Regina’s voice was steady, cold as ice, as she faced Peter Pan. “I’ve done terrible things. I’ve tortured, I’ve killed. And I don’t regret any of it.”

A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the rustling of the dark vines that bound Regina and Emma to the tree.

Suddenly, a young girl dropped lightly from the branches behind Pan. Her eyes locked onto Regina’s as she spoke, her voice eerily calm, almost detached. “You’ve committed all these crimes, yet you don’t regret…”

Peter Pan glanced back at her, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“I want to play with her,” the girl said softly.

Without waiting for a response, she raised her wrist. The vines around Regina shuddered, extending and coiling until they formed a leash tightly wrapped around Regina’s wrist.

Then, without another word, the girl jumped upward, leaping gracefully from tree to tree. Regina floated behind her, tethered and powerless, as the strange girl moved silently through the shadowed canopy.

Peter Pan watched without a word.