A Land of Never After

by R. L. Davennor

  In all that time, it never once looked away from me.

  Come here, child. The Guardian slowly flapped its feathery appendages as much as it could, splattering the cavern with blood and mucus.

  I dared a glance at Hook, who’d pulled himself into a sitting position. “Is he—”

  He is dazed but will recover. Now come, young one; I won’t ask again.

  No one moved as I took a tentative step forward. Save for Peter, they’d all turned away, either unwilling or unable to behold the Guardian’s new form. It rather resembled a Nightstalker, but I hadn’t known one to possess wings.

  I stilled upon feeling movement at my back. Elvira’s deft fingers were quick to tuck a dagger into my belt, just as she’d done only yesterday… which now felt like a lifetime ago.

  Her soft whisper tickled my nape. “You’ll need this.”

  The Guardian nodded approvingly. Thank you, Serpent.

  “I know who you are.” Peter’s voice startled me; I almost didn’t believe he’d spoken until I watched his lips move again. “You’re Xephan, King of the Nightst—”

  The Guardian—Xephan—bared its fangs and snarled. I am king of nothing now, not since I was tethered to this place. I have been waiting all these years for you.

  Once again it looked at me, and once again I wanted to sink through the floor. The burden upon my shoulders seemed to grow heavier with each word spoken, and suddenly I wasn’t certain I could live up to these expectations. The fate of Neverland and everything within it had been placed in my hands and my hands alone. What would happen if I dared refuse Xephan, who’d made it abundantly clear it would tolerate no disobedience? What would happen if I failed?

  My breathing quickened; I couldn’t do this. I had to get out of here, make some excuse, pinch myself and wake up—

  Wendy. For the first time, Xephan used my name, slicing cleanly through my panic. In all your time in Neverland, has a Nightstalker ever once tried to harm you?

  I thought back to my first encounter with one of the creatures. The beast had caused superficial wounds, but they had been more accidental than intentional. Even then, the Nightstalker had known my name, and claimed my life held value far greater than its own. It hadn’t tried to attack me, only acting in self-defense once Peter showed up. He and I had come across a handful of others since then, but only for hunting practice; never once had a Nightstalker sought us out.

  Of course they haven’t, because I ordered it so. They were told you were not to be touched. They knew your name because I was the one who supplied it. They claimed you were not ready, because you weren’t… but you are now.

  I raised my gaze, my whisper hoarse. “Ready for what? A week ago, I was no one. I had no one. My only responsibility was to look after myself, and I couldn’t even do that properly. And since I’ve come here…” I swallowed, suddenly unable to make eye contact. “I’ve lied. I’ve betrayed. Lost the only friends I’ve ever had. I’m descended from thieves and murderers, traitors and pirates. I’m no better than the monsters that reside here. I’ve become one myself.”

  Xephan said nothing for a long while. It studied me, eyes piercing into my very soul, and I allowed it to. I’d already offered up the full, unblemished truth, and had nothing more to lose. I’d much rather be denounced here, publicly, than enter the tomb and fail behind closed doors. At least this way I could preserve whatever dignity I had left.

  The Guardian’s eventual nod tore me from my thoughts. Yes, Wendy. By all accounts, you should be a monster. You have the blood, you’ve been handed the tools, and you certainly have the company. Xephan nodded toward Hook, Peter, and Elvira in turn. But you aren’t. Your soul may be turning black around the edges, and will turn to ash if left unchecked, but you arrived here—and remain—whole. Alive. Your heart beats with life and couldn’t be swayed by death. Not even the curse has affected you like it should.

  With a well-aimed swipe, Xephan cleanly sliced the bonds around my wrists.

  It is for these reasons and more that I know you are the one to break it.

  I released a breath and took another as the truth engulfed me like a wave. No matter how loath I was to admit it, Xephan was right. I was different. It was why I’d been trapped in Neverland, why I couldn’t leave—I was supposed to enter the tomb and break the curse. For whatever reason… it had chosen me.

  Xephan rumbled. You’ve accepted your fate—good.

  “My fate?” Panic constricted my chest. “I’m going to die?”

