We sat there all night, the stars shimmering above through the cracks in the stone palace.

Peter was in a trance, mesmerised by the dozens of maps and artefacts that littered the room. Upon arriving, we had noticed a series of scattered objects lying about the cave.

Swords, broken helmets, a cracked compass and pieces of ancient armour were scattered throughout the room. It was as though the island held the remains of a battle fought on the sea. My fingertips tingled at the thought.

Tossing the broken compass to the side, I turned around to look for my own. It was still captive in the rock cavern as Peter had warned me earlier not to remove it. Reluctantly, I had left it alone.

Sitting in the corner with my back propped up against a rock, I eventually drifted off to sleep while watching Peter study the markings on the wall. I missed my friend, and wanted the comfort of his body next to mine as I slept. In all the time we'd been here, there had only ever been one night that I didn't sleep beside Peter. Now, I desired nothing more than to be sheltered in his arms each night, the way we had since we were twelve.

Though I longed for the comfort of my friend beside me, I knew better than to disturb Peter Pan.

The next morning, I awoke to find Peter beside me, head in my lap as he snored softly. Smiling, I stoked his hair gently away from his face.

He had come back to me.

Peter breathed softly as he slept, each breath a whisper to winds in a language I would never understand. For all I knew, Peter was a dream himself. A fairytale of my own imagination.

I watched in gentle curiosity as Peter slept on, innocence and youth painted onto his face in the warm sunlight.

Running my fingers delicately through his light hair, I began to trace the features of his face; the cutting cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips, the long lashes that shadowed his face.

I inhaled delicately. "Beautiful."

Moving carefully, I slipped out from under Peter and carefully laid his head under my coat as a replacement. Standing, I crossed the room in long strides until I reached the back wall.

I came to a stop before the map of Neverland. In the daylight, the room had only a dull glow, unlike the night before, but every intricacy could still be made out.

My hand ran lightly over the map, stopping every so often at different locations. First it was Pirate's Cove, then it was the mountain, then the forest and so on.

Lastly, my finger hovered over Skull Rock, a name Peter had assigned the small island the previous night. It was very place we were standing right now. I breathed in, images appearing in my head faster then I could count them.

The day we arrived at Neverland, the fairies, Peter's Shadow, my ship, this rock, all of it. So much had happened that neither one of us could explain or even begin to comprehend.

"James?"

I turned slowly, smiling at a rising Peter who looked up at me through sleepy eyes. "What time is it?"

My eyes travelled up to the sky. "Close to noon."

"Hmm." Peter hummed, offering no further response as he rose slowly to his feet and came over to me.

I nearly jumped when I felt Peter's arms wrap around my torso, a soft and subtle weight resting upon my hips that still had my heart racing.

Peter buried his head into my back, tucked into the soft spot right between my shoulder blades. He groaned. "It's too early to be awake."

I laughed lightly. "No one said you had to get up."

"Hmm," Peter said, voice muffled as his grip around me tightened. "But you're up."

My heart fluttered in my chest.

Peter finally raised his head, looking over my shoulder. "What are you looking at?"

My focus shifted back to the map. "I don't know really."

It was quiet for a moment before Peter asked, "What's that?"

I followed his gaze towards the main wall and nearly gasped in shock.

Sitting atop the dais was a very large, suspended hourglass that had definitely not been there the night before.

"Peter-" I gasped but Peter was already crossing the room and in several strides, was standing in front of the object.

I hurried over to the dais and came to a stop beside Peter. We both stared at the object, a mixture of confusion and caution written into both our expressions.

"What is it?" I asked.

Peter reached out, as if to touch it. "It's an hourglass."

"I know that," I said. "I meant, what is it doing here?"

"It wasn't here last night." Peter observed and I nodded in agreement. "That must mean we've awoken something."

"Like what?"

"Well," Peter said. "An hourglass is a measure of time, right? But how much time does this one hold?"

I turned my attention to the hourglass. Looking closely, I noticed that a very slow river of grains trickled from the top, moving at a snail's pace.

"Well, whatever it's counting down to, at this rate it will take years." I said in conclusion.

Peter peered closer, seemingly fascinated by the falling grains. "However long it has, what is it actually counting down to?"

I looked back around the room. "You said we've 'awoken Neverland'. What if it's counting down until the island's end?"

An idea popped into my head and I grinned eagerly. "What if it's counting down the days until we go home?"

Peter flicked me a brief look from under his fringe. It was unreadable and gone the second it came. I frowned but didn't say anything.

"It can't be that," Peter said finally, "It would've had to been counting from the moment we arrived, meaning it couldn't have just appeared over night. It has to be something else."

"But what?"

Peter sighed. "I really don't know."

We left Skull Rock later that afternoon. Closing my eyes, I allowed Peter to carry me back out over the bay until we reached the shore. I even gave in to his shouts of joy along the journey.

Flying, I had decided, was for Peter, not me.

We noticed it instantly when we touched down on the shoreline. "Peter." I breathed in awe.

My friend's eyes trailed over the luminescent paths radiating under the ground. Just like the map on the cave's wall on Skull Island, lines had surfaced on the very ground of the island and glowed in a vibrant hue of green. They ran right to the centre of the island, straight horizontal lines.

"It's a map." Peter observed. He crouched down and ran his fingers over the sand, as though he could touch the lines. "It's the same pattern that is in the cave."

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"It means," Peter said, eyes twinkling. "That Neverland has changed."

I realised, disheartened, that I had left my father's compass on Skull Rock, stuck in the small rock cavern that gripped the compass like an iron fist. Could it be the reason the island had somehow come to life?

"Changed?" I asked.

Peter's eyes sparkled and he stood back, hands on his hips as he looked up at the mountain like a King watching over his kingdom. "We awoke something on that island, James. Change is in the air, can't you feel it?'

Peter was right, change was in the air. Little did we know, it would change our lives forever after that day.

Something was coming, and I couldn't shake the feeling of dread pooling in my stomach as I watched Peter stand back and admire whatever monster we'd created that day.