Whatever lies on the other side might be the missing piece that helps her protect Jane, that lets her stop Peter once and for all. She straightens, as much as the sloped ceiling allows, and offers Tiger Lily a strained smile.

“It’s all right.” But her voice is as husked as Tiger Lily’s.

Inside St. Bernadette’s, there was no lock she and Mary couldn’t open, no space barred to them within the walls. There were consequences for their sneaking and stealing, but they never let those consequences stop them. They never let fear stop them. And they never let something as simple as a door stand in their way.

The truth has been hidden from Wendy for years, but suddenly it seems so simple. This lock, this door, is like any other. With everything that’s been taken away from her, everything she’s fought to reclaim, she will not be denied her own memories. She will steal this piece of herself back. Peter has held it for too long.

She feels Tiger Lily watching her, but Wendy focuses her attention on the drawing on the cave wall, the creature of horns and claws. This time, when the door rises to block her, when instinct tells her to draw back, she throws her weight against it instead. She isn’t the child who left Neverland, or the frightened girl waiting for Peter to save her. She’s grown; she’s faced terrors Peter could never imagine. She is strong enough to face this too.

Wendy throws the full force of her will against the door. The wood shudders. It cracks. It splinters, unable to hold her back, and Wendy tumbles through.

NEVERLAND – 27 YEARS AGO

“Come on, Wendy, keep up!” Peter pulls her so fast along the forest path it’s like flying.

“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” Wendy’s voice is breathless as she struggles to keep from falling. She wants to be annoyed with Peter, but her excitement betrays her. He’s taking her somewhere special, somewhere just for her, where John and Michael don’t get to go. It almost makes up for not being able to join in the war.

“I told you. It’s a secret.” Peter glances over his shoulder, flashing a grin.

Shadows flicker over his skin as they run. Feathers, falling leaves. They change the shape of his face, making it into the muzzle of a fox, the beak of a bird. Wendy’s breath catches on wonder, then the underbrush grows denser, and she has to concentrate on her feet again so she doesn’t trip.

“Up here.” Peter lets go of her hand, jumping to grab a twist of root protruding from the side of a cliff there before them so suddenly it may well have dropped out of the sky.