Live as Regina

by Mac NorthSea

On the way to Neverland,Emma is troubled by the moments in the mines she and Regina had at moment of Regina's self-sacrifice that changed everything,even Emma herself.With understanding her upbringing gave her,the Savior decides to save not only Henry but his mother as well. Doing so will take her and her family through harrowing challenges of love,duty,conflict,and magic.

33. Chapter 28 Part 2

Another semester, another chapter. I hoped that I would be able to write faster, but my muse disagreed, severely... Anyways, I hope you like it.
It is unbetaed, somewhat edited, and published within a day of being finished.
To you all who had reviewed, I am sorry I haven't been responsive, but I will get to it one of these days. Thank you for your support.
Enjoy!

PS. I must place Trigger Warnings for this chapter. The beginning of that part is clearly marked.

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Chapter 28. Part II

With a shuddering gasp, Emma's eyes opened wide into the darkness of her room, the vivid vistas of her passage through the desolate terrain burned in her mind, and this time her dreams had not been interrupted by the unicorns trapped in the storm. No, this time, she had walked barefoot on the scorching loose soil of the unknown desert, surrounded by nothing but emptiness around her and the blistering heat of the midday Sun, and she had again worn the white dress from her previous dream, only this time it had a dark shade of rust covering the low edges of the pearly fabrics, as wind had mired the dress with sand and dirt.

"Fuck," she hissed into the night and pulled herself up, pushing away the blanket she was covered with. Tossing her legs over, she hissed again when her bare feet touched the cold stone of the floor. "Jesus," she shivered, and waved her trembling hand over the oil lamp she knew that was at the bedside table, using magic to light it, rather than attempt to do it manually. With her luck, she would only break it and cut herself on the glass. As soon as the wick of the lamp caught flame, she breathed easier and her loudly beating heart started to slow down. It was when the rapid beat of the muscle tapered off into a soft and calm cadence with the help of her forced deep breathing that she noticed the shirt she had been sleeping in was drenched in sweat, sticking to her skin uncomfortably. "Fuck," she cursed again.

Emma wasn't a stranger to nightmares. In fact, in previous months, they had become expected companions for most of her nights, and she had accepted that with pragmatic ease. She had seen things, done stuff and it was natural flow of things to experience bad dreams in such stressful situations. However, the thing was – the desert she kept dreaming of in itself wasn't scary at all, nor was she scared of hot and barren places – having been in Nevada and Arizona. Even finding skeletons half buried in the dry grounds was not worth upsetting over, in her opinion. And, she had been wearing worse things than a dress caked in grime. The presumed bodies of dragons and dwarves were horrible images, but, again, she had dreamed of seeing her friends dead before. Nevertheless, something about the place was putting her on the edge, giving her the willies – if she was to use an old colleague's parlance. It fed directly into the dread she had been feeling since entering Brocéliande, making her skin crawl, and for some reason it had something do with her magic…

Pushing herself up from the bed, she stumbled into the bathroom, once more using magic to make light, before she tore the shirt off her back. Having no patience for a proper bath, Emma jumped into the empty pool and summoning a pail she had seen in the corner of the room, she opened the taps, she filled it with water and immediately poured it over herself. With a thought, a bar of soap floated into her hand and quickly, Emma dealt with her ablutions, washing away the sweat and the imaginary muck she could feel on her skin, even awake. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it around herself and left for the bedroom.

Despite her mood being a little lighter after the wash, she was still unsettled by her dream, and feeling the pressing and stuffy darkness of her room, she pulled away the drapes covering the windows, letting the fresh, night air in. Breathing deeply, she felt some of her tension melt away, making it easier for her to just sit for a moment, so she wrapped herself in one of the furs by the window seat and sat down, looking out at the stars, just taking in the air. As her eyes glanced over the night skies, Emma realized it was still middle of the night, which meant she had slept only for two hours, even less. It hadn't helped that the night before she had participated in the festivity the villagers had organized, drinking her share of mead and wine. Well, to be truthful, she hadn't drunk too much, until coming to her room and sharing a late night talk with the Wolf minder, using mead to smooth out the edges of her burning resentment.

She had been sitting right where she was now, staring at the skies and hidden in the dark of her quarters, when Aileen had come to the room to check on her, obviously drawn by Emma's turning mood and pensive expression she had had on as they had returned from the communal hall, and the Wolf had graciously offered a night cup to ease her troubles for the night. The shifter had been so worried about the blonde that the Savior could quite easily pick on her thoughts, even from several feet away.

Passing through the quiet corridors of the House of Healing, Aileen walked to the slightly ajar door of the Savior's quarters, hesitating. Not sure if she should disturb the reclusive woman, not even for her worry about said woman, the Wolf shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hand playing with the mead skin she had tossed over her shoulder as a peace offering for the intrusion. In her mind, being the supposed Keeper of the Balance in the world that had none for a long time – it excused Emma for her quirks and bouts of solitude. But, she also had a duty, to both her friend and Regina, to watch over the young woman, and she intended to fulfill it.

"You can come in if you want to," she heard Emma's voice come from the room, followed by a soft rustle of furs. "I don't mind."

Pushing the door, Aileen entered the room, surprised to see it covered in darkness. However, due to her nature, she could easily see the Savior sitting by the windows, as she looked outside, the drapes bundled on the side. The shifter made the short steps to reach the bed and lowering herself on it, she watched the blonde carefully, her brows creasing in concern.

"There is no need for your alarm, Wolf," the younger woman spoke softly, her eyes still fixed somewhere in the skies.

"What are you doing?" Aileen asked, letting her intrigue get the best of her as she glanced around the room that for the ordinary human eyes would be in pitch darkness.

"The darkness and the stars…" Emma murmured slowly, still looking outside. "They help me think. Or calm my thoughts. I haven't yet decided which." Her soft voice was barely stronger than a whisper, but loud enough for the Wolf to hear it.

Getting to her feet, Aileen crossed the room to reach for two goblets at the table, and pouring a generous portion of mead into them, she glanced at the Savior. "I would have thought that after today, you would be too exhausted to be awake at this hour," she spoke, offering the other woman one of the goblets. She was referring to Emma's deviously difficult exercise Percival had devised for her in order to push her physical readiness to the maximum. The blonde warrior had been hampered with ridiculously heavy armor and had only her arms to defend against the full contingent of the guard who would attack her with practice weapons, and it had gone on for hours, again and again, until Emma's knees had finally given up under the burden. And, to the festivities earlier in the evening.

"That was the plan," the blonde agreed before she sighed in tiredness and took a sip of the drink, humming at the taste.

"So, what thoughts are keeping you away from your rest this evening?" Aileen asked as she retook her seat at Emma's bed, making herself more comfortable while paying full attention to the Savior, hoping to be of help to the young hero, at the very least offering a friendly ear.

A deep sigh came from the blonde. "I find myself thinking about children these days. My son, Kyle, other kids I know… I wonder about their lives, if they are happy or safe wherever they are now. But, most of all, I think about the unborn child of Snow White."

"Your mother?" the shifter spoke in surprise. "She is pregnant?"

"Yes," came Emma's confirmation, hanging in the air heavily, as she leaned her head against the wall, sipping once more the fine mead. "And I don't know how to feel about it."

"I don't understand. Aren't all children precious? How should you feel about it?" Among Wolves every child was celebrated, and she could not quite see the reason Emma was having an issue with it.

The Savior swiveled her head, her eyes finding Aileen's in darkness with ease. "There were quite a few unresolved issues between us before this; this only compounds them more." Bringing the goblet to her lips, Emma drank deeply before motioning the shifter to get the refill, continuing to speak as soon the older woman moved. "If we forget everything that has bothered me about my parents, there remains one thing. The child will be my sibling, and I am going to be three decades older from it, older even than their parents. Not to mention the fact that it will be younger than my own children. Will we ever be able to connect on a more personal level, as siblings should?" Taking the goblet back, she took a long sip. "I am sure if there wasn't the curse, it would have still happened, but then I would have been only a couple of years older, still a child myself."

"I am sure it won't matter; to you or to them, Geilgeis," the Wolf offered kindly.

"Of course it matters, Wolf. They get their miracle child, their do-over, and I am still older than the people who gave birth to me."

During the hour Aileen had spent with her, Emma had drunk more than three full goblets of mead, all the while talking about families and the life she had had in the World Without Magic, getting more and more morose with each cup, until the Wolf had cut her off and helped her to bed, placing the drapes in their place before she had left.

Emma rose from her seat, putting the window covering back, as she needed to move in order to dispel the fearful energy that was still thrumming through her body, still feeling unsettled by the nightmare.

Quickly, Emma put on fresh clothes, making sure to dress for the cold she would find outside the Marble Hall of Dragon's Bluff, glancing toward the fireplace. She wasn't interested in the dark hearth but rather the mantle over it, where her broken sword was, its hilt and scabbard gleaming under the weak light of the lamp. In the past three days, she had gotten somewhat used to the missing weight of the weapon but it was still uncomfortable for her to be out in the open without it. However, for this excursion into the sleeping village, she took only the gifted daggers with her, putting them in their places, quite confident that should anything happen, her magic and her other abilities would keep her safe. Spending only a moment in search for her gloves, she decided to leave without them, the thick coat enough to keep her suitable warm.

Light on her feet, she prowled the empty and dark hallways of her sanctuary, her black cloak helping her sink into the shadows as she quietly climbed the stairs to the ground level, entranced by the stillness she encountered. With ease, she pushed one side of the great doors on the House of Healing ajar, just enough for her to pass through, and noiselessly, she closed it behind her, her exit unnoticed by anyone.

As she stole down the steps of the Marble Hall, she pulled her cloak tighter around her, the chill of the night much worse than she had expected, and crossed into the village, not surprised to note that everyone was tucked in for the night, even the soldiers that would usually walk the perimeter of the small settlement. Not even a single lantern was lit, the darkness of the pitch black night broken only by the mounds of cleared snow, their pale glow ethereal, and if not for Emma's improved senses, she would have been stricken blind the minute she had left the softly illuminated entrance to the House of Healing.

The only sound in the quiet hamlet was the soft crunch of ground under Emma's boots as she passed the largest building in the village, not counting the House of Healing. It was the communal hall, of simply the Hall as the people called it. It was a place of gathering for the villagers, but it also served as a dining and a meeting room, rolled in one. It consisted of one large room, hence the name hall, filled with tables fashioned out of wood with crude benches and chairs surrounding them. On one side was a makeshift dais, created by several wood trunks pinned together with a few boards nailed over them, and on the other was what Emma would easily call a bar. A long but waist high wooden wall separating the room from the wall of the hall, polished to a shine, upon which cups and cups were lying, empty, ready to be filled by drinks stored in barrels and skins stowed behind the bar. On that side, a wide door led to the kitchens.

She felt her mouth lift in a gentle smile as the memory of the evening before appeared in her mind. Both Percival and Gwen had insisted she stayed for the evening in the communal building, where the villagers had been preparing for a party of some sort, stopping her from retreating in her small corner away from people. As others had been busy setting up for the evening of music and dance, Emma's companions had explained the purpose of such gatherings – as it was one of the ways they entertained themselves, especially in the long winter nights. Agreeing to stay, Emma had received a cup of mulled wine from the knight and the three of them had taken their seats close to a slightly raised dais, which served as a stage – Emma quickly had realized.

As soon as the food had been brought out from the adjoined kitchens by several people rushing among the tables, depositing the platters with practiced ease and speed, a hush had fallen over the crowd, and then, encouraged by his companions at their table, one of the soldiers had risen from his seat and walked upon the dais, taking out a hand made flute Emma had learned since that it was called fife out of his belt. With a few words of greetings, the soldier had sat at the stool that had been brought out earlier and started playing a short but sweet jig.

One by one, the people of the village had climbed upon the stage, playing various instruments, singing songs or sharing anecdotes and stories, their effort bringing merriment to the crowd. During the evening, Emma had heard some of the most hauntingly beautiful songs performed on flutes, lutes, harps (one man had even brought bagpipes), and by singing. Also, one of the most ribald stories she had ever had the pleasure to hear. The biggest surprise of the evening had been Percival who had reluctantly played a sorrowful but enchanting song on a flute, encouraged by the crowd's demanding shouts, which had quieted the second the first note thrilled in the room. To Emma, the hush that had fallen over the villagers had seemed reverent, something that she hadn't thought she would experience that evening. Seeing her confused interest, Aileen, who had joined them at some point, had leaned over and in a barely heard whisper explained what had been happening.

"It's a song Percy composed when they have first arrived here," the Wolf had murmured into Emma's ear. "It is called 'The fall of the Red Dragon' and it is about the Knights of the Round Table and their end. He tried to write the words for it, but he couldn't as the pain was too close to his heart, and honestly no words would ever do it justice."

With the explanation, Emma had not been surprised to see twin trails glimmering on Percival's cheeks as he had held his eyes closed while he had played.

As the evening had progressed, the mead and wine had done in the brave souls of the village, making the shackles of good behavior loosen up, and in turn, each new song or new story had been rowdier and bawdier - and slowly, the party had broken up as people had gone to their homes, their high spirits spilling out into the short streets of the village before the merry people found their beds. She too had excused herself citing tiredness as she had returned to her quarters, chuckling lightly at the stragglers singing loudly as they had walked home.

But, now, if she hadn't been there before, Emma would have never guessed that there had been such a party mere hours ago, the quiet village enveloped in the night's tranquility. But, others slept, leaving her to stroll down the short path through the place on her restless vigil.

When she reached the end of the village, Emma hesitated for a moment, unsure in what direction she should continue next, the short walk far from satisfying her. Was she to turn back and pace her room until the morning or roam the woods? Staying in the village didn't attract her as she couldn't just remain in place, it was too cold for that, and strolling along the short alleys between the houses would wake the soldiers well deserving of their rest.

Before she could debate much on the subject with herself, a soft and gentle chortle came from behind her, announcing her trusted friend. "Shadow," she whispered with a smile as she turned around, her long steps bringing her quickly to the horse. Reaching for the horse's nose and scratching it in affection, she hummed in pleasure. "You've been gone for a while," the woman commented quietly as she leaned into the steed's neck, welcoming the warmth that radiated from her friend's body. However, she had only several moments in the gentle hold before the long snout of the Gallant pushed her shoulder, nudging the woman toward the middle of her body. "What, girl?" Emma asked, glancing at the intelligent eyes peering at her with impatience. Once more, Shadow nudged her, pushing her toward her flank. "Oh." The Savior turned with understanding and using her hands to hoist herself up, she mounted the mare, trusting the magic-bred to keep her safe. Sinking her naked hand into the loose strands of the mane, she settled on Shadow's back, patting her neck with her other hand. "I'm ready," she whispered to the steed, not at all surprised when the horse jumped and started rushing off to parts unknown.

The Gallant didn't use the high speeds her kind was capable of, but rather the quite enjoyable gallop with Emma participating as much as she could, following the dips and rises with her own body while her blood brimmed with excitement. It had been quite a while since she had simply enjoyed the horse ride, the need of quick transport superseding everything else. However, even though Shadow invariably had a specific intent for this nightly jaunt, it didn't stop the Savior to fully appreciate and enjoy the journey.

As soon as they cleared the plateau which housed the village, Shadow veered off to the valley below it, traversing through the areas of untouched snow, her hooves making trail as they passed. The people of the village did not go into the valley, as Morgan's edict had forbidden it, and despite many veiled and directed questions Emma had asked the people in command, no one had been able to tell her why had the Queen of Camelot denied her people access to a rather large part of Brocéliande, allowing her men only to skirt the edges of it. Not that they needed more space, as Percival had told her of several crop fields and pastures the people used with abandon. And now, Shadow seemed to be taking her to the same forbidden place she had been asking about in the days prior.

In a matter of minutes, the horse and her rider came to a plateau, hidden in the valley beneath the cliffs; a place of mysteries, shrouded from the dwellings on the crag by flowing mist, distance and what Emma knew to be magic. With every new step the air grew warmer and soon, all the snow gave way to soft earth and stone. In the darkness, under the light of stars, Emma could quite easily see where Shadow was taking her. And, even if the stars had been hidden by clouds that night, the Sheriff would have known, because the barely there luminescence of the golden scales, uncovering the presence of Guardian, pierced the dark.

Coming closer to the giant creature, the Savior felt a ward activate, its tingly presence flowing over her skin like static electricity. A time ward, one that Emma was quite familiar with. She was not yet within its effective range, so she gently twined her fingers with Shadow's mane, tugging it lightly. Her short request was immediately obeyed, and the Gallant stopped. Slowly, Emma tossed her leg over the horse's head and slid down her side, landing softly on her feet. Her hand glided over the long neck before she reached for Shadow's chin, gently holding it against her own face. "Thank you, my friend," she murmured to the black mare and smiled at the short neigh that came as a reply. She stood by a moment more, watching the fast Gallant turn and gallop away, disappearing quickly over the rise of the valley.

Only after she could no longer see the horse, Emma pivoted on her heel and entered the ward, her determined stride bringing her to stand in front of the Lady of the Skies, her eyes passing over the golden scales and relaxed girth of the majestic creature. Even after being in Guardian's presence several times already, the Sheriff still could feel herself be seized by the breathtaking magnificence of the old dragon. In respect, she flung her cloak behind her as she lowered herself onto her right knee, while her left one was bent at the ninety degree angle with her hands atop of it, the heavy fabric spreading perfectly behind her.

"I owe you my life," she spoke to the dragon, looking at the raised head of the beast hanging only four feet above the ground, the shimmering yellow eyes blinking lazily at her. "Only by your intervention was I saved," she added bowing her head slightly and lowering her eyes. "I am grateful."

"Hmm," the gentle grumble of the beast reached Emma, as the large head came hovering right in front of the Savior and the dragon sniffed at her. "It is comforting to see you recovered, Knight," she said, her voice rumbling through the stones on the ground as much as in the air around them, but still it was gentle and reassuring. Then, Guardian clucked her tongue, bringing her head only inches away from the woman's face, letting her hot breath pass over the supplicant Sheriff. "Have you perished, so would the Enchanted Forest. There was no other option, for the future of this world depends on you." Despite the sharp quality to the words, the dragon's meaning was honest and bolstering, the beast looking at the Savior with benevolence twinkling in her eyes. "And, the efforts of your beloved are not to be dismissed. Brocéliande might have kept you from passing into the realm of the dead, but she brought you back to the living." The tongue slipped through her impressive teeth and touched Emma's forehead in affection before the dragon swiveled her head away, returning to her previous position. "There is much to discuss and dwelling on your past misadventure delays us needlessly." With those words, the matter of Emma's brush with death was closed.

