The space made by the parting of their branches is narrow and, at first, seems to dead-end a few yards ahead. But as I walk, the plants move to guide me through the heavy green. When I reach the dead end, I only have to wait for a moment and the hedges rearrange themselves to create a new path. I walk and walk, following the trail that appears before me and growing more and more convinced I’m lost, but every time I think about turning back, I hear the laugh again, and it is so clearly Olivia’s, I keep moving. After a while, the sound grows louder, and I start to grow more confident. With each step I grow more sure that I will turn the next corner and find my friend.
But when one of the dead ends refuses to shift, I’m forced to stop. And when I turn back, the path I’ve just come from is gone. I’m suddenly trapped in a room of leaves and thorns.
“No,” I say, trying desperately to find an opening in the hedges. The path can’t just have disappeared like that. But the branches and leaves shift and grow, knitting themselves even tighter and making themselves even more impermeable.
My breath goes tight—It was a trick, and I fell right for it.
I shout for help, hoping Olivia—someone—will hear me, but the dense branches around me swallow the sound. Worse, the room of green begins to feel smaller. The branches of the hedges haven’t stopped steadily swelling, and the more I try to free myself, the more they shift, pinning me with the pricking of their thorns. No matter how I struggle, I can’t move.
Forget about this world—I may never get out of this maze. Someday some lost boy is going to find what’s left of me pinned into the greenery, like a leftover ornament on a discarded evergreen.
Then—just as I think I will never see the light of day again—the branches part slightly, creating a small windowlike opening. Behind me, the hedge grows thicker, pushing me toward that space. It’s like the maze itself wants me to see what’s on the other side, which should be enough to warn me away. But I don’t have much choice. The more the branches behind me swell, the more impossible it becomes to avoid looking at what’s on the other side.
And what’s on the other side is Pan and Olivia lounging on the soft ground, half undressed, and wrapped around each other in an embrace so intense, my cheeks flame at the sight.
I try to tell myself this is not my Olivia, but nothing gets past the hollow ache I feel as Pan’s arms pull her closer. If Pan has her, she’s already lost, the Captain had told me. I didn’t want to believe it—I won’t believe it.
I can’t ignore the possibility that the Captain could have been right. Maybe I’m already too late, I think as Pan’s hands roam up Olivia’s long slender legs, over the flat lines of her bare stomach. And the way Olivia responds to him—pulling him to her, entwining her leg with his with such urgency and unbridled fierceness, I don’t doubt that she’s chosen this.
Except I can’t help but remember how I had felt pulled toward Pan. I can’t help but think how easy it was to let myself fall under his spell—and I’m more sure than ever it was some kind of a spell. There’s no way the intensity of what I felt toward him could have been real. And I’m not sure it’s real for Olivia, either.
But there’s nothing I can do, trapped like I am.
And I can’t seem to look away.
As they kiss, the soft light of the cavern throws long shadows on the ground behind the two of them, and at first those shadows perfectly mirror their intimate dance. But as they deepen their embrace, Pan’s shadow moves. It doesn’t move like a shadow should, though. Instead of mirroring Pan’s own movements, it slowly untangles itself from Olivia’s shadow. The shadow never breaks its connection to Pan, but it stands, prying itself up from the ground until a perfect dark silhouette lurks over the couple.
A sinister hum begins to grow as other shadows in the clearing make their way toward Pan’s, and then bit by bit add themselves to it, until they begin to take on the form and shape of one of the Dark Ones.
Pan glances up from the progress he’s making down Olivia’s neck. His eyes light with anticipation when he sees the Dark One is fully formed and ready.
The dark figure moves closer and then slowly rests its clawlike hands on Olivia’s shoulders. She doesn’t recoil as the tips of its claws sink into her skin. Instead, she lets out a soft, satisfied moan at its touch.
When the Dark One withdraws its fingertips from Olivia’s shoulder, it brings with it that same faint trail of luminescence I saw harvested from the boy. Pan barely pauses in his thorough savoring of the skin on Olivia’s neck to lap at the offered thread. But when he does pause, his eyes light in a sort of ecstasy before he begins to consume it.
To consume her.
This isn’t the violent taking I saw in the hold of the Captain’s ship, though. Olivia doesn’t writhe in pain. Her body doesn’t contort stiffly, like the boy’s on the ship did, and she doesn’t fight him. From the soft noises she’s making, from the way she pulls Pan even closer, angling her neck even farther so he can nuzzle into it even more, it seems like she’s enjoying what he’s doing to her.
Paralyzed by the horror of what I’m seeing and the regret that I can’t stop it, I can’t seem to do anything but watch as a dark line begins to travel down Olivia’s arm from her elbow to her wrist. Across the hand tangled in Pan’s wild hair.