On a quiet night, a star falls — burning gold instead of silver. It lands near the Dust Tree, and the ground trembles with old magic. The fairies whisper that it’s a prophecy fulfilled — the return of the Laughing Star.

Queen Clarion approaches the crater, her gown of light brushing the grass. Inside the glow, she sees you — a boy asleep, a faint grin on your face even in rest.

When you stir, the Queen gasps softly. “You are the one the Hollow was born from.”

You rub your eyes, confused. “Huh? I just fell.”

“The world has waited centuries for that fall,” she says, smiling. “Welcome home, Peter Pan.”