The Savior scoffed with good nature at the offhand remark, before she sat down, bringing her legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles with her elbows resting on her wide-apart knees, relaxing into the pose, knowing it could be hours before she would get up. Then, something occurred to her, the words Guardian had spoken only moments before repeating in her mind. "You've been watching me," she noted with interest. "And Regina." For some reason, that made her feel better about her stay in the secret part of the Infinite Forest. She had surmised already that Guardian had brought the eggs into Brocéliande, but being watched over by the most powerful creature of the True Kinds did provide some measure of additional security, despite the fact the most, if not all of Morgan's men and women seemed to be trustworthy.

The golden creature rumbled in confirmation, not even bothering to use words, her gaze unmoving from the Sheriff.

"Do you know where she is?" Emma asked hopefully, but as soon as she spoke she could see that she would not get the answer she wanted, judging by the hiss the beast let out at her question.

"She has her own destiny, Knight, and her own duties to carry on. She is where she is needed to be and you cannot interfere," Guardian spoke firmly, the huge eyes pinning the Savior in place. Only a moment later, the dragon's posture gentled. "She is safe," the creature added in consolation. "The location of the Temple will be known to you, in short time. But, first – the reason you are here."

The blonde felt her shoulders slump. For one moment she had forgotten that there was a war outside the borders of Brocéliande, and that the Wicked Witch of the West was only delayed in whatever her plans had been. Her worry for Regina and her burning desire to see her family had managed to push Zelena to the back of her mind, to deal with her at the later date. Sighing heavily, Emma shook her head before she chuckled in self-deprecation, the sound of it bitter and harsh. "The Witch," she spat, making it clear she had another word in mind for the green menace.

"Ah, the Witch," Guardian murmured softly, her front legs digging into the ground as the creature rose up. "The Witch," she repeated slowly before she scoffed at the words, her breath forcing smoke through her nostrils. "Do you think you are here because of the Green Sorceress? Do you honestly believe among the most powerful creatures in the Enchanted Forest there isn't one who could deal with the Witch?"

Emma winced at the low pitched roar that carried the words to her, tucking her head to a side when smoke coming out of Guardian's mouth started having flicks of flame. "But, the war," she started to speak; however another roar, this time uncontained, stopped her in place.

"War?!" Guardian bellowed at the seating Savior. "There may have been armies at the Palace and a battle may have been fought, but make no mistake, Sheriff. This isn't a war." The dragon's scorn dripped heavily from her words as she brought her head closer to the blonde, lifting her lips in a snarl. "This is but a feud of two powerful sorceresses with many caught in between." Then, the beast turned away and hissed into the night's cold air. After several moments of silence, one that Emma was afraid to break; Guardian huffed and came near the Sheriff. "You have done your part, Savior. You kept the bloodshed from engulfing the Enchanted Forest. Now, it is time for another to deal with the Witch."

Frown appeared on the blonde's forehead as she looked at the beast in askance. "I thought… But, I am the Savior." Emma's frown deepened in willfulness. "I should be the one-"

"No," Guardian said firmly, cutting the Sheriff off. "This isn't your fight." Gentling her tone, the dragon sent a puff of warm air at the blonde. "It never was."

"Who…" Emma clenched her jaw before voicing the question out, well aware whose fight it was. She had known it since the moment she had learned Zelena was Cora's daughter. She had known that Regina would be drawn into this feud, as Guardian had called it, and be forced to deal with her sister, regardless of the pain it may cause her. And Emma felt her insides clench at the hard and very dangerous task that was before her beloved. Zelena had almost managed to kill her, and she was supposed to be the most powerful person in all of the Enchanted Forest. "Why?" she quaveringly asked.

"You know why," the golden Lady of the Skies said gently. "Because of the blood they share." The dragon leaned in and licked a tear that had spilled onto the heartbroken Savior's cheek, providing comfort in such small gesture.

Several shuddering breaths later, Emma sniffled and brought her hands to her face, wiping the remains of her tears, pulling herself together. After she cleared her throat, she spoke, her voice still bearing traces of her pain, "Why am I here, then?"

"Oh, little one," the dragon spoke after several moments of quiet, her voice soft and maternal, and heard solely in Emma's mind, as the beast's eyes focused on her with odd troubled gaze.

At hearing the endearment, the blonde felt her stomach plummet, as heavy weight settled beneath her breastbone. She knew only one other instance she had been referred as such by the mighty creature and it had been when Guardian had urged Regina to make haste and come to Brocéliande, to save her life, and she didn't like the sound of it coming into her mind – not with that gentle and mournful tone Guardian's words held. She didn't like it at all. Yet, whatever this trouble was, Emma knew it was the reason for her many titles and duties, and much more serious than Zelena and her efforts.

"Do you not feel it?" the dragon's voice came again to Emma's mind. "Do the tendrils of fear not clutch your heart and claws of danger not dig in your spine?"

Emma gasped, her startled exhale loud in the silence outside their bodies. What Guardian had described sounded just like the unexplained feeling the Savior had been having since coming to the Brocéliande. The creeping dread that made her skin crawl. The sense of unnamed danger that spoke of death. The dreams she had been having. The restlessness that had been driving her up the walls.

"I do," Emma replied in the same way, pushing the images of her dreams and sensations of her feelings through their established link, showing them to Guardian and hoping that the beast would be able to make sense of it. "Do you know what it is?"

"Yes," came sorrowful reply. "The Forest is dying." And, it wasn't the Infinite Forest that Guardian had meant, but the entire world, the Enchanted Forest itself was the one in mortal peril.

Feeling slightly punch-drunk, Emma thought about it, trying to understand how a world could die. But then, she remembered something she had heard her beloved say, more than a year and half before. Could Regina's claim actually be right? "Was it," she tried to ask before swallowing hard. "Was it the curse? That-that did it?" She had to know. "Did Regina do this?" Had Regina actually managed to destroy the world? Not that it would change anything – Emma had forgiven her beloved a long time ago all her misdeeds and cruelties, and the love she felt for Regina had not blinded her to the evil the Evil Queen had been capable of.

"No, the Dark Curse hastened its demise and made it more obvious, but the decay has begun a long time before that," Guardian replied compassionately, feeling Emma's turmoil through the link. "Even if has been the cause, your mate would not be the one to blame – for she had not created the vile thing, and many had fallen under the Dark One's deviousness," she offered to the blonde, her words providing a measure of relief. "No, it started long before, and the blame falls onto the race of Men who aspired to destroy the very essence of this world."

The Savior did not speak. She couldn't, because voicing her confusion over Guardian's words filled with such scorn and disdain would spark rage in the majestic beast, and she was in no mood for a roasting. The Lady of the Skies would elaborate in her own time and Emma waited.

"They became so fearful of what was unknown to them and what few could use, so they sought to eradicate it, in the name of protection. They didn't know, or they didn't even care, in their envy and hate, that they had been guests in this world, that it belonged to the creatures they wanted to kill first and foremost. Just because they were different than men. Because they were blessed."

With every word, the Sheriff understood better Guardian's point. After all, she had said similar words herself once or twice before. The Enchanted Forest belonged to the creatures of magic, its very name stemmed from that claim. But, the humans were the ones who hunted Unicorns, destroyed Yaoguais, slew dragons and tried to destroy magic, the founding element of this world. And Emma knew why the Enchanted Forest was dying. Because magic – the land's force of life, its blood in a manner of speaking – was disappearing fast. Very soon, Emma would not be able to use the environmental magic to fuel her power because there would be none, and with no magic, the Enchanted Forest would be gone.

Suddenly, the dreams of the desert and accompanying feelings of dread and sorrow made sense. It was the future if nothing was done to prevent it. And that was the reason she was there, with Guardian. She was the Savior, the Keeper of the Balance – it fell on her to stop it.

"How do I bring the magic of this world back?" she asked aloud, her voice strong despite the doubt she was feeling. How did one create a permanent source of power for the entire realm?

"Out of the ashes of old, the new must be reborn."

"I assume there is more to it than that," Emma noted wearily, having barely stopped herself from asking the dragon what the adage meant. Guardian had her quirks, and most of the time, those peculiar things amused the blonde, but it was middle of the night, and she was tired despite the nap she had had in the village, if her terror-filled nightmare could count as such. And, as most of those who knew her, patience was never her thing.

The dragon chuckled, her soft laugh indulgent of Emma's moody thoughts. "Indeed," the voice replied, and the Savior felt her surroundings shift, suddenly being pulled into a meld. It wasn't an ordinary one, where one person would sink into a mind of another, but the mind connection between two minds was established without sharing of consciousness, the two entities merely touching, and their autonomy absolute. It was different from the surface melds Guardian often used, and much different from deep melds that existed between Regina and her. The closest analogy the blonde could find was of two astral projections meeting in a same place.

Standing alone in a void, Emma cursed but before she could pull herself out of the link, a form materialized in front of her, making her start. A woman stood in front of her, but this was no ordinary woman – of course, it wouldn't be, for Guardian was far from commonplace creature, Emma thought to herself, admiring the humanoid form before her. Towering slightly over the Savior, Guardian stood proudly, her gold hair flowing down her back, gleaming with the same iridescence her scales had about them. As for the scales, the avatar of the dragon didn't have skin but fine, small and soft scales covering her sharp-angled features and body, finishing with bronze colored talons on her hands and feet that resembled claws more than human appendages. And Guardian's face boasted two yellow eyes, slit nose and sharp, protruding ridges on her forehead, reminiscent of those the dragon version had on her head.

"Now we can speak more organically," the voice of the maternal woman came out of the avatar, as the form came closer to the blonde. "Your mind is in turmoil, and it showed in our joining, your emotions spilling over." The Guardian's avatar reached up and placed her hand over Emma's strongly beating heart. "The pain and concern you feel hurts deeply. And we need the magic of the meld for you to know what to do."

Emma closed her eyes against the grief still evident in the shining eyes of her mentor, feeling the slight impression of the sharp edges of the claw-like palm, and she remained still, trusting the creature with both her mind and her life. She remembered the first lessons she had received from Guardian, in that snow hidden cave, many weeks before, and she knew why it hurt her friend so to stand witness to Emma's strong emotions. For someone who had watched her entire race be annihilated, leaving her alone in the world, as a protector of a few stored eggs from centuries before, and for someone who had perfect recall, a trait that the entire race had shared – memories of loss were too potent and too close to the surface, like always bleeding wound on grief-torn heart. For Guardian, because of her no doubt now cursed ability to remember everything flawlessly as it was still happening, lived through the death of her children, loss of her kind, wars and destruction, every second of her life.

When Emma had learned of the ability, she had tried to imagine how awful and devastating it must had been for her mentor to experience such torment for all the years that had passed, but she simply hadn't been capable of picturing such grief. After the portal had exploded and Emma had thought that the Jolly Roger had been destroyed in the blast along with her family aboard, the short seconds she had been conscious had been soul-renting and she had thought death would come quickly to claim her as well. But, living with such anguish, and still be even remotely sane…

"Do not trouble yourself over it, little one," Guardian whispered kindly. "There is a world to save," she added, making the blonde chuckle weakly. With her false levity changing the mood, the dragon sighed, continuing onto the matter at hand. "There is a place on a day's flight north-east off the coast of peninsula you know as Maritime kingdom. An island that the ancient elders called the Origin Point. The island is the place where the magic of this world begun and spread. A well that had sprung before anyone's memory." Guardian focused on the imprinted memories of her bloodline and followed them until she found the one she wanted, letting it play out in the space around them.

Emma gasped when she found herself hundreds of feet in the air, flying above the Endless Sea, the reflection of a large and glorious dragon right beneath her. She could feel the wind pushing around her, and the Sun beating down on her, as seagulls cried, dashing away from the predator who ruled their domain. Soon, a speck appeared on the horizon, enveloped in white mist and with the speeds the dragon of the memory had flown, that small point fast grew in size until it became a tall mountain rising from the depths of the Endless Sea, with smoke and lava spilling from one side of the grotto, hissing as it reached the waters, creating the mist.

"A volcano? The Origin Point is a volcano?!" Emma hissed in surprise as she watched the dragon swoop down and land perfectly on one patch of undisturbed ledge, peering into the crater with interest. There, carved into the inner side of the mountain was a large horizontal cavern, large enough to house several dragons comfortably.

"It is a seamless representation of the Elements, Sheriff. Where Fire, Air, Earth and Water are intricately bound together to create something more. Just as the Fates of the Four Kinds are irrevocably bound to the magic of the Enchanted Forest."

Of course, the elements. The Savior remembered Guardian's lesson of the True Kinds and Rumplestiltskin's half-forgotten legend that had inspired the tapestry that hung in his library. "So, I need to go there. And do what, exactly?"

"You will not be going alone, little one. I will be one of the others that will come with you." Guardian showed a tightlipped smile at the relief that flooded Emma's features. "However, there is one important matter to take care of before we are to leave for the Origin Point."

"What?"

"Rather, who." The dragon touched Emma's shoulder lightly in reassuring gesture. "The Fairies."

"The Fairies?" Emma shook her head. "But, there are no Fairies in the Enchanted Forest," she added softly, her words filled with hesitation. "Are there?"

The avatar only smiled, her lizard-like skin glittering with movement, and when the thin lips split, a row of sharpened teeth appeared. "Look to the memories of your mate, and you'll find one," she replied slowly, before she looked away, the world around them changing again, this time showing a large desert. "But, even if you could find them here, it would be insufficient, for you need the Fairy of old for the revival – and those are gone, for their choices have diminished them." Glancing at her apprentice, the dragon tilted her head and spoke. "It wasn't only Rumplestiltskin who had brought the proud creatures that Fairies once had been to their ruin and doom." As the desert spread before them, the setting Sun shone at them from the left, its orange tinted rays reflecting in a distance, on something that looked like a city through the miasma of heat. "And, not all fairies were exiled with the curse," Guardian added absently, before she gestured to something in the sand. Suddenly, that something appeared in the dragon's hand, resting in her palm, and when Emma leaned over to see it she saw a jeweled representation of something that looked like a scarab; or a bug, at least. "Remember this place, little one, for you must find it among the acres of sand. Look at the stars and the Sun, and remember." The evening turned into a night and the skies filled with stars, their magnificence lighting up the wide expanse over the desert. She thought that the stars above the Charming Palace were breathtaking in their beauty, but now as she looked up, she stood amazed at the brilliant dots that filled the sky.

"Where are we?" the blonde asked, unable to look away from the stars.

"This is the Northern Expanse of the Great Agrabah Desert, and we are ten leagues away from the bounds of Qalb Alsahra', one of the five city-states of Agrabah," the dragon motioned to the lights glimmering in the distance.

"I thought Agrabah was the city," Emma countered, casting a look at the woman beside her.

"No," the dragon returned gently. "It is a misconception some people have, confusing the region for the town," she asserted, further explaining, "There are five cities in the Agrabah area, each of them having a Sultan for a sovereign, and in turn they rule over Sultanate their city is in. Together, they formed the Council of Five and brought forth decrees and laws for the region, reigning in unity. It was so until Jafar's little quest for power, when he killed his father and overthrew the Council, taking Sultanates for himself. After he was dealt with, the jinn took matters in their hands, isolating the land until some order was established. What remains of Agrabah is unclear."

"Oh," Emma sighed in understanding. "So, North? Across the desert?"

"You cannot cross it in time that we have, and you cannot use magic because it would alert the jinn to your presence and they will not look kindly upon your intrusion. Most of the journey should be by sea, before you slip onto the land, but stay clear of the cities, you won't find many friends there." Guardian cautioned, before she again drew attention to the bejeweled object she held in her hand. "In the Temple of Knowledge, there is a hidden chamber, one that Gorlois himself had created for his own work and warded it against intrusion until its secrets were needed." At Emma's querying look, Guardian nodded. "There, you will find this…" she started but the blonde interrupted with a disbelieving chortle.

"And, let me guess, the scarab will then open the Cave of Wonders," she retorted with a slight mocking edge.

However, the dragon ignored the young woman's sudden outburst of insolence, astounded at the words coming out of her lips. "You surprise me again, Knight. Only few know of the Cave, and only I on this side of the desert. Or so I though."

"The Cave is real?" Emma was staggered. "Does it also take form of the panther?"

"A leopard but yes," the dragon confirmed, still looking at the Sheriff with unbridled interest. "How do you know of it? It is a secret many have taken great pains to hide."

Shaking her head, the Savior scowled briefly at the scarab before she turned away, bringing her hand to her face. After a moment, she turned back, her hand rubbing her eyes tiredly, before she sighed, the resigned weariness too clear in her motions. "There is a story in my world, about genies and magic lamps," she answered slowly, not moving her hand. "The panther, leopard, whatever was shown in the story as a resting place for the lamp, before a boy stole it."

"Remarkable," Guardian marveled how the story was so close to the truth. "In your world, you say?"

"Yeah, it's an old story, I guess, but the version I sa…" Clearing her throat, Emma hurriedly corrected herself, "I mean, heard, was only… what, twenty years old."

"Remarkable," the dragon repeated softly.

"But, why am I going to Agrabah?" Emma quickly demanded. "What does the Cave have to do with Fairies and the renewal of Magic?"

"All of it is further explained in Gorlois's secret room in the Temple, but the Cave holds the Key to a ritual you must do, in order to bring the Fairies back to the powerful creatures they once were. Only then, we can continue with the renewal."

"The Key?"

"Yes, the Key," Guardian confirmed resolutely. "Gorlois's friend Rionnag herself had made it, just in case something like this would happen," she volunteered further. "With it, and with your friend the fairy, you will restore all that remain in the Enchanted Forest."

"And, because of the separation between the worlds, the ritual won't work on the Fairies in Storybrooke," Emma concluded with a smirk. "That's going to burn Blue something fierce. Especially if Astrid is one of the restored ones," she added gleefully, her smile turning vicious. During Guardian's explanation, she had remembered that Nova, or Astrid as the girl preferred, had joined Regina on the Jolly Roger.

"You hold no sympathy for the leader?" the dragon asked, surprised by the woman's tone.

