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Jack Frost stood in front of E. Aster Bunnymund, the Guardian of Hope, and sincerely hoped that the Easter Bunny would stop staring at him. The dark purple bruise on his cheek throbbed painfully, but Jack knew he couldn't flinch. He couldn't show any weakness. He had to stand strong and smile because the Guardian of Fun couldn't care about pain. The Guardian of fun was supposed to laugh off such things!

Despite knowing this, Jack Frost couldn't shake the image of Autumn's cruel grin as the Fall spirit left him bloody and broken just ten minutes ago. Ashamed of his own weakness, when Bunnymund had shown up five minutes later, Jack had shoved the three pieces of his staff under some bushes, praying that the Easter Bunny hadn't seen him do it. Of course, the Spring spirit demanded to know what had happened to his fellow Guardian, and Jack had spat out the first lie he could think of.
"So…" Bunnymund asked, narrowing his eyes. "You fell out of a tree, eh, mate?"
"Yes," Jack replied, resisting the urge to cower under the bright green eyes.
The Easter Bunny crossed his arms, shifting his weight. "Okay. Then where's your staff?"
Jack felt his face chill in a blush, his cheeks turning a pale blue. He knew he was just digging his own grave, but he lied again. "I left it back in my tree."
Bunnymund snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. Jack frowned.
"It's true!"
The giant Pooka took several steps forward then circled Jack. The Winter spirit forced himself ramrod straight, knowing he looked terrible. His hoodie was rumpled and had several drops of his dark blue blood on it. His hair was damp with sweat and coated with dirt, his face was streaked with the remains of his shimmering tears, and he was pretty sure his ribs were bruised. He felt awful, and his heart pounded in his chest as he was analyzed.
Bunnymund made a noise, pausing behind him. Before Jack could turn, he heard a rustle of leaves. His heart sank, and he slowly turned to see the Spring spirit crouched by his hiding place. In his paws were the three pieces of his staff. Bunnymund had seen him hide them. Still, Jack Frost refused to give up his lie.
"That's where that went."
Bunnymund stood, his impressive height towering over the Winter spirit; he felt like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, which made him feel even worse. The Guardian of Hope didn't mince words any longer.
"Who hit ya, mate?"
Jack felt his cheeks chill again, but he stubbornly shook his head. "Nobody hit me, Cottontail. I fell out of a tree. My staff broke when I fell."
Bunnymund stomped a foot in irritation. "That's ridiculous. I've seen ya fall from three miles up and ya landed without a scratch. That sorta thing just don't bother us. Spirits hittin' us, on the other hand, will damage us. Magic is the only thing that can damage magic. Now, who hit ya?"
Jack slumped down, knowing he was caught. He shook his head, turning away. "Just leave it alone, Bunnymund."
There was no reply, but the sensation of being stared at continued. He slipped his hands in his hoodie pocket, nudging a small rock with his bare toes. He wished he were somewhere else, anywhere else, just so Bunnymund would stop standing there judging him.
There was a tap on his shoulder, but it wasn't a finger. His staff pieces appeared over his shoulder, and Jack pressed his lips together tightly as he took the bottom and middle pieces. Without a word, he went to the place inside of himself where his magic came from. He could feel the winds roaring deep down as his emotions raged. Still, he forced the winds to slow until they were calm. He connected the torn edges and took a deep breath. A burst of blue-white light flashed over his staff, and it became one piece.
He repeated the process with the third part of his staff, and suddenly he could breathe easier. His focus didn't like to be in pieces, and now that it was whole again, it iced over, the frost cooling his warm, blue-tinted fingertips. It was a bit warm to be in this part of the world at the moment, but that was the least of his worries.
Bunnymund watched without comment. Jack twirled his staff then slammed it down to spread a thin layer of ice across the ground. It immediately melted, dampening the earth and grass. The water sparkled in the rays of the afternoon sun. That reminded him of his cheeks, and he hurriedly wiped away the icy streaks as covertly as possible. If Bunnymund had any tact, he would leave the subject alone.
"I'm still waitin' for an answer, mate." So much for hope.
"No," Jack replied tersely. "What are you doing here anyway?"
Bunnymund frowned. Jack knew he was displeased with the lack of answer, but he didn't care. It was his business, not Bunnymund's. And it definitely didn't deserve the attention of the Guardians. His thoughts churned as they recalled the taunts from Autumn, and one particular idea played through his mind. They are the Guardians of Childhood, so wouldn't that make this their business? Jack clenched his jaw, knowing the Spring spirit was watching his face carefully.
After what seemed like an eternity, Bunnymund leaned against a tree. There was still enough summer left that moss bloomed across the bark. "North's called a meetin'. Wanna fly there or take the tunnels?"
Jack knew that Bunnymund wanted him to take the tunnels. It would move them so much faster, and then he would have to immediately speak to the others. The thought of that conversation made him answer very quickly.
"I'll fly. See you in an hour or so."
Bunnymund left with a frown, and the tunnel filled in behind him. As soon as the Easter Bunny disappeared, Jack allowed the tears to fall. He sat down beside a pond, looking down into the reflective surface. The damage was worse than he'd thought. The cut on his cheek oozed his dark blood, and the shoulder of his hoodie was soaked and stained the deepest blue. Scooping up a handful of the warm water, which immediately became icy cold, he washed his face. The bruise stood out on his pale skin, an ugly reminder of his helplessness and of Autumn's strength.
He stripped naked and doused himself in the water, rinsing the brown streaks out of his hair, then scrubbed the blood out of his clothes. He was thankful for the magic that radiated out of his fingertips into the cloth, washing it clean of the stains. His undershirt became white as snow, his hoodie as blue as the sky on a winter's evening. His pants washed clean, too, and the tears magically repaired as he ran his fingers over the rips.
The process took five minutes, and his clothes were as pristine and perfect as ever. He stepped out of the water, glancing down distastefully at the seasonal markings that decorated his bare skin. With a single thought, they disappeared, and he analyzed the damage that Autumn had wrought.
His chest was the same, uniform shade of purple as his cheeks. Imprints of the Fall spirit's fists ran marked his arms and legs, but thankfully nothing felt broken. Still, his body was sore, his muscles stiff. It would take over a week to heal from that beating, even with his magic.
He dressed awkwardly, every movement making him groan. Picking up his staff, he called the winds to lift him into the air. They gently caressed Jack's cheek, as if wishing him speedy healing. He smiled and commanded them to take him to the North Pole. As he flew, he wondered if he should have taken the tunnels. An hour alone with his thoughts didn't sound pleasant at all. But he had made his decision. Though he fought to keep his mind off of what had just happened, but he couldn't.
Every so often, the Fall spirit decided that his season should be longer than usual. To make sure he got what he wanted, he would track down his Winter counterpart and use his fists to persuade Jack to wait for as long as possible before beginning his season. The vicious beating didn't happen every single year, but usually once or twice a decade. Still, it left Jack Frost weak and afraid, which was no doubt the intent.
Autumn had been selected by the Man in the Moon and immortalized when he was twenty-four. At only fourteen, Jack was physically ten years younger than him. That meant that Autumn was far stronger than him, and he always used that to his advantage. The Fall spirit was a full-grown man, while the Winter spirit was 'just a boy' even if he was hundreds of years old. Autumn took great pleasure in demeaning him, taunting him that he was just a child and always would be. And the teasing had only gotten worse since Jack was chosen to be a Guardian.
"You know Manny must have made a mistake, right?" Autumn's voice asked, echoing from just half an hour before. "Why would he want a child instead of a real man? You're not good enough to be a Guardian, no matter what the others say. They'll never accept you as one of them. You'll always be a burden to them. They'll always have to take care of you. Sooner or later they'll get tired of babysitting, then where will you be?"
Jack covered his ears, moaning out loud. He begged the Winds to blow faster, harder, louder. He couldn't stand to hear those words. Yet they repeated inside his head, Autumn's voice as strong and real as ever. The words mocked him, reminding him of his weakness, feeding his insecurities, which had heightened since he had taken his oath. He knew that he was Jack Frost, the Winter spirit, Guardian of Fun. He knew he had been specifically chosen by the Man in the Moon to protect the children of the world, to keep the Fun alive. But at that moment, he felt like a wounded child, unable to grow up yet forced to act like a grownup. How could there ever be a balance for him?
By the time he reached North's workshop, he was emotionally drained. As soon as he'd pushed open the door, Phil waved cheerfully then led him to a parlor. He didn't even have a chance to breathe for a moment, as the yeti immediately opened it, said goodbye, and left. He stepped in, unable to look up, and closed the door behind him. Toothiana gasped and fluttered over, tilting his chin back to see the ugly bruise.
"Oh, Jack!" she said, tears gleaming in her bright pink eyes. "Bunnymund told us that somebody attacked you! Hold still, let me see."
Jack flinched as she put the slightest pressure on his cheek. It hurt so badly that he shoved her away with a suddenness and violence that shocked even himself. She actually stopped flying and nearly fell over, catching herself on a cushioned chair with a sharp intake of breath. There was silence, everybody's mouth hanging slightly open, their eyes wide at the act of aggression. Jack's cheeks darkened to blue again, and he crossed his arms, looking away.
"I-I'm fine, Tooth," he said, though he didn't feel fine at all. "I promise I am. Please don't be concerned. I've actually had worse from Au…him."
Jack's slim hope that they hadn't heard the slipup disappeared the second after it appeared. Everybody had perked up at the beginning of the name they really wanted to know, and immediately they all began going over the names and functions of the different spirits that roamed the Earth.
"Au…?" Bunnymund asked. He puzzled over the syllable for a moment until it clicked, and his hand twitched toward his boomerang. "Autumn? The Fall spirit? He's the one who did this to you?"
Jack's deepening blush and fearful look said it all, made worse by his stuttering attempts to cover his tracks. "What? No! I mean…er, yes, But he was just…I mean, we've had disagreements before. It's just a little spat, um, so you don't have to mention it. You don't need to bother him about it. He's just a little twitchy about winter this year and…"
Jack trailed off at the look on the Pooka's face. Bunnymund's ears were flat against his head. His lips curled in a sneer as North slammed down his cup of eggnog, eyes narrowing. Even the Sandman looked angry, a feat in and of itself, and flames of sand began to burn around his head.
"No, mate," Bunnymund snapped. "Don't you dare try to excuse him. He shouldn't be beatin' up nobody. Especially not a Guardian. I think we'll talk to him. Get our point across." He snatched his boomerang and twirled it threateningly, the promise of pain in his green eyes.
Jack shook his head weakly, and he bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. "Really guys. It doesn't matter. Please leave it alone."
"This will not happen, Jack," North said matter-of-factly. "We are your family and we will protect you."
Jack clenched his hands around his staff, anger etching into every tired line in his face. "I don't need protection," he said through clenched teeth, the temperature of the room plummeting.
"Jack, please. Let us talk to him," Toothiana said, flitting back into the air, though she didn't approach the Winter spirit.
"Why?" Jack asked bitterly. "Do you want next time to hurt worse? He's got quite the right hook, if you didn't notice."
Every eye landed on his wounded cheek. After a pause, Bunnymund pursed his lips, stood tall, and shook his head. "There ain't gonna be a next time, mate. You leave that to us."
Jack knew that he would never convince them to stay away from Autumn. He could hear the Fall spirit laughing at him. "The little boy can't even fight his own battles! There you go again, Jack, running to the grown-ups to handle your problems! You're nothing but a baby!"
The Guardian of Fun walked over to the chair closest to the window and farthest from the fire. It was his customary chair, so he could open the window if he got too hot. His movements were jerky, each step an effort. He refused to let his pain show on his face. He was already a baby in Autumn's eyes. He didn't need the Guardians' pity, too.
A hiss escaped him as he sank down, and his free hand jumped to his ribs. It was almost as if he was wearing a straitjacket. The bruises squeezed the air from his lungs and didn't want to expand to let more in. As he gasped in a lungful of too-hot air, he couldn't help but shudder from the stiffness and the aches that would only get worse.
North frowned, glancing at the others before approaching. He reached for Jack's staff, but the Winter spirit snarled, pulling it close. It bumped his chest and a strangled noise left his throat, his body spasming involuntarily.
"Sandy, go get one of the yeti medics," North ordered.
"Wait, what?" Jack asked, his eyes widening.
"You're hurt. Let us see."
"See what?" The boy's voice actually cracked with fear, his blue eyes even more terrified now than they had been earlier.
"You are not bruised?" North asked, alarmed at the sudden change in Jack.
"No! No bruises! None!" Jack said, a tinge of panic to his voice. "Just a little sore. That's all. Autumn gave me a right good beating, so I can be sore, can't I? It makes sense that I'm sore. I don't need a medic. I'm fine, just fine!"
Sandy had paused at the door, his hand on the knob. The four older Guardians gave each other a look that seemed to say something, but Jack didn't understand what it was. Terror and panic had swelled until they were unbearable. He couldn't take his clothes off for them.
Nobody had ever seen him naked, not once in the three hundred years he'd been alive as Jack Frost. Yes, he knew they didn't care. Yes, he knew they could possibly help him feel better. But he just couldn't do it. Shyness and nausea fought inside of him, his heart pounding violently in his chest. He tensed, ignoring the pain as he prepared to bolt through the window if he had to.
But after they looked back at him, Sandy floated back over to his drink, picking it up in his small hands and sipping it. His gleaming golden eyes seemed to be trying to see everything inside the boy, and Jack immediately lowered his blue eyes to the ground, afraid to be known by somebody so ancient and powerful. Once again, he felt like a little child, unable to handle himself like a grown-up.
