The mansion was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of settling wood. It was still hours before dawn when a piercing cry shattered the silence. Regina's eyes snapped open, her heart racing as she registered the sound.

"Henry," she whispered, throwing off the covers and rushing to his room.

She found him sitting up in bed, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear. He was clutching the edges of his blanket, his breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Tears streaked his cheeks as he looked up at her.

"Mom," he choked out, his voice trembling.

Regina was at his side in an instant, wrapping her arms around him. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm here. You're safe."

Henry buried his face in her shoulder, his small frame shaking. "It was so real," he whispered.

Regina stroked his hair, her voice soft and soothing. "Tell me what happened. What did you see?"

Henry hesitated, his words faltering as he tried to describe the dream. "There was a room. Everything was red—red walls, red curtains. And the curtains were on fire."

Regina stiffened, but she kept her tone calm. "What else?"

"There was someone else in the room," Henry continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "A woman. She was staring at me from the other side of the flames. I couldn't see her face, but… I felt like she knew me."

Regina pulled back slightly, studying his face. "Did she say anything? Do you know who she was?"

Henry shook his head. "No. But it felt… bad. Like she was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear her."

Regina pressed her lips together, her mind racing. This wasn't just a nightmare—it was something more. She had seen enough magic to recognize the signs, and the description of the dream felt too familiar. "Henry," she said gently, "if you ever see her again, I want you to tell me right away. Promise me."

Henry nodded, still shaken. "I promise."

Regina kissed his forehead and stayed with him until he fell back asleep, though her own thoughts kept her awake for the rest of the night.

In the Enchanted Forest, the towering beanstalk loomed over the group like a shadow against the sky. Its massive vines twisted upward, disappearing into the clouds above. Captain Hook stood before it, a smug grin on his face as he explained the challenge ahead.

"The beanstalk is enchanted," Hook said, leaning casually on his hook. "Anyone who tries to climb it without the proper counter-spell will find themselves quite… stuck."

Emmett crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "And let me guess, you conveniently have the counter-spell."

Hook smirked. "Of course. Morwenna was kind enough to provide it."

Mulan stepped forward, her sword glinting in the sunlight. "How do we know you're not lying?"

"You don't," Hook replied with a wink. "But I'll only share the spell with one of you. So, who's coming with me?"

"I am," Emmett said firmly before anyone else could speak.

Snow frowned. "Emmett, are you sure?"

"Yes," Emmett said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "This is our best chance to get back to Storybrooke."

Mulan handed Emmett a small pouch filled with a fine powder. "This is made from poppies," she explained. "It'll put the giant to sleep—if you can get close enough to use it."

Emmett nodded, tucking the pouch into her belt. She turned to Mulan. "If we're not back in ten hours, cut the beanstalk down."

"Wait," Snow said, her voice rising in protest. "We don't even know what's up there. Cutting it down could trap you forever."

"That's why it's a last resort," Emmett replied, looking at Mulan. "Promise me."

Mulan hesitated, then nodded. "I promise."

Hook offered Emmett his hand, the spell already cast on his skin. "Shall we?"

Reluctantly, Emmett took his hand, and together they began the climb.

The climb was grueling, the vines slick with dew and the wind biting at their skin. When they finally reached the top, Emmett and Hook found themselves in a sprawling chamber carved into the clouds. Gold and jewels glittered in massive piles, the remnants of countless treasures stolen by giants over the years.

"Keep your eyes open," Hook whispered. "The compass is here somewhere."

As they searched, Emmett stumbled upon a skeleton propped against a wall. The rusted sword clutched in its bony fingers and the shattered harp beside it told her all she needed to know. "Jack," she murmured.

Hook glanced over, his smirk fading. "A cautionary tale, love. Let's not end up like him."

Emmett spotted a trip wire near a pile of treasure and carefully stepped over it. "Be careful," she warned. "This place is booby-trapped."

Before Hook could reply, the ground shook beneath them. The giant, a massive figure with a weathered face and deep, sunken eyes, emerged from the shadows. He let out a bellowing roar, his footsteps shaking the chamber as he charged toward them.

Emmett threw the pouch of poppy powder into the air, the fine dust enveloping the giant's face. He staggered, his movements slowing before he collapsed with a thunderous crash.

"Quickly," Hook urged, sifting through the treasure. "The compass!"

Emmett's eyes scanned the piles until she spotted it, glinting faintly in the dim light. She grabbed it, but before they could make their escape, the giant began to stir.

The ground trembled as the giant rose, his fury renewed. Hook was buried under a pile of rubble as the giant's feet pounded against the floor. Emmett acted quickly, pulling a lever that released a massive cage. It dropped over the giant, trapping him.

The giant roared, his fists pounding against the bars. "Kill me!" he bellowed. "It's what humans do."

Emmett hesitated, her grip tightening on the compass. "I'm not going to kill you."

The giant's rage faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise. "You'd spare me?"

"Yes," Emmett said firmly. "You're not my enemy."

The giant stared at her for a long moment before stepping back. "Take the compass. Go."

As Emmett turned to leave, she paused. "One favor. Hold him"—she gestured to Hook, who was handcuffed to a pole—"for ten hours. He's not to be trusted."

