Neverland is a slow poison, infiltrates in her dreams, like a crawling plague, and her nightmares are more vivid than ever – reality melts with horror, and yet she doesn't scream.
Flashes of faces, voices, sentences. Dust.
Henry. It might be too late for him.
Neal. A way home.
Emma. Just a lost girl.
Her unknown, faceless soulmate. You didn't just ruin your life. You've ruined his.
Henry.
In her dream, Henry stabs her with an arrow, nightshade glimmering of viscous black.
She screams, that night.
Greg is dead, Tinkerbell says. She can't help but smile.
She sleeps better, that night.
