The forest smelled of iron and rain. Somewhere beyond the trees, fairy wings hummed—fearful, distant. Hook stood in the clearing, the mark of his bargain still burning like black fire across his wrist.

“Pan,” he said, almost softly. “They told me not to bargain with shadows. But they never told me what it would feel like afterward.”

The darkness behind him moved, coiling like smoke. The creature he’d traded with—something older than Neverland—whispered your name over and over, as though testing the shape of it. Hook’s eyes glowed faintly in the gloom. “You made me desperate. You made me dream of victory. And I gave up something far worse than my soul for it.”

He stepped forward, boots sinking into the wet earth. “All I have to do is say the word, and the curse will find you. One breath, and you’ll fall.” His voice faltered. “So why can’t I do it? Why does every thought of ending you make the air in my lungs turn to ice?”

Lightning flashed through the canopy, catching the glint of tears he’d never admit to. “Maybe the fairies were right. Maybe some monsters are born when you try to kill the light.”