The giant chuckled, his chains rattling as he leaned against the bars. "Deal."

On the ground, Snow sat with Aurora near the campfire. The younger woman's hands trembled as she clutched her blanket, her eyes haunted.

"I can't sleep," Aurora admitted. "Every time I close my eyes, I see it. The room… the fire…"

Snow placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know what you're feeling. I've been there. It's the sleeping curse."

"Why does it haunt me?" Aurora whispered, her voice breaking.

"Because magic," Snow said softly. "But you're stronger than it is. And you're not alone."

Aurora nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks as Snow pulled her into a hug.

As ten hours approached, Mulan began hacking at the base of the beanstalk, her blade biting into the thick vines. Snow grabbed her arm. "Stop!"

"This was Emmett's order," Mulan argued.

"He'll come back," Snow insisted. "We have to give him more time."

Moments later, Emmett descended, the compass clutched tightly in her hand. Snow rushed to him, pulling him into a fierce hug.

"We're going back to Storybrooke," Snow said firmly. "Together."

The group regrouped, their determination renewed as they prepared for the next leg of their journey—to gather the magical ashes from the wardrobe and the compass, but left Morwenna behind chained to the tree.

Henry sat cross-legged on his bed, the storybook lying forgotten beside him. The moonlight spilled through the window, casting long shadows across his room. He stared out at the darkened town, his fingers drumming absently against the windowsill. The dream still lingered in his mind, vivid and unshakable. The room of fire, the burning curtains, and the woman staring at him through the flames—it felt too real, too important to ignore.

"Who are you?" he whispered to the night, his breath fogging the glass. He tightened his fists, his determination hardening. He knew his mom, Regina, and Grandpa David were trying to protect him, but he couldn't just sit by while his family was in danger. He would find answers—no matter what it took.'

At Town Hall, Regina paced her office, the heels of her boots clicking sharply against the floor. She barely glanced at the scattered papers and artifacts on her desk as she moved, her thoughts consumed by Henry's nightmare. It wasn't a coincidence. She could feel it in her bones—magic was involved, and Henry was somehow caught in its web.

The knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. Without waiting for her permission, Mr. Gold stepped inside, his cane tapping against the polished floor. He carried himself with his usual air of confidence, though there was a faint curiosity in his eyes as he took in Regina's tense demeanor.

"Regina," he greeted smoothly, leaning on his cane. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Regina stopped pacing, her arms crossed tightly. "It's about Henry."

Gold raised an eyebrow. "Ah, the young lad. What trouble has he found himself in now?"

"It's not trouble," Regina snapped. "At least, not the kind you're thinking. He had a nightmare—a very specific nightmare. A room on fire, red curtains burning, and a woman staring at him through the flames."

Gold's expression shifted, his usual smugness giving way to something more serious. "A room of fire," he murmured, his tone thoughtful. "And he saw someone?"

"Yes," Regina said, her voice growing sharper. "What do you know about this?"

Gold moved to her desk, idly toying with one of the artifacts. "I know that your son's dream is no ordinary nightmare. It's a side effect of the sleeping curse."

Regina froze, her eyes narrowing. "The sleeping curse? Henry's never been under a sleeping curse."

Gold tapped his cane against the floor, his gaze meeting hers. "Not directly, no. But his mother—Emma—was under the effects of one, was she not? When Cora enacted the Dark Curse, she carried a fragment of that magic within her. And when Henry was born, it would seem that fragment passed to him."

Regina's lips parted slightly, her breath catching. "Are you saying this is because of Emma?"

"Not intentionally, of course," Gold said with a faint smile. "But magic has a way of lingering, particularly curses as potent as the sleeping curse. Aurora, Snow White, and now your Henry—they all share a connection to that dark magic."

Regina's fists clenched at her sides. "Why now? He's never had these dreams before."

Gold's smile faded, replaced by a more somber expression. "Because the curse is waking. The boundary between realms has been disrupted, and that magic is bleeding through. Whatever Henry saw, whoever he saw, may very well be someone reaching out to him from another realm."

Regina turned away, her thoughts racing. "What can I do to stop it?"

"You can't stop it," Gold said simply. "Not entirely. The curse is embedded in his very essence. But you can guide him. Help him understand what he's seeing. And, perhaps, find a way to use it."

Regina turned back to him, her eyes blazing. "Use it? He's just a boy."

Gold met her gaze evenly. "A boy with extraordinary connections to magic. Ignore it, and it could consume him. Help him, and he may yet find his strength."

Regina exhaled sharply, her shoulders tense. "If he gets hurt because of this—"

"I assure you, Regina," Gold interrupted, his voice soft but firm. "I want no harm to come to the boy. His safety benefits us all."

She studied him for a long moment, searching for any hint of deception. Finally, she nodded, though her distrust lingered. "If you know anything else—anything—about what's happening, you'll tell me."

Gold inclined his head. "Of course."

As he turned to leave, Regina's voice stopped him. "Gold."

He paused, glancing back.

"Why does it always have to be magic?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gold's expression softened, just for a moment. "Because, dearie, magic is what binds us. Whether we like it or not."

He left without another word, the soft tap of his cane echoing in the empty hallway.