Chapter Seventeen

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Metanoia barely contained her laughter as she climbed up the cliff with tremendous ease in comparison to Denzel during their regular training session one morning. Peter Pan was standing at the bottom of the small cliff, his hands sassily resting against his hips as he gazed up at the two of them scrutinizingly. He was assessing their performance against each other, and he was getting angrier by the second every time Metanoia jumped ahead of Denzel. Denzel was huffing angrily, losing sight of his strategic instincts because he was too blinded by wanting to point-blank beat Metanoia.

"What's the matter, Denzel? Can't haul your heavy arse up this tiny cliff?" Metanoia teased the Lost Boy purposely, for she learnt that Denzel tended to perform poorly when provoked.

He was a pityingly distracted boy indeed.

"Shut up before I get up there and beat you up senseless." Denzel threatened coldly after panting like a sweaty pig.

Metanoia jumped a couple of steps expertly, leaving Denzel gazing up at her in astonishment.

"How'd you do that?!" He demanded angrily.

Metanoia winked down at him. "Watch and learn, fatso."

Denzel growled. "I am not fat. I'm overwhelmingly muscular."

Metanoia rolled her eyes, and rubbed her shoe against the piece of rock jutting out so she could drop some rubble on his face. Denzel spat out the dust and blinked rapidly.

"Stop that!" He yelled.

"I dare you to stop me." She laughed, and carried on climbing, but Denzel was far too angry to actually carry on, so when he made the next move without calculating where his foot would go, he inevitably let out a shriek of shock, lost his grip, and fell all the way back down to the base of the cliff.

Metanoia smirked smugly when she heard his loud thud on the ground and the Lost Boys' laughs across the training campsite.

"Too easy." She sang as she lifted herself up to the top of the cliff.

Denzel fell straight on his back, groaning in horrendous pain. When he opened his eyes after scrunching them up painfully, he was met by an upside-down-Peter Pan-annoyed face.

Denzel gulped nervously.

"Get up." Pan hissed viciously. "This isn't nap time, you idiot."

Denzel scrambled up to his feet, and bit back a groan of pain. Nate was staring up at Metanoia with tremendous pride, overflowing and radiating off him so obviously. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell how far along Metanoia has come, and Nate felt like he could simply embrace her in his tightest hug possible. With her astounding progress, he was now sure that she would pass her trials. Metanoia was beaming down at everyone, who in return were beaming up at her with the exclusion of Pan, Felix, and Denzel.

She then proceeded to grab the hook tied to a rope, planted it firmly against the rock at the top, and began to sling herself back down the base of the cliff expertly. As soon as she landed, the Lost Boys were already celebrating her easy win, and Metanoia smiled shyly at them all.

When she saw Denzel sulking in the corner, she called out to him. "Don't look so glum, Denzel - you gave it your best shot. Perhaps you'll have better luck next time."

Denzel shot her a furious glare, and opened his mouth to bark an insult at her, but before he could, Peter Pan spoke.

"Don't get too cocky, Metanoia. This was barely even anything to be proud of."

Metanoia focused her attention on him, and scowled. "But I -"

"In fact," Pan interrupted her rudely. "It's nothing compared to your actual trials. So, I suggest you stop celebrating, and worry about what your trials will be like."

If Metanoia could actually have the ability to release steam from her ears and nostrils, she would have as a result of her blood boiling.

After he walked away, Metanoia felt Theodore's hand land on her shoulder comfortingly, as he cooed, "Don't listen to him, Em. You did marvelously."

"Like a true Nate Number Two." Nate piped up beside her and shot her a cheeky wink, and Metanoia smiled sincerely at the two of them in return.



~•~


Towards the evening, just when the sun had started to set and cast a mesmerising glow upon the island, Peter Pan walked calmly through Neverland's grounds, hidden between the luscious leaves of the dense trees of its forest. His clothes camouflaged with his surroundings, and his hair swayed lazily with the soft breeze slipping through the cracks the trees failed to cover from the sky above. Peter knew the island like the back of his hand; he knew every turn and every hole, every habitat and every inhabitant. He could hear every chirp and every growl, every laugh and every cry. A mere mortal would have their head explode as a result of the overwhelming capacity of hearing everything all at once, but Peter was not a mere mortal. He descended from Mount Olympus; he ruled over the demons the world was plagued with. He had the power to handle his vast capacity of supernatural abilities. His mind was far more advanced than a simple human's.

