Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
HOOK
Alice is walking behind me, lifting the damn map again and again.
I have to keep myself together, keep my hands by my sides, so I don’t march over there and take it from her.
Of course, when she looks through it, she’s seeing Wonderland’s so-called glory—its magic, its decay, the whole show.
But I also know that when she looks at me, she’s seeing something else entirely.
And I can’t explain it.
I know what it’s like to look at someone through that map, to have that magic strip away all the masks and shields.
When I looked through it, I saw her—Alice.
I saw her power, her vulnerability, her magic.
It doesn’t even make sense. You can’t see those things.
They’re not real, not tangible. But I saw them.
I saw her.
It wasn’t just the fire that burns inside her or the way she fights back.
It was the cracks she hides from everyone, the broken parts she refuses to acknowledge, the pieces she’s lost. And her heart—damn it.
Her heart beats in a way that makes mine stutter.
It’s raw and untamed, just like her, and it pulls at something in me I’d buried a long time ago. Something I’d silenced.
I press my lips together and keep walking. I have no business thinking like this.
I glance back at her, just for a second. Her focus is on the map, her expression calm, but when she looks at me, when our eyes meet... there’s something there. I have to look away because if I saw all that in her, what does she see in me?
Part of me wants to ask her. Part of me wants to know. But the rest of me—the part that knows better—keeps walking.
Then I stop.
She stops too, and I clench my fists at my sides. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Maybe I should let her go, let her do her own thing. The mirror’s words chime in my head, telling me she’s the key, but I’m Captain Hook. I do things alone. I don’t need anyone. I don’t need her.
Alice lowers the map and tilts her head. “What are you doing? You look constipated.”
“I’m fine,” I snap, stepping back, but she doesn’t notice. She’s already looking at the map again.
“I’m not sure what’s real on this thing and what isn’t,” she murmurs, her eyes scanning the parchment.
“Is this what Wonderland really looks like, or is the map just showing me some illusion?” She presses it to her face again, turning slowly, taking in the woods around us.
“Everything is beautiful and rotting at the same time.” She lowers the map.
“You saw it, didn’t you? The way it looks? ”
I nod. “You see it for what it really is.”
She holds the map out in front of her, turning it over as if the answers might be scrawled on the back. “Even the map changes,” she says, running her hand over the parchment. “It’s like a sat nav, only slower. Every time we get somewhere new, it updates. What was at the bottom disappears.”
I frown at her. “What the hell is a sat nav?” I do my best to repeat the words exactly as she said them, but they sound absurd coming out of my mouth.
Her brows pinch together, and she looks at me, half amused, half disbelieving. “Satellite navigation,” she says, in that condescending tone people use when explaining things to small children.
I stare at her blankly. That tone doesn’t get used on me. But I also have no idea what the hell she’s talking about. “You mean like a compass?”
“No,” she says, dragging the word out like I’m an idiot. “I mean like a...” She pauses, her lips twitching. “Oh.”
“What?”
Her eyes light up, and there’s a twitch at the corners of her mouth that makes my chest tighten. “You don’t know what a sat nav is,” she says, her voice full of laughter.
I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest, but that’s not enough. I snatch the map from her hands before she can dissolve into a full-blown fit of giggles. “Give me that. It’s clearly making you even more impossible.”
She gasps, grabbing at empty air as I step back. “I was using that,” she protests.
“And now I’m using it,” I say, folding it neatly and shoving it into my pocket. “You’ve had your fun. Now, maybe we can walk and get my amulet?”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times, no doubt preparing some biting remark, but she stops, shaking her head. Narrowing her eyes, she plants her hands on her hips, glaring at me like she could set me on fire.
“Do you always have to be such a—”
“Lovable and charming rogue?” I cut her off with a smirk.
“Yes, love. That’s part of the job description.
” I turn away and start down the path, the way I know we need to go.
When I looked through the map, the path lit up—not with arrows or bright lights, but as if the place itself breathed, and this was where it got the most air.
Alice stays where I left her, and it takes everything in me not to look back, not to tell her to keep up. I know she’ll follow. She always does.
And there it is.
I allow myself one glance over my shoulder, enough to catch her eyes before she moves.
It doesn’t take her long to catch up, but we don’t speak. We just walk. One foot in front of the other. It’s all we seem to do in this place.
