A Curse Upon Thee 31

All other thoughts out of her head, Ruby Lucas did the only thing she could.

Ruby ran.

Pure blind instinct and panic pushed her forward, heavy black boots pounding a brutal rhythm against dark pavement as she took to the streets. Fast, faster, and even faster than she’d ever run before, Ruby didn’t waste a breath or a second as she kept moving.

The keys to the Camaro jingled uselessly, a metallic noise in the too-tight pocket of her skinny jeans that mocked her with every single stride. Can’t turn back. She was already way too far from the hospital parking lot to go for the car, not if she wanted any chance at keeping up with Gold.

Even still, a car wouldn’t help her right now. 

Not out here.

Not when she had already caught the thick scent trail hanging in the damp air, unmistakeable as it could be. Finn’s blood pulled her by the nose; rusty tang of copper under hospital antiseptic and mixed with the expensive stench of Gold’s custom cologne. The combination was enough to turn her stomach for more than one reason, sharp enough to track and bizarre enough to pull her forward.

All the way through the sleepy darkening streets of Storybrooke like someone had her by a leash. She moved in as straight a line as she could manage even as her legs complained, the trail she was following twisting around and around. Gold was driving around in massive looping circles as far as she could tell. Bastard. The way the scent trail doubled back twice and weaved its way through quiet neighborhoods and winded aimlessly back through main street, it made no sense for him to be doing anything but that.

Why? To buy himself time? To confuse anyone who might actually be crazy enough to try and follow a car on foot?

Whatever. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

Not when Gold was finally, definitively heading out toward the jagged edge of town.

Ruby kept running even as her lungs burned, fire expanding in her chest as she followed the bloody trail out past the familiar town limits. The dense Maine forest swallowed up everything, including her, as the comforting yellow streetlights immediately gave way to darkness.

The scent grew stronger. 

Fresher.

Then she heard it.

“You understand, don’t you?” That accented voice, deeply Scottish in the way she never questioned, carried through the blanket of quiet trees with that exact same snake-oily pleasantness the man wore as thickly as his cologne. “One boy for an entire world? Maths of the most simple kind, Mr. McHale.”

“Finn!” Branches whipped and tore at her bare arms, but that didn’t do a thing to stop her as the dark-haired young woman tore her way through the thick tree line. “Finn!” As she pushed the last bit of foliage away from her face, Ruby Lucas finally stumbled into a wide clearing at the bottom of a hill. 

The old wishing well stood dead at the center of it all and at the very top, forgotten moss-covered stone rising up out of the forest floor like it had naturally grown like the trees with Gold right at its crumbling edge.

Both of his manicured hands gripped tight to Finn’s arms as the pawnshop owner held her bleeding redhead out over the gaping hole, Finn struggling with all he had.

Despite absolutely everything, Finn was still fighting. His legs kicked out weakly, red sneakers scraping desperately against the rough stone of the well. Fresh, dark blood rapidly soaked straight through the clean black t-shirt Ruby had gently helped him into barely a half hour ago in that sterile hospital room.

“Mr. Gold!”

The woman next to him stepped a few feet back, voice cracking high, as her face went completely white, finally realizing exactly what was happening right in front of her.

“Finn!”

“Ruby?”

Finn’s head jerked sideways at the sound of her voice without trees to silence it, bright blue eyes finding hers across the darkening clearing. A thin dark line of fresh blood trickled slowly from the corner of his pale mouth. “Bee, run—”

Ruby screamed, a raw, animalistic sound tearing its way up her throat, as she  launched herself forward across the dirt.

Gold’s hands simply opened, letting go with one final pull.

Ruby screamed again, the sound not reaching her ears.

Too slow.

Too far away.

Too goddamn late.

For one agonizingly slow second, Finn’s blue eyes locked dead onto Ruby’s and the entire world stopped spinning. Through blood-stained lips, his pale mouth formed silent words that never actually made it to her ears.

‘I’m sorry.’

Then gravity took him.

Red hair vanished into the black abyss as the boy she’d known well for the last five months fell straight back into darkness and was swallowed up into the well’s waiting mouth, like he’d never even existed at all. “FINN!”

Ruby’s scream finally tore itself free from her throat, raw and ragged as she slammed into the well’s heavy stone edge. Her hands scraped against the mossy rock hard enough to bruise bone as she leaned over the edge, staring down into absolutely nothing but total darkness and the empty throat of the well staring back at her. Where… where is he?

The bottom was empty of anything at all, her eyes not even catching a hint of red. Not even a groan touched her ears. The well can’t be that… that deep?

“FINN!” She screamed his name again, her voice cracking right down the middle, the desperate sound echoing hollowly back at her from the well’s depths. Just her voice and silence, nothing else.

Gold stood casually a few feet away, brushing nonexistent dust from the sleeve of his expensive suit. With a sigh, he picked up his walking stick and both of his hands came to rest comfortably atop the polished silver handle of his cane. He smiled her way, looking exactly like he’d just finished a mildly taxing but ultimately pleasant afternoon stroll through the park.

