Good—if the shadows were distracted enough by her, then maybe the kids could run away. The thought gave her a small swell of determination. Wendy’s body shook violently, she was hardly able to stay on her feet. She could feel the shadows closing in now. Could feel them pooling at her feet and winding around her legs. Could feel them filling the gaping void in her chest.

“Give up, Wendy.” The words echoed through her mind. The shadows clawed at the base of her throat.

Wendy tried to reach out for more happy memories as bad thoughts struck her in a barrage. She thought of the waterfall and the lagoon. She thought of Peter’s dimpled smile, the drip of water hanging from the tip of his nose.

She made herself think of breakfasts when she was little. Of her and her brothers plunging their fingers into a bowl of pancake batter as her mother laughed in front of the stove. Of her father chasing them around the backyard on cool autumn days.

The ground quaked beneath her feet. The wind slapped her cheeks and pulled her hair. Wendy curled against it. Terrible screams filled her ears. The shadows vibrated against her skin. They were unrelenting. Through the swarm of darkness, she could see the last remnants of the cage fall away, could just make out the children being freed before everything plunged into darkness.

The images of her murdered brothers cascaded over Wendy. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. The voices in her head roared.

Gone. Dead. Murdered. Your fault. Your fault. YOUR FAULT.

Wendy tried to hold on to the memory of her brothers lying on their backs—not on the cold snowy ground, but in their backyard on prickly grass as they stared up at the stars on a clear summer night. She held on to the memory of her parents sitting on lawn chairs and drinking lemonade as she and her brothers ran through the sprinklers.

Wendy remembered Michael careening into her chest. She stumbled back a step. She could practically feel it, his tiny body running into hers, his small arms wrapping around her middle. Wendy felt another thump, this time against her back. John, joining in the embrace.

A sob bucked in Wendy’s chest. She could remember it. She could practically feel them holding on tight. John’s face tucked against her shoulder. Michael’s downy hair under her fingertips. The sensations were so real.

Too real.

Wendy opened her eyes.

The shadows continued to swirl and screech, but—

She looked down. Wendy’s fingers laced through soft brown curls. A jolt shot through her. Michael? His arms were locked tightly around her, his head tucked against her side.

Tears swelled in Wendy’s eyes, blurring her vision as her hand cradled the top of his head. From behind, arms encircled her waist, holding on tight.

John? Blindly, Wendy reached back, trying to grip his side.