Sitara stretched her arm and pointed to something above them on the cave ceiling. Where the waterfall plunged through the opening into the interior and looked like liquid moonlight was pouring into the tomb's interior, something flashed behind the plunging water masses.

Peter squinted his eyes as if that might help him to see better. Among the lianas and roots that grew down, there were also the crystals here and there, but also a few empty hollows.

"I think they put the stars in the ceiling to make it look like a sky," Peter murmured, looking more closely at the tumbling case. Sure enough, something was shimmering there, and this inconspicuous glow was lost between the many reflections of the crystals and the moonlight in the water.

"They stole the others over time because they were too easy to spot or easier to reach ... but that one there," Sitara pointed again, this time more specifically at the glow, "... was overlooked."

"That doesn't make it any easier for us to get to him," Peter noted, running his fingers through his blond hair.

"Can you fly up there?"

Peter tilted his head thoughtfully from right to left.
"I can try. But it's quite a stretch," Peter grumbled. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his forehead. But then he snapped and was already grinning again, the fire of the following idea in his eyes. He wouldn't be the king of adventures if he didn't have a solution ready!

"I'll climb up the vines. It's not that far from there," pointing to one of the exceptionally long growths that had gained entrance inside. "If I get close to it, I can make it that little bit."

The star was uncomfortable with the thought but could think of no other solution.
"Please take care of yourself, Peter," she pleaded, and Peter grinned broadly.


"Are you worried, my little starlet?" he playfully teased the star and took a few steps back on the platform to take a running start.

Stones trickled into the depths as Peter leaped off the edge. His heart somersaulted in his chest, and Sitara held her breath as the lost man's body jerked into the depths. The long root groaned under the sudden weight and swayed dangerously. Peter slid down the root, his palms burning like fire, and he had to grit his teeth not to let go out of reflex. The blood from his torn palms smeared the wood of the root as he groaned and pulled himself upwards on it, and soon his arms were shaking from the effort.

Damn it all, he longed for the ease of flying again! But Peter knew the most incredible adventures were worth all the effort, and all the trouble would be quickly forgotten afterward. A muscle twitched at his jaw as Peter gritted his teeth and climbed higher. The further up he got, the more difficult it became.

"I'll have him in a minute!" he shouted, fixing his eyes on the glow behind the veil of falling water.

As he pulled himself higher, however, he lost his footing and slid down a new bit, his heart dropping to his toes as he did so - even though he would never have admitted it, and shortly afterward called himself an idiot for doing so. A curse escaped him briefly, but then pride and adventurousness flared up in him all the more. When Peter finally reached the top of the root, he was already drenched in water mist. But the slight glow behind it was not far away!

"Just a little bit more ..." Peter murmured. 'Then I can make up for everything. Sitara can return to her sky, and Neverland will be healed again!'

With that thought, he jumped. Cold water poured over his head, wanting to pull him down, but Peter would not be distracted. Like an arrow, he shot through the water, caught himself on the cave wall, and enclosed the shining star in the rock face with both hands. To prevent the water from pulling him into the depths, he pushed himself backward again only a breath later and tumbled through the air a little. Fortunately, he quickly reached the root again and jammed his foot into a gap between the weave to regain his footing.

Euphoria flooded him as he looked down at the glow in his hands. The star still pulsed with magic. Its light seemed to blink tiredly and sluggishly as if it had just woken from a very long sleep. They had done it! A wide grin settled on his lips and dug little dimples into his cheeks.

"I've got it!" exclaimed Pan loudly, feeling so light that he wanted to do somersaults in the air! His fingers clasped the star tightly and securely. "It's like you were just waiting for us. You're going to save all of Neverland!"

"I don't think so," a well-known and sinister voice cut through the victory assurance in Peter's chest.

Peter's gaze dropped down to the stone platform. If he hadn't been hanging from the vine, Peter would no doubt have plummeted like a stone. Every thought suspended, his heart for it beat out in panic.

On the platform stood the creatures that had risen from the sea. The corrupted light pulsed in the undead bodies, casting ghostly shadows on Hook, Smee, and Mullins. The hulking Mullins pressed his disgusting paw over Sitara's mouth and held her captive in his iron grip. Hook, on the other hand, stood there below, chin tucked and a malicious smile on his devilish features.
"Hook!" hissed Peter like a cat stepped on in the tail.

The pirates appeared here precisely like they were: unwelcome nightmares that polluted this place with their presence and brought nothing but violence and death here. The mere sight of Hook sickened Peter, turned his stomach, and froze his facial expressions to ice.

"Pan," the pirate captain returned dryly, tilting his head slightly. "I would say it would be a pleasure to see you again. But that would be a lie." The straggly black hair fell like oil over his shoulders and blood-red cloak. "Give me the star," he demanded, wasting no more time. "Or I will cut the heart out of your little lady friend here."

The fire of pure hatred blazed so brightly in Peter's eyes that any star, however fiery, would have paled beside it. His thoughts raced and rushed like a wild river. Catching a reasonable solution was as tricky as grabbing a slippery fish with his bare hands!
"What's to stop me from just wishing you and your mackerel back to hell with this very star, you rotten stockfish?!" he shouted at Hook, twirling the star in his hand as if he were already trying to think of the wording of his wish.

But Hook seemed less impressed by the threat than he had hoped. Instead of recoiling fearfully or even considering it, the stockfish laughed mockingly.
"Because you won't," Hook replied, turning. Roughly, the grey fingers with black fingertips gripped Sitara's face and regarded it with a rapture that carried only horror at its core.
"YOU, after all, certainly don't want anything to happen to this pretty little star, do you?" the pirate warbled, raising the hook to press it against the star's cheekbones.

The star began to struggle, golden fire glowing in her eyes - but she stood no chance against Mullins.

The sharp point slid across the skin and slowly pressed deeper, causing a red droplet to release from it and flow down her cheek like a tear. "Come down, or I'll peel some flesh off your little treasure's bones ..."

Peter squeezed the star in his hand so tightly now that his fingers ached. If he came down now ... he was at a disadvantage, and Sitara and the star might be lost. But these were only three of Hook's men, and the whole thing positively reeked of a trap.
"You think I'm going to fall into your trap again so easily, Hook?" rumbled Peter to draw Hook out. He would have clenched his fist at the sight of Sitara's blood had he not been holding the little star ... so he vowed to make Hook pay a thousand times over for that one drop. Peter put the star in his pocket in a playful manner and leaned forward a little on the rope to see better. He playfully shielded his eyes as if to keep a lookout and let his gaze wander again.
"Where did you leave the rest of your chews? Or have the rattles already fallen apart?"

Hook was always irritated when treated disrespectfully-a yappy dog who snapped wildly and was easily outwitted.

"Apparently, you didn't listen to me properly just now..." the pirate purred threateningly, making even the loyal Smee beside him wince and wring his hands together nervously. "Haven't you forgotten something, Peter?" asked Hook, glowing eyes locked on his mortal enemy.

The back of Peter's neck prickled-a warning of something horrible and dangerous.
'Forgotten? What have you forgotten again?' the question echoed in Peter's mind, bumping from one wall to the other like a rubber ball, yet finding no answer. Straining, Peter frowned, but even though he didn't want to, he eventually bit at Hook's rotten bait.
"What should I have forgotten, stockfish?"

"You asked me where my men were. Aren't you wondering much more about how I found my way here?"

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