Just up ahead, Pan could already see the massive tree stood with palpable pride, its sturdy branches spread out elegantly, and wearing each thick leaf so enchantingly, confident they would never fall off. But more importantly, the golden dust that constantly shimmered all across this giant tree was a true sight to behold. It put all the other trees to shame, for they were not enchanted like the mighty tree of Pixie Hollow. Pan had always had some form of respect towards the fairies and their home. He never paid them unannounced visits, and he always consulted with their queen before making decisions that would affect her people. In exchange, their queen did the exact same thing. They had a strong alliance, but neither one of them mistake it for a friendship. They both knew very well that if the opportunity should ever rise, they would drop the other and settle for something even better.

He approached the base of the tree, before two fairies popped out from their hideouts, fluttering their wings as they hovered around his head. They were so small, and yet so deliciously dangerous, Pan found it exhilarating. Their golden dust fell on his shoulders, causing his shirt to rise up slowly, hovering in the air.

Pan chuckled. "I'm here to see Queen Clarion. I have an appointment with her."

One of the fairies nodded as the two of them bowed slightly to greet the Demon King, and they escort him into the tree. Pan entered the bark, which was an illusion to hide their actual land. The moment he stepped inside, he was in a different and vast forest, blindingly bright with lights from every corner, emanating from the flowers sprouting everywhere, and the blades of grass he walked on. Around him, the fairies were now all his size, and no longer small. He walked elegantly after the two guards, following them to Queen Clarion's throne. One of the fairies passing by stopped in her tracks to gaze at him, and he gladly returned her attention.

She was breathtaking, and Pan couldn't deny it. Her smooth hair fell all the way down to her hips in a shimmering gold glow, and her purple eyes shone like a pair of striking amethysts. Her nose, sculpted to beautifully fit the symmetry of her gorgeous face, twitched slightly when her plump pink lips smiled at him shyly, and her cheeks blushed noticeably upon him shamelessly eyeing her from top to bottom. She had such a tiny and slim figure, and if Pan wasn't on a mission, he probably would have spared her an hour of his time to make her fall in love with him before dropping her altogether.

Soon enough, Pan was standing right before Queen Clarion, queen of the fairies, who was elegantly sat poised in her throne carved out of an enchanted wood that never withered with time. She was undeniably gorgeous. Her honey-coloured hair was as soft and smooth as honey itself, held in an elegant, low bun. Over her hair rested a magnificent gold wreath, twinkling against the lights shimmering within the tree. Her golden dress was moving of its own accord like a gentle stream, made entirely of golden pixie dust. Queen Clarion's matching honey eyes gazed welcomingly at Peter Pan, before she gestured for the guards to bring Peter a chair.

"Welcome, Peter. It's always a pleasure to see you." She greeted Pan warmly, a sincere smile etched on her face as she watched Pan slowly seat himself on the chair provided to him, across from her throne.

"The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness. It's always pleasant visiting your division of Neverland." Pan admitted truthfully, his eyes soaking in the sheer interior beauty of the enchanted tree.

"Pixie Hollow has always been, and always will be the most beautiful part of the island." Queen Clarion proudly boasted, and Pan laughed softly.

"That I cannot disagree with." He replied.

"Tell me, your message sent by my guards hinted the urgency in your tone. What is it you wish to discuss with me, Peter?" The Queen got straight to the point, her voice expressed with concern for the boy.

Pan sat straight in his seat, and wasted no time in delving into the pressing matter at hand. "I'm afraid I have a little problem regarding the Grand Seer residing within your territory, Your Highness."

Queen Clarion furrowed her eyebrows, but even then, her forehead did not even seem to crease. "That old, grey man? How could he possibly be a problem?"

"The Grand Seer has been stirring the pot lately about some prophecy - a prophecy concerning a new arrival on my territory which I find a little ... unnerving. She seems to be a pawn in a bigger game crafted by higher forces outside of Neverland, and I must know what the Grand Seer has seen." Pan explained as vaguely as he possibly could. There was no reason to bring panic upon the residents of Pixie Hollow, at least not yet. Simultaneously, Pan did not wish to share much with Queen Clarion, in case their alliance ever diminishes.