Maybe that’s Wonderland’s big trick—make everyone walk until they’re entirely sick of it, until they lose their minds and get lost.
The forest hums around us, alive with a strange, pulsing magic that vibrates at the edges of my senses. I focus on that, on saving Neverland, on not paying attention to the way Alice walks beside me. On not paying attention to the way it feels to have her there.
I take a deep breath and shove the thought away. Focus, Hook. You’ve got a job to do.
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent too long in Neverland’s decaying magic that Alice’s magic feels so... alive. It’s vibrant, raw, pulling at something deep inside me—a part of me that’s gone dark. Or maybe it’s Wonderland itself.
Even as it wilts under the Queen’s greedy hands, there’s still magic here. Faint, clinging to the world like it’s fighting to survive. But magic always wants something, doesn’t it? And this magic, with all its fragile beauty, feels like it’s holding on to us.
The road shifts as we walk, like it can’t decide what it wants to be. First, it’s mud, beaten down and ridged from the boots of the guards. Then, without warning, it shifts to stone—reds and blues at first, eventually fading to a dull yellow.
The yellow bricks beneath my boots are cracked and worn, and the sight of them stirs something in me.
Alice must feel it too because she slows. “Are we still in Wonderland, or did we somehow step into Oz?” she says. “All we need now is a tin man and a lion with no courage.”
“It’s a story, then?” I say, but my mind is elsewhere.
There’s a flicker of memory in the back of my head, something shouting at me to remember.
The story—the yellow road, the witch, and the wizard behind the curtain.
I remember watching it, or reading it, with my mother before everything went to hell. Before Neverland.
The witch had scared the living daylights out of me—not because of her magic, but because of her laugh. That sharp, shrieking cackle haunted me for days, echoing every time I closed my eyes.
Alice arches a brow at me. “What? No clever remark? Not even a ‘don’t be so ridiculous, love’?” She pitches her voice in an exaggerated version of mine.
I smirk. “I thought I’d enjoy a bit of quiet while we walked. Seems you talk enough for both of us.”
Her jaw drops, her mouth falling open as she blinks at me in mock outrage.
“You have something you want to say?” There’s a pause, a silent exchange between us before she speaks again.
“I’m being punished for something, aren’t I?
” she says. “That’s what this is. I’m being punished for some past-life sin I don’t even know about. ”
I spread my arms wide. “No, love. Spending time with me, you’re being rewarded.”
I spin on my heel and keep walking, and behind me, I hear her mutter, “I hate him.”
It makes me smile.
But the air begins to change. It’s heavier now, and with it comes a scent that sets my nerves on edge. Flowers—cloying and sweet—mixed with something metallic. It clings to the back of my throat with every breath. Sharp and wrong, like blood left too long in the sun.
“What now?” Alice asks, and we both slow to a near stop.
“I haven’t got a damn clue,” I say, my voice low.
“There.” She points ahead. “What is that?”
A mist rises like a wall before us, shimmering faintly in the fading light. It rolls lazily across the field, tendrils curling and twisting as if it’s alive. The air shifts again, colder now, sharper, and my gut tightens. Every instinct in me screams to turn back.
Alice steps forward, but I grab her arm, pulling her back. “Wait.”
She looks at me, brow furrowed. “What is it?”
“I don’t know, but...” My eyes are locked on the mist, watching the way it swirls, almost playfully. But I’m sure there’s nothing playful about it.
It’s not just the fog. At the end of the path stands a black iron fence, thick and imposing, surrounding the field. And the field itself... It’s filled with deep red flowers, their bright, velvety petals swaying gently as if in some unseen breeze.
I step forward, leaving Alice on the path, and move to the turnstile at a break in the fence. The scent grows thicker, sharper, clawing at my senses. It coils in my veins like poison, dulling my mind, making my head swim.
For a moment, the world tilts, and I grip the metal frame to steady myself. “Not this way,” I say, my voice rough. “We can’t go this way.”
The yellow path snakes between the flowers, the fading bricks just visible between the stems. The field is vast, sprawling far into the mist.
Alice’s footsteps crunch beside me, and I feel her presence before I see her. “We have to go that way. It’s the only path there is. The other option is to go back. What does the map say?”