"I always felt something was off about the Mother Superior. She was too smug for someone espousing goodness and kindness, and fairness to all." Emma waved the dragon off, "Long story, involves too many people," after a questioning look was directed in her way.

"There is another thing that must happen before we are to go to the Origin Point," the dragon remarked, bringing the Savior's attention back to herself. "You must receive the final blessing," she stated firmly, her strong voice lending the air of importance to her words.

"Final?"

"You have been blessed by three of the Four Kinds directly," Guardian patiently reminded. "You need the Fairies to complete the circle and to give you full authority as the Keeper." But, there was one more important consequence of the blessing, the sole reason Guardian had insisted on it. "And, only blessed by all of the Four you will be able to activate the renewal."

"I assume it is supposed to give me custody over the magics of the Four Kinds to bind with my own while doing this?" Emma surmised softly, working out the specifics she was aware of. "And, that is why only I can do this?"

"Among other things, yes." Guardian sighed. "It involves you being capable to use the magics of the Kinds at least in some rudimentary fashion, and you need to leave enough time to learn the fairy magic before the ritual. The others you will be able to assimilate while you are still here."

"And, the timeline for this thing?" The Sheriff asked, acknowledging the dragon's request.

"You do have some time to rest and enjoy your family," the dragon spoke kindly, moving closer to Emma, offering her an indulgent but gentle smile. "However, the new moon should find you on your travels. The Enchanted Forest doesn't have much longer than two moons."

"Is that dire?" Emma gasped at the indication. Two months until the end of the world. She didn't need the avatar to confirm, because the dragon rarely joked and even more rarely made mistakes. She had only two months, perhaps even less, to invoke the renewal, so she agreed with her mentor's time constraint. She would be setting out the day of the new moon, and by her calculations – it was January 1st.

"So, that is settled," Guardian said after a moment.

"Except, I don't know where the Temple is," Emma reminded.

"You will, soon," the avatar spoke as she looked at the Sheriff with amusement, before bringing them out of whatever their mind link was.

Emma found herself on her knees, sitting on her heels while Guardian had laid her head in front of her some time during the meld, the snout only inches away from the blonde. Disoriented from the loss of the connection, the Sheriff placed her forehead onto the dragon's, her fingers gently scratching the soft scales of Guardian's cheeks, unconsciously seeking to regain the intimacy and comfort the link had fostered. As she remained leaning against the beast, she felt a light brush over her mind, gentle and soothing touch of another's. "Fear not, little one," she heard in her thoughts. "You won't be alone for long."

"I'll have to leave her, again," she murmured mournfully against the warm scales.

"And, you'll return to her, again," the dragon countered aloud, her gentle rumble sending soft vibrations through her body. "And, she will always be with you for nothing will be able to keep you apart," she added softly in consolation. "You must go now," she said pushing the Sheriff gently away by lifting her head, her tongue flickering out. "Dawn is not far away."

"I might even grab a few more hours of sleep," Emma commented tiredly as she rose to her feet, shaking her legs out to return some feeling in them, her long-held pose cutting off the blood. She tried to execute her teleportation spell, but frowned when nothing happened. She felt her magic building and flowing out of her, but instead of enveloping her and taking her away, she was just surrounded by a crackling barely visible cloud of her magic. "Right," she mumbled, ignoring the dragon's chuckle at her blunder. "The valley is protected." So, she flexed her shoulders and shifted on her feet. "I guess I should call Shadow."

"She will not answer," Guardian revealed quickly, before Emma could even bother to look for her friend. "There others of her herd here," the dragon added.

"So, how am I supposed to get to the bluff, then?" the blonde asked incredulously. It hadn't taken her long to reach the valley, but Emma knew it would take her hours, if not a day or more to reach the village on foot.

"The shortest way there is up," Guardian said helpfully, her claw pointing toward the cliffs above them. Emma followed the claw, looking upward and frowned in irritation.

"I don't suppose you'll give me a lift," the Sheriff noted half-heartedly, receiving the negative answer she was expecting.

"Not today."

"No, I didn't think so." The blonde sighed in resignation before she started twisting, to warm up her muscles, slowly moving toward the towering wall of rocks before them, inwardly cursing the errant Gallants and unhelpful dragons. She scowled at the incredibly high cliff, her eyes noting that there were enough places for her hands and feet to find purchase, at least as far as she could see, but with her bare hands scaling the sharp rocks, she would arrive up top with ravaged palms. It wasn't the wounds the part that worried her, until she left the protection of the valley, she could use her magic to heal them without many issues. What concerned her was the part of the cliff she was supposed to climb after leaving the ward. Using healing in such perilous situation could prove fatal or at least detrimental to her assent, so she would have to climb despite the cuts and grazes forming on her hands. And, she wouldn't be able to teleport, because she didn't know where she was exactly, and appearing by magic, in broad daylight in the middle of the village would only raise unnecessary questions about her excursion to the valley, a place that was strictly forbidden to the villagers. And, transporting somewhere else might just end up with her overshooting the boundary stones of Brocéliande, which would cause her to lose valuable time. So, the full climb it was.

"Geilgeis," the dragon called from behind her, startling Emma out of her preparation. Having used the name she had heard the shifter call the Savior in front of her, the name she had never used before, Guardian drew herself closer to the blonde, appreciating the name the Wolf had given her student. "Geilgeis," she said again, making sure she held the Knight's attention. "Where are your scales?" the dragon asked tilting her head curiously, sniffing around the still grounded Savior, noting the lack of the magically pungent scent the warrior had had on her the two times they had met before.

"Scales?" The confusion was evident in the furrowed brows and questioning eyes as Emma looked at the dragon.

"Your plating," Guardian elaborated. "Armor."

Perplexed by the topic, Emma shrugged. "At the Keep, or at White Castle. I don't know what Regina has done with it, or if others had any idea about it."

"You should be the only one to wear it, Savior," Guardian remarked with steel in her voice. "Only you can honor the unwilling sacrifice made for it to be forged. Only you should benefit from the innocent flesh stripped for its making." The tone turned sharper as the dragon continued. "No other creature, not even your child or your mate, can comprehend the enormity of sacrilege that had gone into it." The golden creature brought herself within inches from Emma, her breath streaming into the blonde's chest. "And, now, it has been inured in your own life blood and magic, binding the grudging gifts of all True Kinds together."

The Sheriff could see the point the Lady of the Skies had made. And, considering she had read what Rumplestiltskin had done in order to create it, she knew Guardian was right. "I will obey," was the only thing she whispered, but it was enough for the dragon, who nodded once before licking her cheek in goodbyes. Nothing more needed to be said. It was granted that Guardian would remain at Emma's disposal until the Savior and the former Evil Queen left Brocéliande, and it was also assumed that anything else regarding the ritual and the renewal would be found in the chamber at the Temple.

With such resolutions to their meeting, the Sheriff started again for the wall, rotating her shoulders and elbows in order to warm them up and push her cloak into more comfortable position on her back. As soon as she reached the stone barrier, she pulled her hair into a messy knot and reached for the first hand hold.

As she made first steps upright, she chuckled at herself. At least, this time she didn't have the weight of her things on her back and Brocéliande was blessed with milder weather, this late night in particular without wind and snowfall. With each new grab and pull, she gained height, her prepared muscles not minding the grueling work. In fact, thanks to Percival's insistence on the murderous training, this exercise was quite enjoyable for the battle-hardened Savior, her strength and agility getting a right workout.

When she reached about two hundred feet, she found a small outcropping in the cliff, just wide enough for her to stand, and she took a moment to rest and check on her hands, her eyes passing over the vale, smirking as she saw Guardian lazily sitting at the spot she had met the dragon earlier that evening, her sharp yellow eyes finding the blonde easily, despite the night. It was comforting to know that even though the Lady of the Skies had full confidence that Emma would reach the summit without help, the kind creature watched over her, just in case something happened. Sending an appreciative wave to the dragon, Emma continued on.

In a way, she absently thought, it was relaxing. She was focused on nothing but her next step, her busy mind sinking into the meditation of repetitive motion and exertion. Not even the nicks and scrapes would break her out of her concentration. Her breath was measured and only slightly labored, and while her heated body was sweating, the cloak billowing around her was enough protection against the winter cold. Occasionally, she would come upon another ledge, large enough to serve as a place of short recuperation, when she would heal her palms, and shake out her muscles.

By the time she left the boundary of the ward, where she judged herself to be about half-way done, the Sun started to rise, coloring the skies in the east. Having already crossed the half of her climb, she took it as a point of pride to continue on without aid of her powers, quite relishing in her exercise session, even liking the beginnings of burn appearing in her muscles. So, on she went, scaling the rocks, her mind lazily bringing up some scenes from movies she had seen, chuckling out loud when the guitar intro from one of the Limp Bizkit songs started ringing in her head – the intro that had become synonymous to one of famous Tom Cruise movies, where – surprise, surprise, he was climbing the rocks.

Pushing forward, she considered the fact that she missed the things she had taken for granted in the World without Magic. Yes, movies were on that long list, but they weren't high on it. Music was on it, too. Not that she didn't like the music of this world; in fact, the evening before she had been left without breath at some songs and melodies she had heard at the celebration, but, the simple availability of music in her world was irreplaceable, and often she would find herself in a mood for a more modern songs. There was a workaround for that, to simply play songs out of her memory with her magic, but that meant she would have to be completely focused on the music in order to reproduce it properly, which kind of defeated the point. Also, coffee. She was sick of the tea, but it was the only source of caffeine in these parts. The ever-present noise of the city. Well, she had already given up on that, having moved to Storybrooke, which was a small, quiet town that was utterly silent at night. However, even it had some noise that she had always associated with civilization – something that the Enchanted Forest had none. Not to say that this world didn't have some charms of its own, and some of them she actually liked, but still…

Lost in her ruminations while she continued to climb, she almost passed over a strange cleft in the rock she had come upon; however when she reached for her next hand-hold, she saw it and immediately noticed the hewn nature of the rock beside her. Before she moved in to investigate the smooth fissure, she brought her legs higher and pushed slightly of the wall, still holding on by her hands, her small but meaningful distance allowing her to see higher above her position. Seeing what she needed, she remained coiled away from the rocks just a few seconds more, frowning at the snowy outcropping appearing only forty feet above her. Easing the pressure on her arms, she brought her body closer to the stone, and making sure she had a good and secure hold, she released one hand and traced carefully the roughly shaped circle cut into the face of the cliff, ignoring the lines of red that followed her fingers' path, the depth of the cut only about ten inches. Next, she placed her palm onto the smoothed out surface, noting that the stone had been weathered by time, and quite a lot of it by the looks of it, but it still had kept its original shape and form. Despite being quite intrigued by this mystery, Emma chose to leave it for another time, when she was rested and more prepared to hang by the side of the cliff. And, her arms had gotten very tired by the time she had reached this place, which was probably the most deciding factor.

So, remarking on the position of the curiosity she had come upon, the Savior pushed on, the last leg of her journey presenting her little challenge. She almost flew those short yards up and throwing herself over the edge, she tossed herself into the snow, her large cape serving as protection against the wet sludge she was to make with her heightened body heat. For a long moment, she just lied on the soft velvet of her cloak, breathing deeply and simply resting as she looked up into the sunlit skies, admiring the absence of stormy clouds. For that moment in time, nothing else was important. Not her still climb-damaged hands, not the burn in her muscles, not the conversation she had had with Guardian and not her worry about Regina's absence. She was aware of them, yes, but for that one brief pause, they didn't matter.

"There you are!" a familiar voice startled her out of her triumphant mood, making it dissolve completely, so she turned just her head, too tired to move otherwise, to see the person that had already been searching for her. As soon as her eyes fell on the shifter's concerned expression, Emma scowled in annoyance, turning her eyes back to the sky. It was barely morning and the Wolf was already on her case.

"For someone who claims not to be my minder, you do appear monitor my comings and goings a lot," she remarked loudly with a bite in her tone, not moving from her place. However, as she heard the crunch in snow signaling another's footsteps joining Aileen, she curtailed her displeasure, glancing at the young healer that had followed the Wolf. "What do you want?" she asked the Wolf, nodding politely at the young healer.

But, the target of her question didn't have a chance to answer as Gwen, the excellent healer that she was, gasped at the wounds she immediately saw on the Savior's hands, already moving toward her to deal with them, her rush bringing her to her knees onto Emma's cloak as she reached for the injured limbs in effort to at least stop their bleeding, ignoring the blonde's wounded hiss the moment her fingers came in contact with one of the deeper cuts.

"It seems that whenever you are away from me, you get yourself hurt," Aileen replied tightly, keeping herself at distance and letting Gwen deal with the Sheriff. Judging by the glower that had met her, she wouldn't be too welcome to come closer anyways. But, there was another thing that kept her from approaching, the sharp eyes of the Wolf passing over the snow and taking in the Savior's position in it. She had passed down this route less then several minutes before and the blonde had not been there, nor anywhere near to this side of the village, for she, as the shifter and an excellent tracker, would definitely know. It had been a measly fluke that Gwen had been out gathering the wood bark farther down the path, and that escorting the healer back they happened to walk this way again. She frowned, the tracks in the snow not providing an answer for the Sheriff's sudden appearance, nor did they explain the state of her hands. She looked like she had been in a hand fight with a rabid animal.

Emma had forgotten about her hands, startled by the sudden shout of the shifter, the irritation quickly supplanting the surprise. And when even softly murmuring to Gwen that she was alright and that she could heal herself with magic had not dissuaded the healer from attending to her injuries, Emma simply surrendered to her gentle ministrations, letting Gwen fuss about her. But, she was not going to let the Wolf judge her for her state, not when she had climbed the entire cliff in two short hours. Nor was she going to let the shifter get away with the attitude, for how she chose to spent her nights and days were her problem, not Aileen's.

"What I do with my time is of no concern of yours," Emma snapped at the shifter, her words perhaps a bit sharper than warranted, but Gwen had poured an alcoholic cleaner over her cuts the moment she had opened her mouth. Her words were followed by a strangled grunt and an accusing look thrown at the healer by her side who met her eyes with an apologetic blink, before they crinkled in muted satisfaction.

"Geilgeis," Aileen started with a heavy sigh, not willing to enter into a full blown argument with the Savior, especially not here, out in the open and with Emma half lying in the snow. However, whatever she was going to say next evaporated when the young woman kneeling beside the Savior threw her a warning look, the usually soft features hardening with reproach and disapproval, shutting her up immediately. Surprised to see the shifter so easily stopped, Emma glanced at the unexpectedly mum woman and noting her chagrined look as the Wolf stood there, three yards away, shuffling her feet in the snow, the blonde tossed a look at the healer hovering over her now temporarily bound hands and met sharp and knowing eyes of the young woman who was not to be trifled with.

"These need to be tended to immediately," the healer spoke calmly, paying no heed to the lumbering Wolf behind her. "Could you?" Gwen wriggled her fingers in a waving motion, as she looked at Emma, and it took the Savior only a second to grasp what the woman wanted, letting her magic surge and envelope both of them, taking them away from the cliff and into the House of Healing and leaving the Wolf to watch at their disappearance with scorn, into the room where Gwen had tended to her previously, the room that held most of the healer's supplies.

"There is really no need for this, Gwen," Emma spoke kindly to the healer as soon as they materialized in the room, touching the woman's palm, already bloodied by attending to the Sheriff's cuts.

The young woman glanced up into Emma's face and smiled. "Sometimes, magic is not the answer," she simply said before she directed the Savior to sit at the table, at the same seat Emma had used the last time she was in the room. Hearing the blonde's resigned sigh, the healer walked to her supplies and gathered everything she would need, setting the satchel she had been wearing on the cliff-top on the floor beside the shelves, leaving it to be sorted later. Placing everything in her hands onto the table, she walked toward the door where stood a pallet full of fresh water, and lifting it with practiced ease she took it to a small cauldron resting to the side over the lit fire. As she finished with pouring the water into the cauldron, she brought it into the fire to heat.

Emma watched the diligent healer go about the room in preparation, every motion practiced and economic. When the girl straightened up from the fireplace and step toward her, the blonde waited to see what the healer would do next. However, it was with surprise that she found the young woman reaching for her shoulders and gently undoing the clasp of her cloak and letting it fall over the back of Emma's chair, stepping immediately away as soon as the black cover was off the Savior's body.

It was odd, siting in silence and watching the conscientious girl gather everything she would need for something that Emma could have done in seconds, but, for the life of her, Emma could not begrudge the girl her work.

After several minutes, when all the preparations had been completed, Gwen joined Emma at the table, taking one of the bandaged hands into her own, her nimble fingers carefully unwinding the binds she had placed outside in effort to stop the bleeding and protect the wounds, placing the hand onto the clean surface of the table, palm upwards. She repeated the work with the other hand, before she looked up at the green eyes that followed her every move with undisguised interest. "You have healed them before," she spoke softly before she reached for a cloth that had been soaking in the hot water, bringing the dripping material over the hands, using it to gently wash the cuts.

"How do you know?" Emma asked, intrigued as she let the other woman clean the wounds, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of the fabric passing over her deeper abrasions.

"There are marks on the flesh that not even magic can hide," Gwen responded, her answer not interrupting her in her work, as she diligently washed out every cut before moving on to the next one.

"The only way you could know about the healing is if you have magic of your own," Emma concluded after a while. She could actually determine that quite easily, but scrying for someone's abilities were an invasion of privacy Emma wasn't quite keen on. However, there were a few things the Savior did know even without looking. Since she couldn't sense it, and Regina couldn't either, Gwen's power was either very weak and passive, or Gwen was extremely powerful and quite capable at cloaking her own energies.

"Or I knew how you got these in the first place, and I know that you have a lot less than you should," the young healer spoke out, not looking away from Emma's hands. When she felt a muscle flinch in the hand she was holding, the healer glanced up and saw the Savior scrutinize her carefully. "The rocks are really sharp on that side of the divide," she supplied evenly, before went back to her work.

"You are not going to comment on my disobedience of the Queen's edict?" the Sheriff queried, grabbing one of Gwen's fingers gently to stop her for a moment. "If you knew what I was doing, then you know where I've been." She had leaned in as her muscles had tensed, not knowing how the girl would react.

