Chapter 15

Emma let out a frustrated breath. “What is this place?”

Alex, sprawled on the ground, muttered, “A rave? A surprise underground spa? No? Okay. Fine. It’s a cave, Sherlock.”

Then a smooth voice echoed from the shadows. “You’re not wrong, dear.”

Alex sat up quickly. A woman stepped forward from the dark — tall, elegant, and vaguely terrifying. Her smile was gentle. Her eyes were anything but.

Cora.

Alex immediately shifted, scooting to the far side of the pit like a cat that smelled trouble. She flopped into the corner, arms crossed, legs outstretched like she was just done with this whole week.

Cora knelt beside Mary Margaret, checking her pulse.

“Is she going to be okay?” Emma asked, her voice edged with concern.

“Don’t worry,” Cora replied sweetly. “She’ll be fine.”

Alex rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “Of course she’ll be fine. It’s not like she got shot or anything. Just a casual kidnapping, cave-drop, and surprise meet-cute with a cryptic stranger. Totally normal Tuesday.”

Emma shot her a glare. “Can you not right now?”

“What? I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” Alex said, picking up a stick and casually doodling in the dirt. “Prison’s way more fun when you commit to the bit.”

Emma turned to Cora. “What is this place?”

Cora stepped back from Mary Margaret. “It’s a little island. Our captors consider it their haven.”

“A haven from what?” Emma asked.

“The world. Or what’s left of it,” Cora said, almost too casually.

Alex muttered, “Y’know, it’s always comforting when someone says that like they’re narrating a post-apocalyptic travel brochure.”

Emma straightened. “Well, they can’t keep us here. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

Alex held up a finger. “Correction. We hadn’t done anything — until your friend decided to knee our supermodel captor in the stomach.”

” She at least tried to do something!” Emma snapped.

Alex fake-gasped. “Not basic assault! Oh, the horror!”

Cora’s soft voice cut in again. “Neither did I.”

Alex coughed. “Liar.“

Emma shot her a warning look before asking, “Why are you here?”

Cora’s smile was unreadable. “Because of what my daughter did. The curse that ravaged this land… she cast it.”

Emma froze. “Regina?”

Alex’s head snapped up from her dirt drawing. “Wait, what? Ohhh. Okay, now I see it. Strong cheekbones, soul-piercing eyes, questionable morals… man, does this family just not age?”

Cora gave her a faint smile. “Why thank you, dear. You have nothing to fear from me. The apple fell very far from the tree.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex said, not even pretending to believe it. “Yeah, I’m sure they just threw you in a hole for fun. So what’s the real story?”

Before Cora could respond, Mary Margaret stirred, eyes fluttering open with panic.

“No,” she whispered, staring at Cora. “No, not her.”

Cora’s expression remained placid. “Oh, Snow. You’re awake. I’m so relieved.”

Mary Margaret scrambled to her feet and shoved Emma behind her. “As bad as you think Regina is… this woman is ten times worse.“

Alex popped up like a kid who’d just won a bet. “Ha! I knew it!”

Cora stepped forward, voice syrupy. “Sweet Snow, please. Whatever she told you isn’t true. I just want to help.”

Emma hesitated. “We should at least hear her out. We don’t have many options, and Henry’s back in Storybrooke with Regina.”

“Who’s Henry?” Cora asked, curiously.

Emma sighed. “My son. It’s… complicated. I share him with Regina.”

Mary Margaret’s voice turned sharp. “Emma. Don’t talk to her.”

Alex pointed her stick at Emma. “I agree with the pixie. You have to stop trusting people you meet every five minutes. You’re gonna be adopted by a swamp hag next.”

Suddenly, a voice called from above throwing down a rope.

“Our leader requests an audience.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, mysterious. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s ladies first.”

She shoved past them, climbing up the rope out of the pit with a grin. Emma and Mary Margaret followed.

Cora moved to follow — but Alex turned back at the top of the ladder and grinned devilishly.

“Ah-ah-ah. Not so fast. Look at you — rotting like a forgotten sack of onions in a pit. I’d offer to pull you up, but I’m afraid the stench might take ten years off my life. And at your age? You’d be jealous. Toodles!”

She pulled up the rope and jogged after the others, grinning ear to ear as Cora shouted curses behind her.

Up ahead, she could already hear arguing.

