Wicked Neverland

The Tide

"Bloody, miserable, double-crossing pirates," Nyx muttered, her heavy leather boot snapping a rotting branch in half.

She slashed at a thick wall of vines with her pin-sword, ignoring the thorns that scraped against her bare hands and her crimson vest. Through the dense canopy of the Neverland jungle, she could still catch glimpses of the ocean. Far on the horizon, already swallowed by the cursed fog of the island, the silhouette of the Jolly Roger was shrinking into a speck.

Hook had sailed. Without her.

She wasn't scared, just profoundly annoyed. She had only stepped off the ship for twenty minutes to harvest some fresh Dreamshade roots—she patted the glass vials secured to her utility belt, safely away from her skin—and the moment the tide turned, the crew had panicked and weighed anchor.

Nyx let out a frustrated sigh, sheathing her thin blade. She brushed a wild, auburn curl out of her face, the single gold hoop on her earlobe catching the dim light. She knew the island like the back of her hand, but surviving Neverland wasn't about knowing the paths; it was about knowing what hid in the shadows.

"Your vocabulary hasn't improved at all, Nixie."

Nyx didn't flinch. She simply rolled her dark hazel eyes and turned around.

Standing a few feet away, leaning casually against a mossy tree trunk with his wooden club resting on his shoulder, was Felix. The blond, scarred leader of the Lost Boys looked as menacing as ever, but the moment he realized they were entirely alone, the cold, ruthless mask he wore for the camp melted into a familiar, crooked smirk.

"Tell me the old codfish didn't actually leave you behind," Felix chuckled, pushing himself off the tree and stepping closer.

"I was gathering supplies," Nyx huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "The tide shifted early. Killian knows I can survive a few days until he figures out how to turn that bloody ship around."

Felix shook his head, a genuine look of relief flashing in his gray eyes. "You're lucky I'm the one who heard you stomping around like a wounded boar. If the younger boys had found you..."

"I would have pinned them to a tree before they could even draw their daggers," Nyx replied with a nonchalant shrug, though she allowed a small, affectionate smile to slip. "It's good to see you too, Felix. How's Tinkerbell?"

Felix opened his mouth to answer, but the words died in his throat.

Instantly, his entire demeanor shifted. The warmth drained from his face, replaced by a rigid, empty obedience. His spine snapped straight, his grip tightening around his club until his knuckles turned white. His eyes locked onto something over Nyx's shoulder, utterly devoid of emotion.

The temperature in the jungle seemed to plummet. The incessant chirping of the island's insects fell into a suffocating, dead silence.

Nyx felt the familiar, toxic prickle of dark magic dancing on the back of her neck. She didn't need to turn around to know who was standing there, but she did anyway, schooling her features into a mask of pure boredom.

A figure stepped seamlessly out of the dense shadows of the trees. He moved with a predatory grace, his dark green eyes gleaming with a mix of sociopathic amusement and dangerous curiosity. He looked exactly the same as he did years ago—a boyish face hiding a centuries-old demon.

Peter Pan tilted his head, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes trailed over her pirate attire, lingering on the vials of poison at her waist and the golden hook earring she wore so proudly.

"Well, well," Pan's smooth, British accent sliced through the heavy silence. "Look what the tide brought in."

Nyx held his gaze, refusing to step back. She rested a hand casually on the hilt of her dagger. "Pan."

"You've been gone a long time, Pixie," he purred, taking a slow step toward her. The nickname scraped against her ears just like it used to. "I almost thought Captain Guyliner had managed to keep you on a tight leash."

"I don't do leashes," Nyx replied coldly. "As you well know."

Pan chuckled, a dark, melodic sound that promised nothing but trouble. He closed the distance between them, stopping just inches from her face. He was taller now, or maybe she was just finally seeing him eye-to-eye.

"Is that so?" Pan murmured, his eyes flashing with a morbid fascination as he studied the defiant, grown woman standing in his forest. "Then I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do. Welcome home... Lost Girl."