"You are here by the grace of Lady of the Skies, and she is the authority that is greater than Mistress. And, even if it wasn't so, Queen Morgan has no sway over you, Savior. I hardly think it is my place to forbid you anything." The young woman then gently plied the blonde's hand open, before she carefully took the hold of it, tenderly pressing her thumb on the wrist of the hand she had in her grasp. "If you didn't have the permission to enter the vale, you would suffer worse wounds than these, so I see no reason to raise the alarm," she assured the Savior. "If my discretion is what you need, that is what you shall have, among the more obvious things," she added firmly, grabbing a clean cloth and repeating the process.

"But, it is the magic that lets you sense it?" Emma continued their previous line of conversation, after a brief lapse of silence, having settled back in relaxation.

"Perhaps," the girl murmured as she poured fresh water over Emma's hands, letting the cold water soothe the sting of the still oozing cuts. "Mistress believes it's a form of empathy, where I feel for the disturbances in one's body." The healer glanced up as she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't see what does it matter what it is, as long as I know how it works."

"And, how does it work?" Emma was very interested to hear about this talent of Gwen's, leaning slightly forward.

"I feel shadows," Gwen said, uncertain about the word she had chosen, but when Emma shook her head lightly in encouragement, she continued. "I feel shadows where the injuries are, or were, and it's like I can see how it looks on the inside and I know when something is wrong."

Emma nodded her head again, offering the young woman a comforting smile. "Must be helpful when you are a healer," she noted, looking down at her thoroughly cleaned palms.

"I became a healer because of it," the girl spoke absently as she used another cloth to spread some type of cream over the cuts. "My parents brought me to the King's Court, fearing I was a witch. It was Mistress who took me in, offered me tutelage in the arts and I have been by her side ever since." The tone Gwen used was a matter of fact one, distant and undisturbed by the abandonment by her parents, but if Emma understood it correctly, for Gwen – that had been several centuries before. And, by the things she had seen in Regina's memory, such a thing wasn't a rare occurrence in the Enchanted Forest, especially in the areas where people had been extremely fearful of the talents.

"Does me using my magic bother you?" Emma had to ask.

"No," Gwen was vehement in her denial, the sudden sharp tone startling them both. Cowered by her previous outburst, the girl hesitated for a moment. However, when a still wet hand gently touched hers, she looked into the Savior's encouraging eyes and spoke again, this time in a lower tone. "Magic doesn't bother me," she said earnestly. "It's just, your body remembers, even after the wounds are healed, even when magic is used to wish them away. It remembers, and sometimes, the only thing that takes the shadows away is when healing is at the slow non-magical rate. Like the body cannot accept it has been healed until it suffers through the healing." Sighing at how convoluted that sounded, Gwen bit her lip, glancing at the Savior. "I don't know how to explain it properly."

Emma hummed at the notion, realizing where the young woman was going with it. After some thought, that actually made a lot of sense. Well, to her, anyways. "No, no, I get it." Just like ordinary humans didn't accept miracles but had to see the hard work that went into it to actually believe something had happened.

"Well, in any case," the young woman finished applying the cream and reached for the rolls of bandages she had set aside for this, several of the smaller ones she intended to use for the fingers and two large ones for the palms. "When you arrived here first, I couldn't look at you without seeing all the pain you've been through. Not just the wounds, but the malnutrition, the exhaustion… I could see it all. Even after Queen Regina healed you, you seemed to have shadows hanging around you."

"That is why you looked so worried around me all the time," Emma gasped in realization, finally understanding why the young healer in front of her had been so careful and cautious with her before, her exhalation nothing to do with a strip of bandage tightly pressing over the center of her palm. "You could see I wasn't… recovered."

"Then, you went on your jaunt with Aileen, and when you came back you were healed. Completely."

Emma hummed in agreement. "Unicorn blood," she tossed out flippantly. "It does wonders for constitution."

Gwen chuckled as she tied off the bandage on Emma's right hand. "I heard," she murmured, reaching for the left.

"So, all this," Emma spoke, waving between the two of them with her freshly bandaged hand. "All this production is to heal the shadows?"

The young woman looked at the Savior, suddenly her shoulders slumping as she stopped what she was doing. "If it really bothers you, I can take these off and…" she started saying softly, but even the whisper couldn't hide the quivering in her voice from Emma. Also, the Sheriff saw a shadow pass over the kind eyes before they withdrew, as the girl casted them down.

"No," Emma interrupted the girl, placing her bandaged hand over one of Gwen's, leaning forward. "Look at me," she ordered firmly but with a kind voice, frowning when the girl didn't obey. She had not meant to hurt the young healer's feelings with her question, nor to insult the girl, but it seemed that she had done both somehow. "Gwen," she insisted, "look at me."

It took four seconds for the girl to comply, but for Emma those seconds seemed longer as she felt the sharp prick of shame for her thoughtless words. When she finally saw those hazel eyes tentatively meet hers, she squeezed Gwen's arm in support. "I am sorry," she spoke earnestly. "I didn't intend to make light of your explanation or to imply that this wasn't important or worth my time. I misspoke and I apologize." Bringing herself even closer to the healer, Emma peered into the still withdrawn eyes, regretting to see them shining with wetness. "Will you forgive me for such egregious misconduct?"

The young healer sniffed as her eyes darted between Emma's, searching for something in them before the girl nodded, her head moving dislodging one of the tears gathered at her lids. "Oh, Gwen," Emma sighed heavily, as her eyes followed the trail of the drop. "I truly am sorry." But, the healer quickly wiped away all the evidence of her tears, and brought her hands back to their work, grasping Emma's half bandaged one to finish the job.

"These will need changing in the evening," Gwen spoke after she tied off the bandage on Emma's left hand, as if nothing had happened. "Until then, you shouldn't do much with your hands, especially nothing that involves you curling them into fists." She rose from her seat and started gathering the things that remained on the table to put them away, but as soon as she was on her feet the Savior followed, placing herself in her path.

"You can send someone else if my presence perturbs you," the Sheriff offered in a whisper as she peered into the girl's shifting eyes.

As soon as Emma finished speaking, the hazel eyes focused on hers, staring her down with intensity Emma had not seen in the healer before. "I will come to your quarters after the evening meal," the girl spoke firmly, before she deftly stepped around the Savior, effortlessly dismissing the knight out of her presence. With a soft, barely heard snort, Emma shook her head and smirked, placing her cloak over her hand and leaving the room in silence.

---

In front of her own rooms, Aileen waited, leaning against the wall beside the closed door, her arms crossed as she watched the Savior approach with a stony face. Only when she saw Emma's bandaged hands she moved, opening the door for the woman and following her in the room, closing the door behind them.

"If you have to say something, be quick about it," Emma advised, tossing the heavy cloak onto her bed before she turned to the shifter. "I am in no mood for sermons or arguments," she added, taking a seat at the table, noticing that someone had brought fresh platter of food and refilled the pitcher with water. She also noticed that her fireplace had been cleaned out, with the new fire logs placed inside, ready to set aflame at the moment's notice.

The shifter exhaled and took the other seat at the table, slumping in it before she reached for the water and poured it in two cups, setting one of them in front of Emma. "I am not here to lecture you," she stated, meeting the tired eyes over the water. "Keith saw you were gone when he had brought you food, and mentioned it to me. Even when Percival asked me if you were going to show at the practice ring, I did nothing. It was only when the tailor caught me and told me that you weren't to be found that I started looking for you."

"Tailor?" Emma was bewildered at the idea that the old but gregarious man who she had heard sing the evening before would want something with her. As far as she knew, she never spoke to the man, nor did she need to, as the clothes she wore were from the closet in her quarters, and her magic capable of creating anything else she would need.

"Yes, Selwyn needs you to finish his work on the skins," Aileen said offhandedly before she sipped water. "I looked for you everywhere," she started but the raised hand cut her off.

"Skins?"

Aileen frowned at Emma's confusion. "The deerskin Althea sent for you," she said, but as that had not sparked the Savior's understanding, she continued. "Before I came to Brocéliande, my grandmother had given me several rolls of white coat deerskin in order for you to shed the uniform of the Black Knight. I have given those skins to Selwin, the tailor, and Rhain, who is the appointed cobbler in these parts, to make something for you. Has Morgan not told you this?"

Emma snorted as she shook her head. "There are many things Morgan hasn't told me."

"What do you mean?"

The Savior just shrugged. "It doesn't matter now."

After waiting a few seconds for Emma to elaborate if she chose to, Aileen understood that the blonde would not speak on it further, at this time anyway, so she went on with the original topic. "I know that what you do with your time is your affair and that I have no rights to impede you or demand answers. The only reason I have for my behavior earlier was that I was worried and I spoke thoughtlessly."

"It's been going around," Emma commented softly, waving Aileen's veiled apology off. At the curious look directed at her, the blonde spoke again. "I managed to insult Gwen." Before the shifter could ask any questions or demand restitution for the kind healer's honor, Emma continued. "It was just a misfortunate comment I made without thinking. I believe she accepted my apology."

"That young woman forgives easily, Geilgeis," Aileen said quietly. "But, she will not let herself be walked over, not even by your Grace."

"I don't expect anything other than that from her, or anyone else, Wolf," Emma replied heavily. "I do not need people to fall over themselves and accept my abuse, whether it was on purpose or not. God knows I am sick of all the worship and expectation that follows me through the Enchanted Forest." She clumsily brought the cup to her mouth and drank deeply, before she lowered the empty cup and rose from her chair.

"You are the Savior," Aileen whispered carefully, watching the pacing woman.

"The Savior," Emma chuckled mirthlessly. One of these days, she would seriously grow to hate that title. "So what? I am still just Emma. No matter what the titles you insist on heaping on me." She sat tiredly on the bed and grimaced as she accidentally hit her hand on her thigh. "I am still just me."

The shifter had noticed the wince and slowly came closer to the blonde, lowering herself into a crouch beside her. "It is who you are that inspires awe, Geilgeis. Not the titles, not your powers. What you did and what you continue to do is what spreads the legend of you. And, yes, people know you as the Savior because of the curse, but it doesn't mean that they wouldn't be amazed by you with another name." The Wolf took the freshly injured hand and gently examined the bandages, before offering Emma a soft smile. "Now, you should take it easy with your hands, Gwen doesn't appreciate when her patients undo her work."

At Emma's snide look, the shifter just rose and pulled the other woman up, making sure to grab her above the line of bandages, remembering that some of the cuts on the Savior's palms had seemed deep. "Come, we'll get you sorted," she offered as she slowly reached for the Sheriff's belt and gently undid the buckle, taking it away along with the dagger on it. With the Savior cooperating, they gradually removed almost all of Emma's clothes, leaving her in a loose, sweat stiffened shirt. As the blonde covered herself with a blanket, Aileen knelt beside the fireplace to get the fire going, before she went to the bathroom, rummaging around while Emma sat in bed, scowling at her more or less useless hands.

"I am sure, with Gwen's miraculous balms, they will be fully healed by tomorrow," the shifter tossed out from the door to the bathroom when she saw the Sheriff's grimace, in her arms a small basin with steaming hot water and a sponge floating in it, and a towel placed over her shoulder.

"I have no doubt in that, Wolf," Emma murmured, her eyes still pinned on her hands. "But, this is ridiculous – I can't do anything with them like this." Only then she looked up at the shifter and noticed the washbowl. "What's that for?"

"Obviously, you haven't passed by any mirrors," Aileen commented as she placed the dish on the night table, gesturing to Emma to scoot a bit. "Your forehead is caked in dust and blood. The rest of your face isn't much better." With an eye roll, the blonde surrendered and while Aileen removed the dirt from the Savior's face, she mentioned how they should meet with the tailor in the afternoon, the Sheriff agreeing wholeheartedly, quite interested to see what Selwyn had in store for her and with nothing better to do with her impaired hands.

---

This part of the chapter contains triggers for death of a child, suicide and cutting

---

The Savior stood on a wooden box in the middle of the room, her arms crossed on her chest as the small, middle aged man circled around her with his hand on his chin, scrutinizing the clothes on her, while the rest of the people in the small room leaned against the far-sided wall watching them silently.

Emma was dressed in incredibly soft white leather pants that seemed to be glued to her skin, but didn't restrict her range of motion at all. The pants had additional laces along the outer seam where Emma could adjust the tightness around her legs, the crisscrossing detail adding to the beauty of the garment. Then, over her shirt was a short vest, very similar to the one Regina had worn when they had first come to the White Castle, also made of white leather. The vest didn't have as large bust as Regina's had, but it did accentuate Emma's femininity, flaring a bit at the hips.

On the table beside them was a white leather tunic that Emma had tried on before putting on the vest, the style of the tunic the same as of the pants, the side seams done in crisscrossed laces, but the tunic also had a small inlaid work on the part that would cover Emma's chest, the barely visible grooves in the leather filled with silver, the intricate lines creating a swan with a crown on top of its head sitting at the center of a four pointed star. Surprised by the motif on the tunic, Emma had looked at the tailor with intent to demand answers but the man had come forward first, mentioning that the Lady of the Skies had given him some input on the symbol.

Beside the tunic were two pairs of white sheepskin gloves, one pair with the longer above wrist part, meant to be worn beneath the forearm bracers, while the other ones were shorter. And, packed in a small satchel alongside the gloves were three different white belts with silver buckles and several white leather laces. Having seen the tailor's offerings, Emma had discretely rolled her eyes at the pervasive whiteness he had shown her. Meeting Aileen's eyes over the clothes, she stopped herself from chuckling at the Wolf's smirk directed at her.

"Do you wear armor, my Lady?" the tailor asked after the long silence he had insisted upon while he had inspected his creations.

Nodding shortly, Emma lowered her arms, disentangling them with caution, before she offered the answer to the man. "A lightweight magical chainmail." Immediately, she followed with an impish "Black."

Selwyn hummed in acknowledgement as he made another circuit around Emma. "Do you wear it over or under the tunic?"

"As close to skin as I can, usually over a shirt," she replied, interested to see what he had in mind.

While he nodded, mumbling something to himself under breath, another man entered the room carrying two oblong pieces of wood, already somewhat shaped. "Oi, Selwyn, mind the break?" he shouted at the tailor, gesturing at the wooden things in his hands. When the tailor nodded at him, still considering something with unintelligible mumble, the newcomer turned to Emma. "Your Ladyship, if you wouldn't mind," he spoke with a half bow, looking at her.

The Savior stood unmoving, her brows frowning at the man's expectant behavior. She opened her mouth to ask, but the Wolf interceded in her stead.

"Don't you see her hands, Rhain, you fool," the shifter barked at the man, before she walked up to the Savior, helping her off the makeshift dais. "He is the cobbler, Geilgeis," she murmured into the Sheriff's ear as she led Emma to a seat. "He is here to take your measure for the boots," she added in the same quiet tone as she kneeled to help Emma take off the boots she already had on.

"Apologies, my Lady," the cobbler quickly gasped, throwing himself onto the floor beside the shifter to help the wolf. "May I?" he asked permission as he showed Emma the wood he had been carrying. Only when he had placed them at her feet after her approving nod, she realized that the oblong pieces served as the templates for the soles of the future boots. As the man used a small knife to etch the outline of Emma's feet, noting various important details, Emma looked on with interest, never caring before what it took to make a pair of shoes in the Enchanted Forest, where mass production didn't exist. After a few questions regarding the style and use of the boots, the man excused himself, bowing deeply as he was leaving, letting Aileen to put Emma's shoes back on.

By the time the cobbler was done, the tailor had found what he had been looking for, motioning respectfully to Emma to resume her position on the dais as he offered her a thickly woven cotton tunic. "I can make similar one in white or if you'd rather, in grey," the tailor spoke as he helped the Savior put the tunic on, setting it on the blonde's shoulders with professional ease. The tunic was actually a turtle neck when the tunic was completely laced up, the open seam coming from one shoulder up the entire length of neck for the ease of putting it on. The tunic the tailor had given Emma was slightly bulky in size, hanging off Emma's slim frame, but the blonde could still appreciate its form. "The sleeves are short, coming only after elbows, but I guess your chainmail is only up to elbows," he showed to the Savior where normally the sleeve would end. "And it would go under the leather, providing more warmth."

"That would be perfect," Emma agreed, nodding at the man's suggestion. "Thank you," she spoke when he smiled in pleasure.

"You honor me, my Lady," he offered with a slight bow, before he stepped forward to help her take the tunic off. "It will be done in several days, my Lady," he added as he made a short notation on a piece of paper, taking the garment away.

"Please," Emma stopped him before he would disappear in the back room to work. "Please, make it in grey," she implored as she let Aileen unlace her leggings.

"Of course, my Lady," he smiled and bowed again, offering greetings to the shifter and the knight who had followed the two women into his showing place, before he gathered his things and retired.

Percival took one look at Emma and quickly walked toward the door. "I'll wait outside," he spoke uncomfortably as he ducked out, ignoring the chuckle from the wolf that followed him outside.

"What's next?" Emma asked while Aileen helped her into her own pair of pants, leaving the white leather ones for Selwyn to finish. She hated that she needed help getting dressed, but the Wolf had convinced her to suffer through the indignity, as spending time in her room with nothing to do would only drive out of her mind. Also, there had been a curious tidbit that the shifter had shared with her. The Lords and Ladies of this world often used their servants to get dressed, and it was something that was widely accepted. By Aileen's words, no one would bat an eye at her assistance, especially since everyone could see her bandaged hands.

"It is up to you, Geilgeis," the shifter spoke, her nimble fingers doing a quick work of the laces. She looked up as she brought the boots. "We could stop by the smithy, perhaps find you a new sword, or anything else you might need when you leave…" she offered.

"No," Emma rejected the suggestion, leaning against Aileen's shoulder with her forearm. "I need my hands for that." Shifting her weight on the other foot, she added, "We could go tomorrow, or day after."

"Whenever you want." Aileen straightened out and reached for Emma's cloak, placing it over the blonde's shoulders, her fingers gently pulling the golden tresses from underneath it.

"Did Percival tell you why was he looking for me?" Emma asked as they moved toward the door. The shifter shook her head, letting the blonde pass in front of her before she closed the door of the tailor's place. "Then, I guess, it's up to him."

They found the knight talking with one of the soldiers just two houses down the road. Percival sent the other man off the moment he saw them waiting for him, and approached the Savior, offering his arm. "I believe we should talk," he started quietly as he slowly guided Emma toward the House of Healing, letting the shifter walk by the blonde's other side. "And, the only place that will provide us the needed privacy is your quarters," he stated hopefully as he glanced around, making sure that no one but the two women could hear him.

