Artemis inspected her long, slender fingers, admiring the way her skin shimmered beneath the sunlight. She was sat in her extravagantly large garden scattered in lavish flowers that only existed in Mount Olympus. She allowed her servants to provide her with shade over her head, and fanned her with large straw fans as she ate her richly, crimson grapes at her own pace and leisure. She thoroughly enjoyed every moment she spent in solace, the serenity in the quietness surrounding her engulfing her in a peaceful trance.

Of course, not every peaceful moment is meant to last; this was merely the calm before the storm. She squinted her eyes to see clearer as the silhouettes of Zeus (her father), Athena and Poseidon approached her. She allowed a graceful smile to play on her red lips upon the sight of them.

"Well, if it isn't my dear father and friends. Please, join me for a lovely afternoon of doing absolutely nothing." Artemis, goddess of wild animals and the moon, ushered them to sit with her and enjoy the weather.

However, Zeus looked rather wary, and Athena smiled falteringly at her. Artemis's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and all it took was for her to glance at Poseidon to confirm that something had gone wrong.

"Alright, what is it now?" She sighed in slight annoyance as she motioned for one of the guards to shield her better from the scorching sun.

"Whatever do you mean, dearest?" Zeus played dumb, seating himself beside her on the long, elegantly hand-crafted couch, as Athena and Poseidon sat across from her on other spare seats.

Artemis rolled her eyes. "Don't try to conceal anything from me, father. Poseidon is an open book – I was certain things were peculiar the moment I saw the look on his face."

Zeus and Athena shot Poseidon nasty glares, causing Poseidon to snap defensively, "Hey, it's not my fault I'm of an honest nature."

"What is going on, then? Is it about the girl? Or is it about the demon we banished her to?" Artemis demanded, folding her arms across her chest. "Because I can assure you, I've got this covered with his shadow I've got wrapped around my finger."

Athena shifted uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding to meet Artemis's eye as she spoke slowly, "that's actually the problem."

Artemis furrowed her perfectly shaped brows. "What is the problem?"

"Our connection with Peter Pan's shadow has been lost." Poseidon admitted sheepishly.

Artemis's eyes widened. "Lost? How could you lose connection with a shadow indebted to me?" She asked startlingly.

Zeus shrugged. "We're not sure. Either Pan has figured out his shadow secretly works for us, or he is punishing him for something else."

Artemis abruptly stood up from her seat, knocking over the bowl of grapes lividly, and yelling incoherently. She swiftly picked up her bow and arrow from beside her and marched forward.

"Where are you going?" Athena called after her.

"I'm going to rain hell on Neverland. No one takes a shadow from me." Artemis seethed.

"Artemis, dear, please take a minute to think this through." Zeus started, causing her to spin around to face him angrily.

"Think this through?! This outlawed, banished Greek god thought he could one up me? Me?! I cannot let this slide." She protested adamantly.

"It's not as bad as you make it sound, Artemis." Athena countered as she slowly rose up from her seat and walked towards her.

"He's taken ahold of our advantage and obliterated it, Athena. Peter Pan must pay." Artemis hissed.

Athena laughed at Artemis's outburst, perplexing the goddess of the moon by her actions. "I fail to understand the reason you find this worthy of laughing at, Athena."

Athena smiled at Artemis and shook her head slowly. "Artemis, Pan will never get far in uncovering Metanoia's true identity, because he most certainly won't be able to attain the seer's key."

"I find it utterly foolish to place the entire story into one source which Pan could actually get his hands on." Artemis snapped warily, and ran her hand stressfully through her hair.

"I must agree with Artemis." Poseidon remarked. "Peter Pan did quite a number on King Trident. He left him and his kingdom shaking under his evidently full threats of reigning the underwater realm."

Artemis scoffed in disbelief, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation as she snapped, "The little demon is scheming to rule the place we banished him to. You do realise what this means for us when Pan succeeds in ruling the entirety of Neverland along with its neighboring grounds, right?"

"It will not happen." Athena stubbornly retorted.

"Oh, how can you be so sure of yourself?" Artemis glared at her.

"Because Pan is weak." Athena started, stepping close to Artemis hotly. "He is pathetic, and he is most certainly oblivious to many things we have knowledge about."

