Peter's lips pulled apart when he heard this, and the euphoria he had thought lost filled him. He had already experienced the most incredible adventures!

"Nothing I can't do!" he trumpeted confidently, drawing his dagger from the sheath on his belt. The blade with the gold-copper edge seemed to shine in the light of the countless fairies, who listened eagerly. Hah, he was Peter Pan! When cutting a star from the sky and then catching it, who better than HE?! "I'll steal a star, and everything will be like before!"

"Your dagger will be of no use to you, mortal," sighed the queen, pointing at the toy in his hands, "No weapon from this world, however noble the metal, can cut things far from reality. Only an endless blade can cut the timeless webs. A fairy blade, and a fairy blade alone, will cut the cords behind the dream."

Tink whirled around him, her soft ringing in his ears as she settled on his shoulder. He barely felt her weight, enough to make one of the leaves rustle.

"Only this blade will be able to help you make your wish come true. But such a blade comes at a price."

"A fairy blade ..." muttered Peter. He would catch a star, undo everything, and then he could tell his Lost Boys about it all. He could be the hero of Neverland again! A sparkle came into his eyes, and his lips twisted into a wide grin that planted little dimples in his cheeks. "What must I do for that?"

"The weapon of a dead man must be sharpened with the sands of time and bathed in the dust of a fairy," hummed the queen's voice. "But the time must be given freely." 

Then Titania floated closer, and Peter felt the weight of a meaningful moment. He knew this feeling very well. When the air became electrically charged, his fine neck hairs stood up, and his fingertips tingled. It invited him to reach for it ... a new adventure that tickled the tip of his nose.

"Ten years of your life, Peter Pan. That's the prize," Titania announced. The hall was now completely silent. No jingling, ringing, murmuring, or whispering, and even the music had fallen silent.

Peter's eyebrows flicked higher toward the top of his head. Making a deal with the Fae was often more challenging than it seemed. But he was Peter Pan!Years of life? Hrmpf, he could give away as many of those as the fae wanted. Neverland was timeless; he lived so many hundreds of years - what did he care about ten more?

'Oh, the cleverness of me!'  thought Peter, putting his hands on his hips.

"Agreed," Peter said, grinning confidently. He felt the tug of Tink on a strand of his hair. Her delicate voice, woven of glass and sunlight, almost rolled over in the ringing. But Peter raised his hand and pushed the little glowing fairy away from his face.

The queen of the fairies raised her hand, and Peter did the same. It was no more than a finger that he could reach out to her. 

"One last piece of advice Pan: be careful what you wish for."

As soon as the delicate fingers of the summer mistress touched the top of his head, he was swept off his feet. He lost his grip, his body became heavy as lead all at once, and the world spun around him. Peter gasped, it seemed to squeeze the air out of his lungs, and he fell forward onto the smooth floor of the hall. Groaning, he landed on his stomach and squeezed his eyes shut. His whole body burned like liquid fire. All sounds faded, became dull, and a roar, louder than the thunder of the Neverfalls, rumbled in his ears. As an endless blackness enveloped him, Peter felt as if he had been robbed of something more precious than his life ... even though he could not yet explain the emptiness.

☆

He didn't know how long he lay unconscious before the buzzing of wings and the ringing of Tink finally penetrated through the veil of his senses again. Peter's breath bumped against the earth and a colorful leaf on the forest floor. He was no longer in the tree. Instead, he was lying in a clearing surrounded by wildflowers and chirping crickets. 

Peter groaned as he blinked against the blurred vision, and the flash of a blade slowly revealed itself in his field of vision. A saber lay before his nose among the leaves and grass. Polished steel glinted in the light of countless fairies. A golden glow clung like honey to the blade with its two hollows and fine sweep. The steel had a twisted basket with golden appliqués and a skull holding a blood-red ruby between its teeth.

Peter's eyes widened at sight. He knew this weapon, and he had fought many battles against its owner, and that very edge was responsible for the pain on his hip ... the damned injury that had not yet healed.

"Hook's saber ..." croaked Peter, blind anger welling inside him.
'A dead man's blade,'  Titania's words echoed in his head. What a mockery it was to put the blade of his greatest enemy into his hands! Peter clenched his teeth. He could have guessed that she was playing a trick on him... But when he stretched out his hands, his blood froze in his veins. His fingers were long and strong and ... big. 

"What ..." Peter groaned, not recognizing his voice. It was low, and it had lost its boyish sound, and startled, Peter, flinched and pulled it back from the saber as if it were his fault. With wide eyes, he stared at his hands, and he turned them as if he might be dreaming. "No..." he pressed out, reaching for Hook's pirate saber anew. Moonlight climbed over the blade, but then ... Peter stared at his reflection.

In the dim light, he stared at the reflection staring back at him. His childlike, boyish cheeks now possessed an angular grind that merged into a rakish jawline. Peter's fingers trembled as he lifted them because he couldn't believe what he saw. A shadow of beard lay across his cheeks ... but only adults had beards. His nose had grown more prominent and straight and sat between the only thing he recognized about himself: his golden-green eyes. Trembling, his hands slid over his chin, groping for his lips, which stood open in bewilderment. Everything about him was... adult!

"NO!"

Peter's scream caused a few birds to flutter up in fright from the treetops as he dropped the saber and staggered back from it as if it had attacked him with sharp fangs. He landed on his butt and saw only more that sent sheer horror through his veins. His legs were long, his feet ... Everything about him was bigger. Peter felt nauseous.

His heartbeat rolled over, and he wanted to escape, to run away ... but where to?
"NO! THAT WASN'T THE DEAL!" he roared, entirely beside himself. The lad had become a man, tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, and a stranger to himself. What he saw, what he was now, was the epitome of the greatest terror the boy had always evaded. Ten years of eternity was a small price, but Peter had paid ten years that changed everything—the most precious thing he possessed and what had made him - Peter Pan.

Peter received no answer from the shadows. No ringing or voice answered his roar as he raged, cursed, and raged. The overflowing helplessness of a new despair. He was now the epitome of what he hated and loathed. He was the manifestation of his nightmares and fears. And even Peter Pan could not escape the new fact.

Suddenly everything felt different. His clothes were too tight, stretched, and torn in many places. His body was not the one he knew, and suddenly, all his thoughts differed. Strange and unwelcome ... for he felt worried, guilty, and regretful. Feelings were crashing down on him, drowning him in unfamiliar waters. He pounded the earth with his fists, gripped the damn saber tightly, and punched at grass and in the air to give them an outlet. Peter roared until his damn grown-up voice was hoarse and completely exhausted.

Tinkerbell traced her luminous aisles around the hero Neverlands. But her ringing sounded much duller and distant in his ears: the clear words, a washed-out whisper.

Peter Pan sank to his knees. Panting heavily, he realized he had overestimated himself by believing he could outwit the Fairy Queen. And now she had robbed him of the most precious thing he possessed.

The boy who never wanted to grow up no longer existed.

Peter Pan was now a man.

Wordcount: 1.441 Words