  That depends entirely on the choices you make from here. Using one of its massive wings, Xephan began pushing me down the path it had so faithfully guarded for gods knew how long. And before you ask, no, I cannot aid you. You must do this on your own.

  “Wait,” I protested, snatching any part of the walls I could to slow my progress. “All I have is a dagger—that can’t be all I get. Who knows what could be lurking down there?”

  Xephan stilled, its tail flicking with interest. All right. You may ask for one more item to bring into the heart of the tomb… but only one.

  I didn’t hesitate. A gun—that was what I needed. I opened my mouth to say so, but Xephan’s curious look silenced me.

  Make your choice carefully, Wendy Maynard.

  This suddenly felt more like a riddle than a favor I was being granted. My heart skipped a beat as I scanned those before me: Elvira, Peter, and finally Hook. None of them carried anything worth asking for; at least, not until a gleam of metal caught my attention. The one thing that could help me.

  “The medallion.” I pointed to it. “I want Hook’s medallion.”

  “This?” He gripped the heirloom tightly, shooting me an incredulous glare. “You still think this is going to help you?”

  Not your concern, Teach. Hand it over.

  My gaze didn’t waver as I held out a waiting hand. “You heard Xephan. Give it here, or there will be consequences.”

  Hook’s glare turned downright murderous, but he lifted the medallion over his head without further protest. He approached awkwardly and all but slammed the gold into my palm, but I hardly noticed, too focused on a single, irrefutable fact.

  This was my only idea—my only chance. I had to make it work.

  Time’s up, Wendy. Xephan’s tail lashed out once more, shoving Hook and me apart before I was once again ushered into darkness. Before I knew how, a massive boulder slid into place behind me, completely cutting off access to where I’d come from. I was alone in my grandfather’s resting place, armed with the medallion and a dagger.

  It truly was now or never.

  I ignored my fluttering heart as I slipped the medallion’s cord over my head. The weight of the gold brought a small bit of comfort, as did the blade once I’d retrieved it from my belt. Not wanting to be caught off guard by whatever lay ahead, I unsheathed the dagger and held it steady, remaining in place only long enough for my eyes to adjust to the even deeper blackness. I set off at a medium pace—not too fast, and not too slow, relying on the walls for guidance.

  I didn’t have to for long. Light began flickering across the widening path ahead, and relief flooded through me until I realized what it implied: movement. Illumination didn’t dance on its own… not without something causing it. I tightened my grip on the dagger. Pressing my back to the tunnel wall, I held my breath, listened, and waited. Nothing.

  Could I truly be alone? Just me and a corpse? I dared a glance around the dip that led into a far larger area, raising my weapon just in case.

  I nearly pissed myself, but not for the reasons I’d been expecting.

  The gold caught my eye first; more than I’d ever seen in my life covered nearly every inch of floor space. Some of the hoard appeared to have been organized into chests and other containers, while the rest existed in overflowing mounds that nearly reached the ceiling. Jewels and other precious metals were scattered in the mix, as was
a random assortment of other valuables: paintings, rugs, tobacco, and spices, to name a few. Narrow but strong beams of light filtered in from above, and I realized that was what had startled me; each time clouds moved to block the sun, the reflections followed suit.

  I’d have marveled at the dazzling sight far longer if it hadn’t been for the bones and corpses in various stages of decay. Skeletons, some whole and others in pieces, were everywhere. A few lay buried by the endless mounds of treasure, but most were on top, the gruesome remains clearly visible. Hands outstretched and mouths ajar—it wasn’t difficult to imagine what the now-dead men had originally come here to do.

  The real question was, how had they died? I’d yet to see anything that resembled a monster or even a weapon, but couldn’t shake the feeling I was about to spring a deadly trap. Or had they simply succumbed to the curse one by one? An odd mixture of anger and fear budded in my chest. Why hadn’t Xephan prepared me for this—told me the truth about how many others had entered the tomb and never emerged? How was I meant to be any different?