The Queen hummed slowly as her mind processed the details, before she mused, "Now that I think of it, I recall then mentioning of his apprentice, Thea, being missing for quite some time. I've sent out some of my soldiers to investigate, but they've come back empty handed."

When Pan did not respond to her and smiled coyly, Queen Clarion's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Something tells me that you have had a part in this issue, Peter."

Pan shrugged. "Thea was captured by the Indians a very long time ago."

At this, the Queen looked positively startled. "Why, the sneaky folk ..."

"I've managed to get a hold on Thea recently, but due to her refusal to cooperate with my demands, I had no choice but to ... choose her fate for her." Pan added slowly, a twisted smirk capturing his facial expression.

Queen Clarion pursed her lips, unimpressed. "I know what this means, Peter. Need I remind you of our agreement? That you are -"

"Not to touch any of your people. Yes, I'm well versed on our terms, Your Highness."

When the Queen rested her back against her throne and eyed Pan warily, Pan took matters into his own hands. "But need I remind you, that The Grand Seer and his apprentice are not your people? They have existed in Pixie Hollow long before your people's existence, and to make peace with them, considering their profound power, you agreed to allow them to continue residing here."

The Queen raised her eyebrows and thoughtfully remarked, "Yes, I believe you're quite right." She then casted her gaze on him and smiled. "I've got to say, I'm quite impressed by your ability to find loopholes in agreements, Peter. I can't hold your action against you."

"I'm glad you see it my way." He stated calmly, returning her smile.

"So if I have no official authority over the Grand Seer, why are you here to ask me to have an audience with him?" She questioned curiously.

At this, Pan smiled sadistically. "I do not wish to have an audience with him, Your Highness. I wish to abduct him."

Her eyes widened. "Must you resort to violence?"

He sighed. "If the Grand Seer foreshadows my intentions, he will attempt to escape the way his apprentice did. I am asking for your kind assistance for my Lost Boys to capture him smoothly without any casualties of your people."

The Queen sucked her cheeks in as she mulled over his words cautiously. She appreciated him notifying her of the matter, and for putting the safety of her people into consideration. However, it was too big of a request, and she wasn't sure if she could give him an immediate response.

"Do you have any use for the Grand Seer, Your Highness?" Pan asked rhetorically.

Queen Clarion scoffed. "Oh, dear - no. He is as useless to me as a chipped nail."

Pan smirked. "Then I don't see why you are even taking time to consider the matter. I'd be taking a burden off your hands too, now that the Seers will be extinct from your territory."

Queen Clarion sighed. "I can see how tempting this offer can be to me and my people, Peter. However, I believe I should cautiously think this through before giving you an answer."

Pan nodded in understanding, and stood up from his seat. "I will be back in ten days for your decision."

The Queen offered him a smile. "Ten days will be enough. Thank you for stopping by, Peter."

Pan returned her polite behaviour, and mused, "Thank you for having me, Your Highness."



~•~



The bonfire was setting the whole camp alight with buzzing energy and sheer excitement. The Lost Boys always anticipated every nightfall, just so they could witness the flames dance before them and providing them with the warmth they craved. Neither one of them confided in the other, but they all secretly hoped for the same thing every night - that Pan would pick up his flute and play a sweet tune for them. He rarely did ever performed, so when he did, it truly was special. Tonight, the Lost Boys repeatedly stole glances at their ruler to see if he'd hopefully pull out his flute. However, so far, the chances of that happening were absolutely bleak.

Metanoia was found sandwiched between Nate and Finn as the three of them indulged in a quiet conversation. They felt at tremendous peace with how the day had turned out, but their solace was short-lived when Sam and Charlie loudly joined them.

Charlie was stumbling carelessly towards them, while Sam laughed wildly at him. Clutched in their hands were two massive flasks, and Charlie took a brave, large swig, before shoving it aggressively against Nate's chest.

"Bottoms up, Nathaniel." He slurred heavily, and Nate scrunched up his face in repugnance, before pushing Charlie away from him roughly.

