"Boys! Oh Lost Boys!" Pan whistles to his band of followers.

One by one the Lost Boys appear around us, forming a tightly woven circle with no weak links. Michael and John are a stone's throw from me now, still looking through me as if I do not exist.

"Our guests of honor have arrived," Pan utters impishly. A boisterous chorus breaks out and I clamp my ears in an effort to drown out the noise. "Bind them."

I pull against the coarse rope binding my hands behind my back. It's no use. Fox knows how to fashion a knot.

He stares at me now from his spot at the head of the boat. The real fox ears of his hide stand like two mini mountain peaks on his head. His vacant expression haunts me and I wonder if he's any clue what's in store.

Another pang of guilt. Fox is one of the few I remember. He's also one of the oldest Lost Boys –maybe 15 or 16. And I remind myself he is most likely well aware of what goes on inside Skull Rock.

Pan's mini fleet glides over the glossy surface of Dark Water Way. The sea is black as night, darker than darkness. It grows colder on the water and I shiver just to stay warm. It gives me something to do.

I find myself wishing for Calysa's third rescue. Something tells me the mermaids do not swim this far north of their lagoon –not into the Dark Waters.

One reason: Crocodiles.

The scaly beasts swarm the waters, their scutes rippling the black surface. They thrash against the side of the boats, creating mini whitecap waves on the open water. Flashes of teeth make me cringe as I draw back from the edge of the boat as best I can.

The main island shrinks behind us as we paddle farther away from Star Point. It seems so nondescript from the water –like it could be any old island in any old sea. Even still, its grandeur is too vast to know and as I gaze upon the beachrock cliffs, I find myself wishing I could be back on top them.

The boat bumps into the black beach on Skull Rock. I'm dragged from the wooden canoe and pushed onto the beach. I look up at the massive cave before me. The unmistakable skull formation of rock is silhouetted against the black sky.

It is singularly terrifying.

I've been to Skull Rock only once before. It was a rescue mission then, nothing like now. I came with Pan –and my brothers –to save Tiger Lily from Hook. I wonder who will save me –us –now?

I glance around looking for Salt. The Lost Boys tied us up, separated us, and that's the last I saw of Salt. I suppose he's on another boat being taken to some other part of Skull Rock.

"Walk." Fox prods me forward.

"Are we going inside?" My voice comes out hush.

I don't know why I bothered to ask. I already know the answer.

"Go." Fox stares at me.

I oblige, internally noting my surroundings, praying for an escape route to present itself. Even if I did manage to break free, there's no way back to the main island. No way besides the boats. Cursing myself for not creating a better plan, I fall in line with the Lost Boys.

Pan is nowhere in sight.

The trail from the beach winds around to the mouth of Dark Water Way, which empties right into the mouth of the skull. The black sand beaches are just as I remember, but the rest of the cave is not.

The dark pool is still, untouched by the churning waves outside. Above the beach is a second cliff-top, flat and wide enough for 100 men to stand comfortably. Its sleek wet stone is every bit as dark as the obsidian beach.

I ready my self to climb, but am jolted as Fox pushes me in the opposite direction.

The path to the right empties into a small crevice and disappears out of sight. I have no doubt it leads underground –under the dark water.

"Ahead." Fox commands.

"But–"

I stop myself short. Surely, there is nowhere for me to go and no way to escape the horde of overzealous Lost Boys. I will bide my time.

"Alright," I sigh, pretending to give in.

Fox takes us down the sloping track that leads to a pungent dungeon of sorts. If skull-shaped rocks had built-in dungeons, that is. We circle a row of stalagmites, dark and oily and crawling with seaweed in the low tide. Two torches burn yellow on the rocky walls, casting the only light across the uneven cave ground.

"You stay here," Fox instructs.

"Where are you going? What's going on upstairs? Why have we come to Skull Rock?" I blurt my questions out, but I hardly expect answers. Not from Fox at least.

"We make preparations up there," Fox says, looking up.

"Pan says you stay here," Rabb adds gruffly.

"Pan says?" I repeat, my interest piqued.

