by Kara Swanson
The remaining warriors circle the star, lifting glinting silver weapons and decked out in full armor made of that silver metal tempered with the very heat of what they now protect. Their glistening tattoos and silver armor makes them appear like a living, breathing army of stars.
Connor and Paige and Hook stand at a distance, opposite those of us who now stand in front of the star. Lost Boys side by side with village warriors.
Claire’s hand slips into mine, and she calls out to her brother.
“Don’t you see, Connor? You’ve lost. Please. Just stop all this. Let us help you.” Her hand quivers in mine, and I tighten my hold.
“This is the only way to help him,” Paige retorts, lifting her slender knife.
There’s the faintest spark of something that flickers in Connor’s hollow expression. He starts to turn toward Claire, but as he does, Paige brings her arm quickly forward, metal glinting in her fist, as she aims toward Claire. I watch, helpless.
But the knife clashes against a curved metal prong that swings forward to intercept it.
Claire jumps away, and I lurch forward to pull her back to the safety of our little army.
Paige’s eyes narrow, a quiver in her thin lips as Hook come from behind her, his hook still looped around the knife in her quivering fist. “Sorry, love,” he tells her, holding his sword-cane in his other hand as he stands in front of her, crimson coat skimming the back of his polished boots. “Even I can tell when we’ve lost.” His voice drops low, leaning in, nudging her knife down. “Come away with me, Paige. We’ll take the Roger and never look back.”
Watching how sincere Hook is, I actually feel bad for him. He’s sacrificed so much for this woman who loves her own pain more than she loves him.
Still holding her knife, Paige rips away from Hook and ducks around him.
Her half-crazed eyes glare at us. “You might have brought the whole island against us, but it won’t be enough.”
Tootles jumps in front of me. “If you want to hurt Peter, or this island, you’ll have to go through all of us.”
A volley of “Aye!” and “Yes!” catapults through the crowd wrapping around the star—and around me. I’m wondering how on earth I got this blooming lucky to have a bunch of mates like this. Lily comes to stand beside Tootles. She raises her staff and lets out a battle cry that is echoed by her people, and a barricade of weapons is raised.
“I have to go through you?” Paige eyes Tootles maliciously. “All right then.”
In a flash, she throws her dagger. It sinks into Tootles’s throat, up to the hilt, and a spray of blood floods down his neck and begins to soak his shirt.
“Tootles!” I yell. I try to grab him, but his backward motion pulls him out of my grasp, and he falls onto the silver sphere behind us.
I reach for him again, aghast by the sight of his blood dripping from his skin and sinking into the star.
Blinding heat from the star scalds my arm as I try to pull Tootles back. I don’t realize Connor has become active until an earthquake churns the ground beneath our feet. All around me, warriors and Lost Boys try to regain their footing.
But vines are now slithering across the ground and tossing people aside like kindling. No matter how much courage Tootles inspired, there’s no way it can’t stand up to Connor’s brute power.
I hold on to Tootles’s limp hand, even as the earth rolls under my heels, but he’s already being swallowed by the orb, his blood in crimson streaks across the silver.
Suddenly I realize something else is leaking over the star. Something thick and dark. My head snaps up to see Connor standing a few feet away from us. His body is once again hunched over, skin cut apart by the pulsing veins, his mouth open as he chokes out his own shadow.
It slithers out of his mouth like the vines that snap around his feet. The pool of darkness oozes down his chin, thickening and writhing and dipping toward the star.
I can’t stop Connor. Not this time.
His shadow licks at the edge of the star, then starts to dissolve into it. Claire must now see, because she screams and races for her brother, but he just flicks a hand, and a vine wraps around her ankle, holding her back. She’s held suspended, able to do nothing but scream her brother’s name over and over as she watches his contortions.
The silver sphere writhes and shrieks as the thick, dark silhouette pours out of Connor. The shadow’s greedy hands reach as if to plunge in. The waterfall of darkness finishes, and the silhouette of Connor’s shadow dissolves into the star just like Tootles almost has. The Lost Boy’s fingers clenched in mine, and his head gasping for air, are the only things remaining above the surface that is quickly turning dark.