"Alright," Emma agreed, her expression remaining the same, as she kept her wondering silent and invisible. After all, she would get her answers soon. She, then, turned to Aileen. "Perhaps we should make sure not to be interrupted by helpful people bringing me food and wood for the fires," she suggested vaguely, but the shifter nodded and rushed off in front of them, leaving the Savior with the knight. "Did you miss me at the field this morning?" Emma spoke with a slight teasing in her voice as she let the man set their pace into a slow stroll.

"My men didn't," he smirked. "Not even Gwen's wondrous ointments can heal all the bruises you give them, let alone the injured pride." Percival then glanced at her thoughtfully. "What about a shield?" he asked.

Emma was already used to his seemingly random questions, all regarding a type of weapon or a tool, but quickly she had learned that it was his way of proposing another form for Emma to learn. With her incredible speed in picking up the fighting styles, he was running out of offensive weaponry he could tutor her in, as he had already shown her all he knew about one hand and two hands swords, two swords, sword and dagger styles, quarterstaffs and spears. The expansive knowledge Emma now possessed about various forms of fighting had been one of the reasons she had been so tired the evening before as Percival had run her ragged through the paces.

"No, it will only slow me down," Emma precluded his offer kindly. "I need the other hand mostly free, for magic or other weaponry I use." There was no need for her to explain the existence of guns to the knight of Camelot, first because she wasn't sure she would be able to do it properly, so he would understand the devastating power of such weapon, and secondly – she didn't want to, and it wasn't necessary for him to know.

He hummed as he considered her words. "Throwing knives might be a useful skill, but I have no one around here that is past the rudimentary levels at it." Climbing up the steps of the Marble Hall, he rubbed his chin. "Maces, flails and morning stars are too slow for your speed and they will only weigh you down. The same is for axes and hammers. Hmmm." Pushing the large door, he gestured Emma to go in. "Well, the only thing that is left for us to sharpen your reactions. And, hand to hand."

They reached Emma's rooms to find the door already opened and small lamps lit, along with the roaring fire in the hearth. Aileen was fiddling with the window cover, setting it in place, as they came in. "No one will interrupt us for the evening, and Gwen will come by later, as planned."

Emma turned to look at Percival, expecting him to comment on Gwen's presence, but the man only nodded at the wolf's words, closing the door behind them. "Alright," he murmured as he took a seat at the table Aileen had set. Then he looked between the two women, waiting for one of them to start.

"You are the one that wanted to talk, Percival," Emma noted, shrugging off the cloak and taking another seat, closest to the fireplace, leaving the last one to the shifter.

The knight nodded and sighed. "It's about you leaving Brocéliande," he spoke quietly, even though no one would be able to hear him through the heavy oak door and thick stone walls of Emma's quarters. "People are getting restless here and they are ready to go out of these magical woods. And, the way to do so is to join you and Queen Regina in your quest. Most villagers have already figured out that Regina will become the next ruler of what's left of us, and soon they will fill in the rest of them."

"I thought their loyalty was to Morgan," Emma replied softly.

"It still is. But, you must understand, we've been here for decades, centuries even, and nothing has changed for us. We are still the same as the day when we entered Brocéliande." Percival accepted the wine Aileen poured for him and focused back on the blonde across from him. "We are frozen in time, Geilgeis, and it wears on the soul."

"Is that the reason why there are no children around?" Emma asked curiously, considering the man's words.

"That and the fact that most of the women here have surpassed the child bearing age," Aileen answered. "The young ones refused to have children here, for the magic can be persuaded to allow it. The cost was too much, and the Queen agreed."

"What happened?"

Percival shook his head and gestured to Aileen to go on, unable to speak of the thing. Emma thought about the magic and tried to see what the price of such askance would be, but she couldn't see, but by the knight's expression it was something horrible. She was of half mind to ignore the topic, just because of the muted pain she saw in his eyes, but her inquisitiveness was strong too.

However, Aileen chose to speak. "At first, when they arrived here, there was a young woman called Siani, just a year older than our Gwen. She was Keith's sister and the wife of one of the young soldiers you have no doubt seen around the grounds."

"Dai," Percival added in a strangled voice. "The man who brought you each sword you practiced with, he was her husband."

Emma thought back to the always quiet man with deeply shadowed eyes, almost morose in his behavior, as he had taken done his job perfectly in finding Emma weapons for the exercises. "Oh," she uttered softly, already not liking how the story was going and Aileen was at the very beginning.

"She begged the Queen to intervene, so she and Dai would be able to have children, and even after many warnings that Morgan wouldn't know how it would work out, Siani insisted, and finally after many months, Morgan caved." Aileen continued on with the story. "It took my friend weeks to find the proper ritual and to find the corresponding effects, but with the persistent girl to help her, she managed. And, the ritual worked – Siani was left pregnant soon after. It was the news that people celebrated, for the wounds and sorrow of Arthur's departure for Avalon was too fresh for the people and they needed something good to look forward." The wolf sipped her wine, wetting her mouth. "I visited often at that time, staying much longer than I now do, and I saw how the new child had brought happiness into the village. I saw the way they cherished the young woman. I even saw how Morgan looked after her, surprised to see the motherly pride she had for the girl, for I had thought her heart had been to broken to feel such emotions so soon."

"It was a miracle," Percival spoke softly, his tremulous smile laden with grief. "We were all so happy, but Dai was the happiest of us all. You should have known him then." He grimaced as he remembered. "It was impossible not to smile and laugh around him. He was always a cheery boy, but this brought out lightness in him."

"After an ordinary first time pregnancy, a baby boy was born. Carwyn he was named as he indeed was dearly beloved by all of his people. And he was a happy boy, bringing joy to his parents and all around him." Aileen's smile turned sad. "The boy grew and soon he became a man, one that the entire village was proud of, but as he grew, the people around him remained unchanged by time. As soon as Morgan realized that he was ageing with the seasons that passed, she closed herself into the Temple, trying to find a solution, to save the young boy from the fate that awaited him. But, there was nothing to do. It was then that it was decided that others would not even attempt at children and the spirit of the village was broken."

Emma gasped as she understood what had happened to the boy. Without the protection of the magic, the same protection that Morgan had to suspend in order for him to be born, he had aged. The magic was only suspended for the mother, but the child had to be denied it completely in order to develop and grow, and Emma surmised that what the ritual had done, it could not have been undone without killing both the mother and the child.

"He grew old, and one winter, when his body was too frail to go on, his soul passed on," Aileen confirmed Emma's thoughts. "His death hit the people hard, but it devastated his parents." There were truly no words to describe what their son's death had done to the two people who had seemed to be the most joyous people in Brocéliande, and the shifter didn't even try, her deep blue eyes portraying enough of the grief for Emma to gleam a bit of it. "Not long after, despite the watchful guard and many friends, Siani snuck out leaving a short message for Keith she wandered off to the eastern side of the gorge and…" She hesitated over the word, glancing at the knight beside her, noticing his clenching fist beside his empty cup.

"She jumped," he gurgled before he pushed away from the table, needing a moment.

Aileen sighed and let the man pace in front of the fireplace, as she reached for a pitcher, pouring herself a good amount of wine. "It took a very long time for Dai to even function, and only recently people have stopped keeping an eye on him, afraid he would follow in his wife's footsteps. But, Keith…"

"The boy lost his entire family when his nephew died and it changed him," Percival spoke as he was leaning against the mantle with his forearm, staring into the flames. "He became angry and violent with no place to exorcise that fury, so it turned on him."

"Percy found him in a pool of his own blood out in the forest."

"I was the one who was tasked to bring Siani's body back," Percival continued. "I pray I see nothing like that ever again for I still have nightmares of her broken body lying over the rocks with blood and other things spread everywhere. And, to see Keith surrounded by his blood – I was sure we had lost him too." He looked away from the fire and focused on the Savior, her compassionate eyes gleaming in the light of the candles on the table. "He stole one of the kitchen knives and cut into his skin, making deep lines along his limbs. Later, he told me that he hadn't tried to kill himself, but he had tried to make himself feel something else that the pressing dark miasma that covered him." He saw the Savior nod in grim understanding. "He had found that pain helped him and he had just wanted to feel better."

Emma nodded again, reaching for the man's arm, patting it lightly with her wrist. "I saw it happen in my world too. It's a way of dealing with a deep pain of the soul. A harmful way, but a way nonetheless."

Percival grasped gently her forearm and squeezed it lightly in appreciation for her words, before he released it and walked back to his seat, grabbing the pitcher to top off his cup. After a long swallow, he sighed. "Morgan took him in and in time, she helped him," he concluded his telling, before he shifted in his seat, and placed his elbows on the table, leaning slightly forward as he focused on the Savior. "I have sworn many oaths to both my King and my Queen, but I am also the last Knight of the Order. My place is out there, helping the helpless, fighting the tyrants and protecting the innocents, not to be here and languish in this hiding spot, away from the world." He tapped lightly with the bottom of his cup against the surface of the table. "I want to join you, Savior. You and your queen."

"Will Morgan let you?" Emma asked, careful not to give any indication to her thoughts.

"She has no choice on the matter," the knight replied. "I am here of my own free will. Officially, the queen has released me of my vows to her, and Arthur leaving these shores took care of the pledges I swore to him."

"And Morgan?"

Aileen was the one to answer. "She found the Heir. There is nothing for her here."

"So, she'll go to Avalon?"

"Most likely," the Wolf confirmed sadly.

The Sheriff leaned back, her eyes passing over the features of the knight, his clenched jaw and pinched forehead speaking of his firm resolution to go with her. She could use him, she knew. Or, more importantly, Regina could use him, having him by her side would possibly help her a great deal. And, the more experienced soldiers they had, the better odds her family had against the Wicked Witch. Also, having the banners of the Camelot and the Order of the Red Dragon along with Regina's would help with the rehabilitation of Regina's name. If he, and others, were determined to follow her and her love, she couldn't forbid them. Not that she could see any reason why she would want to.

However, until Morgan and Regina were finished with the Temple, it was a moot point, anyways, so Emma offered a non-committal answer to Percival's demand. "I need to speak to Regina about it." Seeing him slump, she sighed. "It's up to her, really. The Heir and all that. However, as far as I am concerned, I wouldn't mind you coming along."

The knight offered a grateful smile before he leaned back, stirring conversation to more pleasant matters, the two women joining him gladly, and as the relieved tone in his voice suggested, his heart seemed lighter after their talk, despite the fact that Emma had not given him the answer he had wanted.

---

END of the Triggering parts, but there will be some vague mention further along.

---

It was late in the evening when Percival rose from his seat again and walked to the door, having already wished the two ladies a pleasant evening, the sudden pull of the door startling the young woman standing behind it. "Oh, Gwen, sorry," the knight offered with a joyous smile, before he stepped aside to let the healer in. "Evening," he greeted and disappeared into the shadowed hallways of the House of Healing.

"He seems to be in a good mood," the young woman commented as she watched him leave, before she noticed that the women inside the room were still chuckling at something that had been said before she had entered. "You, as well," she added, rolling her eyes at the relaxed wolf almost slipping out of her chair.

"Don't mind her," Emma said with an indulgent smile as she watched Aileen chortle at nothing. "It would seem that the knight and the Wolf can't hold their liquor."

"I suppose I should be glad they didn't manage to pull you into their shenanigans," the healer noted, setting down her things before she approached the table.

"They tried, but it takes a lot more than a flagon of wine to get me drunk," the Sheriff responded, rising from her chair. "I grew up on much harder stuff. Not to mention Regina's cider. That'll get you sloshed in no time." She nudged the shifter and helped her stand. "Go home, Wolf," she murmured as she brought the woman to the door. "I am in good hands," she broke in before Aileen could complain. "Go on, follow the wall and turn left," she jested as she took in the wolf's unsteady gait.

"I can still bite you, pup," quipped the shifter as she staggered out. "See you in the morning," she added before leaving the two women alone.

"It's not like them to drink much so without a reason," Gwen spoke as she closed the door.

"I guess they needed it," the blonde commented as she sat at the foot of her bed. At the questioning look directed at her, she added. "They told me about Siani and her child."

At the mention of the name, Gwen froze in mid-motion, her hands hanging only inches away from her satchel on the floor. "Oh," she murmured as her eyes suddenly welled up. Blinking the tears away, she nodded. "That explains it," she whispered, grabbing onto the satchel.

"And, here I go again, upsetting you," Emma sighed, shaking her head.

"It's not your fault," the healer spoke softly before she looked up at the Savior, smiling in gratitude when the blonde kicked over a pillow for her to kneel on while she examined the wounds. "We're all a bit on the edge, with Mistress away and the restlessness that is spreading among the villagers. A few tears are bound to be spilled." Carefully, she unwound the bandages, tossing away the soiled cloth. "This looks good," she murmured as she examined the hands under the light of the fire. "They closed over and they won't scar." She then looked up at the Savior, noticing Emma's matted hair that still held some traces of the dark dust of the rocks and flecks of blood. "You need a bath," she spoke, her implication of needing help clear.

"Without those infernal things on, I believe I can manage myself, thank you," Emma argued as she reached for the clasps of her short jacket, but her hands were quickly snatched away by the healer. "Hey," she complained verbally, letting her hands remain in Gwen's hold.

"The roughness of the fabrics and the soap will undo all the healing that has happened today," Gwen cautioned firmly. "If it is about seeing you without clothes, may I remind you that I have seen you when you arrived here?"

"I was unconscious then."

"That can be arranged," Gwen replied smartly before she reached for the clasps herself, warning Emma with a look not to help her.

"I am not a prude," Emma whispered as she let the girl undress her. "Being in prison cured me of that." The healer let her talk despite the curious look she threw at the blonde when she heard that. "It's just that…" the blonde sighed.

"You are fiercely independent and you hate showing weakness," the girl responded insightfully as she unlaced the shirt Emma was wearing. "All you warrior types seem to suffer from the same maladies."

Emma chuckled at those words, before her face turned wistful. "You know, you sounded a bit like her a minute ago," she said in a melancholic whisper as she glanced at the healer, offering a sad smile.

"You miss her."

Emma agreed with a tired hum, leaning back on her bed while Gwen took care of her shoes and pants. "Morgan promised five days," she spoke. "It's been ten, if I count the first afternoon." Following Gwen into the bathroom with a robe to protect her modesty, she leaned against the wall while the girl brought in a copper tub from a pantry of sorts, hidden away beside the door to the toilet. "Everyone is telling me not to worry, that she is fine, but…" she continued speaking, knowing that the girl was listening despite the fact that she was filling the tub with hot water from the taps over the pool.

"With the time that has passed you cannot help but worry," the healer said as she poured down the steaming hot water out of the pail into the tub, and going back to the tap, filling it again.

"Yeah," Emma sighed.

"Well, if Guardian is telling you that she is alright," the young woman countered, looking up at the Savior, "what more assurances do you really need?" Her pointed words reminded Emma that the young woman was an extremely smart person, and she did have a point. "But, I know that the only proof you will ever accept is seeing her in front of you, unharmed," the healer conceded softly as she approached the Savior, touching her gently on her shoulder. She helped Emma step into the tub and sit down without using her palms, and using one of the finer types of body wash, she rubbed the Sheriff clean.

It was later, when the gentle healer was soaping up Emma's hair that the blonde spoke again. "Why do you call Morgan Mistress?"

"There are many traditions where women are called so out of respect," Gwen uttered as she used her fingers to work through the knotted tresses. "When people become experts in their crafts, they are said to have gained mastery in them, hence becoming masters. Of course, for women it would be mistresses. And as masters and mistresses take on apprentices, the young students address their teachers with Master such and such, or Mistress such and such." Following up on her explanation, Gwen added one more example, as she poured water over the locks, making sure that suds didn't get into Emma's eyes. "If Percival wasn't an already titled knight, with his knowledge of the sword, he would be master swordsman, and you, as his student would have to address him as Master Percival. For me, Queen Morgan is Mistress of the healing arts, and I address her as such, unless the situation calls for another title."

It made sense in Emma's mind. Even her world had titles that had been awarded as achievements, or with jobs and positions in society. Doctors, Mayors, Sirs and Madams, and such.

In silence that followed Gwen's explanation, the two women finished with the tub and the young healer brought the towel wrapped Savior back into the room, seating her on the bed. Pulling out a jar with a purple colored paste out of her satchel, along with fresh bandages and something white, she sat beside the blonde, and placing a pillow onto her knees, she took one of Emma's hands and put it gently on the pillow. Scraping a good amount of the paste out of the jar, she started massaging the Savior's hand, rubbing in the paste and loosening up the stiffened muscles. "This will help further with healing, but it will also soften the calluses. Seeing you don't have many of them, they should be gone completely." At Emma's understanding nod, she reached for the bandage and started placing it over the palm, tying it around the hand, but leaving the fingers free. "I need you to be patient with me just a little more," she added softly as she grasped one of the white things and shook it out. Only then Emma could see it was a glove, made of the same material as the bandages. "This way, you'll have the use of the hand, but please, avoid straining its muscles and tendons."

"As long as I can function with some normality, I don't care," Emma replied kindly, looking at the glove on her hand with a pleased grin, before she peered into Gwen's eyes with gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered earnestly.

"You will be done by the midday the latest, judging by the rate of your healing," Gwen spoke on, acknowledging Emma's gratitude with a smile of her own. Repeating the process on the blonde's other hand, the healer chuckled at the Sheriff's continuous wriggling of her fingers.

"You really didn't have to do all this for me," Emma remarked seriously when the young woman was done. "I truly appreciate your help."

"It's what I do, Geilgeis," the healer replied with a smirk of her own. "Just as you save people, I heal."

When Emma shook her head in amusement, the girl gathered her things and wishing the blonde good night and promising to come in the morning, she left, leaving the Sheriff alone but finally capable of dressing herself.

---

The dreams didn't haunt her that night, but still Emma found herself awake after only an hour of sleep. Instead of trying to settle down, she dressed carefully, minding the cloth gloves Gwen had put on her hands the evening before, and placing her inescapable cloak on, she exited her room. With ease, she crossed the darkened hallways of the House of Healing, and left the confines of the Marble Hall.

