Peter saw the dark waves of the Neverseas and how the stars bored into their surface. They fell like luminous rain, but their glow tired as soon as they touched the bottom - whether sea or earth. The soft voices of the young, small stars died away; their whispers died. They dug craters in beaches and plains and pelted down on the mountains and the forests.

Peter, however, had his eyes on only one star. The twin star. His star.

Whenever he flew to London to fetch new boys, he whispered stories to them and told them about his adventures. And they listened, laughed, giggled, blinked, and lit up the darkness of the night. But none had ever shone as brightly as the twin stars. The second star from the right had always shown him the way and led him back home: to Neverland.

Was this the price of his selfishness? His revenge on Hook? For his victory? Was he now to lose everything? His Lost Boys, his youth, his star, AND Neverland?

This could not be allowed to happen. He could not let it happen! Peter gripped the small, whispering, and blinking celestial body in his hands tighter. He had to make up for all of this... he had to fix it!

"Please ... please grant my wish!" he pleaded with all his heart, squinting his eyes. The star in his hands shone brightly and then cooled between his fingers. No whispering or blinking, as all the little stars had done over the many years. Just silence and cold stone.

Though his eyes were closed, he saw the bright glow through the closed eyelids. A bright and clear light engulfed everything and everyone, and Peter had to pull his arms in front of his face. Had it worked?

No star or queen of the fairies whispered the answer to him. Blinking his eyes, Peter drew the air deep and hissed into his lungs just in time - then his body hit the surface of the Neverseas in free fall. Peter felt the impact, pain exploding through his body. Then the water's icy surface crashed over his head, engulfing him with thunderous waves.

☆

Glowing bright, the luminous tail stretched through the night sky, seeming to slice it apart and banish the darkness in falling power as a rock might push back a wave. Faster and faster, the pulsing light crashed, cutting a burning, violent swath through Never Jungle and, finally, the forest floor. The impact shook the earth, pushing and flinging trees aside as fire and light engulfed everything, leaving nothing but smoking wood and glowing rock behind.

It was easy to follow the star's trail. The trees bent aside had fallen, and the blackened patches glowed as Peter hurried past them. Peter trundled. The third time he had to land. Worry ... this feeling was new, and he loathed it! Before, he had never worried. Now he was plagued by ... heavy thoughts.

Reproaches, which his voice hissed at him inside, as it had only whispered of adventures before the deal with the damned fairy!

What had gone wrong? Had he hit it too hard? Because he didn't appreciate this damn body and its power? Why did everything suddenly go wrong? How was he supposed to get the other lost ones back now? What happened to Neverland, where one of the twin stars had fallen? Could he even leave Neverland now? Would he somehow regain his youth? Or did he have to ... stay in this damned, disgustingly adult body?!

All these questions put invisible stones in his soul. He barely made it over the treetops, though twice he almost crashed, and Tink was nowhere to be seen. Desperately, Peter clutched his wild blond curls and stared gloomily in the direction where the star had crashed. Could things get any worse?

Well, Neverland had not broken apart. But that could only partially reassure Peter. Above their heads, Neverland's sky revealed itself in an intimidating blackness. Barely any small stars blinked from above; all of Neverland seemed shrouded in shadow, and only the pale glow of the three moons, like crescents and one in waxing robe, still shone beside the one lone star in the sky that had lost its significant twin.

'I must find the star,' Peter thought, and though every fiber of his being resisted it, he hurried on foot across the forest floor, driven by this thought. He felt twigs tugging at his clothes, small sharp stones in the soles of his feet, and the heat stinging uncomfortably on his skin. The smell of ash and burnt wood burned his eyes and made him blink against smoke and fumes.

But finally, the towering crash site came into view. Peter struggled up the crumbly earth, slipping twice and completing several large giant where before he would have flown over it with ease. Then he finally reached the edge and stared down at the image that presented itself, and Peter's mouth dropped open as he stood there staring for a few seconds.

Amid the crater, between molten rock and blackened earth, the smoldering something stood out like the first spark in the black firmament of existence. Substance, not of this world and as shimmering as if made of liquid mercury, poured over the slender body of a delicate, humanoid figure. Dark blue hair, the color of the early night sky, falls like the evening veil over the day, triumphant in soft waves over her back. In the long strands, small, luminous sparks seemed to glimmer like tiny stars in the sky, clinging to them as if to preserve their life on the star.

"Peter Pan," his name rang from the star's lips as she turned to face him. The creature and its movements seemed as fragile and delicate as delicate glass.

Eyes of gold - as far too luminous to have belonged to those of man and far too deep to possess a soul only so young  - turned their attention from the gloomy night sky to the newcomer. Peter had seen Wendy, a pretty girl from London. Tigerlily in her wild beauty of nature. Tinkerbell or other fairy creatures stole the hearts of foolish grown men with a smile alone. And yet it was the first time in his comparatively long life that he could think of only one word to describe the creature: beautiful.

He looked at the fallen star with the fascination of an explorer, the heart of the adventurer that he was, like a bird exotic even for Neverland, with beautiful plumage. This was ... his star?

He could have been anything. Most of all, a lump of luminous rock. But ... it was a she—a girl. Peter's heart made a strange leap between stabbing pain and rapture. Peter liked girls. Peter was especially fascinated by the concentrated power a woman could unleash when she was really, really angry. Death and doom to anyone who dared to oppose a woman's blazing wrath.

Oh, one girl was worth at least twenty guys. There was only one gross problem with them - everyone liked them, so most boys wanted to win them over. And Peter didn't like it when something else got more attention than HE did. He didn't like to share. Even though he had always liked how girls only looked at HIM and wanted his attention for themselves. Girls brought trouble, and he had learned that lesson.

"Peter Pan," repeated the frail figure at the bottom of the crater, "come to me!"

Only now did Peter realize that her tone did not sound soft and gentle. It was not the giggly, whisper, murmur, or starry murmur that leaped from her lips to him, tempting him to tell her more stories.

Peter blinked, stepped forward, and slid into the hollow, half floating, half sliding. Here the ground was still warm under the bare soles of his feet as he ran toward the star. How wondrous ... How strange. Peter's heart did somersaults with joy that the star was all right.

But when he was close enough, he realized that her features had no... fascination. No warm look for him, no admiration visible under the golden eyes with tiny sparks, like bees buzzing around in a hive. Instead, there was something else in her gaze ... and Peter recognized it the moment the glowing, shining, beautiful star poked him in the chest with her delicate fingers: Anger.

"Peter Pan!" the sharp voice of cut glass repeated more emphatically and full of quivering, unspoken reproach, yet strangely audible in every shade of his name. "WHAT have you done?!"

The star was angry.

At HIM.

Uh-oh.

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