  Rage welled within me, and I spun on my heel to turn back. I’d only reach a dead end, but I didn’t care; I’d beat my hands on that damn boulder until they bled if that was what it took. Xephan would have no choice but to let me back in with the others if I refused to continue on my own… right?

  “Wrong.”

  I stilled at the voice—one all too familiar. I heard it, clear as day, but couldn’t tell where it came from.

  “The only way is forward. You know this as well as I do.”

  Swallowing, I turned back toward the treasure. The corpses remained as still as ever, the scene before me unchanged, and that ruled out every possibility but one. “Mother?”

  “Look closely, Wendy. You will find what you seek.”

  This wasn’t doing anything for the anger I harbored. Out of all the times I’d needed help, she’d chosen now? Balling my free hand into a fist, I shook it at emptiness. “I seek nothing but to live, yet here I am surrounded by death. Tell me what to do—show me the way!”

  The medallion around my neck started to hum quietly, but other than that, there came no answer. I screamed my mother’s name until my throat was raw, but Scarlett never came back. It was only me and the silent bones.

  “Fuck you and your nonsensical clues—all of you.”

  No longer caring whether I lived or died, I marched into the trove, weaving my way through the narrow paths afforded by the mounds. I soon came to realize I wasn’t nearly as lost as before. Though Mother was gone, it seemed something was guiding me, for the medallion quivered at varying intensities; stronger if I continued deeper into the tomb, and weaker if I tried to walk the other way.

  Still, giving up remained more than tempting. More than once I nearly fell on my ass, tripped by some random trinket, and each time I cursed a so-called ally’s name. Tink. Scarlett. Peter. Especially him. How could he think I’d abandon him, betray and leave him to die, just like that?

  I’d run out of friends and started cursing my enemies when I saw it—more accurately, ran into it. The medallion’s humming had kept me from noticing the barrier until it was too late. After nursing my stubbed and aching toe, I took a closer look at the markings etched into the enormous slab before me. The diagram was immediately familiar, because it matched the one Hook had shown me in his journal. A triangle with three points—dragon, wolf, serpent—and a crow beneath them all.

  Pressing my palm to the stone, I gave it a gentle push. The slab swung open, revealing a room shrouded in shadow. Blackbeard’s resting place? Though my skin crawled at what sounded like whispers coming from within, I stepped inside.

  The most unsettling thing wasn’t the handful of coffins before me; it was that the medallion had gone still. I gripped it, waiting, but it didn’t move again, causing doubt to filter its way into my thoughts. What if it had been trying to tell me to turn back… that I’d been going the wrong way? There were four coffins here, not one, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Blackbeard’s was somewhere else. I suspected his would be the grandest of them all, and certainly not in a space shared with others.

  I nearly turned to exit before noticing that one of the coffins lacked a lid, visibly empty. Intricately decorated and expertly crafted, it was slightly larger than the two adjacent to it. Copper plating formed an inscription, and I stepped closer to make it out.

  Jamie Christopher Teach — The Dragon

  My heart skipped a beat. Dragon, Wolf, Serpent, Crow—was there a place for all four of them here? Next to the Dragon was Lucas, the Wolf, and next to him, Elvira, the Serpent. Her coffin’s lid was cracked, revealing the interior to be unoccupied.

  The fourth and final coffin lay separate from the rest, the grandest and blackest of them all. I narrowed my gaze in suspicion; surely this couldn’t be meant for the Crow. I turned to approach, not noticing the obstacle in my path until I tripped over it.

  I screamed.

  A corpse—one bearing an eerie resemblance to Hook. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t him, but damn if they didn’t look related. The dead man had a jawline sharp enough to rival my knife, hair cropped close to his scalp, and a well-muscled torso. I might have believed him to still be alive if not for the bullet hole piercing his forehead. Trailing my gaze lower, I stopped when I noticed the trinket hung around his neck.

  A dragon.

  I staggered back, uttering my disbelief aloud. “Jamie?”

  But he’d been killed years ago, when Hook had unleashed the curse upon Neverland. The others who’d come here had rotted away nearly into dust. How had Jamie remained here all this time, perfectly preserved as though he’d only just been shot? It seemed impossible, unless… there was more of my grandfather’s magic at play here.