Rather than wander around like she had done the night before, she walked down the path, right to the place she had emerged from during her climb. She had intended to explore that point anyways, and the time suited her, as most of the villagers were asleep and none should be coming her way, for a long while.

When she reached the spot where she had landed that very morning, she stopped and instead of coming close to the edge, she remained on the path, her eyes scanning the scenery around her, while she turned in place, clucking her tongue in irritation. The reason she stopped was a tingle she felt resonate in her body, the moment she came within twenty feet of the place she had surfaced; the tingle that was very similar to the energy of the border stones but also different, and somehow muted, which would explain why she hadn't felt it that morning, with all the excitement of the climb.

Using her magical senses, she turned around to pinpoint the source of the tingle, clucking her tongue again when the signal seemed to lead off the path but in an opposite direction from the cliff – into the woods. Emma breathed in and flexed her shoulders before she stepped into the copse, letting her senses guide her, her boots crunching the untouched snow as she bent low to avoid a heavily burdened branch in her path.

Only three yards later, the blonde reached the place from where the magic was coming, but she could not see much of anything in the darkness of the woods, the shadows of the trees making the night much darker. With only a thought she summoned a small orb of light, letting it float above the point where she could feel the tingle coming from as she used her leg to push away the snow drifts and rotten leaves that covered the ground, finding frozen earth underneath. That and a rock peeking out of grounds. Frowning, she crouched down, bringing the orb of light with her to further examine the stone, when suddenly the light orb sank into the rock, making it glow for a moment before the light extinguished, leaving behind only a previously unseen glyph gleaming weakly in the darkness of the copse. Startled by the unexpected loss of control over her light source Emma had jerked back a step, her eyes warily scrutinizing the stone. But, when nothing else happened for a minute, she drew close and read the symbol.

"Secret," she murmured. "What secret?" she mumbled as she reached the stone with her covered hand, instinctively trying to uncover more of the stone's surface, but the very moment she touched the cold rock, the symbol vanished.

"What the hell?" she gasped, because when the glyph disappeared she felt the source of magic shift away from her, one step closer to the path. Again, she used the boot to clear away the snow and found another stone, showing the same symbol. Sighing, she came to it, accidentally kicking the stone in process and as the sole of her foot touched the symbol it disappeared again, and the magic shifted, again.

Following the odd breadcrumbs, she crossed the path and walked toward the cliff, somehow not surprised to see that this weird magical trail led there. And, finally, when she stepped on the last stone she could find, her feet perilously close to the edge, a low rumbling came from the earth beneath her. Throwing a look over the ledge, she chuckled when she saw what waited for her there.

"Of course," she shook her head, and stepped off the cliff, her feet landing softly on a stone step of the staircase that had just appeared on the side of the cliff, only a foot wide and created out of rectangular blocks sticking out of the rocky surface, leading right to the strange carved space she had noticed the day before.

She came to the depression in the cliff, getting to the last step of the stairs, but nothing happened. Guided by her previous experience with the stones above her, she touched the carved rock with her hand, nodding in triumph as the stone moved away from her fingers, sliding to a side and uncovering a dark tunnel, which Emma assumed led to the mysterious Temple. When the entrance appeared in front of her, the Sheriff drew her cloak tighter around her body before she stepped into the passage, following wherever it led, not even bothering to react at the stone sliding back in its place behind her.

The tunnel wasn't long, only twenty paces by Emma's count. However, no torches or any other sources of light had been provided, leaving it in darkness, so the blonde had once again summoned the orb of light as she had gone deeper into the ground, the small ball of magic lighting her way into a large study that was at the end of the tunnel. There, at the entrance, on each side of the tunnel was a sconce holding unused torch, and as soon as the woman stepped into the room, they lit, along with others that lined the walls of the study, the newly achieved brightness making the floating ball superfluous.

Letting the ball disappear, Emma turned around as she looked at the things that decorated the many shelves that lined the walls of the room, the space around her reminding her of Rumplestiltskin's working room at the Dark Castle. But, where Rumplestiltskin's space had been utilitarian and devoid of unnecessary items, this room held plenty of objects, many of which Emma had no idea what they were supposed to be. Two tables stood at the opposite sides of the room, one tucked into a corner and filled with tomes and time colored parchments, creating a small but comfortable niche and a writing space, while the other bore scars and marks, suggesting it was a working desk, for building and experimentation. Intrigued, Emma came closer to the ravaged surface and chuckled at the scorches darkening the hardened oak, still visible despite the dust gathering on top of it. She used a small pulse of magic to clear it away, before she undid the clasps of her cloak and tossed it over the table, so it would not impede her in the further exploration.

But, despite the things in the room that seemed very interesting, and if not for the certain feeling she had Emma would be more than delighted to explore the various creations around her, but her attention was drawn to the corner opposite of the tunnel she had come from; the corner that was oddly barren and uncluttered, the difference between it and the rest of the room not only noticeable but stark. The strangeness of it would draw Emma to it by itself, but the Savior could feel active tendrils of magic coming from somewhere behind the wall, and with everything she had learned so far, she knew the corner held a door to the rest of the Temple.

She had been sent here for a reason. Emma had realized it the second she had seen the stairs appear in the side of the cliff, leading to the secret door. Guardian had been somewhat subtle in her machinations, leading the Savior where she needed to be without forcing her hand, knowing that Emma would follow the clues, in order to get the Key she still needed to find. But, Emma couldn't just be in the Temple without finding her lover first, her need to check on Regina too strong now that she was in the same building as her. So, ignoring her task for the moment, the Sheriff came close to the corner, letting her instincts guide her into pressing her hand gently against the wall to her left, and just as expected it moved away from her, rising up into the ceiling, uncovering another dark tunnel.

With a resigned huff she created another orb of light, but this time she held it in her hand turned downward, her palm above the light to protect her eyes from the glare of it and to keep them used to the dimness the small source of light provided. Emma didn't expect trouble, but it didn't hurt to be prepared and she didn't know if she would need to extinguish the light before she left the passage. So, directed by the strong magic that seared the air around her, the blonde went in, the clicks of her boots over the hard stone floor her only companion.

Following the magic to its source, the Sheriff crossed the length of the passage and entered into what seemed to be a book repository of sorts, the crystals along the walls and shelves lighting up as soon as she stepped into the room, showing her the largeness of the space, but since no one was there she kept going, choosing one corridor between the high shelves filled with books and scrolls as a path leading her to the other side of the chamber. As the falls of her boots echoed throughout the cavernous depository for knowledge, she traversed the row, at all times keeping herself aware of the position of the source f the sharp magic at work. Clearing the aisle, she found herself at the end of what she absently termed the library, her eyes faced with shelves covered wall. But, as her eyes passed over the many books she saw another cleared corner, its emptiness clearly suggesting another passage. The Savior approached it, expecting the repeat of her prior success; however, it did not open to her as the previous one had. Even after directing a small amount of her magic to attempt to force it open, the stone remained still, resisting her.

Clucking her tongue in annoyance, Emma turned around and looked for another way out of the library, hoping to find another door, another room that would bring her closer to Regina.

---

Two hours she had spent going through every nook and cranny the Temple had, incidentally discovering the main entrance to the underground chambers, but the Sheriff had no luck in finding a way to her lover. However, instead of giving in to her frustration and tearing the stones apart by the sheer force of her magic, she sat at the table she had noticed on her first pass of the library and focused inward, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, using her magic to get the sense of the space around her. It was one of the things the dragon had taught her, but she had rarely felt the need for such measures before.

The very moment she sank deeply into her mind, she remembered why she hadn't liked this method of searching. Ordinarily, she was very much attuned to the magic around her, recognizing signatures of different people and creatures effortlessly, especially if she had felt their particular magical scent before. That was how she always knew if Aileen was near, or others that possessed abilities were around her. However, sinking fully into her magic allowed her to feel more, and her senses could reach out much farther than anyone could actually conceive, thanks to all the training she had received from Guardian and Rumplestiltskin. With this method she could feel the magic of the border surrounding Brocéliande, she could sense the herd of Unicorns to the North of the Temple and also she could feel the Yaoguai close to the border south from the village. Of course, knowing where the Wolf and Guardian were at that very second also came with ease in this state, and this method also allowed her to see the enchantments on objects and even charmed things themselves. So, as she was focused in such way, the sharp scent of the active magic around her grew overbearingly cloying, stinging her eyes as she hissed in effort to ignore it, focusing rather on the underlying and much more familiar scent – one that she had sought for, for the moment discarding a strange mixture of sweet and breezy magic of the fairy kind and one of True Magic Born but noting its origin for later.

With Regina's magical signature pinpointed, all that was left for her was to find a way to it, and her magic obeyed, guiding her back to the passage to Gorlois's secret study. This time, she didn't need light, as she kept her eyes closed, her magic functioning as another, much sharper, sense – providing enough orientation for her to move unencumbered in the darkness.

It was bizarre, Emma remarked silently as she slowly walked, to see, for the lack of better word, the world around her in the colors of the magic she possessed. Customarily, Guardian had informed her, practitioner of such method would see everything in black and one color, the most dominant color of one's power, but as she had access to many types of magic in her, even before all the blessings and teachings, she could see the world around her in various shades of blue, shimmering and barely there tendrils of gold, and brilliant clear white that in places reflected as rainbows, much like a precious diamond under sunlight, along with flickering shades of red, silver and bronze. If she didn't know better she would have thought she had ended up in bad and weird acid trip, losing her mind. Disregarding the fact that past two years had been insane…

Despite her musings on the colors of her magic, Emma didn't miss the hidden door her magic had found, right in the middle of the passage. Pressing lightly against the block of stone clearly marked by her senses, the Sheriff wasn't surprised when the rock slab moved. It didn't disappear on its own as others before, but it did shift slightly, allowing the blonde to push the stone aside, discovering a small and steep circular stairwell leading up. Squeezing past the tight entrance, Emma followed the stairs up, finding herself in an empty cavern.

The chamber was bare and large judging by the echoes of Emma's steps, the strong and overbearing presence of the active magic making it hard for Emma to see the edges of the space, the energy coursing through the air making everything blurry and undefined. Opening her eyes, she was momentarily blinded by the darkness surrounding her, the suddenness of the adjustment forcing her to stop in place. Cursing softly at the startling change, Emma waited for her eyes to adapt, after a while noticing something else in the cavern. The air in the place was fresh and cold, circulating in the chamber and creating a barely there breeze. And, in the seconds that followed Emma also noticed strange shafts of light coming out of the floor deeper in the cavern.

Drawn to the light, the blonde slowly walked toward it, her steps on the roughly hewn floor careful and soft. It took her a minute to realize that the shafts of light in front of her were coming from a half-sphere jutting out of the floor, and as she drew nearer she could see more into the room below, noticing that the light was coming from an active shaft of magic streaming through the room. Only when she came upon the sphere, she saw her beloved surrounded by bright light, her posture tense and frozen with her hands in front of her, one holding a dagger firmly clenched while the other held a red stone covered in blood that was slowly oozing down and dripping on the floor.

"Regina," she shouted, but the brunette did not give any acknowledgement to Emma's voice. The Savior then took a deep breath, prepared to shout again but the words of the dragon, uttered only the night before came to her mind. She is where she is needed to be and you cannot interfere. Releasing her breath in a disappointed huff, Emma glanced around the hidden chamber and saw Morgan at the other side of the room; she too gripped in magic of whatever ritual the two women had invoked. With a shake of her head, the blonde retreated, taking the stairs down and closing the hidden door behind her. However, she did not go to Gorlois's study right away.

Quickly, she walked to the corner she had judged to be the entrance to the secret room and casted a low powered ward upon it, set to alert her if someone was to trigger it. Then, she went to the study, ready to continue on with the task of finding the scarab.

It did not take her long to unearth a small iron case containing the scarab, resting in blood red silk. In fact, her previous exploration with the magical radar, for the lack of better word, had made it quite easy for her to find it, as she had noted the location of the peculiar scent of fairy and True Love Born magics. With the primary task of her current quest completed, Emma returned the iron container to its hiding place, deeming it a safe enough place for it to be in until the time came for Emma to take it out of Brocéliande.

With a wistful smile, Emma turned around the room, her eyes scanning the many curiosities around her as she donned her cloak, promising herself that she would return on the following night, to explore further the secrets of Gorlois's study and the Temple, before she disappeared in the darkness of the tunnel leading out to the cliff and the steps.

It was still dark when she emerged outside, the door opening for her even without her prompting. Her head hanging low as she looked down to the valley below, Emma could almost imagine her mentor craning her long neck in effort to see the Savior, the vicious teeth uncovered by a pleased grin. That was until the dragon would roll her yellow eyes at the Knight and chuckle, lowering and curving her neck into a sleeping position. Shaking her head at her idle musings, Emma stepped on the first block of stone, hearing the soft grinding of the rock wall behind her. She didn't need to look over her shoulder to know that the entrance to the Temple had closed, and with measured steps, she climbed up and reached the solid ground, not at all surprised that when she touched the marked stone with her boot, the stairs retreated into the rock surface of the cliff.

Standing there, at the edge, waiting for the Sun to come up reminded Emma of another morning she had stood at the incredible heights, surveying the world under her. However, then she had shared the view with the woman closest to her heart, the gentle warmth of the body beside making it obvious that she had not been alone there, at the top of the world. Now, as the dawn approached, Emma could not but feel the sharp sting of the coldness that had nothing to do with the winter and everything with the solitude she had found foisted upon her. Releasing a long breath out of her lungs, she waited until the fog of her exhalation dissipated before she placed her hood over her head and pivoted on her heel, heading back to her quarters.

As she entered her room without seeing anyone on her way back, she left the door open, assuming that the young healer would soon follow and laying out her cloak at the foot of the bed, Emma walked over to the table and sat in her usual place at it, her hand reaching for the jug to get some water.

"Out for a midnight stroll?" the Savior heard from the door, shrugging in answer to the young woman standing there, before raising a brow at the question. "Your boots are still wet," the healer remarked as she gestured toward Emma's feet with her free hand. Closing the door behind her, the woman came to the table and took the seat closest to the Savior. "Have you at least slept?" she asked quietly as she motioned for one of Emma's hands.

"I have," the blonde replied in a weary voice as she brought water to her lips, letting the girl have her other hand.

"If you want, I can get you more of the tonics I've given you before," Gwen offered softly, her eyes darting over the Savior's face before focusing once more on the hand in front of her, her nimble fingers doing away with the bandages.

Emma hummed in acknowledgement before she shifted in her seat. "There is still some left in the flasks you've given me, not that I need it." Catching one of Gwen's fingers with her freshly unwound hand, the Savior caught the woman's eyes. "Thank you for offering, Gwen, but I won't take them without a really good cause. You see, I was never a sound sleeper." Straightening her palm, she released the healer's finger and leaned back. "I am used to short nights and long days."

The girl hummed in acknowledgement as she peered at the blonde before she reached for the other palm, deftly unwinding the bandages there too. When Emma's hands were both free of cloth, the healer looked them over, tracing the skin over the palms and fingers with care, searching for the remaining damage. Not finding it did not take her by surprise as she had known the Savior healed quickly on her own. Nodding to herself, the young woman took out a small vial out of a satchel hanging from her belt. With practiced ease, she pulled the cork stopper and poured a little of the liquid over Emma's hand, before she started massaging it into the skin, first spreading what turned out to be oil over the palm and the back of the hand before the girl started using her thumbs to press into the hand, making sure to work over every finger and every bit of the palm. "It should start to tingle any moment now," the girl warned as she continued her massage.

"It does," Emma remarked softly. "What is that?"

"Mixture of oils to keep the skin hydrated and soft," Gwen spoke, glancing at the Savior, before she grasped the other hand and poured more oil. "I press it myself," she said, pride evident in her voice as she repeated the process.

"I mentioned yesterday that Percival had brought up the young woman and her child that had died," Emma spoke carefully after a minute of silence passed, spent in watching the healer rub in the regenerative oil into her skin. "Well, the reason for that conversation was the Knight's desire to leave Brocéliande when Regina and I do, to join us in our struggle. He informed me that most of the men would follow him, and us…" When Gwen lifted her head, her eyes meeting Emma's with a slight crease forming on her forehead, the blonde paused. "He and Aileen are of the opinion that Morgan, with the new heir found, would retreat to the Lake and Avalon," she added softly.

"What are you asking?" the young healer spoke as she placed cloth gloves onto the Savior's hands, her voice only containing mild interest.

"Well, would you like to come along?"

Gwen glanced at Emma's face before she leaned back and sighed. "I am a Healer, and until my Mistress releases me, I am to serve at the House of Healing," she replied tightly. "But, let's say Morgan indeed decides to join the rest of her family and leave these parts of the Enchanted Forest. Then, I suppose, yes, I would come along, offering my services to those in need of them. That is, unless the Heir doesn't have different orders for me."

"Like?"

"Placing me in charge of Dragon's Bluff and the Temple," the young woman replied with concerned seriousness, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Is that something you would want?" Emma asked, peering at her companion with curiosity. If she were to guess, the Savior would bet on Gwen being afraid of being left behind to protect what would amount to a deserted village.

"I wouldn't mind coming back here from time to time," the girl replied wistfully, "but, I don't want to spend another eternity in this place, not aging – not living."

Emma rose from her seat and crouched beside the girl, placing her clothed hand over Gwen's wrists. "As I have some influence with the Heir," she spoke conspiratorially, offering her a charming wink, and succeeding in drawing a surprised chuckle out of the demoralized woman, "I can make sure that you are not stuck in this place after we leave."

"I would be much obliged, my Lady," Gwen spoke solemnly, as she tried to suppress a relieved smile curving her lips. When Emma clacked her tongue at the honorific and rose from her crouch, the girl grabbed her chance to ask about something she had noticed when she had entered the room that morning. "May I ask you something private?" she murmured as she watched Emma walk away from her.

"Sure," the Savior replied, lowering herself in front of the fireplace, and using soft tendrils of her magic instead of her hands, she built the fire and set it alight, the process that would ordinarily last several minutes reduced to seconds.

"You seem lighter this morning," the healer noted, not even surprised when the fireplace was filled with flames. "More content."

Emma chuckled at the narrowed eyes peering at her. "You still haven't asked a question, Gwen," she said with an indulgent smile. "But, let's just say, some of the anxiety I have been feeling before this morning has been assuaged."