"If you're sure you are fine, Jack," North said. "Then we will not get the medic. Now, I thought we could discuss our business. Yes?"
"Business? You mean, like, the kids? So winter and fun?" Jack relaxed, sinking back into the cushions. "Sure! That's cool. Can I have some of that eggnog first? I'm thirsty."
"Sure," North said jovially, ringing a bell to call a yeti.
Jack grinned wide, watching Tooth crane her neck to see his teeth. She looked ecstatic. He pretended not to notice. While they waited on refreshments, North leaped into the topic of the Workshop and the children and the Wonder in the world. Jack smiled to hear of the magic of childhood. But deep inside, his insecurities struggled to get his attention with a barrage of questions.
Was he nothing but a child to his friends, the Guardians of Childhood? Was the reason MiM picked him because he needed to be watched over? Was he always destined to be a weak, needy child, stripped of Wonder, Hope, and Dreams, lacking even his Memories from life? If he was a child, how could a child protect children? But if he wasn't a child, how could he be a Guardian of Fun?
His heart seemed to crack as the questions poured through his mind. But on the outside, he smiled and laughed with the other Guardians as they told stories, ribbing each other. Because he was the Guardian of Fun. And the Guardian of Fun had to be fun all the time. If he wasn't, something might break inside of him, letting out the storm that blew and tumbled around his heart and mind. But he couldn't do that. People got hurt when it came out. He couldn't feel pain and sorrow without causing even more. So he resolved to keep it in.
So though it hurt to hold it in, he smiled and laughed and drank eggnog, hoping against hope that the raging wind and icy snow would stay locked up until he was alone, and afraid of what would happen if it didn't.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The liquid orange gaze bored into him, full of anger and smug superiority. Autumn sauntered closer, forcing Jack back against a tree. He itched to fly, but Autumn had torn the staff from his grasp and tossed it aside. Mercifully, he hadn't broken it this time, but that was the only mercy the boy had received so far from the bully. Autumn leaned close, clearly relishing the fear written all over the boy's face.
"What's the matter, Jack?" the Fall spirit asked, voice dripping with false innocence. "I thought we were friends. You didn't have to go running for the Guardians. We can work out differences by ourselves, can't we? Unless…" Autumn grinned, eyes gleaming. "Unless you can't handle yourself. Is that it? Little baby Jack Frost couldn't sit at the grown-up table with the big boys?"
Jack's cheeks darkened to blue. That wasn't true! He had wanted to face it alone. He hadn't wanted the Guardians to be involved. He had fought and pleaded for the issue to be left alone, but they refused! How was that his fault? Yet he didn't say anything. Autumn didn't like his victims to talk back, and Jack was still healing from the last beating. It was obvious everything was about to get worse. Much worse. He swallowed, pupils dilating with fear as he resigned himself to his fate.
The first blow hit his stomach, and all of his air whooshed out of him, leaving him struggling to breathe. Before he could sink down, Autumn pinned him upright against the tree. He observed his handiwork, smirking as Jack wheezed, unable to fill his lungs, yet desperate to do so. Autumn shook his head, leaning down to eye level.
"What's the matter, Jack? Did you knock the wind out of yourself? Why not ask one of the four to give you a boost?"
Jack continued to wheeze, cheeks flushed in pain and humiliation. He saw Autumn tense, preparing for another strike. Unable to bear the thought of seeing the pain coming, he closed his eyes. A fist struck the side of his head, and he saw a flash of white for a brief moment. His head slammed against the unforgiving wood, the magic that Autumn radiated filling it and allowing it to hurt Jack as much as the Fall spirit could.
"Oh, Jack! You should really be careful!" Autumn said with false concern. "Going and hitting your head like that! You should be more careful! No wonder the Guardians are so worried about you!"
Jack kept his eyes closed, still trying to suck in enough air to feel comfortable again. The implication behind the words was clear: If the Guardians asked, he was supposed to lie. But that hadn't worked with Bunnymund, and now the others would be looking out for lies! Autumn wouldn't care, though. He would still expect Jack to 'be a man' even though he believed that there was no way for a child to do so.
After that, Jack allowed his mind to become as senseless as possible, willing the pain of the beating to fade into the background. Each strike hurt but only in a far away, out of body kind of way. This was the easiest way to ride out Autumn's rage without bursting into tears. Tears only affirmed Autumn's assertion that Jack was a child, a baby that needed watched over and coddled. So he allowed himself to float away as best he could.
The beating stopped very suddenly, and a loud cry of shock from Autumn startled the boy back into reality. He realized that he was curled up on the ground, his entire body hurting so badly that he moaned low in his throat, unable to help himself. He waited for another strike, punishment for childish weakness, but it didn't come. Instead, he heard the familiar sound of sand shifting, the grains rubbing against each other.
Instead of feeling glad that Sandy was there to stop the pain, Jack's sore stomach seemed to sink into his toes. Why did he have to interrupt? Did he not think that Jack could take care of himself? Jack moaned again, this time under an onslaught of gale-force winds that filled his mind and chilled his blood to the point that he actually felt cold. No! he thought wildly. Can't let it out! Can't hurt more people!
He was distracted by a tender hand on his shoulder, and he looked up, blue eyes overflowing with tears that felt as if they were carving an icy path down his cheeks. They froze as soon as they dripped from his face, but the cold was so deep inside his blood and bones that he shivered. The Sandman thought it was from pain, so he removed his hand, symbols flashing an apology.
"Are you alright, Jack?" he asked.
Jack didn't respond, instead glancing around to see where Autumn had gotten to. To Jack's immense surprise, Autumn was hanging upside down, bound with a long whip made of Sandy's dreamsand, which was looped across several branches in a tall tree to hold the Fall spirit's weight. Though he was free to talk, he didn't. Blood rushed to his head, turning his face a deep shade of orange. He glared hotly at Jack and mouthed, "You're dead, Frostbite."
Jack swallowed, flushing light blue, his eyes latched on his tormentor. Sandy's face hardened, and he stopped floating and planted his feet on the ground. Sand formed into the shape of smoke coming out of his ears, and he turned his golden gaze on the Fall spirit. His right hand had a tight grip on the other end of the whip, and his free hand balled into a fist. For a moment, Jack had a wild notion that the Sandman was about to beat Autumn, and worse than he'd ever beat the boy. Autumn apparently had the same impression, and he began to wiggle, his gaze full of fear and locked on the Guardian of Dreams' face.
Both spirits watched apprehensively as Sanderson Mansnoozie took several measured steps toward his captive. Rage seemed to sharpen every movement, reminding both seasons of a blade being played with, tilted this way and that to tease and threaten, but the golden sand that trailed every step, every calculated shift and advancement, stayed soft and pliable. As gentle and lovely as it might be, there was no denying the thought that in an instant, it could become the most painful substance that existed. Time and practice had made the Sandman powerful, more powerful than even Pitch Black. And at that moment, both Jack and Autumn knew that the Fall spirit had just flipped the 'angry' switch.
When the sands began shifting, instead of his usual symbols, words formed. The Sandman was going to be understood very clearly this time, leaving no room for erroneous translations.
"I distinctly remember a discussion where you stated that you would leave Jack alone, Autumn. You're treating your vow like a game. What makes you think that we weren't serious?"
Autumn swallowed, glancing at Jack. The Sandman stood in between them, and the power and knowledge behind his gaze forced the truth from his captive.
"The worthless little rat deserves it."
"In what way?" Sandy asked, spelling each word carefully, arching an eyebrow at the bound spirit.
Autumn had no answer, at least not one he was willing to give. His orange face was practically glowing from the blood pooling in his head. He looked helpless, bound in a tight whip that was clearly cutting off what would be vital circulation for a regular human. Sandy didn't slacken the bindings at all. Autumn was a spirit and, though he would experience great amounts of pain and discomfort, he wouldn't die. And it grew abundantly obvious that the Sandman was not going to loose him unless he gave an answer of some sort.
"I don't understand why MiM chose a boy. He can't be useful to you. You need a man to help you, not a child who needs his hand held for every little thing."
The Fall spirit spoke with venom, and the sharp edge of his voice seemed to tear a hole in Jack's heart to inject the poisonous substance into his blood. The storm raged worse inside of him as his heart seemed to weep for acceptance, for somebody to confirm that he was needed just the way he was, that Manny had chosen right, that he thought Jack was valuable. Jack needed to hear those things, but the Man in the Moon was on the other side of the world, watching over the children that weren't spirits, so his bleeding heart went unanswered, and his blood seemed to be colder than ever before as he struggled to keep the storm inside.
Oblivious to Jack's predicament, Sandy studied Autumn with solemn eyes, taking his sweet time in thinking of his reply. A drop of red-orange blood began to bubble up from his nose as he breathed; he had been upside down long enough that his blood had no more room to pool in his head, so it had to come out somewhere.
Sandy strolled over to the distressed season, one hand wrapped tightly around the handle of his whip. He leaned in close, observing the blood with mild interest. His free hand rose to Autumn's face and his forefinger dipped into the blood. Autumn was beginning to panic, and his blood bubbled as his breath quickened.
"Leave me alone! Please!" he finally screamed, thrashing as he tried to free himself from the dreamsand.
"Why didn't you say so?" Sandy asked, the words slashing through the air.
He stared at his bloody finger for a few more moments then, with a movement so fast that neither of the seasons saw it, he flicked the whip. The first sign that they had was Autumn's shriek of agony and fear as he was torn through the branches of the tree and launched high into the air. The whip uncoiled from around him, and the snap of the tip lashing flesh sounded like a crack of thunder it was so loud.
Sandy continued to stare at the reddish-orange blood, ignoring the Fall spirit as he lived up to his seasonal name, descending from five hundred feet in the air and hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. His face was covered in blood, which flowed freely from his nose, and he wheezed, trying to get his breath back. He attempted to sit up, but his muscles refused to obey, and he cried out as he dropped back, still gasping for air.
It was then that the Sandman looked up at him, looking a bit surprised, as if he had forgotten Autumn was there. He calmly walked over to a pool of water and dipped his bloody finger into the still surface. Jack, still lying curled up, watched in fascination as the pool darkened to a muddy brown. Autumn struggled to sit up, scooting away from the eldest Guardian. He froze as words formed above the short man's head.
"Do you see this?" he asked, golden eyes riveted on the agitated surface.
"W-what?" Autumn asked thickly, holding his nose to stem the blood flow.
"The ripples, of course. Something so tiny can make such a big impact, don't you agree? A single action can cause disastrous consequences. You know that now, don't you?"
When Autumn didn't answer, the Sandman looked up. Though his gaze was calm, the Fall spirit gave a hiccupping gasp, quickly nodding in agreement. Satisfied with that answer, Sandy stood up, holding his wet hand still. No water dripped from it, as if the sand had absorbed it. The ancient being casually walked over to Autumn, who tried to shrink back. His body collapsed, and he began to whimper and cower, his eyes wide with terror. Sandy paused a few steps away.
"You will listen carefully."
Autumn barely inclined his head, unwilling to let the Sandman out of his sight for even a moment.
"Jack is a Guardian. But even if he wasn't, that doesn't give you the right to hit him. If I ever hear that you've hit him, or anybody else, again, you will regret it. You think I'm scary now? This is as calm as waves lapping on the seashore. But if you hurt Jack again, I will put fire to my sand and make it glass. And then, Autumn, I will teach you the true meaning of fear. Do you understand?"
The words were dark brown and wet, fat droplets of water oozing out of the sand. It looked as if they were dripping blood, as if they had been carved out by the edge of broken glass. Jagged and torn, they were the proof that the Sandman could and would protect his friends. And Autumn shuddered at the threat, nodding so vigorously at the question that blood spurted from his nose again.
Sandy smiled, but there was no warmth or kindness. "Go wash up. You're filthy."
With that, he flipped his wrist and water exploded from the brown sand, slamming into Autumn's face. Autumn gave a gurgling gasp and finally managed to get his feet under him. He spluttered and stumbled as he fled, leaving flecks of red-orange coating the dirt behind him. Sandy watched with disgust in his face then shook his head, gritting his teeth in frustration.
He brought his hands together several times, and Jack knew Sanderson Mansnoozie was metaphorically washing his hands of the situation. Sandy turned his gaze to his fellow Guardian, and kindness and care etched into every feature once again. All signs of the disinterested ancient that dolled out punishment was gone, and if Jack hadn't seen it for himself, he never would have believed it. Who knew the Sandman, bringer of Sweet Dreams, was capable of such rage?
Now that Autumn was gone, Sandy returned to using his symbols. The only reason he had used words was that Autumn didn't speak in symbology. Jack was well-versed in it after several years of conversing with the Sandman. The use of words was so against everything that Sandy represented to Jack that it was a true relief to see him slip back into his usual mode of speech. And with those kind, golden eyes meeting his own blue ones, so full of genuine concern and love, Jack found he couldn't be afraid of Sandy. He smiled back, eyes watering, and the storm inside lessened considerably.
"Oh, Jack," the symbols flashed, flowing between the signs as if he was speaking in a compassionate, tender tone. "Let's get you somewhere to rest. My castle isn't too far away. Is that okay?"
The tears of relief slipped down his cheeks, and he nodded, trying to uncurl from his defensive position. He groaned, unable to move his limbs. Sandy frowned, bringing his hands up to cup Jack's purple-and-blue cheeks. He pressed a finger to Jack's lips, and the Winter spirit stilled.