  Turning once more to the final coffin, I sidestepped Jamie’s body before approaching. Now that I was closer, I made out carvings of skulls adorning the sides. A flag lay draped across the lid, concealing any further decoration. I only allowed myself a moment to gaze upon Blackbeard’s colors—the horned skeleton piercing a heart—then yanked it aside.

  The fabric hadn’t hit the floor before the medallion around my neck began to hum again, this time much stronger. It quivered and shook, making my task of sliding off the coffin’s lid much harder than it had to be. My arms ached and my forehead dripped with sweat, but after several minutes of heaving, I’d done it. With a deep breath, I peered inside.

  I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t the man before me. Battered, bloody, and bruised, the once notorious Blackbeard had clearly died a horrific death. The parts of him I could see had been beaten and cut, and I could only assume worse was beneath his clothing. Even his legendary beard had been shorn; without it, he looked thin, frail, and broken, so unlike the illustrations in my books. Like Jamie’s, Blackbeard’s body had been impeccably preserved, appearing as though he’d only just taken his final breaths.

  As remarkable as it was, I hadn’t come here to linger. Clasped tightly between my grandfather’s hands was what I sought—his medallion, damaged just as Hook had said. It quivered, seemingly as eager as I was to break the curse.

  But how to get it? Looking upon a corpse was one thing, touching it entirely another. And just because the bodies appeared to be preserved, it didn’t mean stiffness hadn’t set in. I shuddered. Would I have to cut it out?

  “No, Wendy. Take it. It’s yours.”

  I started at my mother’s voice but recovered quickly. I might not have any personal desire to keep the medallion, but she was right about one thing—it was high time I broke this damn curse. After slipping Hook’s heirloom over my head, I reached for Blackbeard’s with my free hand. Moving cautiously so as not to touch him more than necessary, I yanked my grandfather’s from his possession, in the same motion replacing the medallion with Hook’s.

  Relief flooded through me at the weight
of the gold in my hands, dented and battered as though it may be. Death pays for death, but life has no price—and I’d just proven that by returning what had caused the death curse in the first place. Something lacking a price was freely given. No one had to die or be sacrificed; no one but me had even needed to enter the tomb. I’d done it.

  So why didn’t I feel any different?

  Because you weren’t badly afflicted by the curse, and because surely these things take time. It was what I repeated to myself as I weaved my way back toward the slab, dodging both Jamie’s body and the trio of coffins. I slipped Blackbeard’s medallion over my neck, unwilling to lose what I had come so far to get. Perhaps Scarlett had been right… maybe I did want to keep it.

  Lost in thought, it wasn’t until I stepped back into the treasure chamber that I both heard and felt the rockslide. I dove behind one of the mounds the moment before skull-sized boulders came raining down from above, flooding the space in which I’d previously stood. Throwing my arms over my head protected me from the worst of the debris but didn’t prevent me from inhaling the dust that followed. I spent the next several minutes assaulted by violent coughs.

  Only once I could breathe again did I hear voices.

  “—coward, face me like a man!”

  “Says the boy who can fly. No more tricks, no more games… just you and me.”

  “Finally, something we can agree on. Let’s finish this.”

  It couldn’t be—and yet it was.

  On a ledge high above, held up only by a few quivering boulders, Hook and Peter clashed swords. Both moved faster than I’d ever seen them, parrying, leaping, and dodging with skill that only came from decades of experience. Hook’s missing hand didn’t slow him in the slightest, and as promised, Peter didn’t fly. He faced his opponent bravely, defiance etched into his features as he countered every strike.

  I might have been impressed or stopped to wonder how the hell they were even here had I not been fully aware of the severity of the situation. As they’d made abundantly clear, this was no game: this was a fight to the death, and it wouldn’t be a long one. If the blades didn’t end it, the precarious ledge surely would. Debris continued to tumble from above, with more dislodged with each step they took. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach—they might start an avalanche. Peter could flutter to safety, and to hell with Hook… but I’d be crushed.