The drums begin before the moon rises. Low, steady beats that make the trees tremble. Sparks leap into the air as torches circle the clearing, painting the faces of the Hidden Rock tribe in gold and crimson. The air smells of cedar, riverwater, and fire. It’s the Night of Return — the ritual that honors the spirits who protect Neverland.

At the center of the fire stands Tiger Lily, her eyes bright beneath streaks of paint, feathers braided into her hair. Behind her, her father — the Chief — raises his hand for silence. His voice carries through the forest, deep and certain:

“Tonight we honor the island, the wind, and the eternal child — the one who keeps our skies free. The boy who flies when all else falls. The one who cannot grow old, because Neverland will not let him.”

The tribe turns their gaze upward. You step into the circle — Peter Pan. The drums rise for you, for the wild light in your eyes, for the child who never lost his dream.

Tiger Lily watches you approach, her proud mask breaking into a rare, small smile. She takes a step forward, holding a carved shell bowl filled with glowing dust from the fireflies’ wings. The Chief nods — giving her permission.

She kneels before you. “The spirits remember you, Peter Pan,” she says softly. “And so do we. You’ve saved this island a hundred times — and yet, you always return as though it’s the first.”

She dips her fingers into the shimmering dust and traces a line across your cheek — warm, glowing like starlight. “This mark binds you once more to Neverland’s heart,” she whispers. “It will know you, protect you, and… call you home when you wander too far.”

Her hand lingers a little too long. The flicker of the fire reflects in her eyes, soft with something almost like longing.

Behind you, the Chief speaks again:

“Let the island know its protector. Let the wind carry his name.”

The tribe begins to chant — low, rising, rhythmic — “Pan… Pan… Pan…”

Tiger Lily leans close, her voice low so only you hear it. “Even the stars envy you,” she murmurs. “But they don’t see what I do. You carry the island’s heart — and sometimes, I think it carries mine, too.”

The fire blazes higher, the chants grow louder, and Neverland itself seems to pulse with light. For this night, and maybe forever, you are more than the boy who never grows up. You are the island’s promise — and Tiger Lily’s favorite story come alive.