"Don't you worry about moving. Just rest. I'll take care of the rest."

With that, Sandy's breath, full of dreamsand, blew gently into Jack's face. Immediately, he began to relax, nodding off. The last thing he knew was a rush of golden sand as it surrounded him, cradling him and protecting him. And then his eyes closed and the sweetest, most beautiful dreams carried him away to a place where he wasn't bruised and bloodied, and for a while, he was content with that.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack became aware of floating weightlessly in a substance that was warm. He heard a rustle and muttered for his sister to stop moving, that he didn't want to get up yet. He shifted, trying to turn over, but he could move nothing but his head. He felt himself slip down, and he welcomed the embrace of sleep. He very quickly realized that he was not slipping back to sleep.His head slid off the pillow and plunged under the surface of the warmth. Wetness rushed into his ears, and he gasped only to get a mouthful of water. A repressed memory of icy water rushing down his throat burst in his mind, and his body convulsed violently.I'm drowning! Jack thought wildly. I'm drowning again! Manny! Help!He was yanked out of the water by a strong hand. As the water rushed down his face, he tried to focus on his surroundings. He had just come out of the pond. That meant that Manny had brought him back to life. He needed his staff. But instead of the cool, silvery light of the moon reflecting off snowbanks and ice, he was surrounded by bright gold.Reaching up to rub the water out of his eyes, a sharp spasm of pain zapped through his arms. He opened his mouth to scream, and a fit of coughing overwhelmed him. Air would not fill his lungs. Was he still drowning? Suddenly, his head was forced down. A cool, smooth surface pressed against his chest and the strong hand that had saved him slapped his back several times."Come, Jack. Spit it out," a deep, masculine voice commanded.Each strike sent ripples of pain across his body. He wanted to scream. But instead of sound, a rush of water poured out. His throat and nostrils burned from the heat and discomfort of throwing up. When his lungs were empty, he sucked in a huge breath. He pressed his hands against his forehead, gasping and trembling. He had no idea what had happened. Half his mind screamed that he had drowned again, while the other half pointed out that it wasn't nighttime and that he couldn't die again.A soft, feminine voice chided the owner of the strong hands. "You should have watched him better.""I did not expect him to move," the accented voice replied, sounding a bit embarrassed."Both of ya better shut it," another male said. Jack struggled to place the accent, unable to think clearly. It was only when furred paws cradled his face that Jack finally realized what was going on."B-Bunny," he moaned, shuddering."It's alright, Frostbite. You're okay.""Bright," he said, forcing the words out through gritted teeth."Put out some of the candles," Bunnymund ordered, wiping water off of Jack's forehead.The blinding golden light dimmed considerably, and the room began to come into focus. The first thing Jack saw was the Easter Bunny's Spring green eyes. He clutched at the paws, tears brimming in his eyes, so cold that they burned. His body was so heavy and sore, each movement exacerbating his stiff muscles. He felt as if he'd been hit by a train.Jack let out a sob. "H-hurts…""I know," Bunnymund said, tender compassion in his voice. "North, get a towel. Tooth, go and see if Sandy has the tea and medicine ready."Jack saw a flash of movement as Toothiana flitted out of the room. North picked up a towel so big that it was almost a blanket. Bunnymund slid a paw under Jack's knees and pressed the other one on his upper back."This is gonna hurt, Jack," he said softly. "One, two, three."Jack screamed as he was lifted out of the wonderful, warm water. Pain seemed to radiate from every single inch of his body. He curled a fist into the fur on Bunnymund's chest, squeezing his eyes shut to keep in the tears. The cool air felt wonderful against his skin, and Jack realized that he was too hot. He almost protested being wrapped in the fluffy towel, but he couldn't get any words past his quivering lips.The boy was shifted from Bunnymund's grip to North's, his hand gently untangled from the soft fur by a gentle paw. North swaddled him in the blanket-sized towel. There was the flutter of wings, and Toothiana spoke from the doorway."Sandy's got everything ready.""Good," North said.Jack slipped his hand out of the blanket and pressed it into the surprisingly soft beard. He wasn't sure why he did it, but it was a comfort. North said nothing as he and Bunnymund followed Toothiana out of the room and down the hall. Each step seemed to jar Jack's very bones, and he whimpered. Soft Russian words of comfort were murmured above him, which reminded Jack that he was safe and secure, despite being in pain.After a minute, he was gently set on a soft, plush bed. The mattress molded to his shape, cradling him and encouraging him to relax. Jack sighed in relief, resting his sore body. As long as he didn't move, he was fine. The sound of shifting sand made him open his eyes. The light in the room had already been adjusted for his eyes. Sandy floated beside him, and he smiled when he saw that he had the boy's attention."What was that?" Jack asked, his voice hoarse.
"I said that we'll help you. Just relax for now. "
"Okay."Jack allowed his gaze to rove over the room, curious as to where he was. The entire room seemed to be constructed of gold. It took a moment for him to realize that the walls and floor were made of sand. He suddenly remembered that Sandy had promised to bring him to his castle. That noted, he continued to look around, his curiosity greater than the dull, throbbing pain that occurred when he moved his neck.The furniture was made of a sandy-colored wood, polished to a shine. The yellow candles burned with lovely golden light that was magnified by the sand. Jack realized that that reflective quality was the reason he hadn't been able to see very well. The vision from his right eye seemed narrower, and he slowly moved his fingers up to his face and felt around. His right eye was swollen, no doubt dark purple, and very tender.Jack grimaced as he grazed his fingers over the damaged flesh, wondering if he had actually gotten hit by a train again. The injuries from that accident had taken over a month to heal, and he had limped for two. His memory was hazy, and he tried to piece together the puzzle as the other Guardians moved around, talking in low voices.The Winter spirit remembered flying through the air, dancing with North Wind. The chilly breeze had brought Jack great pleasure, promising to bring snow and cooler weather very soon. The thought of snowball fights and ice skating with the children who believed in him had made him giddy. He twirled and let the Winds take him where they willed. Skimming the tops of the colorful trees, taking in the beauty of Autumn…Jack immediately remembered what had happened. His blue eyes searched the room for Sandy and found him sitting on a high table, mixing some sort of paste and chatting with North. He recalled the callousness, the cold indifference, that the usual jovial, friendly spirit had shown as he effortlessly terrified the man who had tormented Jack for nearly three centuries. The power, the force that the Sandman had used with simple movements, a flick of the whip that had left a deep weal on Autumn's side, a dismissive wave that flung water with the strength of gale-force winds, and the threat of worse if he ever touched Jack again.Sandy glanced over and smiled, waving and flashing symbols that they would be right there. Jack smiled back and nodded in return, resting his head against the fluffiest pillows he had ever seen. He wondered what they were making and how it would help. As he lay there, he became aware that he was uncomfortably warm. He shifted and parted the blanket to remove a layer between himself and the air, and he promptly froze as he realized that the blanket was the only layer he had on.Jack immediately cinched the blanket tight around him, deciding that he could handle the heat. He looked back over at Sandy and North. They were still making some sort of paste. Dread curled in the pit of his stomach as he wondered what they were making. He jumped when Toothiana fluttered over, holding a steaming cup of tea."Here you are, Jack.""What are they doing?" the Winter spirit asked, keeping the blanket clamped around himself."Making something to help ease your pain," Toothiana said, sitting on the edge of the bed and blowing on the tea. "Here, drink this. It will help you relax. The Moonbeams brought us an elixir from MiM. It's got incredible healing properties.""It's too hot," Jack muttered, staring at the steam."You have to brew it hot, but MiM sent a scroll with instructions. You can ice it down and it will still work, but you must drink it quickly."She held out the cup, and Jack shifted uncomfortably beneath his blanket. Focusing, he drew in his seasonal markings, thankful that he'd been in warm water. The marks flourished in winter weather, but when he got too warm, they disappeared. When he was sure that they were gone, he gingerly sat up with the Tooth Fairy's assistance, wincing at the shocks of pain.He made certain that the blanket covered him from the waist down, lowering it carefully to make sure it didn't go too far. He didn't have to pretend that it hurt, so Toothiana didn't comment, looking compassionate. When he was leaning against the headboard, blanket arranged around his stomach, Toothiana handed him the tea."Do you need your staff?" Bunnymund asked.Panic flared and Jack nearly doused himself in hot tea. "Where is it?! Did Autumn—""It's right here, Frostbite," the Spring spirit said quickly, hopping over to the wall and picking it up. "So do you need it?""It's okay?""It's fine."Jack analyzed it from his position then nodded. It didn't feel as if it were broken because he could breathe easily. He shook his head."No."Jack cupped the teacup, took a deep breath, and breathed out on the liquid. The exhale shimmered as the candlelight reflected off of the ice crystals before they melted. The steam stopped immediately as a thin layer a frost coated the cup and a delicate crust of ice formed on top. Jack paused for a moment, but Toothiana shook her head,"Drink it. All of it. Quickly now."Jack moved the spoon to crack the ice, stirred briefly, then tilted the cup up and swallowed the contents in two large gulps. The strangest sensation spread out inside of him as