gesture. "Though sometimes the old man 'borrowed' a book or two to show someone or to put one of the alternative scenarios into play, but that's about it."

"We're not afraid of the Apprentice, Mr. Heller." Belle set the book on the table with a firm thump. "We can find a real publisher to take you on."

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "What you really want is to have your talent recognized in your own world, is it not?"

"Yeah," Isaac admitted. "I want to see that shitstain's face when he reads my name in the bestseller list..." His eyes narrowed at Rumplestiltskin. "Are you saying you can arrange that?"

"I've been to your world before. I've been to many worlds." Rumplestiltskin paced the room, then whirled back and waggled a finger to punctuate his point. "And many people in those worlds owe me a favor. Now, I can call in those favors and get you a contract and a successful first run. Rave reviews, celebrity endorsements, the whole package. Bestseller lists can be... manipulated, shall we say. I can get you a foot in the door."

"And after that?"

"After that, it would be up to you to sink or swim on your own merits." Rumplestiltskin had no particular opinion on Isaac's skills, but he was hardly a literary critic.

"Do you believe in yourself, Mr. Heller?" Belle inquired, an encouraging smile on her lips.

Isaac sighed. "I used to."

"Damn right you should believe in yourself," Emma put in. She exchanged a glance with Lily. "All kinds of people in the world, always telling you what they think of you, trying to make you fit their little boxes."

Lily nodded. "You gotta punch back, tell them, 'This is who I am.'"

Isaac rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head. Then he chuckled. "That's ironic, coming from you two, considering what you want from me..."

Emma blinked. "How do you know what we want...?"

"I'm the Author. It comes with the job." Isaac's mood seemed to lift now that he had found a glimmer of hope. "I wrote the scenario the Apprentice used to tempt your parents with." He nodded at Emma. "It was the Author's magic that enabled him to cast that spell. I imagine you're here to get me to reverse it."

"Well... yeah." Emma looked at Rumplestiltskin.

"We're also here to ensure the mouse doesn't try something like that again," said Rumplestiltskin. "But it's not as if his employment of you has brought you anything but stagnation."

"True, but if it's the pen and ink you want, they may not do you much good. They don't work for just anyone."

"Let me worry about that." Rumplestiltskin would need to study the magic more carefully later, but his priority was to take it away from the forces that seemed hostile to his and his family's very existence.

"Hmm. That's two things you want from me."

"Three." Lily counted off on her fingers until she had three raised in the air. "I also wanted to ask you about my father. Who is he, and why is my mother so secretive about it?" Her mother, who might very well be watching this very conversation, but it didn't deter her daughter from asking.

"She's a dragon, and that's just how they are?" Isaac smirked. "That much I'll give you for free..." At Lily's angry look, he subsided. "Sorry. Can't anyone take a joke around here? But you can take it off the list. I don't know. That part of the story never revealed itself to me."

"Didn't you look?" asked Lily. "Weren't you curious at all?"

"Sure, but it wasn't up to me." Isaac actually looked resentful. "Mysterious backstory is all well and good for the readers, but hiding it from the author tends to be detrimental to consistency and verisimilitude."

"So you're not in control of which stories you are chosen to put to paper?" Belle asked.

"Only to a limited extent. I could travel freely between the realms and write of anything I personally observed," Isaac explained. "But the... 'bonus scenes', you could call them — those were beamed into my head, courtesy of Radio Free Olympus, for all your divine propaganda needs."

Rumplestiltskin wasn't too surprised. If it truly was the magic of the gods, as Belle's research had suggested, that meant it would serve their interests rather than their Author's. It was also possible that the events were hidden by magic more powerful than that of the Author's pen. "Those 'bonus scenes'... have you ever tried not writing them down?"

"Then the words appear anyway, no input needed from yours truly, apparently. I'm not sure why they bother pretending it all comes from me." Isaac scowled. "Probably in case someone needs a handy scapegoat."

"Sounds frustrating," suggested Belle. "Being used to write someone else's story."

"You have no idea," snorted Isaac.

Rumplestiltskin knew well enough how it felt to have magic controlling him rather than the reverse, but no need to share that knowledge with Isaac Heller. "So, the deal. In return first for your assistance in restoring Emma and Lily to their natural balance of light and dark, and second, for the tools of your trade — pen, ink, and a blank book — I offer..."