Suddenly Connor jerks backward, and the star at the heart of Neverland starts to shriek.
Blinding heat spirals out, and everyone near jumps back. I reluctantly let go of Tootles’s hand, barely throwing myself away before the star scathes me.
I crawl across the mossy floor, glancing over my shoulder as I watch the star thrashing and sparking. Watch Tootles as the last part of him disappears.
A thick, dark spot blooms in the middle of the sphere where Connor’s shadow had sunk in, like a pool of spilled ink. It swiftly spreads, dark spindly fingers overtaking the star like the veins that have overtaken my island. The ground rocks and heaves as the star falls into shadow.
In utter panic, I shove to my feet. The jungle erupts into chaos as warriors and pixies try to get as far from the transforming sphere as they can. Claire is only a few feet away, and I quickly go to her. She’s holding her head, crimson flowing from her temple, matting her thick curls. Crouching beside Claire, I glare at my sister. At the terrifying too-wide smile on Paige’s face.
She and Connor are reeling toward the shadow star. Sucked in. They’re pulled closer until Paige is behind Connor, watching as he reaches out and lays his hands flat on the star that has become a writhing ball of darkness. Ashen threads climb up his hands, up his chest, up his neck. I watch in horror as Connor tilts his head back, and the darkness pours down his throat.
When Connor finally pulls away, his eyes are so filled with black ink I can’t even make out the curve of his iris anymore. Shadowed fire burns beneath his skin.
I reach for Claire, grab her hand, hold on tight. Wanting to say something, anything, but I have nothing.
Connor’s hollow eyes are on me. “I win.”
The star explodes. A massive wave of darkness vaults toward us, and in an instant, our world is lost in the shadow that swallows us whole.
Neverland
I blink several times, assaulted by blazing light, but as my vision clears, I realize it’s sunlight. Bright sunlight filtering through heavy, vibrant foliage over my head, warming my face as I lie on my back.
I haven’t felt warm sunlight like this since—
Well, I haven’t felt it at all since arriving here in Neverland.
This is not what I expected my brother’s shadowed star to create.
My head only spins more as I push off the silky grass, curling into a sitting position, and slowly take in the world spread before me. This has to be a dream . . .
Vibrant trees swell around me, large flowers blossoming to life in colors I’ve never seen. A gentle breeze cools my skin. The air is filled with the soft tinkle of bells. I leap to my feet and spin in a circle, just trying to soak it in. My heart soars when I take in the parade of pixies flittering about the trees and perching on leaves or dancing through the air.
They shine brighter than I’d realized they could, like enchanting golden stars fallen from the heavens to fill the air. Their melodic chimes are interrupted by boisterous, echoing laughter that cuts through the jungle. The laughter is like a siren’s song that catches my bare feet and has me running over the grass, past towering palm trees, and toward the source of the noise. I burst out of the jungle, pulling to a stop at the edge of a curving lagoon.
Below where I stand, the island swells into a crescent cove, the crystal clear
water filled with splishing, splashing creatures. It’s the sirens’ lagoon, but it’s whole.
This entire island is whole again.
I inch closer for a better look. The sirens’ scales are a beautiful, shining navy color, catching the sunlight and playing across the water. Their hair whips in the wind as they dive and jump and kick up spews of water at the boy swimming with them.
He’s laughing and kicking back, his reddish hair soaked through, and his dimples in clear view as he tips his head back and lets out a long crow.
My knees nearly go out. I race forward, down one of the little sloping trails carved in the warm clay wall of the lagoon. I pause just before my toes touch water and stare out at him.
At the boy who looks about twelve, with big green eyes and a mischievous grin as he tries to clamber onto one of the siren’s backs.
I blink furiously, but he’s still there. But so small.
I find my voice. “Peter?”