Zeus slowly stood up from his seat. "The seer's key is heavily guarded. It's in perfectly safe hands, and will never fall in the hands of Peter Pan and Metanoia. It's definite."

Athena smirked twistedly. "You'll just have to make do without your shadow servant, Artemis. I'm sure you'll manage."

~•~

If Metanoia could describe Nate in one word, she would confidently confess he would be the epitome of determination. He relentlessly trained her with no remorse for the wounds he inflicted, and mercilessly battered her, claiming it was necessary to shape her into the perfect soldier. As much as Metanoia was grateful for his aid into making her a stronger fighter, her patience towards him hurting her was wearing dangerously thin.

There they stood, facing one another, holding swords and their eyes set on each other with palpable concentration. Metanoia had a two-day old scar on her temple and her arms were scattered with purple and blue bruises (courtesy of Nate). She'd much rather train with Theodore, who never laid a hand on her, however, much to her dismay, Pan had him constantly occupied the last few days with top secret second in command endeavours. Endeavours which ate away at Metanoia's curiosity, because within the fleeting moments of seeing Theodore, he never gave anything away.

"Focus, Metanoia." Nate hissed impatiently when his sword's blunt side easily landed on her kneecaps, and she wobbled in place.

"I am." She spat exhaustingly, before she swung her sword towards Nate's left hip, but he dodged it with ease.

"This is a pitiful performance, Metanoia. I know you can do better than this." He spoke in disapproval, before bringing his sword down on her with force, and she barely missed, thankfully shoving her sword horizontally in front of her to deflect his attack.

"It's hard to concentrate when you're in pain." She retorted in passive aggression, her eyes throwing a hard glare at Nate, who was utterly unfazed by her evident frustration.

"If being in pain during a battle is distracting you from saving your life," Nate paused as he swiftly slashed her with his sword in her hip, causing her to falter and plummet to the floor, hissing in pain as she grabbed her hip, discarding her sword in the process. Nate expertly positioned his sword in the meantime, against the centre of her neck, and whispered in her ear, "Then you have no place here in Neverland."

Upon hearing his words, Metanoia felt her blood boil, her lips curling in fury, before she shoved the sword off her and stood up, Nate mirroring her actions, and she shoved him. Nate barely moved from the impact, and he stared down at her with an unreadable expression on his fatigued face. His dark eyes swept over her own livid pair of blue eyes.

"You're angry." He stated flatly.

"Yeah no shit!" Metanoia cursed, shoving him once again, before yelling desperately, "You're beating the crap out of me and I'm getting tired."

Nate raised a single brow at her outburst, and gestured at her with his sword. "Sounds to me like you're just quitting. I didn't take you for a quitter, Metanoia."

Metanoia's nostrils flared angrily, before she made to push him one more time, but Nate grasped her wrist firmly, locking her in place.

"Let go of me." She muttered through gritted teeth, glaring heatedly up at his frustratingly calm face.

"Not until you learn how to control your actions. Recklessness in battle is a death wish." Nate replied firmly, trying to reason with her, but Metanoia was far beyond reasoning when she was angry, exhausted and starving.

She groaned, rolling her eyes as she threw her head back in annoyance after hearing his response, before she yanked her wrist off his grip. "What battle? As far as I can tell since I've come here, Neverland is a peaceful place."

Nate frowned deeply in disbelief, before he snapped. "Peaceful? Good God, Metanoia, it's anything but! The reason you haven't seen anything yet is because Pan is powerful enough to keep the other Four Divisions' rulers in their place. But that doesn't mean we aren't constantly threatened by our enemies."

He stepped forward, towering over her intimidatingly, and purposefully so, because Nate intended on opening her eyes to the reality of the world they live in. It was for her sake, not his, to keep herself alive and survive.

"A battle, war or even massacre would occur at any moment – without warning, Metanoia – and then what? How will you survive?" He dropped his voice considerably, now slightly above a whisper as he watched Metanoia's exasperated expression soften, though her fatigue evidently remained etched onto her face.

"But I'm clearly no good at this. I'm going to die either way." She whispered morbidly.

Nate rolled his eyes. "You're not dying – at least not on my watch. There's a reason I'm the one training you. I'm the best there is on this island, after Pan of course."