Gwen hummed at the Savior's vague answer, noting to herself that if the woman's nightly excursions provided a comfort she needed, she wasn't going to comment further on it. Gathering her things, she nodded absently to herself and rose from the chair, intending to leave the room. But before she reached the door she turned and addressed the woman still sitting on the floor beside the fireplace. "You can remove these gloves when the oil is fully absorbed into the skin, and I would recommend wearing your gloves the entire time you are outside."

"Of course," Emma whispered gratefully, smiling at the healer. "Thank you." Watching the healer go and close the door behind her, the Sheriff sighed slowly as she leaned against the warm stones beside the fireplace. She wasn't surprised by the fact that many of the people stuck in Brocéliande would like to leave. After all she would be the first one to admit that she was bored with the quiet life, and she had been in the village for only two weeks or so. What did surprise her was Morgan's non-action regarding the villagers' morale and her willful choice to condemn what was left of Camelot and Tintagel to this poor existence.

---

The Savior hadn't lounged by the fire for long. After grabbing a light breakfast from the communal kitchens, she had set out to find the wolf and Percival, bumping into them almost immediately at the steps of the House of Healing, as they had tried to stumble down to the morning meal, obviously suffering from hangover.

Sparing the two most of her teasing, Emma had waited for them to eat and become something resembling human beings again before she had inquired in their plans for her on that day.

The knight had taken her to the smithy where she had met a curious middle aged man, who had obviously perfected his craft during his prolonged stay in Brocéliande, judging by the many of products hanging of the walls of the small hut. The man, Roan, she had recognized as one of the people who had performed at the festivities, remembering the merry tune he had played, accompanied by a steady beat of his foot, the strong thumps of his leg pulsating through the logs into the floor, vibrations reaching the half-filled cups, the surface of drinks constantly moving.

It was the sound of hammer hitting metal that clued Emma in where the three of them were going as they passed most of the buildings of the small village, reaching a large hut on the far outskirts of the hamlet. The building was slightly bigger than most of the buildings in the village, except the Marble Halls and the kitchens, rectangular in shape with a large chimney built from the ground up in the middle of one of the longer sides, while the entrance was on the shorter side facing the village. Percival opened the door and let the women go inside first before he let the heavy oak swing back into place.

Emma had seen many of Regina's memories as the Queen had toured the forges and armories for her troops, and she had seen plenty of movies that had boasted with 'authentic' smithies in them, but all those secondhand visions had not prepared her for the experience of this particular shop.

She didn't know what was worse, the sweltering heat that was pouring of the large fire or the scull piercing sounds of the hammer, and as she pressed her hands onto her ears trying to muffle the sound somewhat, she noticed a large man leaning over the wide anvil, only able to see his large and bulging arm bringing down an enormous hammer, striking a still orange piece of metal, before he lifted the malleable material and dropped it into a large trough-like bucket filled with liquid, nodding satisfyingly at the resulting hiss of steam rising from the trough. Then he turned and straightened up, showing his huge and muscled body, encased only in hard hide apron and heavy duty leather pants, rolling his shoulders and stretching his back backwards, using a towel hanging off his belt to wipe his face, his expression turning into a pleased smirk as soon as his dark green eyes fell on his visitors.

"Percy," he spoke in a deep and rumbling baritone that Emma could feel in her own chest before he inclined his head to the women, "Wolf, Geilgeis," addressing them only with one word each. Then he motioned them over to a trap door leading them into a small but decorated cellar where it was noticeably cooler, and gesturing at the chairs surrounding a small table, he reached for a full skin hanging on the wall beside the table and several tin cups, silently offering his guests the drink.

Accepting the cup from the towering man, Emma paid attention to his looks under the light of several lanterns spread throughout the cellar. His black, sweaty, hair was gathered at the back of his head in hand long ponytail, uncovering his clean shaven face and square jaw. He wasn't an extremely handsome man, but his blockish features did give him some charm, making his bulking size seem almost unthreatening, even though he was several inches over seven feet tall. But, the Sheriff had seen the power of his hands and she knew that he could snap bones with little effort, should he ever want to. As the man turned his back to the others, untying his apron and rummaging for a shirt to toss over his sweaty torso, Emma saw burn scars covering most of his shoulder blades, noting by the scarring patterns that it had been contact burn. However, Emma's examination was interrupted by Aileen's subtle kick to her foot, drawing the blonde's attention just in time to avoid any embarrassing moments with their host as the man turned, a light shirt hanging off his frame, sticking in places. Then, Roan joined them at the table, waiting for someone to break the expectant silence.

"I know you've probably heard," Percival started after uncomfortably clearing his throat. "Emma is in need of a new sword." His eyes darting toward the Savior, he added "And, Gwen has recommended for her to get bracers, as well."

"Aye," the large man grunted with an exaggerated nod, before he took a sip of the fruit wine. "Bracers I'll make, the ones here are too big," he continued after he swallowed, focusing onto the Savior, his eyes taking in her forearms, already calculating the sizes of the plates. "You be Savior," he added gruffly as he looked into her eyes. "I've no sword worthy of you." However, before his guests could counter his words he waved his hand, his eyes still focused on Emma's. "But, if you're to help me, I can make you the best blade you will ever have."

Percival blanched at his words, lowering down his cup, the tin hitting the table surface a bit harder than he intended, sloshing the wine over his hand. "Roan, you don't mean…?" he murmured in amazement.

"Why would you need my help with the sword?" Emma asked, glancing at the knight by her side, not understanding his reaction to the blacksmith's words.

"You found more of the ore, didn't you?" the dark skinned man whispered but the smith paid him no heed, as he spoke to the Savior.

"To shape this ore, I need the help of magic. I would go to my queen for this, but she has sworn not to use her powers in such ways, as she would not create tools of war and blood anymore."

But, before Emma could ask more, Percival grabbed her hand, having grown tired of being ignored. "The ore he speaks about is the one that can be found just here, and Roan has managed to purify it only with the use of magic during the smelting process, the metal becoming too brittle otherwise. When Morgan helped him, the dagger's blade he forged became nigh indestructible."

"Even though our queen has refused to participate, I have been gathering the ore and I believe I have enough for both the bracers and a new sword," Roan added to Percival's explanation.

"How long would it take?"

"Four days, at the most. If we work on it during the whole days, it can be done in two without the quality suffering. But, faster than that would only produce failures."

Emma drank her wine as she considered his words. "There is no need to rush," she spoke after a while. "But, I still want to speak to Morgan and Regina first before we start." Of course, her desire to speak to Morgan had no bearing on her need of a new sword, but she did want to wait for Regina to emerge from that damned Temple before she committed herself to any tasks that might take her focus away. Apart from Regina's absence, Emma had one more reason for wanting to delay the blacksmith. She had the library of Tintagel at her hands, and along with Guardian and her knowledge, she believed she could indeed use magic to make the most amazing sword that had ever been forged. Her motivation wasn't guided by vanity or conceit, but by a simple fact that she wanted the sword to represent the Sheriff, the Keeper of the Balance, rather than the Savior – who in time seemed to become a caricature of a Good Hero. And, she was already ordered to wear the chainmail that had inadvertently united the Kinds in its making, so why not do something similar to the sword, only this time, she hoped to gain willing participation of others.

"As you wish, Geilgeis," the blacksmith replied with a small head bow. "Bring your old sword," he spoke after several minutes of contemplative silence, startling Emma out of her pensive thoughts. "You're used to it, right?"

His question sparked the blonde's understanding of his request. He would need to know the size and the shape of the sword, as well as the kind of grip she used. And, indeed, through many hours of practice and training, she had gotten attached to that particular style of blade, and despite Percival's commendable effort to get her proficient in other types of blades and styles of combat, she still preferred the sword out Regina's armory, missing its comforting weight around her hips and the familiar hilt being close to grip it. "I'll bring it by."

"So, what is this I hear about leaving?" the giant of the man spoke after he had nodded appreciatively in Emma's direction, swiveling his head to Percival. "Is it true?"

The knight nodded and launched into explaining how most of his men were feeling, while Aileen inconspicuously motioned to the Savior to go upstairs, leaving the two men to their conversation. "They are going to be a while," the Wolf said quietly as they left the smithy, leading the other woman down the path to the other side of the village. "Roan is going to be busy these days if Percy has his way."

"I've heard from Percival and Gwen on the subject, but you have not said a word either way," Emma commented quietly as they strolled about the village, nodding away in greetings as they passed people on their way. "What do you think?" she asked after a brief pause, casting a side glance at the woman walking beside her.

The Wolf's eyes flickered toward the Savior before she sighed. "These are not my people, Geilgeis, and even though they are my friends, I cannot get involved."

Emma nodded, having expected a non-committal reply. "Your opinion is what I asked for, Aileen," she prodded softly, reaching for the shifter's forearm. "It will not go any further," she swore.

During their walk they had arrived to the cliffs where Emma had emerged the day before, and the shifter walked toward the edge, stopping only a foot away from the drop, her face turned up, letting the weak winter Sun bathe her skin with its warm rays, not even noticing that the blonde had stopped several steps behind her, to let her think in peace. After several minutes of uninterrupted silence, the wolf sighed and looked down to the inscrutable depths of the gorge. "I always thought of this place as a deadening paste," she spoke slowly, her words seemingly unrelated to Emma's question, but the Savior let her speak. "It's good for you while you're bleeding or in pain, but if you use it the whole time you just become numb to the outside of yourself." The woman swiveled on her heel to look at the Savior, a wan smile on her lips and a sad look in her eyes. "Morgan is my friend and a complicated person who has suffered immensely in her life. So, I understand her need to escape the pain. To escape the sharp edges of loss that she has underwent." The shifter stepped closer to the blonde. "I do not agree with it, but I understand it," she added, the compassion for the queen of Camelot clear in her voice.

"If I understood correctly, she remains here because of a promise to Regina's father," Emma said softly, appreciating Aileen's candor. "If that is true, with Regina's ascension, that promise would be fulfilled and she would have no reason to demand from others to stay here any longer," she offered.

"She's gotten stubborn in her old age," the wolf smirked. "More stubborn, I should say, for she was always persistent." The smirk dropped off, as the woman's face quickly grew serious. "I don't know if she would be willing to leave, after so many years of comfortable numbness of this place." Clucking her tongue, the wolf shook her head. "It's pointless to discuss this without even knowing what is on her mind, especially now, that she has found an heir in Regina. I guess we have to wait for the two of them to emerge out of the Temple before making any further headway on the topic." Offering a slight shrug, Aileen motioned toward the path and set them on course to the village, engaging the Savior in a lighter conversation regarding the ideas Emma had for the next training session with Percival, managing to draw a sharp laugh from the blonde with a well-placed teasing comment regarding her style.

The blonde allowed her friend to pull her away from the cliff and change the subject, considering the words the shifter had shared with her in the privacy of her mind while she participated in Aileen's attempt to dispel the somber mood that had enveloped them, promising to herself that she would return to the Temple in few short hours. But, for the moment she smiled indulgingly at the wolf and let herself be entertained.

Later, in the afternoon, Emma came to the main entrance to the Temple, willing to see if she could open the door from the outside. She had made sure that no one would be able to follow her and she had left a note in her quarters if someone was to look for her company. The thing was, the previous night's exploration of the secret quarters was too short for Emma's taste, and as the Temple boasted to be the biggest knowledge repository known to her, she was quite intrigued by it. And, also, she wanted to see if some of the puzzling things in her past dealings with the 'Fairytale Land' had explanations somewhere within. So, bringing up her magic, the Sheriff focused on the hidden door, almost surprised by the ease it was opened with. In fact, the main door was far less complicated to open than the one leading into Gorlois's personal study, but still hard enough to crack so not everyone could open it. The blonde had strong suspicions that the door opened so easily for her because of the odd similarity her magic held to the remnants of the founder's magic, and that if she hadn't been a True Love Born the main door would remain firmly shut no matter how powerful the Savior might have been.

Stepping into the library, the Sheriff instantly invoked the time-spell she had mastered under Guardian's tutelage, feeling a bit of a strain as she had enveloped the whole Temple in it, but carefully excluding the secret room where her beloved and her host were, not knowing how the magics would react if mixed. Discarding her cloak and gloves at the now familiar table, she walked deeper among the shelves, reading the titles and figuring out the sections of the library. Roaming the rows, she would collect the books that drew her attention, the topics of the volumes covering a wide range of subjects, from finessing certain types of spells, to empirical studies of Realm Travel. It really helped that her abilities in fast reading and comprehension of the magical theory had been further developed by becoming the dragon's apprentice, allowing her to devour books at incredible speeds. It was one of the benefits of having Guardian teach her the Mind Magics, as the flying beasts were notoriously the masters in such arts.

So, Emma read and she learned, refusing to waste time spending another night sleepless in her room, evading her tortured dreams, often making small breaks to eat, drink and stretch her muscles.

In her quest for knowledge, the Savior stumbled upon a row of old and musty tomes, hidden away in the back of the library. Coming closer, she picked one from the shelf at the height of her eyes, using her fingers to trace the title, feeling the slight concealment charm embedded in the covers. The Recorded Prophecies of Boyle the Incomprehensible the title read after she had pushed a small bit of her magic to conquer the concealment, making Emma chuckle at the man's name. Returning the book in place, she selected another and another, quickly recognizing that the entire section was filled with various premonitions and prophecies, some grouped by the author and some by the Kingdom they came from. With such realization, the blonde lost interest in the section, as prophecies held no relevance in her desire to learn more.

However, as she turned to leave, her eyes fell upon a gray tome, placed at the edge of the shelf. Book in itself was unremarkable, the gray leather creased and dry with age. But what drew Emma's eyes was a symbol etched into its spine, the symbol that glimmered under the crystal lights of the library. It was an Elvish word, obviously imbued with magic, meaning a collection. Intrigued by the oddity, she took the tome and noticed that there was no title on the leather.

Carefully opening it to the first page, the blonde gasped as she was confronted by more of Elvish script followed by a translation into English. The common tongue stated that the book was called Compendium of Magical Prophecies with Their Translations and Interpretations, but as Emma could read the original glyphs with ease, she noticed that the Elvish title stated something different – Original Versions of Magical Prophecies and Common Misinterpretations. Amused by the discrepancy, Emma directed herself toward the table, intending to read the book. She had read a magical prophecy or two while she was in the Dark Castle, and she was quite interesting to see what the volume in her hands contained. Also, there was an overwhelming curiosity to see if any of the prophecies were about her, or her beloved. It wasn't an idle musing, because her arrival was already prophesized by Rumplestiltskin, and her role in this world turned out to be far greater than anyone could have guessed. Plus, Regina had endured so much and she had changed so much, it would not be beyond realm of possibility for her to end up in one of the premonitions.

Settling herself at the table, the blonde set the book in front of her and started reading, often letting out an amused chuckle at the disparity between the original words and the translations, despite the fact that the gross divergence between the two would almost certainly render the prophecies in question nulled.

After two hours of reading about the prophecies and fourteen hours in the library, the Savior started reading the last prophecy in the volume, having not garnered any insight in the current events from the previous ones. She was ready to give up on the book but then the title of the particular premonition drew her attention back. The Legend of the True Believer and his Power was written in the magical glyphs, and the thing that had captured Emma's interest on the page was the fact that the word True had been inscribed in the same way as in the True Kinds, when in other cases the word would be depicted by a slightly but noticeably different glyph. Apart from that oddity, this particular legend's title didn't have a translation of its own, while every other translation held titles and annotations. Additionally, the translated portion of the page was almost half in size to the Elvish part. As she scanned through the common language text, three words jumped at her. The Realms' Walker.

Wait, she thought in surprise. Wasn't that the wording Rumplestiltskin had mentioned when he had recounted his conversation with Snow and Elias to Emma one of the afternoons spent in the Dark Castle? Hadn't that been the name Peter Pan had thought applied to her Henry? Hadn't that been the reason behind the abduction?

She returned her eyes to the prophecy, reading it from the beginning; focusing first on the Elvish part, guided by her need to see if the prophecy truly was about Henry, and if it was, she needed to see if he was in further danger.

The Son of two mothers, the Bridge between Realms, the Bond between Loves, the Innocence to guide Light, the Valor to redeem Dark, the Force behind Change - born of Light, raised by Dark, coming from the mixed bloods of Truth Seeker and the Deceiver, shaped by Love and Hope's kind Heart, with courage unbent by fear, through mistrust He'll guide with Faith, and Will shall be his weapon, for the power of his Belief will fell even the harshest of doubts. The Worlds at his reach, he'll guide in prosperity, bridging the sides and forming the peace.

Emma sighed, as the words on the page could be perfectly used to describe her son. After reading so many manuscripts in there and in the library of the Dark Castle, she was used to the allegoric speak of the prophecies and she could easily decipher each individual clause. She was the Truth Seeker and Rumplestiltskin had been the Deceiver, his blood passed on through Neal to Henry. And hadn't it been his belief that she was the Savior that had helped her break the curse? He had seen August's leg, he had easily recognized the fairy tale characters in the people of the town, and he had even conquered some of Regina's prevailing doubts about her deserving to be loved. And he was indeed brave, to the point of recklessness – the examples of the poisoned turnover and exploration of cordoned-off tunnels easily coming to mind.

Shaking her head, the blonde read the next paragraph, one that would typically give further insight in the prophecy.

The True Believer will hold the power of unimaginable proportions fueled by his ability to force his will upon the boundaries of Magic, Physics and Time. With the capacity to bend the Laws of Reality, the True Believer will be able to manipulate the powers of Nature in times of his greatest need, capable even of opening small portals to other Realms guided by his Faith and Desire. His power of Will shall be comparable to the power of the mightiest of the True Kinds, earning him the title of True Believer.

Well, he was the blood son of the True Love Born, Emma sighed again, comprehending why there was the particular distinction in the name. However, the Savior believed that Henry's power didn't manifest fully quite yet, but her son was still ways away from physical and emotional maturity. Added to it was the fact that he had to believe in the thing he wanted to achieve, and not knowing that it was even in the realm of possibility could seriously put the hamper on things. She would have to discuss this thoroughly with Regina before even daring to mention it to him, for she didn't want to provide her soon to be teenage son who was quite used to getting his way, sometimes even by underhanded means, with too much power, especially not when the things were still far from okay.

As she looked back at the text, she noticed that all that remained of the glyphic inscription was a single line at the middle of the page, it in itself dividing the page into two segments, the Elvish and the common language parts.

