Ashes And Apples

Storybrooke had learned to live with magic.

That didn’t mean it trusted it.

Emma Swan stood at the edge of Main Street, hands shoved into her red leather jacket, watching as a thin ribbon of black smoke curled up from the clock tower. It wasn’t thick enough to be a fire. Not real smoke. Not normal.

Magic.

She could feel it—like a pressure behind her ribs, a warning she hadn’t asked for but could never ignore.

“Tell me you see that too.”

David stepped up beside her, squinting toward the tower. “Yeah. And I’m guessing this isn’t just someone burning toast.”

Emma huffed. “In this town? I’d be relieved if it was.”

The smoke twisted unnaturally, like it was alive—coiling, stretching, then snapping back into itself.

Wrong.

Everything about it was wrong.

And Emma already knew what came next.

Heels clicked sharply against the pavement behind her.

Right on cue.

“Sheriff.”

Emma didn’t turn immediately. She closed her eyes for half a second, bracing herself, then faced the voice.

Regina Mills stood a few steps away, perfectly composed as always—dark coat, sharp posture, and that expression that managed to be both calm and cutting at the same time.

If the smoke was wrong… Regina was controlled chaos.

“Mayor,” Emma replied flatly. “Here to admire the view, or are you about to blame me for it?”

Regina’s gaze flicked briefly to the tower before returning to Emma. “Do you see anyone else in this town who attracts magical catastrophes with such consistency?”

Emma let out a dry laugh. “Wow. Didn’t even ease into it today, huh?”

David stepped between them slightly.

“We don’t know what this is yet—”

“Oh, I think we do,” Regina interrupted smoothly. “Or rather, I think she does.”

Emma’s jaw tightened. “You want to say something, say it.”

Regina took a step closer, lowering her voice just enough that it felt personal.

Sharp.

Intentional.

“Ever since you came to this town,” Regina said, “peace has been… fleeting.”

Emma didn’t back down. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The air between them felt heavier than the smoke curling above the clock tower.

Then—

A scream cut through the street.

All three of them turned instantly.

Across the road, a man staggered out of Granny’s diner, clutching his head.

“I— I can’t—” he gasped.

Emma was already moving. “Hey—hey, look at me. What’s going on?”

The man’s eyes darted wildly, unfocused.

“It’s happening again—she’s—she’s there—”

“Who’s there?” Emma pressed.

But he wasn’t seeing her.

He was somewhere else.

“Don’t—please—don’t—” he choked out, dropping to his knees.

And then—

His voice changed.

Deeper. Colder.

“You should have stayed out of it.”

Emma froze.

That wasn’t him.

David reached for his sword on instinct—out of habit more than logic—but Regina stepped forward, eyes narrowing.

“Step back,” she ordered.

Emma shot her a look. “You don’t get to—”

“Unless you’d like him to die,” Regina snapped, “move.”

That did it.

Emma stepped aside—but she didn’t go far.

Regina raised her hand, magic already curling at her fingertips—purple, controlled, dangerous.

The man convulsed as the smoke from the tower suddenly shifted—

—and shot downward like a living thing.

It slammed into him.

Emma swore. “What the hell—”

Regina’s magic flared brighter, pushing back against the darkness. The air crackled, pressure building until it felt like the entire street was holding its breath.

For a moment, it looked like Regina had it under control.

Then the man screamed—

—and the smoke exploded outward.

Emma reacted on instinct.

Light burst from her hands—bright, gold, uncontrolled but powerful.

It collided with Regina’s magic midair.

For a split second—

Everything stopped.

Darkness.

Light.

Balanced.

Then the force slammed outward, knocking everyone back.

Emma hit the pavement hard, the air rushing out of her lungs. “Okay—” she coughed, pushing herself up, “definitely not toast—”

“Brilliant observation, Sheriff.”

Emma looked up.

Regina was already on her feet.

Of course she was.

The man lay unconscious between them.

The smoke was gone.

For now.

A crowd had started to gather—whispers spreading, fear creeping in.

Emma stood slowly, brushing herself off.

“You want to tell me what that was?”

Regina’s expression had shifted.

Less smug.

More… focused.

Concerned.

But only for a second.

Then the walls went back up.

“No,” Regina said coolly. “I want you to tell me.”

Emma stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Regina stepped closer again, voice low.

“This kind of magic doesn’t just appear,” she said. “It’s triggered. Drawn to something.”

Emma crossed her arms. “And you think that something is me.”

“I think,” Regina replied, “that wherever you go, chaos follows.”

Emma laughed—but there was no humor in it. “Yeah? And I think you’re just looking for an excuse.”

“To what?”

Emma met her gaze, unwavering.

“To remind everyone who you used to be."

That hit.

Regina’s eyes darkened—just for a fraction of a second.

Dangerous.

“Careful, Sheriff,” she said softly. “You might not like what you find when you start digging.”

Emma didn’t flinch. “Right back at you.”

Another beat of silence.

Heavy.

Unresolved.

Then Regina turned sharply, already walking away. “We’ll deal with this. One way or another.”

Emma watched her go, jaw tight.

David stepped closer again. “You two are going to have to figure this out.”

Emma scoffed. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

But as she looked back at the clock tower

—

at the faint trace of smoke still lingering in the air—

she felt it again.

That pressure.

That pull.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

And whether she liked it or not…

Regina was right in the middle of it.