A Curse Upon Thee 2-37A

Forest green and mud brown finally gave way to the ugly tan of dust and baked earth.

All that travel had gotten them this far, just for this.

A lake that wasn’t a lake.

There was no other way to describe what opened in front of them as they broke the treeline and his red boots dug into the hard-packed ridge beneath his feet for the first time. Armor-plated toes scuffed over dead roots as he stared at the…

The bowl; a big empty bowl of cracked clay a good half-mile across under the heat of the afternoon sun. Lake Nostos…

Snow had enough to say about this place over their near hour of travel. Apparently, the water in this place had been powerful as hell and could be used for nearly anything magical. You wanted a curse broken, a transformation reversed, your body healed or even something lost brought back? You came here.

Unfortunately, Emma’s dad isn’t big on protecting the environment. Technically, it wasn’t Charming’s fault, exactly. All the guy did was kill a siren who murdered people by dragging them to a drowny death — real hero prince shit, respectfully — but unfortunately, the siren had a whole Fisher Queen thing going on.

So, with the siren dead, the lake went with it too.

At least, it should have.

But apparently, no one told the lake that.

Because the middle had a geyser going strong and faithful.

Pouring from a section of shattered earth, a fat white pillar of water — cold and clear as he’d ever seen the stuff — spouted up out of the bedrock at least thirty feet tall. Mist rolled off it thick and heavy, catching the light of the sun as a pool spread out from beneath it; dark, round and deepening by the second.

The redhead dropped his weight, body sliding down the incline of the once-dead lake until an oversized dead root caught him. It only took bare seconds for Emma, Mulan, and Snow to drop right into the dirt beside him; all four of them quiet and armed as they watched the collection of silks and leather ahead of them.

Cora stood at the edge of the basin, looking like she hadn’t taken so much as a step through the woods; hands folded calmly in front of her. Hook hovered over the old queen’s right shoulder while Mal stood to her left, leaning against a petrified stump and looking bored as ever. Finn could only look at the growing water, new info from Snow sitting heavy in his chest. So much for that window, huh?

“The ashes, Captain.” All at once, Cora spoke aloud; one hand unfolding as she turned it up toward the pirate at her side. In her palm, sat a small leather pouch.

“The ashes.” Snow’s whisper barely left her own teeth, the woman on a knee behind the root they all hid behind. “She’s opening it now.”

Finn looked over, well aware what was going on. “Yeah, we can see that, Snow.”

The short-haired queen rose her head over the root, one hand going to her back. “We’ve got to stop her.”

Hook took the ashes the moment the bow came off Snow’s shoulder, Finn patting his own sheathed dagger as the pirate weighed the bag in his good hand as if it was gold or silver or jewels. Strings undone with his good hand, teeth coming in handy, Hook leaned out over the growing pool and shook the bag empty.

The instant gray dust hit clear water, the pool shuddered.

All at once, it began to churn like the heart of a storm at sea — swirling and spinning around the geyser as the middle of it dropped open and kept dropping until it carved a hole clean into nothing. The smell of storms filled the air as the twisted water formed a swirling vortex of blue right over the water, air pressure dropping so fast Finn expected to hear the sky rumble.

“Well, I must confess that I am rather looking forward to this.” The same hand that held the pouch held a familiar brass object high, Cora’s voice carrying perfectly across the basin. “Nearly thirty years, was it? A mother should not have to wait so long to see her daughter.”

“Ugh, same though.” Mal bounced up at the edge of the churn, stump forgotten behind her as her toes nearly dipped into it. “Mine’s going to be so obsessed with me. I can’t wait!”

Too bad for you. Finn rolled his shoulder slow, burns still a bit stiff as he pulled on his Cursed Energy. No family reunion today.

Emma shifted next to Finn, red leather creaking as she simply looked at her mother.

On his other side, something else creaked; wood and string drawn back so quick Finn barely even caught the simple fluid motion.

The twang was something he didn’t miss, though — not as a blur of wood and white feathers snapped sharp past his right ear.

Down in the basin, sparks showered as the arrow crossed almost a hundred yards in a heartbeat to slam dead-center into the compass resting loosely in the witch’s hand. A shout of pain hit the air to join the crack of metal against metal, the magic tool knocked free and high to clatter hard against the cracked mud.

“Oi, Team Evil!”