Metanoia pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, not uttering a word.

Nate then pointed to her sword on the ground with his own, before commanding, "Pick your sword back up and let me teach you how to be a warrior, and I promise you, you're not going to die."

Metanoia eyed her sword, catching her reflection through the shiny blade, and she sighed heavily, before picking up her sword and focusing her gaze on Nate.

"Just please try to refrain from giving me any more wounds." She requested tiredly, and Nate laughed.

"Deflect me and maybe I won't have to."

~•~

Peter Pan stood with an immaculate posture, his hands held behind his straight back as he slowly walked across the training clearing, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every lost boy stood in a perfectly horizontal line. When his constantly angry forest-green eyes landed on Metanoia, his jaw clenched irritably, and his eyebrow subconsciously shot up. It was an insult to his pride of abundant knowledge to still have no information on the reason behind Metanoia's unwanted arrival in Neverland.

Nostrils flaring indignantly, Pan commenced the introduction to today's training session. "Today you'll be putting your hand-to-hand combat skills to the test."

His eyes didn't miss the evident discomfort flickering across some of the lost boys' faces, and Metanoia, which caused him to smirk in satisfaction. "I'll be pairing you up, and we'll go in turns, so everyone will watch every game."

At this, the lost boys cheered enthusiastically, for they always enjoyed watching games, but Metanoia visibly paled like a ghost, and it deepened Pan's sadistic thrill, fueling it and allowing it to grow.

"Right then, let's begin." Pan demanded, causing the lost boys to quiet down and listen closely to who Pan pairs them with. One by one, a lost boy was given a partner, and Pan intentionally left Metanoia last in order to intensify her stress and anxiety. He could see her from the distance, practically sweating buckets.

Peter Pan was no fool. He could notice every small thing about every lost boy, so when he gained awareness regarding their feelings towards the girl's existence in Neverland, one person in particular stood out to him. One Lost Boy who Pan knew for certain would make a fool out of Metanoia, enough to break her into believing that she can never pass her trials.

He had to have her fail so he could have a justified reason to kill her. Granted, Pan could murder her any second without any explanation to anyone; he had the authority to do so. However, despite his passionate hatred towards the girl, he was also curious to know more about her before deciding her fate for her. Perhaps having Metanoia in his property would benefit him somehow.

"And finally, Denzel – you're with Metanoia." Pan concluded, causing Metanoia to snap her head immediately towards Denzel, who was already glaring maliciously at her, an evil grin stretching onto his face. He was ready to pummel her.

Pan ignored the look Metanoia shot him, simply because it was pathetic. She was gazing at him helplessly, as if silently asking him to change his mind, her desperation reeking off her facial expression. And Pan despised pathetic desperation. Just when he couldn't think any lower of her, Metanoia proved that he can. He rolled his eyes after giving her his back, and walked away to a corner where he can observe the fights.

Metanoia felt a dangerous chill creep its way down her spine as she gulped in trepidation when noticing Denzel's horrible, predatory look he shot her. She could already tell that she might have a hefty chance of getting killed this training session, but surely Pan would not allow murder, would he? Somehow, this didn't sound convincing in Metanoia's head, and she shuddered. Glancing upward after diverting her vision on the dirt beneath her feet, she caught Theodore eyeing her worryingly, his eyes constantly flickering between her and Denzel. In the distance, Nate was gazing at her sympathetically, already predicting Metanoia's failure. He wasn't exactly a pessimist, but he definitely kept his thoughts to a realistic level. Denzel was a beast, possessed a muscular body, and was highly praised for his hand-to-hand combat skills, although never managed to beat Nate. None of the Lost Boys could.

Metanoia stood in the crowd of Lost Boys as she watched the first pair stand facing each other in the middle of the clearing. Elijah slowly raised his fists, holding his stance as his opponent, Timmothy, awkwardly shifted in his place, raising his arms up as well in defense.

"The rules are quite simple." Pan piped up, his arms crossed over his chest as the wind picked up speed and caused his soft hair to ruffle slightly. If it weren't for his utterly ugly attitude, Metanoia would've considered him to be an attractive boy. "Weapons are not permitted. You fight until your opponent either declares they surrender, or you knock your opponent unconscious. And finally, you cannot kill each other; I don't have much of you to spare."