Mary Margaret: “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

Emma: “Why can’t you trust me? I was trying to find us a way home!”

Alex inserted herself without missing a beat. “Okay, one — I’m about this close to drop-kicking both of you and why should we listen to you. Two — Emma, please stop giving out your trust like free samples at Costco. And three — were you really gonna fight an old lady? Like… who raised you?”

Mary Margaret turned sharply. “You should listen to me because… I’m your mother.”

Alex blinked. That one hit different.

She looked away, voice dropping. “If that’s even true.”

Mary Margaret looked back to Emma. “Cora is not to be underestimated. I’ve lived in this world. It’s dangerous.”

Before Emma could respond, a figure stepped out from one of the nearby huts. A man in tarnished armor. Strong, worn, and familiar.

Mary Margaret gasped. “Lancelot!”

The man burst from the hut, sprinting toward Snow as if nothing else existed. She mirrored him instantly.

“Snow!” he called out.

Watching the two run to each other was like witnessing the final scene of a rom-com — slo-mo, imaginary flower petals raining down, dramatic music in the background. Alex nearly gagged on the sentiment.

Lancelot pulled Snow into a hug, eyes full of relief. “If I had known you were the prisoners Mulan brought back, I never would’ve locked you away. Please, forgive me.”

Emma and Alex exchanged looks — wide-eyed, slack-jawed, part disbelief, part is this seriously happening right now?

Alex whispered, “Is that Lancelot? Like, the Round Table guy? I’m about to lose my entire mind.“

Snow beamed. “Of course I forgive you.”

Alex stepped forward, practically vibrating. “Oh my God, can I see your sword? And if you’re real, does that mean dragons are real?!”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “There was a dragon under the library, remember?”

Alex blinked. “WHY am I just finding out about this?!”

Emma shrugged. “You were unconscious… then kidnapped… then cursed… then lion-y. I haven’t had time to catch you up.”

Snow smiled softly. “Girls, we can trust Lancelot. He’s an old friend.”

Lancelot nodded. “Come. We have much to discuss.”

He led them to a long wooden table in the camp. His men presented platters of food — some roasted, some stewed, all unfamiliar. Alex’s stomach growled loudly.

“Thank God,” she moaned, immediately diving in like she hadn’t eaten in days. “Bless this medieval buffet.”

Emma eyed the plate in front of her suspiciously. “What… is this?”

Lancelot gestured proudly. “Chimera. One part lion, one part goat, one part serpent.”

Alex froze mid-chew. Then gagged. Then choked.

“Wait, WAIT— did you just say LION?!” she coughed, eyes wide. She spit the food out into a napkin, horror dawning across her face. “Oh my god, is this cannibalism?!“

Emma blinked, the realization hitting her a second too late. Her face twisted into an unreadable mix of discomfort and guilt.

Mary Margaret, quiet for once, slid a different plate toward Alex without a word. There was a softness in her eyes — pity, maybe. Concern. Something deeper.

She turned to Lancelot. “I don’t understand. We were told this land was gone — that it didn’t exist anymore. How did you all survive the curse?”

Lancelot sat down, his face growing more serious. “That’s the mystery. When the curse struck, and the smoke cleared… most of us were torn away. But a few, here in this particular region, were left behind. We don’t know why. Finding this haven wasn’t easy. It took… spilled blood. But now, we are safe here.”

Snow leaned in. “We can’t stay. My husband is back there and so is Emma’s son. My grandson. We have to go back. Can you help us find a portal?”

Lancelot’s expression darkened. “I’m sorry. But leaving is unwise. The Enchanted Forest… it’s not what it once was. The ogres have returned.”

Alex choked again, spraying her drink. “Ogres?! You mean like big, green, angry Shrek-looking dudes? Wait… is Shrek real?!”

Emma looked equally alarmed. “Ogres? Like… Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum?”

Alex turned to her, deadpan. “No, Emma. That’s a giant. Like in Jack and the Beanstalk. There’s a difference. Keep up.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “She’s right. Giants and ogres are very different.”

Lancelot’s tone dropped a note. “Ogres are far worse. That’s why we live here. This island is safe. There are no portals left. None that we’ve found, anyway.”

The air fell still. Heavy with disappointment.

Emma looked away. Snow clenched her jaw. Alex leaned back in her seat, arms folded — the jokes gone for now.

No portals. No way home.

No Regina.