All three heads snapped toward the tree line as Finn didn’t waste a second to vault himself over the root. Already over the log and running, boots hammered against dry packed earth as he grinned their way. “You forgooooot meee!”

Reinforcement flooded his legs, gravy-thick and sluggish from his wounds as the cracked clay blurred under him. He pushed as hard as he could, even as his body refused to give him barely more than the most he could have reached back in Storybrooke but still — plenty.

Twenty yards vanished in little over a second — sixty to the compass, forty, twent-

Something flared in the sunlight, a glint of that same something coming his way from neck height. Shi- 

Finn McHale ducked on instinct older than his years, a thrown knife parting air where his throat had been just a moment ago. Before he could recover, the follow-up was already there, bright silver whistling a backhand arc.

Left boot planted, his right arm rose up just in time to catch the blow — “Jesu-!” — and Finn nearly spit as his reinforced body took a hit that no normal man could deliver. Shockwaves sheared damp air, dust rippling outward from the impact as he skidded back, boots struggling for traction.

Twin trenches a foot long — a foot — stared back at him deep in baked clay. A silent question sat on his lips as red hair whipped across his face, eyes rising. What.

“Going somewhere there, mate?” Hook stood inside the settling dust, his curved prosthetic held low and unbroken like he hadn’t just hit Finn hard enough to dent the side of a car. “Because I rather think you’re not.”

“...what.”

Hook just grinned. White hissed from the pirate’s mouth, steam thick and strong pouring off his collar, from his skin, through his teeth; all in thin white threads.

“You’re…” Finn blinked, fists clenched as he stared at the man walking with a cloud of fog around him. “Why are you literally smoking?”

“Enchantment, lad.” The hook came up high to catch the light, something red moving like it was alive beneath the silver. “Her Majesty truly is a generous woman. Two hearts, given freely to the craft, and suddenly—” Something else thrummed in time beneath the pirate’s shirt, a red pulse beneath the open collar. “—I taste power I’ve never known.”

“...a heart.” Residuals on Hook read wet and wrong, at least two extra thumps off-beat with the man’s own. “You gotta be kidding me. She stuffed a dead guy’s heart in you.”

“Two hearts, lad.” Hook’s grin widened as he stepped forward. “Waste not.”

Hook lunged.

Both sorcerer and pirate met each other over the no-longer lake — Hook coming in low as Slaughter Demon met a glowing hook. Sparks jumped off crossed steel four times in half as many seconds, Finn’s eyes wide as he realized something. He’s fast.

Not Cora-fast, with the teleport-spamming, or even as fast as Finn was normally. But this was clearly someone who knew how to fight already and whatever Cora had done to him had only pushed that further with a new engine.

Hook faked high with a fist and the weapon came in under Finn’s ribs, the sorcerer barely folding away from it as the tip dragged a hot line across a stained bandage.

“You’re slower than the stories said, Red Death!” Hook rolled back from the miss, breath steaming harder as he avoided a slash from Slaughter Demon. “They said you eat ogres!”

“The stories—!” Finn spat blood and threw a hard straight right into Hook’s guard. The pirate took a punch that should’ve folded a normal guy into a lawn chair and simply skidded back three feet with another grin. “Are insane! Who eats ogres?!”

Off to their left, the air tore open as the old witch threw her hands forward — Finn nearly flinching as fist-sized wads of purple-tinged shadow hissed across the dirt of the basin.

But they weren’t aimed at him.

Emma Swan met each with an unflinching charge, light flaring bright off her sword. “Cora!”

She took the first clean out of the air in a crack of white, shadow deflected black downrange on the back of a crescent of power.

“I can hear you, dearie.” Cora raised shields of purple smoke and simply leaned away — “No reason to yell.” —  seemingly unhurried as Emma spun again on her heel, momentum spurred forward with another blade of magic power sent right into the witch’s face.

Snow’s arrows arrived in threes as the other queen flanked Cora with a deadly stream of wood and steel, walking forward on her own with a quiver that didn’t seem to have an end.

On the far right, Mal Igna was laughing her head off, the fairy painting the clay with green fire as Mulan hit the deck in full armor and rolled through newly-wet mud  — the warrior ducking for her life while Mal played with her.

“Pay attention, lad!”

No! Finn’s attention snapped back as a sharpened point screamed his way.

His head twisted, red filling the air and raining down.