AT ONCE UPON arrival in the briefing room, the atmosphere felt different. If not because of the nearly palpable concern spreading like dust over every corner, then because Pan, for the first time, was seated at the head of the table. Jo looked at her in confusion, locating Snow at once as if doing so might make sense of the anomaly. But he was in an unusual seat, pushed just slightly away from the table, at Pan’s right. He refused to look at anyone or anything, eyes glazed over and staring down the hall as if he could see past the Four-Way, into the common area, and to the mountains beyond.

“Kind of you two to finally join us,” Pan purred, hands coming into graceful contact with the table as she leaned forward. Her eyes shone a bright red to match the ribbon at her neck, and the pupils shifted between thin, cat-like lines, and blown-wide circles. Jo couldn’t help but shudder under the eerie woman’s gaze.

Jo opened her mouth to argue, possibly even question her position at the helm of their sinking ship, but the feel of Nico’s hand tightening around her wrist kept her silent. When she looked over at him, Nico looked near to shattering, eyes not on her but touch desperately clinging. She figured it wasn’t worth the unnecessary fighting, not after all they’d already lost, so she bit her tongue and followed Nico the rest of the way to the table.

Wayne saw them approach and, without even needing to be asked, removed himself from his chair, settling into Jo’s so she could stay at Nico’s side. She hoped her soft smile in his direction conveyed as much gratitude as she felt.

“So!” Pan got started without preamble, clapping her hands loud enough that at least half the room couldn’t help but jump, the other half wincing in sympathy. “Where should we begin?” She tapped red-tipped fingernails against the polished table and the whole area exploded in swirling colors and shapes. When it settled, a glitching image of Mt. Fuji stood before them; one second the volcano was inactive, the next frozen in mid-eruption, and back. Beneath the grotesque visual reminder of their oncoming failure was a ring of various timestamps.

As Jo watched the rest of the team glance first at the numbers, then at their own respective watches, she realized what Pan was trying to display. Jo ran a finger over her own wristband, a number illuminating that perfectly matched one of the six beneath the volcano’s magical visage.

“None of you have enough time left,” Pan continued once it seemed as though everyone had begun to catch on. “And even if you did, the window of opportunity is closing and Snow has already reset time by destroying the world of possibility and expending that allotted amount of magic. He can contribute no more to this wish.” The usual lilt to her voice, mischievous and playful, had given way to something heavy and serious, something clearly meant to be intimidating. “We need to make this wish happen now, so what is there to do, hmm? What option do we have left?”

Nico flinched at the words, the hand still linked loosely with Jo’s suddenly tightening, his shoulders tensing in guilt. Anger ambushed Jo’s nerves, her head snapping in Pan’s direction as she momentarily forgot about the undefined threat looming on the horizon. All she saw was a pompous member of their team that hadn’t done shit since day one. They’d exhausted themselves and dragged every ounce of their magic and determination and skill out into the open for the sake of the wish. What had she done? What right did she have?

“So why don’t you actually do something for once?” Jo hissed before she could stop herself. She’d gotten to her feet without realizing, though thankfully she’d had the wherewithal not to drop Nico’s hand. By the way he clutched ruthlessly at her fingers, she may as well have been the only thing anchoring him to the present. She squeezed back, but her eyes never left Pan’s impassive face, the casual arch of her eyebrows and quirk of her lips. Jo could have punched her.

“I’m about to.” Pan pulled her hands from the table and crossed her arms over her chest. When the stare-off seemed to grow boring for her, however, Pan glanced in Snow’s direction and grinned, an ugly and devious thing. “So how would you like to do this, Snow? Draw straws? They pick? Or should we let them fight it out? A battle royale might get messy, but I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy the show.”

“Quiet, Pan.” Snow refused to meet Pan’s gaze, and even though it was subtle, Jo saw his shoulders tense, the tendons in his neck sticking out against his attempt to stay still. But Jo wasn’t going to let him shove this under the rug just like everything else. She needed answers, deserved answers. They all did.

