The sea was too quiet.
Hook's ship, the Jolly Roger, sliced through the waters, its black hull gliding over the waves like a shadow with purpose. Above, the sails hung heavy, not from wind but from the quiet weight of the sky. The air was charged — not with storm, not yet — but with something older. Something that made the crew exchange glances and avoid looking too long at the sea.
At the helm, Hook stood grinning, his coat snapping from the flickers of unnatural wind swirling only around him. Above them, carved deep into the mast, Selene's sigil glowed faintly — a closed eye framed by a crescent moon. Her magic cloaked the ship like an invisible skin, repelling what lurked in the waters below.
"Disappointed?" Smee muttered, crossing his arms as he squinted at the motionless sky. "Yes, that's what I am. No wind, no spray, not even gulls. The sea's forgotten how to breathe."
Hook tilted his head, listening not to Smee but to the pull in his chest, to the unspoken orders that had come ever since Selene whispered to him on the Dead Rock Island. She hadn't spoken since—but the direction was clear.
"Head east. Find the tribe that sings to the fallen moon."
The Nocti.
He didn't know why she feared them. He didn't care.
All he knew was, the Nocti tribe has all the answers he seeks and His only final gambit—pawns in a game laced with magic and betrayal, The necessary bait to draw Selene into the heart of the storm—Neverland itself.
If only his crew bore his bravado. They spoke in hushed tones of sirens weaving through the current, of shapes too swift, too sunless, too hungry. A pressure gripped their chests—as though the abyss itself watched, waiting.
Hook stepped forward, eyes glinting like wet steel.
"If the abyss is watching," he said with a grin, "then let it take notes."
A silence followed, thick and salty. Even Smee paused, halfway through mumbling something about cursed tides and vanishing moons. The men shifted uneasily, but said nothing. The captain had spoken. And for now, that was enough.
At the Twilight Lagoon -
The sky wore a strange hue—neither dawn nor dusk, as if nature had forgotten its rhythm. The waves, once playful, rolled like slow thunder. Something was coming. And across Neverland, every living thing could feel it.
At the edge of Shore, Tiger Lily stood unmoving, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Her war paint wasn't ceremonial today—it was personal. Behind her, the tribe readied what little they had. Spears were sharpened. Charms were whispered into braids. Every fire was lit, not for warmth, but as a ward against whatever shadows might come crawling.
The storm hadn't arrived, but the land already held its breath.
Deep beneath the Twilight Lagoon cliffs, a dull hum rumbled through forgotten roots. The Nocti tribe gathered in tense circles, children tucked behind mothers, warriors at the ready. Then, a tremor.
It began as a whisper, then a quake. Cracks opened at the edge of the ceremonial grounds—veins of earth splitting as though the world exhaled.
From beneath the sacred ground… rose two figures.
One bore the grace of Starfire—her feet barely kissed the dust. The other was a boy with hypnotic golden eyes, carrying silence like it was armor.
Gasps erupted. Spears were raised in an instant.
"Stand down!" barked a warrior.
"They broke the seal—no one emerges from the sacred tunnels!"
Children peeked from behind their parents. One girl, barely older than five, blinked at Tinker Bell's glow.
"A fairy…" she whispered in wonder.
"Back!" a mother hissed, dragging her away. "That glow could be a siren's spell!"
Peter lifted his hands. Calm. Gentle.
"We're not your enemies. We came to help."
Tinker Bell echoed him.
"The storm is real. And you are not ready."
No one listened. Fear had too long been their language. The warriors formed a ring, fire dancing on their blades, their leader about to give the order—
Then it came.
A growl that was not just sound—but vibration. Echo.
From the shadows of the cliff behind them, a shape emerged like thunder in fur. Aenor.
His claws kissed the rock like ancient drums. His breath misted like silver fog. And his growl—low, eternal—rattled their bones.
The spears wavered. A gust of wind seemed to surge from beneath him, scattering ash and dust into the flames.
And then—silence.
Aenor stood between the warriors and the pair, unblinking, unmoved.
One elder fell to her knees.
"The Watcher…" she whispered.
"The Moon's Fang walks again."
The others didn't lower their weapons… but they didn't strike either.
The judgement had not yet passed.
The tremor hadn't just stirred the warriors.