A few lost boys laughed at Pan's last statement, but all Metanoia could feel was a tad bit of relief upon the declaration of Pan's clearly strict rule of no murders. Her stomach churned in discomfort as it dawned on her though, that she could be very bloody and unconscious by the end of this session.

"You may begin." Pan's voice commenced the fight, and Elijah wasted no time in charging at Timmothy, who looked determined, yet afraid, and rightfully so. Elijah was much bigger in size than little Timmothy, but that did not mean that it would be impossible to beat Elijah; he just needed to use his strengths to his advantage. However, as most Lost Boys predicted, Timmothy raised his hands and yelled his acceptance of defeat when Elijah crashed him to the ground and was ready to throw a powerful punch to Timmothy's face. Metanoia could spot Elijah's palpable relief to have Timmothy surrender, for he genuinely didn't want to knock Timmothy into the next life. Everyone cheered and clapped, chanting Elijah's name in repetition as he held his hand out to help Timmothy off the ground.

The fights dragged on, and Metanoia observed the Lost Boys' skills and moves, hoping to absorb some of it and use them when it's time for her to fight Denzel. She knew she was going to lose, but she hoped she would at least manage to put up a good fight, for the sake of not embarrassing herself in front of everyone, especially Peter Pan.

"Denzel, Metanoia – you're up." Pan's thick accent announced her most dreaded nightmare, and Metanoia grudgingly forced her legs to move forward towards the clearing. On her way, Nate briefly held her shoulder and discreetly whispered into her ear, "stay focused" before letting go of her. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, before making it towards the clear space and facing Denzel.

Denzel smirked cruelly at her. "This is going to be way too easy."

Metanoia didn't respond, taking Nate's advice and attempting keep her head clear. Her eyes scanned Denzel's figure, and she speculated what kind of fighter he would be. Judging by his abnormally muscular body, she guessed he would mostly rely on her strength, considering the fact that this misogynistic tart deems girls as a weak, frail waste of space. This caused her face to scrunch up in disgust, and fueled her determination to give it her best effort. She didn't need to win. She just needed to make a point in proving that she was an opponent worth considering as a threat. If Denzel relies on his strength, then perhaps Metanoia could depend on her brain and somehow trick the buffoon. Metanoia took her stance, checking her footing diligently as she raised her arms defensively, ready for attack. After observing the way everyone stood before the fight commenced, Metanoia was able to perfect it, much to her relief. However, Denzel scoffed condescendingly at her attempt.

"Kick his ass, Metanoia!" She heard Elijah yelled a few feet away from her, followed by a "Woo! Get 'em Metanoia!" from Charlie, Theodore and Nate. There were several other cheers among the Lost Boys, and Metanoia smirked at Denzel.

Unable to bite her tongue, she mockingly teased him. "Seems like no one likes you, Denzel. That must hurt."

Denzel's eyes darkened and narrowed, vexed by her comment, but Metanoia didn't regret it, although she had a feeling she would later.

"I'll show you what'll hurt." He spat viciously, right before Pan stated vividly, "You may begin."

Denzel snarled, taking massive strides towards Metanoia and swinging his arm to punch her, but Metanoia quickly moved out of the way, causing Denzel to stagger forward and stumble on his large feet. In the crowd, as much as Theodore was apprehensive for Metanoia wellbeing, he couldn't help but snort at Denzel's clumsiness. Nate watched attentively, unaware that he's holding his breath.

Denzel spun around to face her swiftly, his face slightly red from embarrassment, and his eyes burning with revulsion. He charged at her again, in attempts to tackle her, but the moment his arms wrapped around her abdomen, Metanoia used her entire strength to slither her way out of his grip before it could tighten, and she slid underneath him and managed to kick his rear-end with all her power. The lost boys gasped in entertainment and disbelief, laughing loudly as Denzel fell face forward as a result of Metanoia's mighty kick.

"Alright! That's what I'm talking about." Sam laughed as he clapped his hands, while Idris whistled loudly to cheer Metanoia on.

Peter Pan watched quietly, his face excruciatingly neutral, though his mind was whirring in