"You return me to my home realm, where you will ensure that my book Heroes and Villains is published and has the reception due a masterpiece," said Isaac, ticking each stipulation off on his fingers. "Number one on the New York Times best sellers list for at least six weeks, glowing reviews, big name blurbs, enough money to live in luxury for ten years... oh, and a movie deal... and a well-attended book tour... and a line of collectible figurines. You should appreciate that one — the fangirls love dark and dangerous, so that's you and your protege the Evil Queen..."

"Quite the ask," noted Rumplestiltskin, amused at the expanding list.

"But how many other divinely appointed Authors do you have ready to cut a deal with the Dark One?" Isaac was well aware that Rumplestiltskin had no other choice on offer. "That's all in exchange for the first item on your list. As for the second..."

"Your safety," Rumplestiltskin cut in bluntly. "After giving up the magic, what will protect you in case someone takes issue with your retirement? Or comes to collect on any outstanding blood debts they may feel entitled to? For instance, a certain gin-soaked animal trainer with a rather distinctive hair coloration?" Maleficent had dropped a few hints on Cruella and Isaac sharing a past, and Rumplestiltskin was satisfied to see it pay out when Isaac visibly winced at the questions.

"There is that, yeah," Isaac admitted dolefully. "Can you protect me?"

"I have the means to hide you as thoroughly as if you had died. No, more thoroughly — not even leaving a shade to be summoned. But it will mean a name change for you." Rumplestiltskin had experimented enough with the Shears of Destiny to be confident of what he promised. He would even throw in a smidgen of extra luck to sweeten the deal.

"Yeah, of course." Isaac looked uncertain. "But... the Apprentice was working for higher powers. Does your magic work against gods?"

"In a way, it's their own magic I would be using. Or, rather, fate's magic, which governs even the gods." Rumplestiltskin smiled. "Come now, you've written about me in those books of yours. You know I never break a deal."

Isaac's gaze slid to Baelfire.

"Except that once," Rumplestiltskin amended. "But not this time. You can trust me, if not to look out for your interests, then for my own. It's to my benefit that 'Isaac Heller, the Author', vanish from the board and stay vanished."

"Please, Mr. Heller," Baelfire said. "It's the right thing to do. You would be helping Emma and Lily, who didn't deserve to have their souls, destinies, whatever, messed with like that."

"Hmm." Isaac's mouth twisted in distaste. "Life isn't always about deserving, and neither are stories. But I guess you're too young to understand..."

"It's not a criticism of your story," Belle said hastily. "Plots can't be all fluffy kittens and rainbows, any reader knows that. But it's different for the characters."

Isaac looked mollified. "Look, I never asked to play god to a bunch of fairy tale characters. In some ways, it'll be a relief not to worry about my characters teleporting into my house and ambushing me..."

Belle smiled apologetically. "We didn't mean to make you feel threatened..." She seemed to see something in Rumplestiltskin's expression, and amended her statement to, "Well, most of us didn't. But he's the Dark One! That's one of his basic character traits, you must know that."

Isaac waved it away. "Yeah, yeah. Give me a moment to think..."

It didn't take long. The Author accepted the deal.

Regina didn't know how long she sat on the floor of the parlor in a stunned daze. Perhaps she was hoping it had all been a dream (nightmare) — it was too improbable, to meet a sister she had never known about and lose her again within minutes of that first meeting — and waiting to wake up.

A Fury. That was a Fury. The demon hadn't exactly introduced itself, but Regina recognized it from illustrations and its stated mission as a punisher for crimes that offended the gods themselves. However selectively the gods took offense, the demon's power had been real enough. It had obliterated the two enchanted wolves in an instant, then effortlessly crushed Zelena. Then both she and her victim were reduced to dust right before the demon vanished in a storm of infernal magic.

Her mother was dead. That, too, felt unreal. Cora had dominated most of Regina's life, until with the Dark One's help, she had been pushed into exile in Wonderland. Regina had even considered sending an assassin to finish the job — to make sure she was finally free of the woman who would always own a corner of Regina's heart. Cora had shown up on the island shortly after Regina had been sent into exile, smiling and promising to help her daughter regain everything she had lost, and more. Regina had believed her enough not to betray her to her warden, the old woman who was also the housekeeper, hiding Cora out of sight during the periodic visits.