“What does she mean?” Jo asked him directly, stomach churning when he refused to meet her eyes. Distantly, Jo could feel Nico squeezing her hand again, but she was too distracted by a sense of steadily rising panic to process anything more than the look of defeat on Snow’s face. “Snow?” Jo tried once more, voice softer this time, and he flinched, eyes closing as if to block her out.

That sick feeling in her stomach doubled.

“Don’t worry, pet,” Pan cooed. She straightened, twirling elegant fingers through her hair. “I can fix this. I can make the magic we need to close the Severity of Exchange and grant the wish.” She cracked her neck, hand resting at the base of her skull. When she dropped her arm to stare back at Jo, it was with a different demeanor, an indescribable essence that seemed to throb in ripples from her center and out to every corner of the briefing room. Something in Jo pushed back in response, as if her very existence both knew and revolted against the woman.

“How? Snow already converted the world of possibility of the wisher to magical essence.” Someone asked from the other side of the table, but Jo could barely hear it, eyes trapped beneath Pan’s crippling stare.

She had seen those eyes before. And not just in the Society. But when? Or more importantly, how? Had she unknowingly encountered Pan before joining the Society when the woman-child was clocked into time on a wish?

Jo rubbed her eyes, blinking, and the world clicked back into focus. The stress of it all was getting to her, making her brain do odd things.

“Oh, but there are more worlds of possibility, of a sort.” Pan grinned, letting the oppressive waves of her magic finally abate. For the first time in what felt like hours, Jo could breathe. Just in time for Pan to send her an infuriating wink. “Snow requires a wisher’s sacrifice. I require a sacrifice of a different sort to convert essence.”

Jo opened her mouth to demand more information, but she couldn’t seem to find her words, throat tight and body heavy beneath the wave of whatever power Pan had held over the room only seconds ago. Thankfully, Wayne didn’t seem to be nearly as affected.

“What the hell does that mean?” he snapped in Jo’s stead, completely ignoring the way Eslar reached for his arm, holding him back, though only just. Pan seemed more amused than anything, leaning casually against Snow’s chair. When Snow didn’t bother to move, Jo felt the distinct feeling that there was no coming back from this.

Whatever happened next, he wouldn’t be helping them. Maybe even wasn’t allowed to.

Just who was in control here?

Pan rested a hand on Snow’s shoulder, perfectly manicured nails drumming another light rhythm against his collarbone. Jo swore she saw red at the uninvited contact. But then, at Pan’s words, she saw nothing at all.

“I get to kill one of you.”

A second of shock, of incomprehensible void, and then reality snapped back into painful focus. Unfortunately, Jo was a good couple of seconds behind everyone else.

“Snow?” Samson begged weakly as Wayne pushed a chair out of his way so hard it toppled. He didn’t even seem willing to barter for information, already spiraling into a confused and panicked rage.

“What in every circle of hell is that supposed to mean?” he yelled, slamming a hand down on the table. Jo felt her knees buckle, her body falling heavily back into her chair.

What was going on?

“Wayne, stop.” Eslar was obviously out of his depth, eyes frozen on the empty space in front of him, disbelieving. Chiding on autopilot. When Jo finally managed to drag her eyes away from where they’d fallen in anxious devastation into her own lap, it was first to the sight of Nico, silent and gradually shattering at her side. Then secondly, to Pan, her gaze seemingly already waiting to capture Jo’s stare.

If Jo didn’t know better, it looked like a challenge. Or maybe a dark and eager promise. Either way, the look made Jo feel sick with anger. And fear. It was like she’d known what was coming all along, and willingly stayed on the tracks.

“You’ve got one day to decide,” Pan said, lazy and indifferent as ever, as if her unspoken but obvious amusement had already long since passed. There was no time to process, no time to argue or beg or scream or cry, before she was waving over her shoulder at the room at large. “Let me know what you lovely lot come up with.”

Just as quickly as she’d doomed one of them to death, she vanished back into the halls of the mansion.