𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ⎈ 𝘗𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘗𝘢𝘯

Chapter 7: Winds of Change

Rowan's POV: 

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 knowledge here. So many books filled with all sorts of stories. Everything from fairy tales to documentaries. There were countless books on the Island and its geography. They told of all sorts of creatures, monsters, demons, and beings that all called Neverland home. It was filled with all sorts of magic; light and dark. Each creature had its own sort of magic
I thought that my father and I had sailed the entire perimeter of the island. I had no idea how wrong I was. The island had multiple enchantments that magically turned people around or sent them to a different part of the sea without the sailor even being aware. 

It was remarkable to learn about this island. One of the little details that I had noticed about the books I was reading was that they were all hand written. I could tell there was no magic involved because there were mistakes and misspellings that were crossed out and rewritten. There were drips of ink on corners of pages and stains of water on the words. 

"Peter?" I asked, from the window seat which I had discovered one of the first days I was here.   

"Hm?" He looked up from his book that he was reading from the comfort of the chair that sat in the corner.

"Who wrote these?" I flipped the book on the various species of magical foxes in my hands, thumbing through the pages. 

He smirked a little and returned his gaze to his book, "Why, I did, love. I would have assumed that you would have figured that one out on your own, you being so bright and such."

"Wait."

"For what, Rowan?"

"You mean to tell me... that... that you..."

"Rowan, the ignorance is showing again." He smirked, playfully, looking at me from under his eyelashes. 

"I'm sorry, I need a moment to wrap my mind around this."

"Take all the time you need. The more you're silent, the more I can read." 

I paused for a moment. 

"Wait--"

"Again with the waiting..." He interrupted, sarcastically

"--Didn't you write that though?"

He smiled, "A very long time ago. I forgot what I had written."

I looked at him oddly, unsure of this version of Pan I was witnessing. I had lost track of time here, but I know that regardless of the length of time, the more I'm away from the Lost Boys, the more I've discovered this new version of Pan. It's a version I quite like. It's pleasant and... dare I say... kind. 

Eventually, I had gotten my hands on a spellbook in which I learned how to recite multiple incantations. Pan even helped me learn a few. He spent most time with me. When he wasn't enforcing his rule over the boys, he was here, in the library, reading and helping me study and learn. He often came bearing gifts of different clothes, meals, and various cakes. My favorites, however, were the teas. I loved teas. He brought me one that had an orange color to it and taste as sweet as fruit as soon as it hit the tongue, but the more you drank, the more the flavor evolved into one similar to rum. It made me happy; reminisce about what was. But it was different enough that I could remain in this place of content. 

One day, Peter was teaching me a particularly difficult ritualistic spell which allowed plants to bend to your will. It called for precise hand movements and undivided focus. However, my brain refused to concentrate that day. All I could think about was how the heavy breese that was flowing through the open walls that day felt similar to the one that I felt when sailing the ship.