Well, so much for escape. Regina's sister — Zelena — had somehow killed Cora. She still wasn't sure what magic Zelena had used, but its effects had been rapid and devastating.

Now nothing of either was left. It could have been a mirage conjured up by a mind finally driven over the edge into madness. Only—

The knife remained. A knife of a foreign design, unlike any of the ones in the kitchen. Regina reached out with a trembling hand and curled her fingers around the hilt. A tingle of magic that she felt in her bones.

Regina sat up with a gasp. Real. It had all been real. She wiped the last few tears from her face. Her mother would tell her to be strong. A queen kept her eyes forward, with no regrets and no displays of weakness. Her sister had tried to take her life, but left this gift instead. A knife enchanted to create a perfect disguise...

She had heard of human skin masks, of course, but never bothered much with such subtle spells when a simple fireball or heart-ripping sufficed for most purposes. The damned imp had humiliated her enough the one time she had gone undercover and ended up at the mercy of Snow White. After that, Regina had lost her taste for disguises. But needs must, and now that she was imprisoned on this island with her own magic inaccessible, she had few other options.

The old housekeeper, Regina decided. The woman also had a granddaughter, but she was far too young to be useful. A child wandering alone in the outside world would attract too much attention, besides being too small and weak (Regina wasn't sure if she would have the child's physical properties or merely her appearance, but didn't want to find out the hard way). If she took the housekeeper's place, she would be able to steal the boat from under the noses of the small squad of Yrkandan guards assigned to the island. They lived in a separate house down by the dock. The other possibility was the lighthouse keeper, but he was a head taller than Regina and a man in his prime. No, the housekeeper was the best choice.

Once Regina escaped to the mainland, she could find another, more suitable victim to impersonate. Further plans could wait until she was free. Target selected, Regina waited for her chance. The housekeeper came in the next day, blissfully unaware. Regina waited until she was busy with changing the bed sheets to grab her from behind and slit her throat.

Instead of drawing blood, the blade grated and stuck, the edge chipping and screeching in spine-curling protest.

Then the old woman twisted with unexpected strength and wrested the knife from Regina's suddenly numb fingers. The skin on her neck had been cut open, but there was no blood.

Regina stared, speechless.

The housekeeper threw her head back and laughed, an unnerving sight with bits of skin flapping open with the motion. Then she sobered enough to cackle, "Oh, don't try your foolishness on me, my dear. I'm not woven of mortal flesh and blood, but of old tree roots and stone, bound together by seaweed..."

"You... you're..."

"Rude, too, as well as murderous," said the old woman (demon?). "'Twasn't my idea to put you here, and never would I have invited you! But my old man was a loyal king's man, so for his sake I said yes. But I warned them, I did. Said if you gave me any trouble, I'd take care of my uninvited guest my way, this being my island and all..."

"What do you mean, your island?" Regina demanded, even as nasty suspicions crawled up her spine like ice.

"Mine, as in, the island belongs to me and I belongs to the island." The old woman crushed the enchanted knife in her bare fist, shards of metal spilling from her hand.

"You're the local earth god." Regina began backing away slowly, but there was no escaping an earth god on its own ground.

The old woman overpowered her easily, folding up the exiled queen like a trussed chicken before forcing her into the oven. The oven wasn't nearly big enough to fit a grown woman, but the housekeeper had power over space and distance in her own domain and made Regina fit inside.

"Let me out! Why are you doing this?" Regina struggled against the confines of the oven, but it was too cramped to get any leverage with feet or hands. Without magic, there was no escape.

The old woman set the fire. Her voice came muffled through the oven door. "I heard tell 'twas you who sent them poor innocent souls to the witch's house in the forest, that one what has the house made of gingerbread and eats children..."

Regina swallowed a useless denial. Sweat beaded on her face as the oven began to heat. She raised her voice to a shout. "Stop this! I am the king's prisoner. You have no right to kill me!"

The old woman chuckled. "Maybe not, maybe not, but let's see if I can cook the wickedness out of you, hmm? I'll spare your flesh, yes, but as for your soul?"

"My soul?!"

The old woman patted the oven door. "You'll find out soon enough, my dear."