You had always been careful in Storybrooke. Careful not to draw too much attention to yourself, careful not to let the wrong people see what you could do. A spark of fire from your fingertips here, a whispered charm under your breath there—it was second nature to hide it. Nobody could know.

Except tonight, everything went wrong.

You were alone on the docks when a man tried to corner you, demanding money you didn’t have. Fear had surged, and before you could stop yourself, the lantern beside him shattered into a shower of flames—ignited by your own panicked will. He ran off screaming, but you barely had time to breathe before you felt a presence behind you.

“...What the hell was that?”

Emma Swan’s voice.

You froze, your heart pounding. Turning slowly, you found her standing a few feet away, her leather jacket catching the glow of the broken flames. She looked more stunned than angry, but her eyes locked on you, sharp and unyielding.

“I—” you started, searching for words. “It’s not what it looked like.”

Emma stepped closer, her voice low. “Really? Because it looked a lot like you just lit that lantern on fire without touching it.”

Her tone wasn’t accusing—more curious, almost protective—but it still made your stomach twist. Nobody was supposed to know. Not even her.

You swallowed hard, torn between running and confessing. “Emma... you can’t tell anyone. Please.”

She studied you, her head tilting slightly. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she let out a slow breath, her expression softening.

“You’re not the only one in this town with secrets,” she said finally. “But if you want me to keep yours... you’re going to have to start trusting me.”

The flames died behind you, leaving only the two of you standing in the quiet night, your secret no longer yours alone.