Chapter 31 Mend the Void #2
“You were always the wildest part of Peter Pan,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “You wanted to run free. To never be caged.” I swallow. “But as he grew older… your hunger changed.”
The shadow shudders. Its runes flare blood-red, seething. It snarls at me, red vapor writhing around its jaws. It steps closer, claws gouging deep into the earth, and for a heartbeat, I can’t tell if it’s about to tear me apart or finally listen.
We stop before it, close enough that I could reach out and touch its face.
I tighten my grip on Peter’s hand until my knuckles ache, anchoring him to me even as I steady myself against him.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I say—and the truth of it steadies me. “You want to possess me?” My lips curve faintly. “I already belong to you. You want my tears? My pain?” I meet its burning gaze. “They’ve always been yours.”
The beast releases a sound I’ve never heard before, not a growl or a howl, but wounded. A low, broken whine. Its massive form trembles, flickering, struggling to hold itself together—smoke and anguish barely contained.
Slowly, I reach for it. My hand hovers inches from its muzzle, my palm steady despite the heat radiating off it. “You already have my love,” I whisper. “Even the monstrous parts of you. So stop fighting yourself.”
I inhale.
“And devour me.”
The beast closes the distance, pressing its massive, smoky nose into my hand.
Its fur is soft and half-there, strands of shadow and vapor that blur at the edges, as though it might dissolve if I press too hard.
Red mist curls around my fingers, hot but not burning.
Familiar almost. He is known to me in the same way Peter is, as if I have always recognized this touch.
I glance at Peter. He’s staring at my hand against the beast’s snout, eyes wide, breath shallow, as though witnessing something impossible.
I tilt my face toward the sky, searching for the brightest star—then let my gaze drift to the second star to the right. I close my eyes and clutch Peter’s hand tighter, the shadow still pressed to my palm, and I make my wish.
I don’t wish to escape Neverland.
I don’t wish to escape Peter.
I wish to belong.
“Let me be the thread that holds him together,” I murmur into the night. “Let me carry his memories. His rage. His sorrow. I love all of Peter Pan—man and shadow alike.” My voice doesn’t break. “I offer my soul to Neverland. To the boy who dreamed it into being… and to the man who rules it now.”
If this fails, I will lose him. And myself with him.
A violent jolt tears through my hands, like lightning. Peter gasps beside me. The shadow unleashes an ear-splitting howl that shatters the night, and the force rips both of them from my grasp as they collapse to the ground.
I stagger back, heart pounding, as the beast convulses. Its massive form folds inward—writhing, warping—collapsing into the silhouette of a man. Runes flash blood-red, then molten orange, before softening into gold. They flicker like stars in the sky, before fading away.
Beside his shadow, Peter thrashes, runes blazing across his skin. His eyes are clenched shut, breath ragged, as though his body is being torn apart and reforged at once.
His shadow rises again, only half-formed now, edges soft and hazy.
It reaches for me. Cold fingers graze my jaw in a fleeting, soft caress.
Then it turns and sinks into Peter’s body.
His thrashing slows. His chest heaves once…
twice… then settles. The runes soften to a faint glow.
Peace finally claims his face, and he exhales a long, trembling breath.
The forest answers with him. Grass sways as if exhaling.
Wind sings through the leaves. I feel Neverland’s steady heartbeat beneath my skin.
The star accepted my offering—accepted me.
For a moment, we simply stare at each other. No shadows. No rage. No blood between us. Only the wild, impossible fact that we are still standing here together. I blink rapidly, wiping at the sudden sting in my eyes. A laugh bubbles up from deep inside me, bright and full of joy.
“Wendy,” he says. “You’re… glowing.”
I look down. Golden runes swirl across my skin, blooming in radiant, intricate patterns. The last fragile thread tying me to the girl I once was snaps without sound. I innately understand them now. The magic doesn’t feel foreign anymore. It hums beneath my fingertips, waiting.
I will never belong to the mortal world again. I have tasted a future I cannot untaste. I reach inward and feel the tether between our souls, no longer fragile, but firm. I tug on it.
Peter gasps, a hand flying to his chest. “I feel you,” he says hoarsely. “Everywhere.”
My smile stretches wide, almost giddy in my excitement. “I am everywhere, Peter.” I dip into a playful curtsey. “Neverland has welcomed its queen.”
The power does not sit lightly on me. It settles into my soul like it has been waiting for me all along. And in that moment, I know I can fly.
I meet his gaze and see it there—his claim, and the devotion that burns just as fiercely.
“Peter,” I say, stepping back, flinging my arms wide, “do you think you can catch me?”
He blinks, confusion flickering, until understanding dawns. In an instant, his expression changes, eyes narrowing, dark and wild with hunger, exactly as I want him. That familiar, dangerous grin spreads across his face.
“I’ll always catch you, my darling. That’s a promise.”
I laugh, the sound bright, even to my own ears. I rise into the air, the wind carrying me with ease.
“I’ll give you a head start, sweetheart,” his voice follows, deliciously rough, “because when I catch you…”
I glance down, shivering at the promise in his eyes.
“I’m going to devour you whole.”
Anticipation blooms hot and heady. I smile sweetly at him one last time—and shoot into the sky.