Her Lost Father

Chapter 11: The Graves

The air that had once felt comforting, warm, and full of love now felt restricting, cold, and stale. The wind blew harshly as every one stood in the graveyard and stared at their gravestones grimly. Emma Swan. Mary Margret. Farkle Minkus. The stones seemed to taunt them, intimidating and cold. Reminding them that they now couldn't leave unless they defeated Hades. A god. A damn god. A feeling of dread sunk around them, unspoken misery and hopelessness.

Maya was the first to speak.

"So what now?" She asked quietly. Her voice was cracked and broken, which was strange because usually she was sure and confident, even if she was emotional.

Lucas looked over, and her expression was almost unreadable. He let their hands touch ever so softly, and then intertwined their fingers. Her hands were cold and slightly clammy but he could care less. He tried to catch her gaze but she continued to stare straight ahead. She did however give his hand the most gentle squeeze to acknowledge his attempt at comfort.

"Now, we kick some Olympian ass." Emma growled. All of the children gave a small smile; they had no idea she was such a badass.

"Woah, Swan. Think this though. Do we want to prioritize getting our names off the graves, resurrecting Killian, or destroying Hades?" Regina questioned.

"Is all of the above an option?" Emma said flatly.

"Mom, we've got this. Think about all we've faced. This is like, a minor setback compared to everything else we've done." Henry tried. Emma's mouth pressed into a thin line.

Farkle was standing between Lucas and Zay silently. "Man, it's gonna be alright. They got magic. Riley and Maya got magic. It's cool dude. We'll fix this." Zay started but was promptly cut off by Farkle. "Zay! We are in the underworld with a bunch of fictional characters and now I'm dead. Apparently." He paused for a second to get a breath and then continued, "Think about this from a scientific standpoint. None of it makes sense!"

Rileys voice was just above a whisper, "Farkle. I know how you reason things, but you can't think about this as a scientist. And I just..." her words tapered off. There was nothing else to say. Nobody could think of anything to say.

Killian grabbed Lucas's shoulder and led him away from the group. "I know who you are." He hissed, "You're the child of that woman my father married."

Lucas met his cold gaze. "I never liked your father. I ran away when I was young. But I came back after you murdered him, because you left a 6 year old boy for dead. My mother was gone. Your father was killed. He had no parents so I came back for him. Tiny Liam... What did he ever do to deserve that? And I had to become mature enough to look out for myself and him at age 8! I was forced to grow up, and it was your fault!" He finished. He had wanted to say that for years, and it was as though a weight was lifted off his chest. The anger was non existent. The burden was gone.

A sinking feeling began to occur in his stomach.

The ambrosia. You will keep your youth until you let go of your heaviest burden.

Lucas had remained age 15 for over a decade. No longer would he stay that way.