Neverland

The departure from Yen Sid’s Tower had been solemn. The old sorcerer had sensed a disturbance in the flow of time itself, pointing me toward a world where time was supposed to be frozen but was now rotting away.

"World Order: Active," the system chimed as the Highwind pierced the barrier.

The transition was jarring. I dropped from the star-strewn lanes of the cosmos into a thick, suffocating bank of clouds. Below me wasn't the sparkling ocean of childhood dreams, but a black lagoon choked with smoke. The famous "Second Star to the Right" was dim, flickering like a dying bulb fighting a losing battle against the dark.

I slammed onto the deck of a ship, a wreck, half-sunk in the black water. Neverland.

"Heartless," I muttered, sensing them instantly.

They swarmed the air. Air Pirates, Heartless with propeller wings and hooked claws, dove from the clouds. Shadows scurried across the water, defying physics. The world was screaming. There was no Peter Pan. No Lost Boys crowing. Just fear and the smell of burning jungle.

I summoned The Solar Zenith. The Keyblade materialized in my hand, its golden sun-guard glowing fiercely against the gloom. "Back!" I roared. I unleashed a wave of searing light, incinerating a squadron of Air Pirates. But they kept coming. The bastion of light I sensed was faint, a single, flickering candle in a hurricane.

I took flight, gliding over the lagoon toward the mainland. The jungle was burning. I landed in a clearing near the base of the massive Hangman's Tree. The entrance was smashed open. The hideout had been breached.

Cling! Ting-a-ling! The sound was tiny, frantic, and furious. Like a silver bell being shaken violently.

I spun around. Cornered against a root, surrounded by three Yellow Opera Heartless casting thunder spells, was a speck of light. Tinkerbell.

She looked awful. Her glow was dim, her wings fluttering erratically. But she hadn't given up. She was holding a tiny needle-sword with both hands, swinging it wildly, her face twisted in a snarl of pure, **** aggression. She was sassy, angry, and refusing to die, even though she was clearly outmatched.

One of the Heartless clipped her with a spark. She tumbled backward, hitting a leaf, and screamed, but no words came out. Just a frantic, high-pitched chiming sound. Cling-clang-ling!

She scrambled up, tears in her eyes, but raised her needle again. She was brave. Foolish, but brave.

I moved. "Thunder!" I blasted the Yellow Operas out of the air. The Solar Zenith acted as a lightning rod, channeling the storm and vaporizing the threats in a flash of ozone.

I stepped into the clearing, dismissing the magic. "Need a hand, little one?"

Tinkerbell froze. She looked up at me, a giant compared to her, and saw the Keyblade. The fight instantly drained out of her. The anger vanished, replaced by a crushing wave of relief and exhaustion. She dropped her needle. Her knees buckled. She collapsed onto a leaf, burying her face in her hands. Chime... chime... The sound was so mournful it broke my heart. She was sobbing.

I knelt down, offering my palm. "Come on. It's not safe here."

She looked at my hand, hesitating. She wiped her eyes, looked at the dark jungle, and made a choice. She crawled onto my palm. Her touch was incredibly light, barely registering. She clung to my thumb, shivering violently, her bells ringing softly with every tremor. She pointed urgently toward the cliffs, away from the tree, away from the bad memories.

"Hold on."

I placed her in the breast pocket of my coat, close to my heart. We fought our way through the jungle. It was a gauntlet. The Heartless here were savage, feeding on the despair of the abandoned children. But with Tinkerbell in my pocket, casting tiny, jingling Aero spells to speed me up, we cut a path.

We found a cave high up in the cliffs of Skull Rock. It was defensible, dry, and hidden from the aerial patrols. I set up a barrier at the entrance. The sounds of the screaming jungle faded, replaced by the damp silence of the cave.

I sat down against the rock wall, exhaling. I reached into my pocket. "You can come out now."

Tinkerbell fluttered out. She landed on my knee. In the dim light of the cave, she looked fragile. Her dress was torn, her hair messy. She stood up, looking me in the eye. She took a deep breath and began to speak, gesturing wildly with her hands, pointing at the sky, then at the ground, looking furious and sad all at once. Ring-a-ling! Ting! Clang-a-ling!

I shook my head gently. "I don't understand you, Tink. I hear the bells, but I don't know the words."

She stopped. Her shoulders slumped. She looked frustrated, bordering on devastated. She kicked the fabric of my trousers, letting out a sharp ping! of anger. She was trapped in her own size, unable to tell the stranger what had happened, unable to connect.

She looked at me, assessing me. Then she looked at a small pouch at her waist. She seemed to make a decision. A **** one. She opened the pouch. The dust inside wasn't the usual gold; it was a deep, throbbing pink.

She looked up at me one last time, her eyes pleading. She mimed growing, raising her hands high. Then she pointed to her chest, then to me. She wanted to be tall. She wanted to be heard.

She upended the pouch over her head. FLASH.

The light was blinding, filling the cave with rose-colored energy. When it faded, the weight on my knee had changed drastically. I grunted as a sudden, heavy mass settled onto my lap.

Sitting across my legs, straddling me, was a full-sized girl. Tinkerbell.

She was stunning. Her blonde hair was a messy bun on top of her head, loose strands framing a face that was now human-sized and incredibly expressive. Her blue eyes were huge, swimming with tears. And the dress... The magic had scaled her green leaf-dress up with her, but it was barely enough. It was a micro-mini, barely covering her hips, the strapless top clinging precariously to perky, round breasts that heaved with effort.

She breathed heavily, unused to the sensation of gravity. She slumped forward, resting her human hands on my chest, feeling the solid thump of my heart. She looked terrified of her own weight, terrified of being so big and clumsy.

"Can..." she rasped, her voice husky and unused. "Can you hear me now?"

"Loud and clear," I whispered, gripping her waist to steady her. She felt solid, warm, and soft.

"He left," she sobbed, finally able to release the words she had been holding in. "Peter... he left me. When the darkness came, he said it wasn't fun anymore. He flew away and he left me behind."

She looked up at me, vulnerability etched into every feature. Her usual sass was gone, crushed by the reality of being alone. "I changed the dust. I made myself big. But now... now I'm heavy. My magic is weak like this. I can't fly away."

She pressed her body against mine, out of a **** need for an anchor in a world that had fallen apart. "I made myself **** for you," she whispered, clutching my coat. "Because I trust you. Because I want you to understand me. Just... please don't leave me here."