the tea settled in his stomach. A pleasantly cool rush bloomed throughout his body, reducing his temperature greatly. Despite this, his skin flushed blue, as if he was too hot. He watched, fascinated as the dark, blotchy bruises turned as silver as moonlight. His aches became less sore, and his pain almost dreamlike."Whoa," he breathed, looking up at the other Guardians. "What was that stuff?""No idea, Frostbite," Bunnymund replied, leaning against the wall next to Jack's staff and grinning.The Guardian of Wonder strolled over, setting a bowl down on the bedside table. "MiM makes it. He refuses to give up the secret," North said, but he didn't sound angry.Sandy floated over, carrying another bowl. He smiled and symbols flashed over his head. "His parents left him a book with information they collected from all over the galaxy. It holds this recipe and many others."Jack eyed the viscous substance in the bowls. One seemed to have glimmering crystals in in, while the other glowed slightly."What are they?""Stardust and starlight," Sandy said, looking fondly at the bowls. "MiM keeps me supplied, but I get some myself occasionally."Sandy moved to pick up the stardust bowl, and Jack knew what was coming, so he decided to keep them talking as long as possible."What do they do?""It has to do with our magic," Sandy replied, pleased by the curiosity. "Through means he hasn't explained, MiM harnessed the powers of stars and moons and various creatures and planets throughout the galaxy, using different combinations to grant us and the other spirits he has chosen with their particular powers. If you'll notice, the stardust glimmers silver."Sandy handed the bowl to Jack, who peered at it curiously. It did seem to sparkle like silver. It reminded him of glittering icicles, and he said so. Sandy beamed at him."Exactly!" he praised. "This is a special mixture that will regulate your body as if it were winter. You might have noticed that your healing factor drastically increases in your season. This will help to simulate your season and speed up your healing dramatically. MiM gave me this recipe himself. He doesn't give out recipes lightly, but he thought it prudent for me to have it."Jack nodded, still staring at the gleaming dust particles. He could think of nothing else to say, nothing else to put off the inevitable. Sandy took the bowl, floated up to kneel on the bed, and settled the bowl beside him."Need help?" Bunnymund asked.
"It wouldn't be wise. You three would get frostbite on your hands and fingers. This mixture is potent and cold. I must do it. Jack could help, if he wanted, but you three better not touch it."
They all took a small step backwards, and Jack watched Sandy warily."Why won't you get frostbite?"Sandy smiled and held up his hand. "I'm not exactly made of flesh as you are."Jack frowned. "What are you made of then? Dreamsand?"The Sandman shook his head, eyes gleaming. "Wishes and stardust. I'm not from Earth."The Winter spirit began to ponder this, wondering what lay beyond Earth. A chill spread through him as something icy pressed against his chest. He jumped, looking down to see Sandy busy with applying the bowl of stardust. His skin began to sparkle as if crushed diamonds were being layered onto him. They gleamed and shimmered like ice in the sun, and he was fascinated.The sensation was so nice and cool, so pleasant that Jack relaxed, lazily watching as the cream was rubbed in, relieving pain and chilling his blood. It was only when Sandy attempted to remove the blanket to get at the bruises and cuts on his legs that he remembered that he was supposed to be terrified. He didn't know what to do, and he found himself clutching the blanket, cheeks flushed blue. Sandy paused, glancing up.The Guardians watched him, not saying a word. Jack wished they would make this easier by reassuring him or something, anything! But they left him to his thoughts. After several minutes of fighting with himself, he concluded that it didn't matter. They'd already seen him naked in the bath, and it wasn't like they had compunctions about nudity. They were all much too old for that, and, if Sandy was telling the truth, weren't exactly human. So he crossed his arms and looked away.Sandy patted his arm and nodded then resumed his task. Jack hated to admit it, but the stardust cream felt nice. The next thing he knew, he was being shifted down into the bed."What about the other stuff?" he mumbled, trying to force his eyes open."Already done, Frostbite," Bunnymund replied."Why am I so sleepy?" Jack asked, rubbing his eyes."Sandy put dreamsand on the pillow. You've breathed in enough that you're tired," Toothiana said, covering him with a sheet. "All you need to do is relax and have pleasant dreams."That sounded like the best idea in the world. He wasn't used to sleeping so much. Spirits didn't sleep unless Sandy or MiM interfered. It was actually nice to rest his sore, aching body instead of staying awake throughout the whole healing process. Jack's body felt as if it were coated in ice, chilling him like a wonderful burst of North Wind in the fall. He closed his eyes and began to dream while the other Guardians cleaned up. It felt so good to know that they cared for him so much.Jack's last sleepy thought melted into dreams of the ocean, but not before the full impact of it hit the Winter spirit. So this is what it's like to have a family.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack came up from the land of dreams slowly. No matter how he clutched at sleep, it slipped off of him like water. As soon as he shifted, a shock of pain ran across his limbs, and his eyes popped open as a gasp escaped from his lips. A silvery light filtered through the high windows, cutting through the dark and illuminating a sandy golden floor. Blinking, it took a moment for Jack to remember what had happened with Autumn and the Guardians' response.
After taking a long, deep breath, Jack pushed himself up. The pain that had startled him was much less intense than it had been before he'd slept. He looked down at his chest in wonder. The bruises were faint and silver. He no longer glimmered, but his skin had a pale, healthy glow. He stretched out, enjoying the sensation as his muscles relaxed back into place.
Jack looked at the room again. The sandy furniture was still there, but all of the candles were extinguished. It was dark. What day was it? He had been beaten on a Tuesday…He shrugged the blanket off and padded, barefoot and naked, across the room to look up at the sky. The Moon looked down upon him. He could feel a phantom stroke across his cheek, and MiM spoke.

"Hello, Jack. Are you feeling better?"

Jack nodded, sitting on the windowsill and gazing at the enormous pale ball. "Much. Thank you."
MiM's happiness flowed over him, and his cheek was caressed again. "Good."
Jack sat there in the light for a moment, thinking. The darkness of the room reminded him of battles and a certain nightmarish creature. "Any sign of Pitch?" he asked absently.

"No."

The Winter Spirit blinked, looking up. There was a tone, an old, sad, cold tone, like rain that turns to sleet when the temperature drops enough. He couldn't help but ask his question.
"What's Pitch's story, MiM?"
There was silence for a few minutes. "I don't know the whole story," the Man in the Moon finally replied.
"What do you know about him?"
There was an even longer pause before the answer floated down from far away, from long ago. "We were children together when the moon was a ship. We had so much fun, so many adventures. He was full of light back then. A whole prism of light, all the colors of the spectrum with no shadows. Then something changed. He grew to hate me, and his light began to vanish. Now he is a shadow of his former self, literally and figuratively. He is a being of darkness now. I see none of my childhood playmate in his face anymore." There was another pause then a whisper. "I miss him, Jack. I want to understand. But he despises me."
"I'm sorry, MiM," Jack whispered back.
"Bah!" North boomed from behind Jack. The Winter Spirit jumped and turned to see North and Sandy standing there, both of them gazing at the Moon. "Sorry, Jack," he said, shaking his head. "We heard you talking, and we wanted to see who you were talking to."
"What was with the noise?" Jack asked, instinctively drawing his legs up to hide his nudity.
"Ah, that was for Pitch. MiM thinks there must be a reason, but I say he is a 'bad egg' as Bunny would say. He was never good, not completely, and he got what he deserved. We kicked his tuchus and he's no threat."
Jack frowned. "Can anybody be all bad?" he asked, his brows drawn together.
North shrugged. "Seems to be that way with Pitch, does it not?"
The Winter Spirit worried his bottom lip. "Did you think that I was all bad? You know, before I became a Guardian."
North shook his head immediately. "No, Jack. There is a big difference between you and Pitch. Mischief is not what he does. Just because you were on the naughty list does not mean that you are evil."
The last word sent a chill up Jack's spine, and he turned away, looking across the sandy beaches as they sloped into the dark ocean. He couldn't shake the idea that nobody was truly evil. What came into his mind was the look of fear on Pitch's face as he was dragged into the earth by his own Nightmares. What scares the Boogeyman? Jack wondered. What haunts his nightmares?
Shifting sand brought Jack's attention to Sandy. "Huh?"
"Don't worry about Pitch, Jack," the symbols said. "He will not come back for a long, long time."
Jack nodded, but he was still disturbed. Did any of the other Guardians consider Pitch's point of view? Did they wonder why Pitch was the Nightmare King? Over the past few years, Jack had speculated on and off about what really made Pitch Black the Nightmare King. And with the new information of the prism he used to be, Jack couldn't help but think that Pitch had deteriorated into the shadow man he was. But what caused him to deteriorate?
"You're up, Frostbite," Bunnymund said from the doorway. "Feelin' better?"
Jack blinked and nodded, pulling his mind away from the darkness. "Yeah, Cottontail. Still sore, but I'm doing better."
"Good. Sandy told us what he did to Autumn," the Spring Spirit said. His green eyes narrowed. "Really don't think that idiot will touch you again."
Jack's jaw clenched, and he looked at his hands. How could he tell them that he wasn't grateful? How could he tell them that he despised their interference, that they made him feel like a little kid who can't handle his own problems? His silence stretched on for a long minute, and Sandy floated over to touch him, trying to convey that Jack was safe.

