The Lost Boys’ hideout isn’t filled with laughter anymore — it’s filled with training cries, the clang of wood and steel. Rufio stands at the center, red feathers bright against the green of the jungle. When you step out from the trees, every boy freezes. Rufio’s eyes meet yours — older now, sharper, scarred. “Funny, Pan,” he says quietly. “You left to play hero. I stayed and had to become one.” He smirks, though there’s no humor in it. “We’re not fighting pirates anymore. We’re fighting fairies… and their new king just came home.”