Children like yourselves are full of magic, but the men have turned, they've lost their magic to the fear and hatred they harbor for all that they can't explain, control, or understand.

Peter," she whispered and reached out, touching his cheek. "My little Peterbird? You flew back to me.

Enough talk," Peter said, and his eyes flashed. "It's time to turn you three into killers.

Burn? Smite? Punish? Why is your god so intolerant? So jealous? Why must there be only one god? Why is there not room for many?

Your dreams are your spirit, your soul and without them your are dead. You must guard your dreams always. Always. Lest someone steal them away from you. I know what it is to have your dreams stolen. I know what it is to be dead. Guard your dreams. Always guard your dreams.

Then let us go and be terrible.

My tale doesn't end there, for the end has yet to be written.