The Myth Maker witch. Christ. “What’s happening?” I ask again. He clutches at my jacket, his yellow eyes wide. There is terror in his gaze. “What do I do?” I ask him, desperate for something, desperate to save him. I can feel him shaking as if he can’t quite hold himself together. “I need Vane. I need my brother. Take me—” He sucks in a breath. “Take me back to Neverland.”
and we're OFF TO NEVERLAND! let's fuckin GOOOOO babyyyy