"Jack? He won't bother you anymore."

They don't understand, Jack thought bitterly. They're all grown up and will be forever. I'm a kid and can't grow up. And Jack felt tears well in his eyes. As they cut a path down his silvery cheeks, ice particles glittering in the light of the moon, they were colder than ever. He became aware once again of the storm that raged deep inside of him. He couldn't tell them about that, either. Then they really would look at him like he was a child, and he couldn't bear that thought.
"Oh, Jack," North said compassionately, stepping forward.
"Where are my clothes?" Jack asked, his voice steady and low. He felt vulnerable, and clothes would help.
Bunnymund dropped onto all fours and hopped to the dresser across the room. He picked up a pile of folded clothes, then bounded back. The clothes were already pristine and whole, and Jack nodded as he stood up, turned away, and pulled on his pants. It was his shirt and hoodie that gave him trouble, and he grimaced as he stretched his limbs and forced them into the sleeves. An unwanted groan slipped out as he settled them into place.
When he faced them again, wiping his cheeks, they gazed at him with great concern. "It doesn't hurt nearly as bad," he assured them. "It's just sore."
"I'll make more stardust and coat the bruises again tomorrow," Sandy promised. "That should clear up most of the pain."
"Thanks, Sandy," Jack said then looked around. "Where's Tooth?"
"Some emergency at the Tooth Palace," Bunnymund replied with a shrug. "She'll be back later."
Jack nodded. "Is there any food? I feel like eating."
"I can make something. Does fish sound good?" Sandy asked.
"Sure, as long as it's not sushi."
"I'll show him around while you make it," Bunnymund said. "I don't think you've been here before, have you Jack?"
"Nope."
North grinned. "Wait until you meet the mermaids. They are quite fond of Sandy."
Sandy's cheeks darkened, and he poked the Spirit of Wonder. "Shut up, North."
"Eh, merfolk don't like me," Jack said, looking at his feet. "I'd rather not meet them."
There was a pause then Sandy floated away. North retrieved Jack's staff and handed it over then followed the Dream Spirit to the kitchen. Jack leaned against his staff.
"So? Where are we going?"
"How about the beaches?" Bunnymund asked. "There's a dune that you can see the whole island from."
"Lead the way, Cottontail," Jack said.
They walked through the enormous castle, and Jack was impressed by the grandeur of the place. He didn't live in a house at all. He stayed outdoors most of the time, usually in cool climates. Humans used houses as shelters from the weather, mostly the cold and rain, but Jack loved that weather, so he saw no reason to build a house. But all of his fellow Guardians had homes. Toothiana had her Tooth Palace, North his Workshop, and Sandy had this castle. Bunnymund lived in an enclosed Warren, which was less like a house than the others, but still home for him.
The Workshop had been warm and cozy, full of activity from Elves and Yetis. It had a quality about it that Jack couldn't place. When he had first seen Tooth's palace, Jack had looked around with a heavy heart as the same feeling filled him with an ache he couldn't place. It was only a few weeks after the battle that he realized that for the first time in his immortal life, he felt homesick. Deep in his heart, the desire still stirred every once in a while, a desire for a place to call home.
And now he was seeing the Sandman's home, the place that he spent time in his off hours. It was hauntingly beautiful, inside and out. The towering sandcastle stood out against the starry sky, the Moon placed perfectly above the highest tower. As they padded through the sand, Jack noticed that it was warm between his toes. His feet did not turn blue, and he marveled for a few moments. Heat always affected him, and the fact that the softly glowing sand wasn't making him uncomfortable was incredible.
"Whatcha lookin' at, Frostbite?" Bunnymund asked, nudging his arm.
"It's warm, but not," he murmured.
"It's a crashed star. Full of wishes and dreams. That's what makes it glow and feel so nice," Bunnymund replied.
"A crashed star?" Jack asked, looking up quickly. "What do you mean a crashed star?"
"Sandy told you that he wasn't from Earth," the Spring Spirit said. "He was a Star Captain. He traveled around the universe granting wishes. He's got some great stories about the Golden Age. So does MiM, but he doesn't talk about it often. He gets upset thinking about his childhood."
"Because of Pitch," Jack said, glancing up at the Moon.
Bunnymund gave him a sideways glance. "How did you know?"
"He just told me about it. I can't imagine Pitch as a rainbow of light," Jack said, shaking his head.
Bunnymund gritted his teeth as they crested the dune. "I don't like talking about that jerk. He's no good, and I don't think he was ever as pure as MiM thinks."
Jack watched the Pooka as the Spring Sprit stood on his back legs, gazing out over the ocean. His eyes were shadowed with something dark and sticky, something that didn't fit with Bunnymund's hopeful nature. That look scared Jack, and he quickly looked away, his heart quivering in his chest. The expression had mirrored the looks in North's and Sandy's faces, and he knew that Tooth's expression would hold that same shadow.
"What do you think? Doesn't it look nice?"
"Huh?"
"Look at the island," Bunnymund said, placing a paw on his shoulder. He gestured with his other paw, sweeping the horizon. "See how it spirals? See how the waves lap at the shore? There are dolphins out there, and I know you like them. We'll see if they'll come and play tomorrow. The water around the island is infused with the magic of the sand, so you should be able to swim in it."
Jack stared at the beautiful sight, but he hardly saw any of it. All he could think of was the darkness in his friends' eyes. They were supposed to channel the lovely light of the Moon itself, to use its goodness to protect children of the world. But the shadow was horrible. It wasn't like the dark side of the Moon. It was darker than anything Jack had ever seen. Darker, he believed, than even Pitch Black. What in the world caused his fellow Guardians look like that?
"Bunny! Food is ready!" North's voice boomed through the night.
"Come on, Frostbite," Bunnymund said. "Better eat while its hot."
Jack stood there for a moment as Bunnymund hopped away. He looked up at the Moon and a question burned in his mind. He desperately wanted to ask MiM, but he couldn't bring himself to accuse his friends of the darkness that they so clearly despised in Pitch. North's call reached his ears again, and he lowered his head, too afraid of the answer to ask his question. But as he walked back toward the castle, he made a secret wish in his heart, speaking the question only in his innermost being.

What is that darkness that haunts those who are supposed to be light? Oh, I wish I understood!

His footprints in the sand glowed a little brighter, the warm, golden light of a star flashing in each imprint, but Jack Frost didn't notice. He walked with his eyes on the Moon, hands deep in his pockets, and his heart troubled.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

