EverRealm

Deal or No Deal

The name sent a shiver down Elora's spine. She stiffened, her hand instinctively tightening around her jeweled staff. "Who are you?"

The man—if he could even be called that—chuckled, tilting his head. "I go by many names," he mused, twirling a finger through the air as if plucking invisible strings. "But the one you might be most familiar with? **Rumpelstiltskin.**"

Hook's scowl deepened. "Why are you here, crocodile?" His fingers flexed toward his sword, the leather of his glove creaking.

Rumpelstiltskin's laugh fizzed like poisoned champagne. "Still nursing that grudge, are we? 'Crocodile'—how *nostalgic*."

"You promised me adventure," Hook snapped, his voice roughened by old, festering anger. "Not a cage in Neverland!"

"Oh, but I *did* deliver," Rumpelstiltskin crooned, tapping his temple. "You wanted treasures and adventures. I gave it to you. A pity you didn't word your *wish* more carefully." His smirk was knife-sharp.

Hook's jaw twitched, his hand twitching toward his blade—but before he could lunge, Miri stepped forward, her voice laced with venom. "Why are *you* really here?" Her fingers curled around the frayed edge of her cloak. "Shouldn't you be swiping firstborns?"

Rumpelstiltskin's grin didn't waver, but his gaze slid past her, fixing on **Elora**.

Miri quickly looked at Elora in warning. "He's a trickster who preys on desperation. Don't take whatever he has to offer." Rumple ignored her, circling Elora.

Cedric's grip on his wand turned bone-white, his pulse hammering. *Not her. Not like this.* The memory of his own past bargains—pathetic, bitter things—clawed up his throat. He took a half-step forward, but Sofia's small hand caught his sleeve, her wide eyes warning him: *Wait.*

"Poor, dethroned Alysia," he croons. " I can give you power to reclaim your throne, heal your lands... for a price.' He smiled, awaiting her answer.

The fire spat embers. Sofia's plea cut through the silence, thin but fierce. "Elora, *don't*."

The air grew heavy, the firelight flickering as if sensing danger. Cedric's grip tightened on his newly upgraded wand, his distrust coiled tight in his chest. Even Koa ruffled his feathers uneasily from Elora's shoulder. But Elora stood firm, chin lifted, though her fingers trembled slightly around her staff.

Rumpelstiltskin's grin widened, teeth glinting. "Oh, don't look so tense, dearie," he whispered. "Just think—no more running. No more *hiding*." His grin widened. "All it takes is one little word."

A muscle twitched in Elora's jaw. She leaned into her staff like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. When she spoke, her voice was steel wrapped in silk. "And what," she bit out, "would be the *price*?

Cedric's stomach plummeted. *No. Don't ask. Don't even—*

Rumpelstiltskin's laugh was a rat's skitter. "Now *that*," he purred, "is the right question." His yellowed gaze sliced sideways to Cedric—just long enough to make the sorcerer stiffen—before snapping back to Elora.

Rumpelstiltskin's grin widened, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Oh, just a *tiny* little thing—your **firstborn child**."

Elora's breath caught, her fingers twitching around her staff. The words struck deep—not just the price, but what it *implied*. A future, a family, something ripped away before she'd had the chance to even consider it.

Cedric's hand shot out, his fingers closing around Elora's wrist with surprising urgency. His grip wasn't rough, but there was a tension in it—something desperate. "Absolutely *not*," he hissed, his voice stripped of its usual dry humor, leaving only stark protectiveness behind. His amber eyes flicked to Rumpelstiltskin briefly, full of venom, before returning to Elora.

Elora's jaw tightened. "No."

Rumpelstiltskin blinked, his amusement faltering for a fraction of a second before he chuckled. "So hasty! Not even tempted by—"

"I don't bargain with snakes." Elora cut him off, her voice firm despite the way her pulse pounded in her ears. "I'll reclaim my throne *my* way."

For the first time, the trickster's smirk flickered into something sharper—annoyance. Then, like a candle snuffed out, his theatrics vanished. "*Pity*," he sneered. "Doomed to struggle, then."

With a snap of his fingers, he was gone, leaving in a puff of smoke.

Sofia exhaled shakily, turning to check on her father. Hook swore under his breath, while Miri's fingers hovered near her dagger, her jaw set. Elora stood rigid, staring at the spot where Rumple had been, the weight of her *real* name—Alysia—and the kingdom waiting for her pressing down like a storm cloud.

Cedric's grip on her wrist loosened, but his fingers lingered—just for a heartbeat. His thumb skimmed the inside of her wrist, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through her before he forced his hand back to his side. His jaw worked silently, his usual snark replaced by something tense and protective.

*No shortcuts,* Elora told herself, pressing her palm against the cool metal of her staff to ground herself. *Not like this.*

Koa's beak brushed her shoulder, his feathers ruffling as he let out a soft, reassuring croak. She scratched beneath his beak, and he leaned into her fingertip, claws tightening possessively on the fabric.

But the question lingered in the back of her mind:

"Did I even want the throne?"