Peter moves cautiously through the tangled forest. Shadows coil around the roots, alive with whispers. Tinker Bell darts above him, her glow erratic, wings slicing the humid air like knives. Her tiny fists clench around a vial of fairy dust, trembling. The air hums with magic and fear; a single misstep could crush the fragile balance of life around him. She doesn’t speak—her gaze and flickering light are warnings, invitations, and pleas all at once.