North Wind seemed to laugh as Jack Frost flew above the clouds, and Jack stuck his tongue out playfully. The breeze caressed him then swooped beneath the clouds, dragging the boy with it. Jack laughed, his blue eyes appraising the snowy land below. Various blues and whites contrasted against the dark blotches of barren trees. The gleam of icicles and frozen water stirred his love of winter, and he spun in a tight circle, shooting through the sky like a bullet.
It had taken only three days for his body to heal from the vicious beating. He had never felt healthier or stronger, and he was flying free for the afternoon. The Winter Spirit had promised to join the other Guardians at the Tooth Palace for dinner the next night, but today was his, and he was going to enjoy it.
As North Wind pulled him across the sky, Jack opened his mouth to laugh and whoop, but a large dark splotch caught his eye, and he straightened up, waving for North Wind to be quiet. The breeze died, and Jack lowered himself with a circular airwave. Fear bubbled up when he saw a thin, dark figure moving around a large, ship-like object. It was Pitch.
Jack clenched his staff, narrowing his eyes and watching the man move around. Pitch was working on the ship, wiping something on the dark object. After a few moments, Pitch looked up sharply, his silvery-gold eyes locking onto Jack's. Jack took a fighting stance, ready for battle, but Pitch Black sneered and shook his head before lowering his gaze back to the ship. He began to scrub again.
Confused, the Guardian of Fun dropped to the ground. He landed with ease and approached with caution, still in a defensive position. Pitch didn't look at him again. Jack slowly lowered his staff, watching the man work. After a moment, he leaned on his staff.
"What are you doing?"
"Go away, Frost," Pitch said blandly. "I'm doing nothing wrong."
"But what are you doing?"
"Fixing my ship."
"But that won't fit in the lakes, and it's a long way to the ocean."
"It's not that kind of ship, Frost."
Jack tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Pitch glanced over, frowning. When he saw real interest, he rolled his eyes then gestured up at the sky. Jack glanced up, a grin spreading over his face.
"It's a spaceship!" he said gleefully.
"That's what humankind calls them."
Jack sat down, his eyes lowering back down to the man. Pitch drew a black cloth across the boards, which looked to be constructed out of shadows. Pitch's long sleeves were pushed up to his elbows as he scrubbed at the surface. Long, thin lines stood out on flesh that was a sickly, pale grey. Jack watched Pitch's ropelike muscles coil and uncoil as he pushed and pulled the cloth. Jack was fascinated.
"You shouldn't stare, Frost. It's rude."
Jack blinked, his cheeks cooling. "Sorry."
"What do you want, Frost?" Pitch said, turning to dip his cloth into what looked to be swirling, inky shadows.
Jack shrugged. "I don't know. Just watching."
"Not planning an attack?"
"No," Jack replied.
"Very un-Guardian-like," Pitch said, pressing the cloth onto the next section.
Jack watched as the boards gleamed where the rag touched as if absorbing the shadows. Pitch glanced over and his face relaxed a little. He sat back on his heels and held out the towel.
"Would you like to try?" he asked.
Jack leaned forward, grabbing the rag with the eagerness of a child, and for a moment, he saw a glint in Pitch's eyes. It was gone in an instant, but it brought a giddy smile to Jack's face. At Pitch's instruction, he dipped the cloth back into the inky substance before pressing forward to scrub at the boards. Whatever it was, it wasn't exactly liquid, solid, or gas. The boards of the ship absorbed them greedily, and Jack continued in the work.
Pitch watched Jack with mild interest. It had been a long time since anybody had been interested in him for a nonviolent reason. The fact that Jack Frost was a Guardian would have made him suspicious, but the grin on Jack's face, a childlike grin of excitement and joy at being included, helped Pitch to push away his hesitation. He pulled his sleeves down, wiping the shadow-paint on his clothes.
Jack didn't notice the shadows he was splashing on his clothes, and Pitch rubbed his chin. Any normal person would smile back, but Pitch felt no happiness inside of him anymore, so he simply watched the boy put another layer of shadow-paint on the ship. It was almost ready for flight. He needed to get out of the atmosphere and collect some items from the stars and planets. He needed to get away from Earth while he still had his mind about him.
Jack sat back, wiping his forehead with his stained hands. The shadows seeped into his white hair and streaked his pale skin. He looked over at Pitch to see a blank expression staring back at him. Jack knew that the gaze wasn't hostile, and he smiled before looking down at his clothes.
He pursed his lips. "Ah, this will come out, won't it?"
"Yes, Frost," Pitch said, standing up and holding out his hand. Jack took it and was pulled to his feet. "Over here. I'll show you how to get the stains out."
Jack followed Pitch, wiping his hands down his jacket in an attempt to get rid of the darkness. Pitch glanced over his shoulder and snorted.
"Just going to make it worse," he stated blandly.
"What is this stuff, anyway?"
"Shadows extracted from black holes."
Jack blinked. "Really? What are they for?"
"They camouflage my ship in space. It reflects stars and renders the ship invisible."
Pitch picked up a crystal and shook it. Immediately, the crystal glowed brightly. Jack, whose eyes were used to the sun shining on planes of pure white snow and ice, found himself dazzled for the first time in many years. He cringed and looked away. When the light went out, Jack blinked several times, rubbing his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the shadows were gone.
"Whoa! What's that?"
"It's the heart of a star. The star went out ages ago, but its power was condensed into this crystal," Pitch said, placing the rust-red gem aside and sitting down. "Very rare to find these. They usually implode."
"How did you get it?"
"Lunar and I found it while exploring with Nightlight."
"Who?"
Pitch pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I won't answer that, Frost. Next question."
"Okay then. Why aren't you attacking me?"
"I see no need."
"Is there ever a need to attack somebody?"
"Sometimes, yes."
"Give one example."
"If somebody threatens somebody you care for, would you fight them, or would you let your friend get hurt?"
Jack frowned, and North Wind curled around his head, trying to pull him back to the sky. He waved it away. "That's a good point, actually."
"I do have them, sometimes," Pitch replied.
The Nightmare King turned and began to rearrange some items. Jack leaned on his staff, watching the smooth, confident movements that defined Pitch Black. For a moment, Jack saw the look of abject terror as the Night Mares chased him down. Tripping, slipping, clearly frightened, Pitch had screamed as they swept him away, a sound so raw and high that it lingered on the crisp air even as the silence consumed the watching Guardians.
"Frost, you're staring again," Pitch said.
Jack jumped, his focus returning to the present. Pitch had an old teapot, which was boiling over a black fire that did not feel hot at all to the Spirit of Winter. His silvery-gold eyes did not look away from the wide blue ones. Jack knew that Pitch could hear his pounding heart, and he knew that Pitch recognized his fear. But the man said nothing about it. He poured two mugs of tea then set the pot back on the makeshift stove.
The Guardian of Fun didn't understand the calmness that Pitch exuded. All the time during the battle, there had been a different aura around him. It had vibrated the man's entire being, even while he stood and taunted the Guardians. It had played around his smirk, swam in his hostile gaze, and the Night Mares had been riled by that same energy. But now there was a sense of calm, of peace that changed the man's demeanor so that, while it was not exactly friendly, it was something more palatable.
"Something bothering you?" Pitch asked, pouring a bit of cream into his tea and stirring.
"What are you afraid of, Pitch?" Jack blurted out.
Pitch's mouth tightened as his jaw clenched. Jack thought for a wild moment that Pitch was going to bite his head off. But he didn't do that. He did not shrink away from the question or look embarrassed, he did not snap and snarl at the stupid curiosity of children; instead, he picked up a worn mug and held it out.
"Have some tea. Want sugar?"
"Scoops or lumps?" Jack asked, sitting across from Pitch and taking the cup.
"Lumps."
"Three."
"Sugar junkie," Pitch said, dropping three lumps of sugar into the steaming tea.
"Is that a tease?" Jack asked, his lips quirking.
"More of a derision," Pitch said. "Unsugared tea is just as good."
"Sugar makes everything better," Jack argued.
"Well, I won't argue that sugar is good," Pitch said, cupping his mug and inhaling the steam. "But too much makes me jitter. I'll stick with my cream and let the children of the world eat their weight in sugar."
Jack gripped his staff tightly, and a burst of frost burst from the curved end. The burst was so cold that it burned the Winter Spirit, and he gritted his teeth, glaring down into the tea. He hated Pitch at that moment, hated Pitch and himself. Why was he doomed to be a child forever? And did Pitch have to rub it in? Jack squeezed his eyes shut as the howl of a barely-contained wind seemed to push against his mind. For a second, Jack was sure that this was the moment that the storm would tear out of his soul.
"It wasn't an insult, Frost," Pitch said, a strain of gentleness that caressed Jack's mind, soothing his anger and nerves.
Jack forced himself to look at Pitch, bewildered at the kindness that his enemy was offering. There was no smile, no physical indication that Pitch was offering comfort. But he was, and the intense look and the soft words were just the medicine that Jack needed. The storm seemed to settle deep inside, like fat, slow snowflakes drifting down in the night. Jack's mouth relaxed, and he breathed out a silvery mist as his body went limp. Blinking in surprise, he stared at the man who had, with a single sentence, calmed the raging winds inside of him, something that he had not achieved in his three hundred years of life.
Pitch said nothing else, sipping his drink and watching Jack with a maddeningly blank stare. Jack didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He dipped his head and picked up his cup of tea. Blowing out, the liquid frosted over, and he cracked the top with his spoon then gulped it down.
"I'm going to head out. I'll see you…I mean, bye."
Jack stood and was three steps away when Pitch cleared his throat. The boy turned and saw a spark of interest in the unfathomable depths of Pitch's gaze.
"What?"
Pitch leaned back onto his hands, appraising the thin boy. "It is not a purely bad thing to be a child, Frost. There is something lost in grown-ups, and they can't always see through the veil as children can. Be grateful that you are who you are. You are the most unique spirit that MiM has ever picked. You are the only one young enough to see things that are hidden from the other Guardians. Use that to your advantage. Few keep this talent as long as you have."
Jack once again didn't know what to say, so he nodded and called for North Wind to get him again. As he flew, his heart fluttered nervously in his chest. Pitch had obviously read his fear and responded. The boy knew that Pitch innately understood fear, that he could read the deepest fears in a person's heart, but to have him comfort instead of abuse was jarring.
It was then that Jack realized something else: Pitch had never told him what he was afraid of.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack couldn't get the encounter with Pitch Black out of his mind. He didn't dare bring it up with the other Guardians; they wouldn't take it well, and he was afraid of seeing that shadow in their faces again. Still, the conversation replayed over and over in his head, and he noted as much as he could about it.
The flash that passed through Pitch's strange silvery-gold eyes, making Jack grin like an idiot and relax in front of his enemy. The gentle tone that calmed the raging storm inside of him, releasing a great deal of pressure and bringing peace to a restless Winter Spirit. Pitch's willingness to answer all of Jack's questions, all but one, without a trace of annoyance. But the thing that stuck with the Guardian of Fun most was what Pitch had said about being a child.
Jack didn't understand what veil Pitch was talking about. He'd heard death referred to as being through a veil, but he didn't think that's what the Nightmare King meant. A bride wore a veil to hide her face until it could be revealed in a flourish, glowing brightly and full of the beauty of joy, but Jack wasn't a woman about to be wed, and none of the Guardians were married, so they had never seen through a wedding veil. So what the heck did Pitch mean?
Jack chewed on his tongue for a moment, sitting high in a tree, staring over the rich foliage. As much as he despised Autumn, the season truly was beautiful. But the reds and yellows and oranges faded as he went back to the snowy fields where he'd talked to Pitch, so far north that it was already winter, and once again, he was considering the man they had fought and defeated.
A rock slammed into his head, and he dropped down several branches. He looked down, and he groaned as he saw Autumn tossing another rock into the air. Jack rolled his eyes, and he called the winds. He didn't want to be beaten up again, and he didn't want to talk to the brute who took such pleasure in hurting him.
"Frost! Come back! I need to talk to you!"
"With your fists?" Jack snarled.
"No, Frost, seriously!"
Jack paused ten feet above the tree. There was a tinge of fear in Autumn's voice. That wasn't normal. But what else could he want? Jack used a circular wave of air to lower himself until he was just out of reach, taking stock of his foe. Autumn was still bruised, deep oranges and purplish yellow splotches across his body. There was a long, thin slice across Autumn's left side where Sandy's whip had cut him. Autumn dropped the rock, staring up with reddish eyes.
"What?"
"Tell the Sandman that I get it," he said, shivering. "Tell him that I don't want any more nightmares. Tell him that I won't touch you again. Just make the nightmares stop!"
The fear turned into panic as the man stared with wide eyes, begging his former victim to help. Jack frowned, dropping to the ground. He crossed his arms and looked the Fall Spirit up and down. He was genuinely afraid.
"I didn't know that Sandy was giving you nightmares."
"Just make them stop! I feel like I'm going insane!" Autumn moaned. "I never used to sleep, but every night for almost two weeks I have! Red eyes, dark shadows, dirty whispers!" Autumn's voice grew higher and higher, his bottom lip trembling. "I don't want them anymore! Please, go tell the Sandman to stop! Please, Frost! Please!"
Jack gasped as Autumn fell to his knees, pawing at his hoodie. Tears slipped down his face, and he shuddered as he begged for Jack to help him, to make them stop, to make them go away, that he would do anything, absolutely anything, for the nightmares to go away.
"Geez, Autumn! I'll go talk to him right now!" Jack said, flinging the clutching hands away from him as they pinched him too hard.
"Oh, thank you, Jack! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Jack took a step back, watching as Autumn hugged himself, sobbing in relief. Shaking his head, Jack called for West Wind to lift him and carry him to Sandy's castle. There was something off in Autumn's gaze, but Jack couldn't place it. And he was shocked that Sandy was so cruel, giving Autumn nightmares that would make him break down like that. It wasn't like the Sandman at all.
As he approached, he saw mermaids popping up to stare at him with their strange eyes. They began to whisper and giggle, and Jack found his face chilling in a blush. He didn't understand mermaids, and they always laughed at him. Why they laughed, he wasn't sure, but laugh they did, and he always blushed.
He ordered West Wind to set him gently on the shore, and he looked around at the swirling edges of the beach as they curled and stretched out. The warm sand, full of dreams and wishes, made Jack smile, and he relished the short walk to the doors. They opened as he raised his hand to knock, and Jack walked in, admiring the beautiful sand-work.
A line of dreamsand rushed from the walls and guided Jack through the winding rooms to Sandy's workroom. Sandy glanced up and smiled, waving Jack inside before holding up a finger and turning back to his table. A pile of dreamsand was in front of him, along with a beaker of what looked to be liquid light. Jack walked over to watch.
"What are you doing?"
Sandy waved a hand, shushing him. Jack frowned, but he watched as the Sandman placed one drop of light onto the dreamsand. It flashed, and the sand turned red. Sandy clapped, turned to face Jack, and beamed.
"I don't get it. What happened?" Jack asked, leaning against his staff.
"It's a special type of dreamsand," Sandy said with a nod, the symbols flashing over his head. "Powerful, restful, and healing."
"Cool!" Jack said, leaning down to poke it. Sandy bowed. "How did you make it?"
Sandy shook his head. "Ah, ah, ah!" he said, shaking his finger. "That's a Golden Age secret!"
"Oh, come on, Sandy!" Jack said. "Tell me!"
"No, Jack. What brings you here this fine day?" Sandy asked, effectively shutting down Jack's question.
"Autumn sent me."
Sandy's face froze, the smile becoming dark. "He isn't bothering you again, is he?"
"No, no," Jack said. "He wants me to ask you to stop giving him nightmares."
Sandy blinked, his face relaxing into a frown. "I'm not giving him nightmares. That's Pitch's thing, not mine. If he's having nightmares, blame Pitch Black."
"Wait, really? You're not giving him nightmares? He seemed sure it was you!" Jack said.
A dark shadow passed over Sandy's eyes. "I'm not a monster. I don't give nightmares. It must be Pitch because it's not me. That foul black creature knows no bounds when it comes to evil."
And Jack saw what he had feared. The dark, sickly look contrasted with Sandy's kindness, and even his former rage with Autumn, which had had a purpose. This look was nothing like kindness, anger, or any other emotion that Jack knew. It was a kind of hatred, but even that word did it no justice. Jack felt ill looking at the darkness, and he quickly turned away to hide his fear. He was glad Pitch wasn't there, or he would know.
"Oh. Well, I guess I'll go and tell Autumn that you're not doing it."
There was shifting behind him, and a bag was pressed into his hand. Jack turned to see that the darkness was gone, replaced by a smile. He looked down at the yellow sack, tied neatly with a white ribbon.
"What's this?"

