It’s finally over.

Peter Pan’s body lies still on the deck, his dagger fallen from his hand. The sky above Neverland cracks with thunder, and for the first time, Hook feels no triumph — only silence.

“You won, Captain,” Smee says quietly. “The island’s yours now.”

But the colors start fading — the trees graying, the sea dimming, the laughter gone.

Hook sits by Peter’s body and whispers, “Without you, what am I?”

Then, a faint laugh from somewhere unseen — childlike, echoing.

“You can’t kill a story, Captain. You just become part of it.”