Laughter echoed in his ears, then screams. Inside him, memories and thoughts fell wildly into place. Peter tried to clear his head. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tried to get a grip on his feelings and thoughts. But there was so much guilt and so much pain that it took his breath away.

His heart pounded violently against his ribcage, drumming in... Panic. Yes, he - THE Peter Pan - felt the frosty grip of cold claws closing tighter and tighter around him. Never before had he fallen uncontrollably. The heights he loved were transforming into his enemy.

His breathing was heavy, panicky, and rapid. The wind rushed so wildly in his ears that he could hardly hear his own thoughts.

There was only the sight below him that he had always loved so much. The island, the water, the sky above him, and the twinkling stars. He kept falling, faster and faster, further and further towards the water. His limbs felt numb and heavy. So incredibly heavy. Peter bit his lips together so hard he tasted blood.

Blood.

The dark planks of the Jolly Roger appeared before his eyes, stained with all the ruby-red witnesses of death and ruin. He saw the dead bodies... heard the laughter, and then Hook's sinister laugh echoed in his ears...

'You are too late, Pan! You have lost!'

Peter's chest filled with dark vengefulness.

No. He had not failed. 

He was Peter Pan. 

Peter Pan ALWAYS won!

At that moment, Peter let out a long, drawn-out, booming scream that got louder and louder. The sound seemed to have several highs and lows at the same time, sounded far from human articulation, but could not be clearly attributed to an animal either. An alienated wolf howl, a vibrating bass, coupled with almost metallic sounding tenor and sonorous baritone, as if several throats were singing at once. He drew out the sound until the last breath left his chest.

Then he sucked the air sharply into his lungs and stared breathlessly down into the darkness below. Rustling wind roared in his ears, as if the wind itself wanted to scream angrily because he had dared to even attempt this sacrilege. Peter already feared he had failed...

But then a new sound rose in the melody of the night.

The wild beating of countless wings rose as, at first, only blotchy, shadowy dots rose from the treetops of Neverland. They soared into the air, a vast cloud of countless birds of different sizes and colours. Their colourful plumage reflected in the light of the moon. As if in answer to Peter's call, countless bird calls rang out from ripped beaks, a melodic screech and trill accompanied by the rustle of beating wings.

Peter's lips finally parted. So he had not lost his abilities. HE could still change everything, make up for everything!

'There is only one way... but it comes at a high price Peter',  Titania's voice murmured in his mind, 'You must be sure. You must not doubt.'

Searchingly, his sixth sense awoke within him. Like a writhing lizard it slithered down through him to the bare soles of his feet, groping its way into every lace of his limbs, then rushing back as if charged. Simultaneously, Peter's neck hairs stood up almost imperceptibly and he felt the air around him begin to crackle. It took only a few moments for him to notice the familiar warmth. The glow was back!

The swarm was now close enough for the screeching friends to embrace him in their mess of chaos. As the glow around his fingers and body increased again, he finally managed to turn. Then he braced one foot on the back of the first, large bird and pushed off. A short screech of protest sounded as it pushed the smaller body lower, but quickly the trundling Neverbird regained its stability. Then the next bird came towards him and Peter repeated it, again and again. The birds carried him higher, prevented his fall, pulled his thoughts out of the black depths again and planted hope in his mind. Peter felt it carrying him higher again.

Yes. YES!

Peter felt the warm tingling on his skin that reached into his heart and soothed invisible wounds. He climbed higher again, pushing aside the clammy feeling of the fall as quickly as a careful mother combs knots out of her child's hair.

Now the wind kissed his cheeks again in a more caring way and Peter felt the lightness that pulled him upwards. The birds accompanied him up to the clouds drifting across the night sky, but then the singing gradually died and the fluttering companions dropped down again. Disappointment spread through Peter as the last ones turned away or stayed behind. He was used to the huge swarm flying with him as long as he wanted.

His jaw tightened, drawing his features unusually hard and cold. The higher he flew, the harder it became. But this time he bit down on the thoughts, did not allow them to slip away from him again. The sky lay there like an endless river, just waiting for him to dive in.

The stars shimmered up there, thousands of beautiful lights. Some bigger, others smaller and younger. Shortly ago, he had whispered to them while they gazed down at him, blinking. The little stars shone especially brightly when he told them stories. This time, however, he did not come for that reason. He felt bad about it, but he did not allow dark thoughts to thwart his plan again! Peter climbed higher, flew on relentlessly. Gritting his teeth, he wore an expression of pure, unyielding stubbornness on his features.

His gaze was fixed on the dark blue silk ribbon of the night sky. He came closer and closer... and at last he saw it: the rainbow-colored glow of infinite lights. The weave of the sky in all its glory. The swirling, shimmering fragments and myriads of colours of purple and blue, green and white...

His destination... lay right there. 

Peter reached the veil that separated dream from reality. This was the place where reality merged with all the possibilities of the unthinkable. His heart beat so violently as if it wanted to explode. Full of expectation, full of hope, full of pain... while his fingers slid to his hip.

Cold metal nestled against his fingers in the shape of the handle. He felt the basket enclosing the back of his hand as if another hand were laying over it. But it was not a comforting touch... It was numb and empty and frostier than snow-covered stone. A whirring sound accompanied the movement as he freed the sabre and the light climbed over the blade.

A glimmer lay on the polished metal, as golden as the first sunbeam of the first morning and the first laugh itself. Peter Pan did not slow down, he plunged into the wild storm of lights and blackness... until he saw them: the delicate threads linked to the firmament.

In that second, time stood still.

Images flashed before his inner eye...

Wendy, Michael and John, eyes widened in sheer terror.

He felt the stab in his chest that took his breath away.

Nibs, Slightly, Curly, all the others...

Pale and blue and... so dead.

All that blood...

He would undo it all!

ALL!

Peter Pan took a swing.

It seemed as if the wind, the sky and every star in the sky held its breath.

Then the blade whirred through the air and the fabric of Neverland trembled as the blade penetrated the weave of the firmament.

'Be careful what you wish for.'

Word Count: 1.269 Words