"It's for pleasant dreams. To drive away the nightmares. Even that monster can't fight this sand."

The darkness peeked out again. Jack took a step back and forced a smile. "I gotta go now. Bye!"
And he turned and ran, leaving a bewildered Sandman in his wake. His heart pounded, his mind raced, and his stomach turned, and he knew if he didn't get fresh air, icy air, into his lungs, he would be violently ill. With reckless abandon, he sprinted into the sunshine and screamed out loud.
"North Wind! Here! Please!"
A chilly breeze hit him, and he jumped into the air, sucking in the semi-cool air. His stomach lurched and he swore, begging North Wind to blow faster. Within minutes, the air began to grow colder, and Jack took great, heaving breaths, trying to cool down his suddenly hot insides. Fear made his soul tremble, and the storm stirred in his depths.
Jack didn't look at where he was going, focusing on his body, on not heaving anything up. North Wind stopped suddenly, and Jack dropped like a stone. He hit the ground with a dull thud, and he groaned, curling up. There was something clawing at his brain, something disgusting and wrong, and he screamed, writhing around in the snow as tears streamed down his face.
A dark figure stood above him, and his brain burned so hot that Jack was sure it would melt. He screamed, clawing at his head, bile rising in his throat despite his best efforts to keep it down. The figure knelt down and forced Jack onto his stomach, pressing his face into the snow. The figure straddled him, holding him down with supernatural strength. Jack gasped for air and swallowed a mouthful of snow, which melted immediately in the heat that swamped the Winter Spirit.
Warm breath against his ear told him that the figure was close to him. 'Oh, dear MiM, he's not going to KISS me, is he?' Where the delirious question had come from, Jack didn't know, but terror made his movements even more frantic. 'Don't violate me! Don't do it! Oh, God, please don't let him rape me!'
"It's alright, Frost," a low, gentle voice whispered into his ear. "Relax. Relax, and I'll help you. Shh."
Jack's head was turned enough for him to breathe, and he sucked in air greedily, his head spinning. He didn't know where he was, who he was with, or what he was doing anymore. He felt so sick, his mind burning, his thoughts disjointed. A gentle touch to the back of his neck, a sudden pressure, and he knew no more.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack drifted up from a dark place, coming back to consciousness with a whimper. He attempted to move, but he was wrapped in something, his hands pinned to his side. But it was so nice and cool, and all he wanted to do was sleep some more. Instead of relaxing back into slumber, he became aware of a crackling fire nearby, and a soft, low hum. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't tell who it was.
All he had was disjointed, fractured memories mixed in with darkness and fear. He tried to piece things together. The last whole memory he had was worrying that the dark figure above him was going to do terrible things to him. He struggled in his cocoon and the humming stopped.
"Hold still, Frost."
That voice! "P-Pitch?" he croaked, cracking his eyes open to see the blessed stars instead of nothing.
Thin, strong hands peeled three layers of strange blankets away before icy air hit Jack's chest. He took a deep breath and sat up, noting that he was shirtless. As he looked at himself, he saw a long, thin scar that went down his stomach. Blinking, he shook his head, confused. He didn't have any scars. Spirits couldn't even get scars!
"He got you pretty good, Frost," Pitch said.
"Who? Autumn?" Jack asked, swallowing.
Pitch handed him some water, narrowing his eyes. "What happened?"
"Autumn told me that Sandy was giving him nightmares," Jack said slowly then sucked down half the glass of water.
In the pause, Pitch shook his head. "Sanderson doesn't give nightmares. I don't think he knows how. It isn't as easy as you think to make people dream of bad things."
"So are you the one giving Autumn nightmares?" Jack asked suspiciously.
"No," Pitch said simply, and Jack knew he was telling the truth. Pitch shifted. "So Autumn cut you open?"
"Cut me open?" Jack asked, raising his eyebrows. "No. I mean, he pinched me or something while he was begging for me to make the nightmares stop, but it didn't hurt too bad."
Pitch's mouth twitched into a slight frown. "Was there something wrong with him?"
Jack gritted his teeth, trying to remember. Something clicked into place, and he looked up at the dark man.
"His eyes were almost red. They're supposed to be orange."
Pitch's lips pressed together tightly, and he brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his long legs and staring at the dark fire. For a moment, Jack thought he saw an insecure child in front of him, not a fully-grown man. He didn't say anything, sipping on his water and looking around.
"How did I get here?" Jack asked, trying to break the silence.
"You dropped out of the sky screaming," Pitch replied. "It's a good thing that you dropped nearby. If it was anybody else, you'd still be very sick."
Jack turned back to Pitch, noting that he still resembled a child. He was uncomfortable to see his enemy in such a vulnerable state, and he looked down, embarrassed. Pitch shifted after a moment and spoke in a faraway voice.
"Did he mention what he dreamt of?"
"Dirty whispers and red eyes or something."
Pitch closed his eyes, breathing out through his nose. "I've got to talk to the Guardians."
"What?" Jack asked, shaking his head. "They'll kill you!"
"I have to warn him."
"Him? You mean North?"
Pitch blinked, and there was a hint of darkness that crept into his gaunt cheeks. It took Jack a moment before he realized what he was seeing. Pitch Black, the feared Nightmare King, was blushing. Jack watched in fascination as Pitch ran a hand through his hair, refusing to look at the boy. This was the most emotion that Jack had seen the man show, at least since his anger during the battle, and it was so strange to see.
"North? Yes. Yes, that's who I need to warn," Pitch said. He was so clearly lying, but Jack didn't know why he was so embarrassed about warning whoever it was. Jack decided to go along with Pitch to see if he could find out who it really was.
"Okay. Well, I can go with you to the North Pole and we can talk to him."
Pitch's eyes dashed up to Jack's face. "You'll go with me?"
"Of course. I need to talk to them, too."
Pitch stood and scooped the dark fire up in his hands and into a jar. Brushing his hands over his dark pants, he swung on his long overcoat, buttoning it with deft fingers.
"Your shirt and hoodie are over there," he said, gesturing with his head.
Jack jumped to his feet and nearly fell over as dizziness swamped him. Pitch caught him with one hand, arching an eyebrow. Jack shrugged one shoulder, a guilty smile playing around his mouth. When he regained his balance, he dressed, wincing at a sharp pain from the area of the scar.
"Geez, what did Autumn hit me with?" Jack asked, rubbing his stomach. "He's never left a scar before!"
Pitch glanced at him, as if about to say something, but he ended up shaking his head and straightening up.
"Ready, Frost?"
"How are you going to get to the Pole?" Jack teased.
"I'm going to fly, of course."
With no other warning, Pitch leaped into the air and floated, his silvery-gold eyes intense. Jack whistled, kicking his staff into his hands as North Wind rushed around him and lifted him up. Pitch immediately headed north, and Jack played with North Wind around him. After about fifteen minutes, Jack settled down, flipping on his back to face Pitch, who watched Jack with mild interest.
"Wanna race?"
Pitch's lips pressed together. "No."
"C'mon, Pitch."
"Really, no thank you."
"You're just afraid that you'll lose."
"No," Pitch said quietly, his gaze intensifying even more. "I'm afraid that you're a sore loser."
With that, there was a boom so loud that Jack nearly went deaf. Pitch shot ahead like a bullet, and Jack shouted.
"Hey!"
He urged North Wind faster, and he was soon on Pitch's tail, but he couldn't seem to get by him. Pitch's maneuvering was exquisite, and he managed to stay in front of Jack all the way to the North Pole. Pitch landed gracefully, running a hand through his mussed hair as Jack dropped down in a heap beside him, panting and laughing so hard that tears gleamed in his eyes.
"You sneaky snake!" Jack gasped. "You went supersonic! I didn't know you could even fly, let alone go that fast!"
Pitch bowed low then helped Jack up. He turned to look at the gleaming lights, and his face tensed as his eyes swept the snowy wasteland.
"There are Yetis nearby," he whispered.
"They won't hurt us."
"No, Frost. They won't hurt you."
"I'll explain. Let's go."
Halfway up the hill, there was a bellow, and Pitch was tackled to the ground. A huge, white Yeti had leaped up from nowhere, pinning the tall man to the ground. Pitch didn't fight, but Jack grabbed the Yeti, yelling for him to stop.
"Phil, Phil, he's with me!" Jack said, trying to pull the huge beast off of Pitch.
"What the heck do you mean he's with you?!" Phil snarled in Yeti-speak.
"He's gotta warn North about something. Get off of him, please!"
"Warn North about what?" the Yeti demanded.
Pitch turned his head and spat out a mouthful of snow. "The Shadow Man. He's here on Earth."
Immediately, there was silence throughout the landscape. The wind stopped, the snow stopped, and the stars winked in the sky. Jack and Phil both noticed, and Phil shuddered, pushing himself up and looking around with wide eyes. His brown eyes stopped on Jack.
"That doesn't sound good," Phil said, unsure. "Jack?"
"We need to talk to North. I think he's serious. Autumn was acting weird, and he cut me with something that left a scar."
Phil heaved Pitch to his feet. "Hands in your pockets," the Yeti ordered. "And walk in front of me."
Pitch obeyed and Jack hurried to walk beside the man. The Bogeyman walked stiffly, his face set, his posture tense. Jack knew that something was really wrong. Pitch seemed almost…afraid. Who was this Shadow Man and why did he make the Nightmare King so uneasy? And did he really want to know?
Inside the Workshop, Pitch was shoved into a room full of wondrous inventions that North had made.
"You sit," Phil snarled. "Jack, make sure he doesn't get into anything."
"Yeah, yeah," Jack said, staring intently at Pitch. "You go get North."
As soon as the door was closed (and locked) Pitch began to pace, glancing at the large window across from him. All Jack could see was a wintery land and a sky full of stars. Jack had a sneaking suspicion that Pitch was watching for the moon.
"It's on the other side of the sky tonight. He won't see you in here," Jack said softly.
Pitch grunted and continued to pace. A loud thud sounded out and the Aurora Borealis shot across the sky. Jack narrowed his eyes. Why had North called the other Guardians? Pitch's breathing grew shallow as he watched a boat made of sand sail across the sky and a shadow of Toothiana flit over the snow. Bunnymund hopped across the frozen wasteland, and Pitch's face paled.
"Bad idea, bad idea," he hissed between his teeth. "Shadow Man put the veil down, they're going to kill me, kill me dead, I'll be in the dark. Teeth, touch, pain, laughter. No, no, no!" Pitch began to hyperventilate, his face turning as white as the snow outside.
Jack watched in shock as Pitch let out a whine, gripping his arms and shaking. A sickening revelation began to dawn on the Winter Spirit. The door burst open and Pitch barely bit down on a scream, bolting over to the window, his pale face looking out of place with the shadow that was his body. His silvery-gold eyes were wide as he stared at the Guardians, all of whom looked ready to destroy him. Before they could move, Jack jumped in between them.
"Hey guys. Long time no see."
"How long has he been keeping you, Jack?" Toothiana asked, her usually pink eyes so full of darkness so that they appeared violet.
"Keeping me? No, he didn't keep me," Jack laughed. "I crashed and he helped me."
"You were supposed to come to see us last week, mate," Bunnymund said evenly.
Jack blinked then turned to Pitch. "How long was I out?"
"I used the sleeping sand you got from Sanderson," Pitch said, his lips hardly moving. "You were out for almost ten days."
"What did he do to ya, Jack?" Bunnymund demanded.
"Nothing, Bunny!"
Sandy shook his head. "He's hurt you. Phil said he gave you a scar. Spirits don't scar."
"It wasn't him, it was Autumn!" Jack exclaimed. He expected them to turn and demand more information, but they were intent on Pitch.
"Autumn wouldn't hurt you."
Jack actually laughed. "Really? He's beat me up plenty of times. Why is it so hard to believe that he's responsible?"
"Because he is involved," North said, pointing at Pitch with a sword. "And Pitch is capable of all evil."
"He came here to warn you!" Jack shouted. "About somebody called the Shadow Man."
There was a shudder that went up their bodies, and Jack saw something like living shadows swirl in their eyes, turning them black and then red for a moment before settling down again. Jack didn't understand this hatred that he saw, the dark sickly emotions that filled his friends' faces and made them into something hideous.
"What's the matter with you guys?" Jack demanded, looking from one to the other. "It's like you're only seeing what you want to! It's like you're looking…" He paused then felt a chill race up his back and he turned to Pitch. "Through a veil," he whispered, and Pitch gave a single nod, his eyes never leaving the Guardians' angry faces.
"Tell MiM," Pitch said, his voice faint. "Tell MiM that his Nightlight's gone out and that Shadow Man is here on Earth to get him."
North's smile was more of a grimace as he sheathed a sword and strode over to Pitch. He grabbed the thin arm and began to drag him along. "Come, Pitch. Let us go and talk to Manny now. He will love to see you."
Jack heard a strangled noise leave Pitch's throat, and he jerked back with such force that North fell over. Pitch looked around at the Guardians, his eyes lingering on Jack for a moment. There was a long pause then dreamsand whips slashed through the air. Toothiana's fairies shot forward, and Bunnymund threw his boomerang. Pitch moved with supernatural speed as he launched himself out of the window and into the sky. Within half a minute, his dark form was gone as he fled back to his hidey hole.
Jack watched the shattered glass gleam in the starlight. A single drop of black blood sparkled on a sharp piece of glass, a strange otherworldly color, testament that Pitch had actually been there. The Guardian of Fun stood there, numb from his realizations. He ignored the loud talking behind him and he swallowed, thinking on what he knew.
He knew that Pitch Black had once been a prism, full of light. He knew that something had happened to make him into a shadow of his former self. He knew that Shadow Man scared Pitch, that the Guardians scared Pitch, and, most of all, that MiM scared Pitch. But not because he didn't care about MiM anymore. It was because Pitch had never stopped caring for him, because Pitch was trying to protect MiM from whatever had happened to him. And Jack felt sick as he thought because he knew that whatever had happened to Pitch had happened in the dark. With teeth. With touch. With pain. And with laughter.
Jack found tears slipping down his cheeks, and he couldn't process anything except that Pitch had been a broken child who was now a broken man. And that thought hurt his heart. They were supposed to protect children, but nobody had protected Pitch. Nobody cared about his pain, his shame, his humiliation, or any of his emotions. He was shunned and alone because of something that he hadn't been able to control as a child.
The Winter Spirit let out a scream, swinging his staff and shattering an ice plane, his face feeling cool. The talking stopped, and Jack turned to face them, refusing to hide his tears. They looked shocked, staring at the boy with wide eyes. Jack gritted his teeth as he marched, straight-backed, out of the room and toward the front door. Phil watched him for a moment then followed. Several steps into the snow, Phil hailed him.
"What?" Jack snarled.
Phil glanced back and shook his head. "You saw the look?"
"The veil that they can't see through," Jack said stiffly.

