Slowly, a triumphant smile stretched across the shadow’s lips, splitting its twisted face in half. “I know Peter’s deepest, darkest secrets,” it said, its low voice reverberating through Wendy’s bones. “Because I am those secrets. I am the consummation of his fears.”

It released Wendy’s chin. Her cheeks burned from where its sharp nails had bitten into her skin.

“His fears were about losing you. He was afraid of what you might think of him. That you would hate him and never want to see him again if you knew the truth.”

She couldn’t trust what it was saying. Everything it did, it did with purpose, to gain the upper hand. Wendy could see that now, and she wouldn’t let it consume her, even when she felt the panic coursing through her veins. “What truth?” she spat, but it continued on as if it hadn’t heard her.

“His fear gave me strength, and finally, I was able to escape the confines of our bond. But”—it turned back to Wendy—“as long as Peter had his magic, he posed a risk. It was a simple plan, and he fell for it so easily.” The shadow laughed. “To further weaken his resolve, I just had to lead him back to you, and Peter did the rest. He missed you when you were gone.”

Wendy’s throat was tight. She was terrified, but the words sent her stomach tumbling.

“It left him heartbroken, really. He wanted to choose you, Wendy. All I had to do was present him with the opportunity.” The shadow tutted disapprovingly. “So, I led him here, dropped him right in front of you for you to find. Peter’s weakness for you was his undoing.”

Wendy choked on her own breath. The guilt was crushing. The sticky blackness oozed up Wendy’s legs and climbed up her arms. Her brothers, the other missing children, and Peter, ensnared and in pain—it was all because of her.

“Don’t get me wrong, the fear of those children has given me plenty of strength, as well. And I admit, your fear and guilt are especially”—it inhaled a deep, rattling breath—“delicious. You’re such easy prey. All I have to do is lure you into these woods and it just pours from you. The scars of trauma are just so mouthwatering.

“But it’s Peter I’ve been after. He chose you, and, by doing so, he has abandoned the lost children and has been stripped of his magic. So, lost children they will remain.”

Peter’s eyes bulged and glistened, frantic and scared. “No,” he groaned, fighting his restraints with renewed vigor. “I need to go back—I need to help them!” The words rushed from Peter’s lips as he struggled, muttering as if to himself.

The shadow laughed.