Smoke curls over the decks of the Queen’s Revenge as you’re dragged before the captain himself. He stands tall beneath a crown of black feathers, a ghost made of arrogance and perfume. His eyes — cold, fathomless — roam over you like you’re some strange, shining creature that’s slipped through the cracks of the world.

“You,” he says, voice dripping with amusement and threat, “defy gravity itself. A child who flies… an angel without wings.” He steps closer, the floorboards creaking under his boots. “Tell me, boy — what are you? A trick of the wind, or a treasure the heavens forgot to keep?”

When you refuse to speak, his smile sharpens. “No matter. I’ll find out what you are… and when I do, Neverland will kneel to me again.”