No!
Don't let them! Don't put me to sleep—please!
My mind clawed at the fading light. Panic thundered in my chest, louder than any war drum, more real than any prophecy.
They were coming.
For her—
For my Tinker Bell.
The Irie of darkness twisted all around. I felt its chill ripple over my skin. It was hungry, merciless, patient.
The world tilted.
And then—the silence broke.
Aetheris's voice, cold and steady, cut through like a silver blade:
"At last. He sleeps. Now, we need not fear."
Lord Noire: "We both lost the war. Neither god nor demon can claim Neverland as their own."
Aetheris: "True. The land lies broken, and its people fractured. Balance must be preserved."
Lord Noire: "So what then? Do we continue this endless war in shadows and blood?"
Aetheris: "No. I, Aetheris, the Prime Moon God, decree a new order."
Lord Noire: "Speak it then."
Aetheris: "Neverland shall remain free from absolute rule… unless Peter, the Shadow Lord, sires an heir with a magical maiden of Neverland of his choosing." He is Cunning, eternal, bound to powers that even you, Lord Noire could not wholly command. Within him stirs something deeper than shadow, something older: the one thread by which demons might yet take root. Only through Peter's blood, an heir could mark destiny's turning.
Lord Noire: "A child, born of shadow and magic. So demons take root—not by war, but blood."
Aetheris: "Exactly. Through that heir, a harmony may exist—between demons and the magical clans already rooted in Neverland."
Lord Noire: "A pact forged not in conquest but in balance. I accept."
Aetheris: "Then let it be so. The fate of Neverland lies in their bloodline."
Selene, the moon goddess who walked in silver silence, glimpsed what others did not. She saw the danger—not in Peter, but in his heart. Should he love, should he father a child, Neverland would be lost to the abyss.
So Selene struck, not at Peter, but at the fragile light he clung to—Tinker Bell. With whispers soft as venom, she turned Aetheris's hand.
Selene: "My Deity… we cannot allow those filthy demons to rule over Neverland."
Aetheris turned to her, eyes reflecting a mix of uncertainty and curiosity.
Selene: "Let us scatter that fairy's powers among the seven magical clans of Neverland—as blessings from us. They will be grateful, forever bound in worship to our names."
She squeezed his hand gently, as if imploring.
Selene: "And as for the fairy herself… cast her out. Let her live in Everland as a mere mortal, stripped of power and memory—unaware of her past, of all that she was."
Her voice softened, edged with sadness.
Selene: "This way, the Shadow Lord will carry heartbreak too deep to sire an heir. He will hesitate, reluctant—keeping the demons from rooting in Neverland."
Aetheris studied her closely, weighing the cold strategy tangled with pain.
Aetheris: "Your plan is cruel… but it may be the only way." Let's summon them all and make the proclamation.
The air cracked loud as thunder—the kind that shakes souls and stirs forgotten fears. The sky darkened above Bell Mountain, jagged peaks clawing at heavy clouds.
Peter stumbled forward, still wary, but not fully aware of the snare tightening around him. Beside him, Tinker Bell was bound, wrapped in celestial chains that glowed with a cruel light—immovable, unyielding.
The ground rumbled beneath their feet as one by one, the seven clans of Neverland appeared, summoned by a power beyond them.
From the swirling storm, Aetheris's voice boomed, heavy with divine authority:
"The war is over."
A hush fell over the gathered clans, their eyes wide, breath caught in awe and fear.
"As a celebration of this new era, I—Aetheris, Prime Moon God—and Goddess Selene have decided to bestow upon you all a magical power."
A shimmering wave of light spread through the clans, each feeling the spark ignite in their veins—a blessing, or a chain.
Aetheris's gaze darkened as it shifted to the maidens among them.
"Lord Noire brings a very special gift for the magical maidens of Neverland—the one who bears an heir to the Shadow Lord shall be crowned as the Queen of Neverland."
The words echoed, heavy with promise and threat alike.
Peter's heart pounded, caught between shadow and the chains that bound his light.
Tinker Bell's eyes shone defiantly despite her captivity—the game had shifted. The true fight was only beginning.
As the clans murmured, the celestial chains around Tinker Bell began to glow brighter—pulsing with divine energy.
From the storm above, Aetheris raised his hands, and beside him, Selene mirrored the motion.
Together, they opened a portal—its edges rippling like liquid light, swirling with the power to sever the past from present.
"Tinker Bell," Aetheris intoned, voice grave and final, "you shall be cast into Everland, stripped of your powers and memories."
Selene's voice softened but carried the weight of command:
"All your past shall wash away, leaving you mortal and alone—unaware of shadows or light that once bound you."
Tinker Bell's defiant gaze flickered, confusion and loss warring within her.
The portal's pull grew stronger.
Before she stepped through, Aetheris turned to Lord Noire, his voice a thunderous decree that silenced the winds:
"No demon may set foot in Neverland until the Shadow Lord's heir is born."