Rabb fastens the ropes binding my arms to the thickest of the rocky pillars. My back slides down until I feel the damp loam saturate my trousers. Fox and Rabb retreat through the fissure in the wall. I'm left alone in the chill underground cave.

An hour.

A day.

A year.

I have no way to know how much time passes, but I suppose it doesn't really matter. Time on Neverland is an enigmatic force of its own. The cave has an eerily similar feel as Time Trap Forest.

The rhythmic chanting is back. It sounds like drums. I can hear it upstairs –or feel it –through the many reverberations around me. The entire rock island is quaking beneath me. The small pool of seawater in the stalagmite basin is rippling with every beat.

I wonder where Salt is and if he's in a dungeon of his own. Perhaps there's another prison cell somewhere on this rock. He could be on the other side of Skull Rock completely. My stomach reforms into a bottomless pit. Salt could be upstairs.

I shake my head, absentmindedly moving it to the rhythm I hear in the rocks.

My head starts to droop and my eyes flutter. I'm thinking about Shell Sound and the dried sea flowers. Salt is lying beside me in the grotto and then it turns into the forest and Salt is offering me poisonous water. Then Salt becomes the Archer.

My head slips off my shoulder and I wake with a start. I didn't even hear the drumming stop.

///

"Climb," Rabb commands.

"Where is Salt?" I ask.

My legs fell asleep during my time-out in the cave's cellar. They wobble unsteadily beneath me as I wake my way back up through the crevice of a pathway. My hands scale the briny walls for support.

"Climb," Fox repeats, prodding my back.

I sigh, annoyed, but what choice do I have? I set myself on course, following Rabb's careful and routine steps up the cliff.

We exit the narrow walls and reemerge in the open cavern above ground. The water is still black as night and there are no torches burning upstairs, but there is no lack of light. Thousands of stars twinkle through Skull Rock's eye sockets until they glow so bright they are but two spotlights illuminating the scene before me.

The elevated platform. The Lost Boys.

We reach the platform and I gasp in fear, my ever sinew crumbling at the sight before me. A stone slab sits perched on smaller rocks formed into a perfect circle at the center of the platform. I hate to think of it as an altar, but I'm not sure any other word would suffice.

One by one, the Lost Boys are already lining up around the altar, enclosing it in a loose circle. The eagerness is deplorable, but each one's zeal seems almost contagious to their neighbor. I've never seen the Lost Boys looking so giddy with glee.

Fox stations me front and center, inside the human-formed sphere. He shoves me to my knees and my cheek collides with the sodden soil. It smells putrid like burnt sea-salt and nothing at all like the rest of Neverland.

I struggle against the ropes still binding my now raw-skinned arms behind my back. I roll over onto my back and sit up to find Pan hovering over the altar.

There's something about the way he flies. It both inspires awe and instills fear –a curious mixture of emotion, a euphoric high I'm not likely to forget with haste.

I find Michael and John halfway down the line. They are every bit as clueless and naïve as the rest of the Lost Boys. I find myself disappointed in them for not knowing better. Maybe I'm projecting.

No trace of Salt. My mind races to assume the worst, but I quell it in its tracks. I cannot make room for that guilt. Not now.

Drumming erupts. The chanting follows. Now I'm close enough to discern the words.

Cull! Cull! Cull-ing!

Pan glides over the Lost Boys' heads, his emerald eyes boring into mine. I stick up my chin, head held high, prepared to stand my ground.

"Darling," Pan says, landing on the stone feet away from me.

I refuse to speak.

"What a fateful night. How I knew you'd be back with us." Pan assumes a showman's voice, enunciating every word.

The Lost Boys gather around to witness this sad spectacle.

"We're just about to begin," Pan says. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Honors?"

I curse myself for taking his bait –for answering him and thus engaging in his twisted game.

"Selecting the souls, of course." Pan laughs, blasé.

Cull! Cull! Cull-ing!

I see the many Lost Boys behind Pan. My eyes rest on my brothers.

Pan's gaze follows mine and a wicked smile parts his lips. "Excellent choice."