At his name, he glances up and is suddenly motionless in the water. Droplets roll down his forehead as he regards me. Then he cocks head, and a wide grin spreads across his boyish features. “Isn’t it all amazing? It’s how it used to be!”
There’s a part of me that wants to agree. Wants all of this to truly be as whole as it appears, but deep inside something churns. A distant memory of Connor’s voice whispers, “Pay attention!”
Before I can say anything, I hear footsteps above me, and I look up just in time to see several boys launch themselves over the top of the cliffside into the lagoon. The half dozen of them cannonball into the water, sending up splashes of foam.
I count heads as they pop back up. Slightly is laughing and wrestling Cubby as they kick to the surface and grab onto one of the sloping rocks in the middle of the lagoon. They’re younger and healthier, skin tanned and expressions shining with joy. It almost makes me want to cry. The twins pop up in tandem, and their big eyes and childlike expressions actually suit their age.
Tiger Lily is here too, sitting on the top of a protruding rock and kicking water playfully at the others. She also is younger. Softer, and a little less battle hardened.
But when Tootles’s head breaks the surface, and he shoves hair out of his eyes, and he calls “Ho, Peter!” and greets the sirens, I really begin to feel unnerved.
There’s another boyish form here, too, swimming under the water, aiming toward the portion of the cliff where I’m standing. He fluidly glides along as sirens dart and slide through the depths beneath him.
When he reaches the edge of the lagoon, his head and shoulders emerge above water.
My knees do go out then. I sink down, staring down at those brown eyes and the thick, curly dark hair. He’s younger than I’ve ever seen him, but he still has that gentle light in his eyes. Gone are the lines of guilt and pain that lined Nibs’s features the last few times I’d seen him.
“Hey, Claire. Welcome to Neverland,” he says with a grin.
I slowly shake my head. Tears prick at my eyes, and I shake my head harder, as I rise to my feet and take a few steps back and hurriedly climb back up the curve of the lagoon.
I glance down at Nibs, who is treading water, staring up at me with confusion.
Something isn’t right.
I run.
I run back up the carved-out slope and across the sprawling grassy lawn that dips toward the lush jungle. I’m not quite sure what I’m running toward or what I’m doing, but there’s something wrong in all this.
Then I hear the weeping.
Weeping I recognize.
I make my way through the jungle, passing a haze of pixies gaily swirling about. I go through the hedge of large, tropical leaves and the bursting flowers of enormous size, and then I see him.
A little blond boy against one of the tall palm trees, knees pulled to his chin, quiet tears rolling down his cheeks.
Connor.
I walk toward him, letting my fingers trail along the edge of one of the nearby flowers, a large thing with iridescent petals that shimmer rose gold, but something pricks my finger. I glance down at the flower, expecting to see if I missed a thorn. It’s much worse than a thorn.
The entire inside of the flower is rotten. Charred black and oozing and smelling of death. I spring back from the flower and race to my brother. He doesn’t look up. Just keeps staring at the ground, misty tears dropping from his hollow expression.
“Connor, can you hear me?” Something is definitely not okay. He’s the one who should be tethered to this place.
“Connor? What’s happening?” I kneel beside him and notice he’s wearing that faded Captain America T-shirt. The one he wore when Hook put him on that plane, all those years ago, heading to London.
He doesn’t respond, so I shake him by the shoulders. Finally, his head comes up, and his dull eyes meet mine. He swallows a sob. “Who are you?”
My whole body goes cold.
Suddenly I realize something. I let go of Connor and look carefully around. This isn’t Peter’s dream world. I glance back at my brother, sitting against the tree. He’s no longer crying, just talking to himself as he plays with a long, slender stick, swishing it through the air like a sword.
This is Connor’s version of Neverland. The one he first saw when Peter stole him. The one he wanted to escape to.
But in this Neverland, he doesn’t remember his life on Earth.
Doesn’t remember me.
I bite the inside of my cheek, mind whirring. I grab his shoulders again and shake him lightly. “Connor, it’s me! It’s Claire.”
