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The Darkening Horizon

Summary:

In the aftermath of the broken curse, Storybrooke teeters on the edge of new conflicts and unraveling secrets. Emma Swan must navigate the dangerous tides of magic returning to the world – a magic that was thought to be long lost. As dark forces conspire to reshape reality, Emma, Henry, and their allies find themselves at the mercy of long-buried betrayals and dangerous alliances.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Rain lashed against the grimy windowpanes of the fire escape. The man fumbled with his keys as he fumbled with the lock. Finally, the lock yielded, and he stumbled into his cramped New York City apartment.

He tossed his worn leather jacket onto the threadbare sofa. Reaching for the window, he intended to shut out the relentless downpour, but it wouldn't budge. Frustration gnawed at him as he wrestled with the rusted latch.

Suddenly, the phone slipped from his grasp. A groan escaped his lips. It was a cheap phone, sure, but it held precious memories.

Leaning out the window, the man craned his neck, squinting through the rain-streaked glass. The fire escape, slick with water, offered little hope. He pictured his phone, a crumpled casualty amongst the overflowing bins overflowing in the alley below. With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, he withdrew.

As he slumped back onto the worn armchair, a sudden flutter caught his eye. A plump dove, its feathers slick with rainwater, perched on the window ledge, its beady black eyes fixed on him.

A flicker of surprise stirred within him. Doves weren't exactly a common sight amidst the concrete jungle he called home. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand, palm open. The dove cocked its head, seemingly unafraid, and with a gentle coo, it hopped onto the edge of the windowsill.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The rain outside became a distant murmur, the city's cacophony fading into the background. The man watched silently, mesmerised, as the dove bobbed its head, a peculiar glint in its black eyes.

Then, with a final coo of farewell, the dove took flight, disappearing into the rain-soaked city. But it wasn't empty-clawed. In its beak, it held a small postcard, a stark white rectangle amidst the dreary cityscape.

Intrigued, the man reached out and retrieved the card. It was a simple picture postcard, depicting the quaint clock tower of Storybrooke, Maine. He flipped the postcard over. Scrawled across the back in a familiar, looping script were two words: "Broken”.