“I am sorrhy, little Rose. Truly.” The Scottish lilt dragged heavily on the vowels, a smug, breathy exhale of a laugh hiding right beneath the faux-sympathy. “But some sacrifices… you must understand are simply… necessary.”

Before Ruby could say anything else, purple smoke burst from the well; thicker than fog and with more force than a grown man’s shove as it sent Ruby stumbling back and onto her butt with a grunt. Threaded with black, Ruby could only stare in shock as the smoke burst high into the air, blanketing the entire forest as it spread up and further, further, further out.

Towards the town proper.

All of that was shocking enough, but one simple fact held her attention. Why… why does it…

The smoke smelled like many things, memories and history and pasts pushing at her thoughts but above all else, it smelled like Finn McHale.

“Rumple!” The other woman clamped hands tightly over her mouth, thick tears streaming fast down pale cheeks. “Rumple, what did you do-“

“What needed doing, my love!” The smile across Rumplestiltskin’s face wasn’t anything like what he’d worn before as he turned to face Belle, hands held high as he almost crowed. “One single life to restore the lost magic to a realm without! One stray boy to shatter the chains of a curse that has held this town hostage for nearly three decades. Simple maths, like I sai-“

Ruby didn’t let him finish the goddamn sentence as she lunged, fingers hooked into tight claws as she made to rip his eyes out. “RUMPLESTILTSKIN!” 

The word was more snarl than anything else, barely human as it tore free from the deepest part of her chest, all party-girl bravado forgotten in the place of pure blind violence.

Motion blurred in front of her eyes, faster than she could track as the solid silver handle of the imp’s cane caught her squarely in the center of her chest. Ruby’s eyes went wide, force carrying her back into a violent sprawl through the air.

Her back hit the hard-packed dirt of the clearing, landing hard enough to knock every single bit of oxygen straight out of her already-burning lungs.

By the time she could finally drag a single wheeze of breath back into her body, vision swimming with black spots, Finn was still gone.

Just the three of them left standing alone in the dark clearing around an empty stone well.

“…Finn.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

“Out of my way!”

The nurse yelped as she shoved past her, the larger blonde almost falling as Regina rushed around her as well. Emma Swan didn’t bother even looking back as the woman yelled at her back, too focused on what was in front of her what sat in her hand.

The tiny glass vial pulsed in her palm with a strong warmth that absolutely shouldn’t have been there, the liquid inside glowing under the harsh sterile buzzing of the hospital’s over-bright fluorescents. True Love.

Regina had actually called it that, the both of them down in the cave as Regina had handed over the small glass bottle. The same glass bottle she’d fought a goddamn dragon for — an actual literal Dragon with a capital D, scales and fire and everything — because somewhere around seven months ago, Emma Swan’s entire predictable reality had violently derailed into a fever dream she just couldn’t wake up from.

If it wasn’t bad enough that her deputy was a wizard with evil magic who said he wasn’t one of the evil wizards even though he could punch things with the power of ‘hate’, Pinnochio was also frozen in a bed in one of Granny’s rooms and that was a fucking sentence now, wasn’t it?

But none of that mattered right now. 

None of it. 

Not a one.

Not the dragons, not the magic swords, and not even the fact that the mayor was an evil queen. 

No, The Evil Queen.

It was all just background noise.

Because Henry was dying.

Emma rushed into the room where he was lying still and stepped closer to the sterile hospital bed, her boots heavy on the linoleum as Regina clacked in after her in a pair of wedges that were no softer. Come on. Shaking fingers pulled the small cork free as Emma leaned forward over her son, and carefully tipped the glowing contents of the vial between his dry lips. Come on, kid.

Nothing happened.

Even as everything left the vial and disappeared down Henry’s throat, his small chest just kept on with the same rising and falling, those shallow breaths enough to make her breath heavier as the medical monitors kept beeping and beeping and beeping. Please, Henry. Work with me here. 

The glowing liquid seemed to do nothing as it vanished down his tongue, not even seeming to make his breathing pick up. “N-no.” Her voice cracked right down the middle as Emma stared at his unmoving face, panic clawing its way up her throat. “No, this was supposed t-” 

She whirled on Regina, the dark-haired woman just staring silently. “You told me this would—”

“I don’t understand.” The mayor stepped forward, dark eyes locked on Henry’s pale face. What little composure she had left was actively disintegrating, terror fighting its way back onto her face. “True Love should have… No. No! it’s the most powerful magic in all the realms, it absolutely should wor-“

“Well, it didn’t!” The empty vial slammed down onto the tray next to Henry’s bedside, glass clattering loud enough to almost drown out Emma’s yell. 

Shaking her head, she stared down at the ten-year-old boy lying tangled in the stark white sheets.

