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Summary
This is a story about breaking. About the feeling of fragmentation as it runs through her. Where out of the cracks comes pure anguish, and then nothing at all. No queen, no mayor, not even a woman. The cracks were all she ever was. An arabesque of broken glass that was painful to look at. But she isn’t the only one wandering off-balance on the brink of some chasm. Everyone is. It's this place. It has a way with people – its way with people. With its very own intentions. And with Emma fast approaching — like a storm — with that something in her eye. A mystery sprinkled with hesitation and some other unidentified emotion. For some reason that Regina can’t explain, looking into those eyes makes her feel like she's ready to drown. Little does she know, death really is only the beginning.
This is what happens when a fairytale story writes itself — author be damned. And we're all nothing more than collateral.