Selene's eyes gleamed beside him as she added, "And when that day comes, the clans will greet you with one voice—'Long live King Noire, the true king of Neverland.'"
Noire's dark smile was a shadow of victory as the portal closed behind Tinker Bell, leaving only silence and the weight of what was to come.
The glow of the portal faded, and with a final glance, Aetheris and Selene vanished into the swirling clouds, leaving silence heavy over Bell Mountain.
The air grew cold—thick with shadow.
From the darkness emerged Lord Noire, his presence like a storm wrapped in black silk.
He approached Peter, calm but fierce, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Peter's eyes fluttered open, the weight of sleep lifting but the chains still heavy in his chest.
Noire's voice was low, sharp as a blade:
"You are awake."
Peter struggled to sit, confusion and anger burning in his veins.
Noire continued, eyes dark and unyielding:
"All demons… every shadowed creature, including myself, cannot set foot in Neverland until you sire an heir."
He let the words settle, thick and suffocating.
"That means we are trapped. Bound to the core of Everland."
Peter's gaze snapped to the empty space where Tinker Bell once stood—a cruel absence now filled with bitter emptiness.
"Noire's voice dropped, a threat wrapped in cold certainty.
"And she lives there… stripped of power, a mortal in Everland."
Peter's heart clenched.
"If you do not sire an heir—soon—I and my demons will find her. We will torment her. Tear her apart."
Noire's grip tightened briefly on Peter's shoulder, then released.
"The clock is ticking. Your choice will decide not just your fate, but the fate of Neverland itself."
With all gone, rage had nested in Peter's chest—a bitter taste of salt and blood.
He stripped himself bare, daring the world to challenge him. Daring the sea to deny his throne.
No one came.
They all knew his wrath.
The sea bent to his will. Shadows devoured anyone foolish enough to test him.
So, they only watched.
Hungry.
Eyes traced the smooth lines of his moonlit body. Every muscle gleamed with salt and divinity.
He lay naked on silvered sand. The tide kissed his skin. Wet hair clung to his forehead. One hand curled against his chest. The other clutched a feather that glowed faintly in the dark.
It pulsed warm despite the seawater.
He didn't stir.
He only dreamed.
Of her.
The ocean cradled him like an unwilling accomplice.
The mermaids were the first to find him.
They rose from the lagoon in ripples of moonlight, wet bodies glistening like oil-slick pearls. Hair floated like dark ribbons around their faces. Eyes gleamed with hunger.
"Look at him," one purred, voice silk wrapped around poison. "He's divine."
"He's dangerous," whispered another, licking her lips. "I can feel it. Ancient power… sleeping inside him."
"I'll wake it," giggled a third. "Maybe I'll be the one."
"You always want the cursed ones," the first hissed.
"Because cursed ones," the third said, eyes burning, "are always chosen. And I want to be chosen."
They circled him like predators, their voices a deadly lullaby.
They all knew the truth:
His child would open the gate. His blood would break the chains. His body… would bring them power.
To them, he wasn't a boy.
He was a throne of flesh.
And they would kill to sit on it.
But the one he wanted… was gone.
She had defied gods and demons alike for him.
Stripped of her magic, cast into the mortal world.
He didn't even remember her name.
A hiss turned to a snarl.
His eyes fluttered open.
The mermaids froze.
He rose from the sand, water sliding off his body like liquid moonlight.
When he spoke, the air itself hesitated.
"Each of you," he said softly, "will have your chance to bear my heir."
The tide shivered.
"But first… I must find her. The one who betrayed me." His gaze darkened. "We swore to kill for each other, never for each other. Now… one of us must die."
He spread his arms, a king in exile.
"The one who leads me to her—who secures my vengeance—shall be crowned Queen of the Dark Realms."
The world held its breath.
The water rippled.
She appeared.
Nerissa.
The siren princess. Born from the Leviathan's last sorrow.
She didn't bow. She didn't kneel.
She rose from the black waters, every drop sliding over her bare skin like liquid night.
No shell covered her breasts.
She flaunted them boldly, cupping them in her hands. A hiss escaped her lips.
Her voice slithered across the water, low and sinful.
"Only your child," she purred, "will have the honor of clinging to these… and drinking deep."
Her fingers traced a sensuous path down to her stomach.
"And when he is full, my Dark Lord, your next heir will grow here… in my belly."
The promise hung thick in the air.
But before she could fully seize the Dark Lord's attention—
The waters rumbled.
Mermaids vanished beneath the surface.
Sirens hissed, retreating to the lagoon's edge.
Shadows curled around the boy's feet.
Then—
A voice cut through the mist, cocky and sharp as a harpoon:
"For the love of my eyes, cover yourself, oh mighty Dark Lord."
The Jolly Roger emerged from the fog, black sails slicing the night sky.
At the helm, grinning like sin, stood the one name the sea feared to whisper—
Captain Hook.