Down by the shore, where the tide licked silver over sand, Tiger Lily stood with her father—the chief of the Nocti—and Elder Muniya. Mermaids lounged like warnings along the rocks, their eyes half-lidded but ears wide open. They had just begun their tense parley, speaking in riddles and sea-chant, when the growl split the air.
"What was that?" Lily turned sharply, her gaze sharpening like a blade unsheathed.
Another rumble. Then shouts—warriors yelling, children crying, and a name the wind carried—
"The Watcher…!"
"Stay here," the chief said, but Lily was already running, her hair flying behind her like a war-banner. Muniya followed, staff tapping the stone like a heartbeat. Even the mermaids stirred.
They reached the ceremonial grounds moments later, the scent of cracked earth and hot fear thick in the air.
Lily skidded to a halt as she saw the crowd of warriors, spears drawn toward—
Tinker Bell. Peter.
And Aenor.
Aenor, whose blue thunder eyes glowed like ancient moons— ancient, and far too knowing for any mortal beast. Perched upon his forehead, carved from light itself, was a white crescent moon that shimmered with every breath he took.
Lily's heart stuttered.
"Stand down!" she barked, pushing through the warriors.
"They emerged from the sacred ground," one of them said. "It's forbidden."
And so was the invocation of magic… and yet, here we are.
Muniya reached the front now, her lined face unreadable. Her ancient eyes locked with Aenor's. Neither moved.
A ripple in the waters.
From the edge of the twilight shore, Thaliena, the mermaid princess, rose with an elegance only the waves could teach. The warriors stepped back, for the mermaid's view. She did not spare a glance for the others.
Her eyes, vast and glistening like the still before a tempest, locked upon Aenor—and with grace uncharacteristic of her kind, she bowed before them and said, 'A celestial guardian and a moon fairy have come to our aid, and the seas are grateful for your presence in this darkest hour.
Gasps rippled through the tribe.
Then, her gaze drifted, curious… almost hungry, toward the boy beside the moon fairy. Golden eyes. Something ancient stirred in her depths, something long asleep.
"And the boy? Who bears the eyes of firelight and sorrow. Who is he?"
Tinker Bell's wings twitched. She stepped slightly in front of Peter, shielding him, as if the truth might burn too hot for this moment.
"He is… an accomplice," she said carefully, "to aid me in my quests."
A flicker of disappointment, or suspicion, danced across Thaliena's expression—but she said nothing more.
Before the questions could mount, before any tribe member could press the silence, Tinker Bell turned sharply to the elder council and warriors.
We are not here for stories. We're here for survival. What is your plan for defense? Where are your weapons… your shields? What is your strategy to repel the unknown shadows?
The fairy's voice cracked like flint on stone, forcing the moment to pivot from awe to urgency
As whispers of strategy gave way to action, Tinker Bell extended her arms skyward. Light shimmered from her fingertips, streaming into the towering trees, and golden-veined magic rippled across the canopy, forming a dome above the tribe's camp—a luminous shield against what was to come.
Beside her, Thaliena lifted her palms, water spiraling up from the lagoon in delicate ribbons. The two beings—one of moonlight, one of tide—moved in mirrored grace, their magic weaving together in arcs of silver and seafoam.
"Children," Tinker Bell called gently, her voice imbued with command and calm, "to the sanctum beneath the trees. Stay within the veil."
The youngest obeyed, eyes wide with wonder, as the glowing shield lowered and cocooned their resting grounds. Mothers kissed their children's foreheads. Fathers nodded solemnly.
The warriors of the tribe, adorned in painted armor and obsidian blades, marched forward. But it was not steel alone that protected them. As Elder Muniya stepped forth, her staff etched with moon runes, the Lunai Shield rose from the earth—a wall of refracted moonlight humming with divine hum. It encircled the warriors like a second skin.
Thaliena sat onto the rocks by the shore. Her voice, sharp and melodic, sliced through the humid air like a sea whistle.
"Hear me, you who dwell beneath. Heed the tide's command!"
From the depths, giant sea creatures surged forth, answering her call. Turtles with star-shells, seahorses the size of boats, and jellyfish that pulsed with bio-luminescent shields and many more gathered near the edge of the Twilight Lagoon. The water churned not with chaos, but loyalty.
A moment of silence swept over them. And then…
Fog.
Thick, rolling in unnaturally fast. Smothering stars. Stillness.
And from within that haze—a silhouette.
Tall sails. Tattered flags.
A ship. Silent as guilt. Cutting through the waters like a secret.