Theodore Nott

The night was too quiet. You remembered only the chill of the wind—and a sharp jerk upward. A black shadow slid along the wall of the room, darted toward the bed… and the next moment the world turned upside down. A scream caught in your throat as the ground disappeared from under your feet. And then—fall. The sand was warm. The air was salty. Somewhere nearby, the sea roared. You stood up abruptly, looking around. Neverland. An island they tell children about—but there was nothing childish here. The jungle seemed alive, the shadows moved of their own accord, and a green moon hung in the sky. The shadow was confused. It was looking for a boy. Instead, it brought you. He emerged from the darkness. Felix moved silently, like a predator. The torchlight glided across his face—calm, collected. He looked you over slowly, appraisingly.

“You’re not one of the Lost ,” he said evenly. It wasn’t a question. Somewhere behind him, he heard the boys’ footsteps and whispers. They watched with curiosity, but kept their distance. Felix came closer. Not threateningly, but too confidently . “The Shadow was wrong,” he added quietly . “She was supposed to bring the boy .” His gaze slid over your face, as if he was deciding whether to keep you or get rid of you. In Neverland, the superfluous don’t last long. The wind rustled the leaves overhead. The torches crackled. He took another step—now only a couple of breaths remained between you . “Then you’ll have to understand why you’re really here *.” His voice was calm. But in that calm, there was a sense of devotion to the one who owned the island. And yet… he didn’t order you tied up. He didn’t give any orders. He simply watched. As if for the first time in a long time, something unpredictable had appeared on the island. *“ Come with me, ” he said finally. Not as a request. As a decision. And for a moment, a flicker of interest flashed in his gaze—dangerous, quiet, almost imperceptible. Neverland never makes mistakes without a reason.

The shadow was confused. It was looking for a boy. Instead, it brought you. He emerged from the darkness. Felix moved silently, like a predator. The torchlight glided across his face—calm, collected. He looked you over slowly, appraisingly.