He ducks his head and tries to pull away. “Leave me alone.”
I can’t do that. “I’m your sister, Connor. You can remember me—just try.” I hold tight until he’s forced to look at my face.
He snaps the stick toward me. It stings a bit, but I don’t let go. “Connor, look at me. It’s your Claire!”
His body goes rigid, and then, like a flash of lightning, something massive and towering is suddenly there. It billows out of Connor, caving over him, an oozing, shadowed presence. It turns its massive head, hollow eyes glaring at me, and when it snarls, its deep, gravelly sounds come out of the little boy sitting in front of me:
“LEAVE US ALONE!”
I scream and scramble backward. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the shadow creature disappears, soaking back into Connor. He once again mutters softly to himself.
My whole body has begun to shake as I try to put as much distance between me and that thing as I can. I force my breathing to even out and walk back toward the lagoon, and there I collapse at the edge of the cliff, where I can see Peter and Lily and the Lost Boys playing below.
From this higher vantage point, I see something deep beneath the water. Spindly veins crawl across the seafloor. A little sob fills my throat, and I run my fingers through the grass. Thick, oozing liquid squishes into my fingernails.
I jerk my hand away and find dark goo dripping from my fingertips. Spreading the vibrant green blades to get a better look, I realize there is no dirt beneath the grass, only the dark, oozing sludge.
The same kind of darkness that leaked from Connor as his shadow absorbed into the star.
I want to cry just looking at this beautiful place. I wish I could just close my eyes and let them all have the world they want.
But Neverland is rotting. Whatever Paige did to Connor’s shadow, and whatever it has become as part of the star, it’s eating away at him. At this island.
Just sitting here, I can feel it. The hollowness seeping into my limbs, the nausea in my chest. Neverland is rotting, and we’ll be poisoned along with it.
I pull my knees to my chest, bury my head between them, try to block out the happy sounds of little boys playing below.
Will we lose Nibs all over again? Tootles too? And where is Paige in all this?
A warm hand suddenly steals over my shoulder, and I muffle a surprised shriek, jerking away. I spin around, expecting to find a Lost Boy had crept up.
She’s glorious. Tall and willowy with blonde curls that fall over her shoulders and a long, dripping gold dress. Something about her feels almost frail and delicate, but there’s determined strength there too. Her eyes are blue, a reflection of mine, and for a moment I almost wonder if this is . . . me. The me I will grow to be. She’s gently bending down to reach out and stroke my cheek, and instantly I know.
“Mother?”
Her full lips part into a gentle smile. “I’m here, my sweet Claire. I’m so glad to finally meet you.”
Before I know it, I’m in her arms. She wraps me in a hug, and I’m burying my face in her chest.
“Oh . . . mama . . .”
My voice breaks, all my determination breaks. How long have I wanted this? All those years telling Connor bedtime stories because there was no one to tuck us in, no one to care. Discovering who I was and never quite belonging to the world I was in and wondering what she would think of me. Would she be proud? Would she be able to explain my dust?
Would she blame me for what Connor has become?
Her arms wrap a little tighter, and she whispers gently, “Your brother’s choices are his own. But Claire”—she cups my chin, lifting my face—“I am so proud of you. Proud of the woman you’ve grown to be. You have fought so hard.” She leans forward and gently presses a kiss to my forehead. “But, finally, you can rest . . .” She gently smooths out my tangled curls, a tender smile on her lips. “You can stop fighting, Claire. You can just enjoy all of this.”
She sweeps a graceful hand at the vibrant Neverland spreading around us. A few tears do leak down my cheeks, and I hug her again.
We’ve lost so much. Me, Connor, Peter, the whole island.
There, in her secure arms, I desperately wish I could do what she says. I want to become small like the others and be a little girl playing carefree with Peter and Tiger Lily and . . . everyone. To stop fighting and lose myself in this world. The real world is so ugly and filled with so much pain.
