Peter's fingers encircled the star, and the white light drifted between them to the cave's walls. A play of light and shadow that mirrored the turmoil inside of her.

"When I'm back in the sky ... I'll fix everything," she whispered, closing her mouth so as not to sully that momentous silence with more words.

Peter felt the tingling warmth flowing from the star into his fingertips. Pure magic that stroked his skin with formless little sparks and whispered to him. But already, his thoughts kept fraying, slipping away, and Peter remembered the last time he had been so severely wounded. Hook had injured him badly that time, and he was left alone on Marooners Rock. The water was rising, the wound would not stop bleeding, and he knew: this could be his end. The chilly breath of death brushed the back of his neck.

'To die would be an awfully big adventure,'  he had always said.

But where he usually balanced on his companion's transmission and danced on the edge of that precipice with every adventure, today was a day ... when he didn't want to die.

Peter felt the star in his hands, and oh ... there were dozens of wishes in his heart.

He wished to see the Darling children again and make sure they were safe and sound back in London.

He wished his Lost Boys were back so he could look into the stupidly grinning faces of Curly, Slightly, the twins, and the others.

He wished to defeat Hook again and rid Neverland of that damned stockfish for good.

He wished to look at the starry sky, fly, and crow again.

He wished to be young again.

He wished to see his Second Star from the Right in the sky again.

He wished to see Neverland as before ... and to whisper his adventures to his star.

He had so many wishes. One of them ... however, only his star could fulfill.

"Star ..." Peter whispered and blinked several times because his vision was already blurring. His hands felt heavy and cold.

"I'm here," it murmured next to him, and Peter gathered his strength into a wry smile that could have fooled no one.

His wish ... the greatest of all. She had to grant it, or he couldn't wish her back. Not with all his heart. There was something he HAD to know.

"Name ..."

The star blinked. She didn't understand, and Peter would have laughed if he had the strength.

"Your name ... what is your name?"

The star looked at him as if he had asked an incredible question. Blue waves flowed over her shoulders, and Peter sighed as her fingers brushed a sweaty strand from his forehead. She leaned closer to him as if whispering the greatest secret of this and all other worlds. And Peter knew that secretly it was too. Tink had told him long ago: Fairies' names were powerful and gave power over them. He wouldn't have wondered if she hadn't answered or given a false name. It would have been enough for him...

Like a veil, her hair fell around her features, shielding the other star's light from his eyes. He only had eyes for her anyway. The Second Star. His very own star. Peter lifted his other hand and ran it through the blue strands with the fascination of a child. Her hair reminded him of the cascades of Neverland Falls, high in the Never Mountains. When it was night, it reflected the lights of the stars. 'So very beautiful,' he had always thought, reaching out in flight to touch the surface and reach for the lights in the water. But they escaped his grasp. So close and, at the same time, infinitely distant.

"Sitara," her voice murmured like a singing crystal in his ear. "Sitara ... the morning star."

"Sitara," he repeated, tasting the sound like sweet honey on his tongue. "My morning star ..." murmured Peter, unable to help but smile. For the first time in a long time, he felt the warmth of a beautiful thought. And it was this that accompanied him fading as darkness enveloped him.No more breaths lifted and lowered his chest, and the sound of gasping breaths died away as Pan closed his eyes. The star fell from his slackening hands and dropped into the leaves and earth beside Peter's leg.

"Pan?" the star's voice broke as she reached for Peter. Hesitantly at first, then increasingly panicked. "Stop it! This is no time for your stupid pranks!" The young man's head was tilted forward, and his lips were slightly parted and red from the blood he had choked out."No..." Desperation overtook the morning star so unexpectedly that her body trembled under its force of emotion.

She was the one and only Morning Star. She had lived many years and had seen many living beings and people die. But as a being far removed from worldly events, she had rarely cared. Sometimes she felt something like regret when a particularly interesting life ended. But lives came and passed away. Especially the lights of people went out so fast that against the existence of a star and the endless eternity, it was no more than a short flicker in the flow of time. 

That's why they had once created Neverland. A place full of wonders and dreams, where time followed other laws. There, day and night were as long as they wanted. When they felt like it, the land wrapped itself in ice and snow or colorful robes from red to blue and purple.

Neverland and its souls on it were special. Everything that lived on the island and in the waters was the work of the stars and their magic. The magic of wishes and desires that they sometimes plucked from people's dream webs and decorated their world with. Peter Pan had been a part of Neverland for so many years that it was impossible to imagine it without him by now. For as long as she could remember, his crowing echoed across the valley just as his shadow drew on the clouds. Even though he had now dangerously upset the balance with one of his countless adventures, she could not hate him for it ... and certainly did not want to see him die.

Who would fly up to them and fill their agonizing eternity with tales of adventure?

What would Neverland be without Peter Pan?

Such pain of loss had become foreign to the morning star all these years. Now, however, the blade stabbed into her chest, cutting off her air. Trembling fingers groped for the grimy cheeks of the boy she had watched for many decades. A cheeky boy who had only fun in mind. Who, however, had understood the spirit of this island like no other:

 'In Neverland, ANYTHING is possible - to fill every day with new adventures!'

A sob broke from her throat, filling the interior of the small cave with the sounds of a breaking heart. Long lashes blinked as hot tears welled in her eyes ... and the star disengaged her fingers from Pan to stroke her cheek in bewilderment. For millennia, she had not cried. Not felt or grieved.

The little star's light shone a little brighter as if it wanted to reach her in a comforting touch. Soft whispers that only she could hear because it was an ancient and long-forgotten language drew her gaze to the glimmer of hope.

"Forgive me..." she murmured softly, not knowing if it would work. Her hands clasped the precious witness of numerous decades. "Please, please hear my plea," the soft voice breathed into the darkness, "I wish from the bottom of my heart ... that Peter Pan would not die ... Please ... give him back to me."

The little star's light flickered as if it blinked. Warmth seeped into her fingers, and the morning star closed her eyes.

Stars did not wish.

They granted the wishes of others.

But this was Neverland. 

The essence of magic, dreams, and wishes. 

Here was a law that rose above all else: 

In Neverland, NOTHING is impossible.

Wordcount: 1.315 Words