Turn the page to see the prophet's rendering of the True Believer as a young boy.

Following the instructions, Emma was met with the depiction that portrayed her son with such vivid artistry, that she didn't question at all anymore how Peter had known he had the right person in his grasp.

After spending several minutes gazing upon Henry's slightly chubby face, longing for his smile and bright eyes, she returned to the previous page, skimming through the short mistranslation of the prophecy. In short, the most of it had been lost due to inability to properly read the magical script, and what had been recorded in the common language was a pale shadow of the true text. The only two relevant parts that remained were that the person would be born of Good and raised by Evil and would be able to cross realms creating bridges out of magic, thus having the name of the Realms' Walker. And such poor translation left a lot of room for a wide range of interpretations, like the one that Peter had indulged in. However, with Regina's rehabilitation and the loss of other descriptors for the boy, along with Henry physically changing due to his growing up, he should be quite safe from anyone seeking the Walker, and so limiting the danger the prophecy presented to her son.

Having returned the book to its place, Emma slowly ambled back, her mind still in uproar over the discovery. She had hated the fact that she had been embroiled in Fate and Destiny, but to find out that her son possibly had the same thing hanging over his head was heartbreaking. When she reached the desk, she took in the power of the time ward, which enabled her to actually calculate accurately how much time she had spent in it and how much had passed outside of it. Almost sixteen hours had passed since she had erected the ward, which meant that only four hours had passed on the outside. It was still evening! Deciding to push the time fold for eight more hours, she returned back between the stacks and begun again choosing the books from which to learn in her special way, rounding up her time in the ward to a day.

---

Emma stood at the center of the practicing field, her feet and knees easily encased into the fresh snow that had fallen during the night, and only her tracks were visible in the pristine whiteness. She had come early, wanting to go over the forms and exercises Mulan had taught her, and just as the brave warrior who had instructed her in the martial arts, Emma preferred to do them at dawn, with the rising Sun as her witness. However, when she had arrived at the place, she had been startled to see just how much snow had fallen during the night's blizzard. Out there in the open, where the field hadn't been shielded by the houses, it was more than two feet of the white powder, wet and malleable and extremely hard to walk over, as with every step it stuck to boots dragging the feet down. To Emma it had been a form of warm up, but now, as she stood at the center of the circle, she had a choice to make. Should she clear the field with her magic, because clearing it by hand would take precious time, or should she simply go through her forms through the snow, allowing the extra drag on her muscles? But, before she could even make a choice either way, she heard snow crunching under several pairs of boots, the sounds coming closer to her with each step, until finally, a voice pierced the quiet air around them.

"It's a bit early, even for you, Geilgeis," she heard Percival yell at her with amusement, still several dozen yards away.

She turned to look at the company, and smiled at the sight. Three men and Percival stood, all four of them looking at her with interest, and all four of them having spades resting over their shoulders. "It's a rare day I sleep past first light, Knight," she commented lazily, rolling her eyes at the snorting huff the man had the gall to let out.

After her six hours of absence, as soon as she had reached the House of Healing, just in time to get out of the worst of the weather, she had met the virtuous knight in the main hall of the building, and quickly arranged with him to meet for another practice in the morning, depending on the weather. But, what she had failed to take in consideration was the fact that he would have had to organize for the training circle to be cleared of snow in order for them to meet there and engage in sparring. The man had obviously known that bed wouldn't keep her for long, so he had risen early enough to possibly beat her there. Only, he hadn't been quick enough.

She didn't have heart to just get rid of the snow with magic, not when the men had gotten out of their warm and comfortable beds for her, at the crack of dawn. "I'll just get out of your way then," she spoke, walking over her old tracks and leaving the circle, her movement bringing her closer to the men. She saw Percival nod to his men and as soon as Emma had left the field, they started shoveling, moving in well-practiced formation, tossing the snow around the edge of the field, creating a low wall of packed white powder.

"Thank you," the knight murmured softly as soon as she joined him. At her questioning look, he motioned toward the men with his chin. "I know you could have just…" he made a gesture with his hand, the sharp flick of his palm quite indicative of what he was trying to say. "Thank you for not making them feel superfluous."

"I know how I would feel if someone had dragged me out of bed at a crack of dawn just to watch someone else do my job, faster and better than me," she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest, angling slightly toward the men.

Percival chuckled lightly at her tone before he took in her appearance. The Savior was standing before him without her recognizable black cloak, dressed in a dark green tunic and fawn colored pants tucked into her black boots. If anyone else had been dressed like that in the snapping cold of the morning, Percy would have thought them mad or burning with fever, for he, even covered in the warmest clothes he had, was still feeling the winter chill seeping into his body. However, the blonde before him seemed unbothered; the only indication that she was feeling the freeze of the air was the rosy tinge on her cheeks and nose.

"They are not here just for the snow," he spoke. At her quirked brow, he motioned toward where the underground cache of the weapons was, using his own shovel to uncover it in four quick swings. "Today, I have something different in mind for you." While the men cleared away the field, the knight explained his exercise plan to the blonde by his side. So far, the White Swan had been going through his tests of skill and power effortlessly, fighting off his best students with nonchalant ease, even after hours of incredibly fast paced duels and group challenges. In a low murmur he spoke of the terms and rules he had in mind for her, setting a challenge in front of her – one that he believed she would not so easily surpass.

Having agreed to his plan, Emma spent hours and hours avoiding the blades of her opponents, using her hands only to deflect, as Percival had wanted her not to fight back, just evade and defend if necessary. It was a good exercise, the Sheriff noted as she slid under the swinging sword coming at her. It tested her agility, endurance and speed, with forcing her to engage spatial awareness to the full without resorting to her magic. The first three opponents had been the men who had come with Percival, but soon they had been replaced with another three, giving the first crew a much needed time to rest. Emma fully expected the men to go back to the village and rest, but they had instead chosen to sit by the field, having lit fires to keep themselves warm and dry, the contained flames providing enough heat to melt the snow around them. After another hour, another group of men had come, and the three Emma had been evading had gone to join the previous group, watching the Savior continue to display the range of her skills.

By the fourth hour, quite a large group gathered around the training circle, consisting not only of the soldiers but also the villagers who had been drawn by the excited shouts coming from the area, and filled in by the awed soldiers, the people of the hamlet had chosen to stay and watch the mysterious hero twirl and pivot, jump and slide, duck and roll in an amazing and frightening dance. Beside the knight, who had watched the Savior almost unblinkingly for the duration of the exercise, stood the young healer with her supplies at the ready, even though she hadn't needed them that morning just yet, unlike most times when Emma had been in the ring – the blonde woman leaving some of the most unruly warriors with cuts and bruises, punishing them for their prideful refusal to admit defeat. But, for the moment, Gwen had no patients, the man beside her changing shifts the minute he would notice his men flagging down.

The young woman was watching the blonde, surprised to note that not even her clothes had suffered during the continuous scrimmage, even though Emma had been starting to get winded and drenched in sweat. "She is slowing down," she noted softly, directing her comment to the knight.

"About time," Percival mumbled, not taking away his eyes from the people in the circle. "However, it is up to Geilgeis to stop the challenge. Either she stops it, or she drops from exhaustion."

"I believe your men will drop first," Aileen said from Percival's other side, having heard both Gwen's comment and the man's reply. "Yes, Emma is slowing, but she still could go on for hours." Her eyes darted toward the gathered soldiers, taking in the state the most were in, her lips twisting into a barely suppressed smirk. "Look at them, Percy. Look how sprawled over the ground they are. Even with the rotations and rests, she is driving them down."

"I've never seen anyone maintain this tempo of action for so long," the dark skinned knight sighed. "And, even with the fact that she is not weighted down with armor and weapons, she should have been fatigued by now."

"Hard to imagine that only days ago she could barely lift her sword, isn't it?" the shifter chuckled. "Geilgeis isn't an ordinary person, Percival, you must remember that. She is not using magic, but it is part of her, just like my Wolf is part of me, and there is some transference even when she has it completely locked down. And, you have been pushing her for more than a week, improving her endurance by bounds and leaps."

"She works on it alone, as well," Gwen added softly, remembering that the she-wolf had mentioned finding Emma in the forest going through meditative motions. Also remembering that the Savior had apparently climbed the entirety of the rise from the valley bellow to the Dragon's Bluff, and by the side that was most arduous to traverse, requiring an insane amount of stamina and perseverance.

"And, if you challenged her," Aileen added pointedly, "her stubbornness alone would push her through."

"Alright, she's proved her point," Percival yielded, uncrossing his arms in defeat. He stepped forward, intending to end the spectacle, not quite willing to see his men so utterly depleted. Just as he was about to call out to the Savior, who was in the midst of evading two swords slicing the air around her, he saw her freeze for a smallest of moments. With his eyes peeled to the combat he grasped in an instant that his men would not be able to stop their forward motion, one of them not even realizing that the blonde warrior in front of him was too still, and not quite cognizant of the blade heading toward her chest. "Halt!" he shouted, his voice travelling quickly and strongly over the practice arena, stunning the crowd into the silence, but his order came too late.

Emma simply ignored the chatter coming from the sidelines, even though the tired soldiers were sharing their impressions and projections about the exercise quite loudly. As she moved fluidly over the cleared field, dodging her attackers, she felt herself zone into the familiar meditative state, where she could focus on her moves and the moves of her opponents, letting her senses guide her without forethought, as she simply reacted to her surroundings. She was aware of everything around her, but she didn't contemplate it, just accepted that it was there. Emma had found that with such way of focusing, her attention would not wander at an inopportune moment, drawn by too loud a sound or too sudden a move from the people surrounding the circle. And, it allowed her to track the movements of all of the three men surrounding her, without forcing her to keep her head on the swivel. She would feel their moves, and anticipate their motions and simply not be in places where their weapons would be.

However, that all changed when she felt something disappear from her senses. While her mind sorted through the sensations her body had catalogued in effort to find what had changed, she continued to spar with the soldiers. But, as soon as she realized that what was missing was the signature of the magical ritual from the Temple, she froze.

Regina! Her thoughts screamed. The ritual must be over; she understood instantly, a deep sense of relief engulfing her.

But, that single action of stopping threw off her ability to deflect and avoid the attacks, and the elation that followed her realization cost her, because her attention was pulled away for a brief second, but long enough for her not to be able to jump away from the blades coming her way. One of the men had swung his sword, intending for it to catch Emma's belly, while the other one lounged with his weapon aiming for her head, both men too sure that the Savior would evade them once more, with ease – but they had boxed her in, and with the moment of inattention, Emma had lost her time frame to move away. And, honestly, she didn't want to waste any more time on trying to deflect the weapons or pushing the men physically away. In one second she unlocked her magic, and just about as Percival shouted for everyone to stop, Emma raised her hand, stopping the blade going towards her middle with her palm, making the force of the hit transfer back to the soldier, bouncing him off away from her. Again, with her magic, she stopped the man behind her from advancing at her, turning him immobile for a brief period of time, while she ignored the tip of a sword catching her on her cheek, creating a shallow but two inches long cut along her left cheekbone. By then, everyone had realized that something was wrong, and deathly silence ruled over the field, most of the watchers having witnessed her use of magic to defend herself.

"Emma," she heard both Percival and Gwen exclaim with differing notes of concern, as both of them, along with Aileen rushed to reach her, but she didn't look toward them but to the path toward the Temple and Temple itself, having already decided that she would be there when the warning from her notifying ward would be known.

"Come with me," she ordered quietly, but sharply, her voice carrying a note that forced obedience out of the three now surrounding her, her hand catching the healer's palm before it could reach the cut on her cheek. She looked at the young woman, still holding her hand. "Come with me," she repeated in a softer tone, releasing the girl as soon as she nodded. As soon as she gained Gwen's compliance, the blonde directed herself to the path, her steps quick and long before turning into a jog, as she used one brief pulse of magic to clear the path through the fresh snow.

The Savior didn't look back, but if she had she would have seen the healer scramble to follow her without hesitation, the shifter moving in step with her and the knight ordering his men to stay there, and keep the villagers away from wherever the blonde was running to. But, Emma had only one thing in mind – to get to the Temple before the ward fell, before the door to the secret chamber opened. She ran toward the main entrance, not willing to part with the secret of the founder's entrance, and as soon as she reached the place where it was, she forced the hidden stairwell to appear in a loud grumble, rising up from underneath its protective enchantments, a sharp gasp of surprise telling her that others had caught up with her.

"How did you…" Aileen uttered in wonderment, her question tapering off before finishing it.

"I thought no one but Morgan knew where the Temple was," Percival spoke as he took in the sight before him, his mind quickly remembering the stories his queen had shared with him.

Emma didn't even bother replying to his confused words, but rushed in, pausing only to urge others to follow her as they stood at the entrance, breathing heavily and looking down into the unknown shadows with trepidations. "Quickly," she hissed sharply, her order startling them into motion and they stepped down into the famous Temple of Knowledge. Honestly, she didn't care about the knight and the shifter following her. She only wanted and needed the healer beside her, in case Regina needed help. The others were only an afterthought, as the queen would need someone to attend to her as well.

As soon as her foot came down on the main floor of the Temple, the crystals lit up and the entrance behind her closed, hidden from the outside view once more. Emma paused, needing a moment to adjust to the absence of the raw pulsating power that had been there every time she had sneaked in the secret halls. Shaking her head, she walked over to the table she had spent hours at the night before, knowing that the door to the isolated chamber would open soon. Reaching her goal, she turned around and frowned when she saw the rattled looks on the faces of her friends.

The Knight was gawping at the magnitude of shelves spreading far, the stories of the Library and the temple coming true right before his own eyes. Used to hard exertion, his breath quickly leveled out, and shedding his coat, he tossed it over the table, before he approached one of the closest stacks, peering into the depths of the rows, hesitant to venture out on his own. He was joined by the curious wolf, as the older woman took in the size of the underground repository.

But, the youngest companion wasn't faring so well. Doubled over, with one hand pressing hard into her side, Gwen breathed in quick and sharp gasps, trying to fill her aching lungs with air and calm her pounding heart. Moving toward the young woman, Emma noted the shaking knees and the sweaty flush covering Gwen's pale skin. "Here," she murmured as she led the healer to the chair, gently forcing her to sit down, lowering herself into a crouch in front of her. "Not much of a runner," she spoke softly, her gentle teasing noticeable in her voice as she peered into the healer's eyes, causing the girl's lips to quirk into a barely there smile. "Better?"

Gwen nodded, her breathing finally under control. Relaxing her posture as her arm lowered down, falling into her lap, she whispered slowly, "Why are we here?"

Emma gestured toward the wall behind them. "Whatever your queen did with Regina, it is over," she said. "We are waiting for them to come out."

"How do you know?" the girl asked, bending toward the still crouching Savior, keeping her voice in an almost breathless whisper.

Emma smiled at the woman's attempt of being inconspicuous and patted the hand resting in her lap gratefully. "I can feel it, Gwen," she spoke, with a pointed look, her eyes gentling when she saw the confused frown shift into understanding. Magic. Just like Gwen could feel the injuries and illnesses in people, Emma could feel magic.

"That is how you found this place?"

Emma rose to her feet and hummed in confirmation, her palm landing softly on Gwen's shoulder before she stepped toward the wall, crossing her arms in front of her. It had been more than ten minutes since the magical signature of whatever the two women had been involved in had stopped, and still there was no movement of the hidden door. Closing her eyes, the Savior delved into her magic, pushing it outwards, directing it towards the place where she supposed the door would open, but as before, her magic couldn't push through without breaking the protective enchantments layered into the stones and crumbling the wall itself, destroying the library with it. "Damn it," she hissed as she pounded the rock standing in her way with her glove covered fist, unintentionally using her magic to give it added strength and protection, the resulting sound of hard impact reminiscent of two boulders meeting at high speeds – the shock startling all four of them, driving the black skinned man and the shape-shifter closer to the healer, as they cautiously approached the frustrated sorceress.

"Geilgeis?" She-Wolf reached for the Savior, her strong fingers clasping the rock hard upper arm of the seething blonde. "Patience, Geilgeis," the shifter murmured, trying to soothe the woman in front of her. The frustrated anger Emma exuded was worrying her, because the last thing they needed right now was a temper tantrum of an incredibly powerful magical being, especially when they were underground and surrounded by priceless books and artifacts.

The sharp metallic green eyes pierced the wolf as Emma turned her head toward her. "I have been patient," she growled between her clenched teeth. "I have been more than patient, Wolf," she said, stepping into Aileen's space, the lips twisting into a snarl at the end, staring the shifter down into submission, her unyielding gaze drawing a subconsciously motivated yelp from the older woman still holding her arm. "I am done with it!" Emma hissed, but her manner gentled, her steely look releasing the shifter's eyes.

"Geilgeis," the shaken woman murmured again, her tone careful. "Emma," she sighed. "I only meant they might need a bit more time."

"I know." The Savior nodded slowly. "Time…" she scoffed before she moved a step back, rolling her neck. "They've had enough time. Something's off." The blonde remembered the dark cavern right on top of the chamber where Regina was, and she gathered her wits about her, stepping further away from the wolf, turning toward the back of the library, intent on getting to the secret passage, and farther, into the cavern, to use the holes in the ceiling to see what was happening in the room. She only managed to make two steps before she more felt than heard the stones grinding as an invisible latch had been pressed. Whipping around, she saw the panel finally move, uncovering a small tunnel to the room behind the wall, triggering the ward Emma had set to let her know when what just had happened came to pass.

And, there, alit with the pale light of the crystals, leaning heavily against the side of the passage, stood the woman Emma had been waiting for. "Regina," the blonde spoke as she walked toward the newly opened door, drinking in the sight in front of her.

Her unfocused gaze drawn by the calling of her name in that beloved voice, Regina blinked at the presence in the library, having been convinced that no one knew the location of the secret place. As her beyond tired mind realized that the Savior was in fact there, waiting for her, she sighed in relief, the name of her love escaping her, and with it, she felt what was left of her strength dissolve, slumping down the wall.

The blonde saw Regina's exhaustion in an instant, and rushing to her beloved's side, she reached her just in time to catch her, letting the brunette rest her head on Emma's shoulder, strong arms enveloping her in secure and loving hold. "I've got you," Emma said gently, kissing her True Love's forehead, feeling the tranquility of finally being with Regina surge through her body. "I've got you."