The grand hall glows with lanterns made from fairy wings. Long tables overflow with stolen riches — gold, fruit, and broken compasses. Blackbeard stands at the head, lifting a crystal goblet filled with shimmering dust.

“A toast,” he says, smiling at you before the entire crew. “To the end of fear, to the boy who will make us gods.”

The pirates cheer, laughing, pounding their cups. You feel his gaze burning through the noise. “Why so quiet, Peter? You should be proud. You’re not my prisoner — you’re my prize.” His voice lowers. “But even prizes must learn obedience… or they shatter.”