"Your breath stinks, mate." Nate whined, but he gladly took a sip from the flask anyway, before handing it over to Finn.

Sam smiled at Metanoia, and reached his arm out for her to offer her his flask.

Metanoia frowned. "What's in it?"

"Liquid courage ... or happiness ... or idiocy, whichever term you'd prefer, really." He winked.

When Metanoia shot Nate a hesitant glance, both he and Sam laughed together.

"He means alcohol, Metanoia." Nate clarified.

"Sheesh, Em." Charlie huffed, before squishing himself between her and Finn, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her close.

"Hey, watch it!" Finn snapped when the alcoholic beverage partially spilled on his clothes as a result of Charlie's abrupt actions.

But Charlie paid him no mind.

"How oblivious do you have to be to not understand what liquid courage is." Charlie continued, before snatching the flask off Sam's hand and taking a gulp.

He then waved it under her nose temptingly and sang, "Come on, it's calling out to you."

Metanoia shrugged nonchalantly, and gladly took the flask off Charlie's hands. "Eh, why not?"

Sam, Charlie, Nate and Finn all whistled and howled, before Sam yelled, "That's the spirit, Em!"

Peter Pan watched from a distance as Metanoia tipped the contents of the flask down her throat without a second thought. He often wondered what could be going on through her head; surprisingly, she somehow had barricades that disallowed him from entering her mind and invading her thoughts. It was irritating too, because Metanoia actually looked like she had no idea that she was blocking him out. Was she aware of her origins, or was she truly oblivious?

Metanoia vigorously coughed when she put the flask down, and Charlie gave her rough pats on the back in approval. When she finally calmed down and settled into a mellow state of mind, her blue eyes landed on Peter, who was already staring at her intensely. Normally, she would feel rather unnerved by his unwavering, intense attention on her by him. But whether it was the Liquid Courage, or something else within her, Metanoia was feeling oddly calm, and brave enough to stare back at him just as intensely.

"What are you hiding from me, Metanoia?" He sent a mental message her way, knowing very well that she could hear him as though he were speaking right into her ears. He recalled the time he exploited this power of his on her when he urged her to send an arrow straight into Denzel's skull.

Metanoia's eyes narrowed at the sound of his voice in her head. She concentrated, snapping in her head, "What is the deal with your unfathomable obsession with me, Pan?"

Pan surprisingly heard her, and he was startled for a moment. How could she respond to him with a mental message of her own? It soon dawned on him that it's only residents of Mount Olympus who possess this power, but why has it been hidden from her this entire time until this very moment? What was special about this moment?

Was it because she was intoxicated?

He now confirmed that she was indeed a resident of Mount Olympus, and that triggered him beyond the brink of sanity. Who was Metanoia, and what role did she play in his prophecy and scheme by the Greek Gods and Goddesses?

"So you can talk back, can't you? Where was this power hiding, my dear Metanoia?"

Metanoia rolled back her shoulders, never breaking eye contact with his emerald eyes, but she never responded to his question. Pan assumed it was because she was hiding her intentions from him, but in reality, the only reason Metanoia didn't reply is because she had absolutely no idea how she did what she did. She just speculated that the liquid happiness or whatever, was causing her to hallucinate.

"Theodore." Pan sharply snapped, and Theodore glanced at him.

"Yeah?" He hesitantly asked.

"You better get something out of Metanoia, or trust me, I will have her slaughtered in her trials." Pan mercilessly threatened him, and he vowed to end her life in that very moment.

Theodore gulped. "I will get you what you need, Pan. You can count on me."

"Don't give me a reason not to."



~•~


Metanoia's hands reached before her to touch the sunlight. Her fingertips felt the warmth emanating from the star, and her face visibly relaxed. A faint smile rested on her face. She knew she had tremendously atrocious angry outbursts, and they were frequent too at that. So to find herself at peace for a moment, she relished in it while it lasted. A roughly calloused hand firmly placed itself on her shoulder, but it was not a harsh touch. Metanoia breathed softly, feeling her father's presence behind her.

"I know everyone is so quick to cast you off as an irrational hothead, little one." Greek God Ares spoke gruffly. "But just because so many people

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