Brick by painful brick, something heavy broke wide open inside Emma’s chest; reinforced steel walls she’d spent an entire twenty-eight years building — all to survive the world — simply collapsed on her. 

All of it — the cursed town, the impossible magic, the ridiculous fairy tale bullshit — none of it mattered. Not if Henry was still dying. Not if she couldn’t save him. 

She was the Savior, right? That’s what every crazy person in this town kept screaming at her to finally accept. That’s what Henry had stubbornly insisted from day one. But she couldn’t even save her own kid.

Emma leaned down, the red leather of her jacket creaking, and pressed her lips gently against Henry’s cold forehead.

“I love you, kid.” Tears spilled down her face, hot and fast down her cheeks as her lips met Henry’s forehead. “I love you so much. Please.” The words felt strange in her mouth, completely foreign, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. “Please just come back to m-.”

A gasp interrupted her.

It was sharp and sudden, a raw intake of air that physically rattled his small chest as brown eyes flew wide open with rapid blinks.

“Mom?”

One tiny word punched all the remaining air straight out of Emma’s lungs.

Emma pulled him tight, burying her face in his messy hair. She was incredibly careful of the tangled IV lines and monitor wires taped to his skin, but she clutched him almost tight enough to leave bruises.

“Oh my god, Henry, you’re—you’re okay—” Her voice was a wet, ragged mess, but Emma didn’t…

No, she couldn’t care. She just held on tighter.

“Emma.” Regina’s voice drifted from the other side of the bed. It was barely a whisper but it came through anyway. “You did it. You actually—”

The hospital window exploded with light.

There was no concussive thunder, no shattering crash of breaking glass; just pure, blinding light as a massive wave of deep purple fog, shot through with thick veins of oily black, erupted violently from somewhere out on the dark edge of town. It spread rapidly outward in a visible, rolling tsunami, washing over the brick buildings and quiet streets like a localized flood.

Emma’s green eyes widened as she stared out the window, one arm still wrapped fiercely around Henry’s small shoulders.

“What the hell i-“

“The curse.” Regina took a stumbling half-step backward, cutting her off with an answer as her hands flew up to her mouth as she took in the chaotic light show outside. “It’s breaking.”

The massive, silent wave kept spreading outward, the violent mix of purple and black magic rolling steadily through the sleepy streets of Storybrooke like an unnatural fog. It touched the asphalt, the cars, the storefronts, touching absolutely everything in its path.

And somewhere out there in the darkness, barely audible over the hammering sound of her own heartbeat, Emma could have sworn she heard someone screaming a name into the night.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Baby’s First Hostage Situation – 100 GP

Enjoy your first kidnapping. Hopefully, it’s your last.

Damsel In Distress – 100 GP

Turn the tables on gender dynamics.

(Not So) Virgin Sacrifice – 100 GP

Be used as the catalyst for a ritual.

In Your Image – 200 GP

Bring magic back to the World Without.

Curse Breaker? – 250 GP

Change the Rules of Magic.

ROLL: Time Paradox (200) [Wizards of Waverly Place] {Benevolence}:
As an outsider to this world’s temporal mechanics, you are unaffected by alterations to the timeline. If a wizard travels into the past and changes events, you will remain unchanged, retaining your memories, existence, and continuity regardless of how history is rewritten around you.

ROLL: AWAKEN THE MAGIC (200) [Wolfwalkers] {Benevolence}:
You can create Wolfwalkers through your bite, just as a true Wolfwalker can. More than that, you are able to draw out dormant personal potential in those you affect, whether that means awakening hidden powers, strengthening latent gifts, or bringing greater force to qualities already within them. This control is precise, allowing you to bite someone without transforming them or granting any new talents if you choose.

ROLL: Slaughter Demon (100) [Jujutsu Kaisen] {Destruction}:

A basic cursed tool in the form of a wide-bladed dagger, somewhere between a butcher’s cleaver and a combat knife, with a wooden handle and a black fur guard. While simple, it is fully capable of harming cursed spirits even in the hands of someone with no sorcerous ability. It is not especially effective against powerful curses, but against average or weaker ones, it can cut and stab through them with ease.

ROLL: Green Life (0) [Fate/Legends – Land of Shadows] {Source}:
As a human of the Age of Gods, you stand well above the standard of later eras. Your body is naturally at the peak of human physical capability even without training, and you possess around fifty high-quality magical circuits, marking you as someone with significant innate magical potential. In the world of your birth this would make you talented but not extraordinary among seasoned warriors or magi, though in the modern age it would still place you far above the norm.

ROLL: Custom Technique (200) [Jujutsu Kaisen] {Modus}:
You gain a custom cursed technique of your own design. Its scale, power, versatility, and limitations should be judged against existing techniques, with this tier fitting a technique that is relatively narrow in application, highly situational, or balanced by meaningful restrictions. More overwhelming or flexible techniques would require a higher tier. This option may be purchased multiple times, allowing you to acquire more than one custom technique.

Grimoire Points: 750