Pan did not have friends. He was too...advanced for such a notion as friendship. He had enemies and underlings, but no friends. He supposed at one point he would have called the Lost Boys his friends but now after knowing them all for at least fifty years, he could say without any hesitation that they were all sniveling cowards of the worst kind. Well, not all. That wasn't fair ad Pan was supposed to be immanently fair. Felix was loyal to a point. He'd still tell him no if he needed to hear it, but that was very rare. His second-in-command knew secrets that others would kill to get their hands on. He was trusted more than the others, more than Tiger, who, despite her apathy, he knew would kill him if given the opportunity. Felix had been the first one he'd found. He'd survived the elements, attacks by the creatures around the island and still somehow managed to crawl out of it all unscathed mentally. He was strong, and Pan respected that. Friends knew everything about each other. They held each other's secrets. Felix certainly knew nearly everything about him, while he knew everything about the scarred boy. He'd helped him bury a few bodies in the Dark Hollow. He held up morale in the Lost Boys and made sure none of them were foolish enough to follow in Baelfire's footsteps. At the end of everything he knew that Tiger would leave him, the Lost Boys would go home to their families and magic could be destroyed, but Felix would stay by his side.

And that was why he had to die.

Pan didn't love. He obsessed over and took control of. The strongest emotions he felt toward anyone were respect and outright disgust, and he despised no one more than he respected Felix. Loyalty was love without the nonsense of feelings poured in, wasn't it? Loyalty had kept him alive for centuries and protected him in his most dangerous hour and had protected his Tiger from pirates. Loyalty had helped him steal and enchant and lead children away from their homes for years. Loyalty had kept the secret and still followed him after. The spell required the heart of the thing the caster loved most, and there was no doubt in his mind who that would be. For his years of endless service, his lieutenant would be put to rest among the trees of his own world at last. He would at least ensure that he wasn't just left to rot. A preservation sell would do the trick. That knowledge he could console himself with. He wouldn't be killing his best friend, just putting him to sleep in his own world.