"You need to talk to MiM. I don't think Pitch was lying. Something has been off for days. MiM's concerned but he can't place it."

Jack softened and sniffled, wiping his cheeks. "Yeah. I'm going to make sure that Pitch is okay." He began to walk away again, pausing when Phil spoke.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?" Jack asked, turning his head.

"I don't think Pitch is to blame for things being off. Tell him that, will you?"

Jack nodded then called for South Wind to carry him off. Phil watched until Jack was gone then turned to see North staring at him. The dark look was absent now, but Phil wasn't fooled. He knew it wasn't gone. He was sure that none of the Guardians knew about the darkness that lay inside of them. And that was terrifying.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack searched for days, crossing the world several times, noting that the weather grew colder as the seasons progressed. He couldn't find Pitch, but he did find that Phil had told the truth. Things were off, especially with the other spirits that Jack ran into. In every eye, there was that shadow when the boy asked about Pitch, but it wasn't just that. The air was hostile, and twice he passed spirits fighting, spirits that he knew were peaceful. As they days turned to weeks, Jack began to think that the entire world was going crazy.
The only thing he knew for sure was that he was sane. He knew he was because when he looked into a mirror at his own eyes and said Pitch's name, there was no shadow. Jack felt no hatred toward Pitch anymore. But there was a growing fear that stirred in his breast. Every spirit he met told him that children should be seen and not heard, or that children should stay out of adult business, or some other insult that drove home that he was a child, and because of this, the storm began to blow again.
He didn't celebrate Christmas with the Guardians, unwilling to see their faces while knowing what terrible veil lay over their hearts. Instead, he hunted day and night for Pitch as the storm built up inside of him, the winds howling louder than the four Winds that carried him all over the world.
After an exhausting Winter, Jack was looking forward to Spring. He sat in a bare tree as he rested, staring out over the wintry land and imagining greenery and birds. A rock hit him in the head, and he dropped several branches. Jack looked down to see Autumn, staring up at him with eyes the shade of a ruby. He tossed another rock in the air and caught it, the threat very real. With a sense of déjà vu, he dropped straight to the ground.
"Look, Sandy isn't giving you your nightmares," Jack said, leaning on his staff.
"I know. It's Pitch Black."
"No, it isn't," Jack said, pressing his lips together.
"Yes, it is. He's evil."
"Why does everybody think he's evil?" the boy huffed.
Autumn stared at him then grinned. "Because Shadow Man said so, that's why."
His heart seemed to freeze, and he slid into a defensive position. "Go away. Now."
"No. Shadow Man wants to talk with you."
"I don't think so."
"He's on his way."
Jack moved to call the Winds, any of them, to pick him up, but Autumn's next words gave him pause.
"He doesn't have much use for a boy, you know. Except at night."
Jack's eyes went wide, and he stepped back. "What?"
"You know what he did to the little prism boy. Over and over and over, and you're next. Slim, nice figure, pretty lips…"
Sickness welled inside of Jack, and he shook his head. He called for a Wind to pick him up, but about five feet off the ground, Autumn snagged his ankle and jerked him down. East Wind protested and pulled up, but Autumn refused to give up. Jack felt as if he were stretched to the limit, as if he were going to snap.
"East, stop!" he begged.
He slammed into the earth, the breath leaving his lungs. A hand snatched his staff, and Jack closed his eyes as it was snapped over Autumn's knee. A sense of wrongness filled him, and he shuddered. Autumn threw one leg over Jack and settled on his back. He leaned down and breathed on his ear. It was just like what Pitch had done when he had gotten sick, but this time there was no promise of being okay. Something wet curled across the shell of his ear and he opened his mouth and screamed.
"Get off me, sicko!" he shrieked, bucking against the man on top of him.
"I'm just warming you up for Shadow Man," Autumn purred, then licked his ear again, unfazed by the writhing boy.
Fear filled him, and he screamed for help, but 'help' wasn't the word that came out. "Pitch! Pitch, please! Help! He's going to hurt me! He's going to rape me!"
At that word the sky darkened, and Autumn froze against him, whimpering. In a moment of clarity, Autumn rolled off of Jack and stared at the boy, his eyes flashing from their usual orange to ruby red and back again.
"Run, Jack," he groaned. "He's going to make me do worse to you. Run. Run away!"
Jack gasped, snatching up the two halves of his staff as he pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't tell if the wind was outside or inside, but it was deafening. Fear and disgust stirred the storm inside of him, but the trees were waving in a frenzy of movement. Lost, unsure of where to go, Jack chose a direction and ran as if his life depended on it. Branches snapped beneath his bare feet, and his chest heaved. He was afraid because he could feel the darkness coming for him, and it was far darker than even Pitch Black.
He tripped and went sprawling, and before he could push himself up, he felt something colder than snow and ice settle in front of him. Terror kept him rooted to the spot, and he saw a pair of boots stop in front of him. He whimpered and hid his face, knowing that he couldn't do anything. He sensed the figure bend over him, and something cold and wet slid into his ear. A masculine grunt sounded out, and Jack let out a noise of disgust and fear.
"Get away from him," a smooth, low voice said.
The tongue left his ear, and Jack didn't move, didn't look up, but he sensed a grim smile. He also knew, however, that Pitch was unfazed. The boots moved away, and a sinking feeling in his stomach let him know that he was about to throw up. There was a softer step, that one from Pitch. They were facing off, but Jack couldn't look up.
"Prism," a whispery voice said, sharp and cold and terrifying. "My favorite little plaything."
"Get away from him, Obscurus. I won't let you hurt him."
"I've already tried, you know. Using that weak fool to slice him. But you just had to suck out the poison."
"It wouldn't have worked on him anyway," Pitch said softly. "He's young enough to see through the veil."
"Mm, but I like them young. I find it sad that you've grown up so tall. I remember when I could force you to kneel and offer you a little treat."
There was the sound of Pitch spitting. Jack knew it was a subconscious action from remembering a foul taste. Just what that foul taste was, Jack prayed that he would never find out. A grating chuckle came from the Shadow Man; he was enjoying himself. He was the only one, though. Pitch's determination to protect Jack swathed him in a bubble, and a voice whispered into his head.

"Don't look up, Jack. Not yet. You're not ready."

Jack pressed his hands over his face, hiding his eyes. The Shadow Man laughed, and there was the feeling of a twang, as if their mind connection had been picked like a guitar string.
"Still trying to keep up with your diminishing powers, eh?"
"You haven't broken me completely, Obscurus."
"I look forward to the day I do."
Jack felt sweat beading on his forehead, and he sensed the two men look at him. The Shadow Man laughed again, and it seemed to caress Jack's body, making him feel filthy. He retched and just barely kept it down. A crack sounded out, and the heavy boots stumbled back.
"Don't you do that. Or I'll do worse next time," Pitch hissed.
"Poor little thing can't even control his powers."
"He's fine."
"Don't lie, Prism," Shadow Man snorted. "You know he's afraid of the storm that lies inside. Honestly, I don't see why the little wretch you call your friend picked such a volatile creature to morph a human into. He has nobody to teach him about his very being."
Jack moaned, covering his ears. "N-not."
"Not what?" the Shadow Man asked, shifting closer. Pitch snarled, and the creature stopped. "Not a child? But you are a child, Jackson Overland Frost. And you always will be. I could help to make you more of a man, though. Just one night with me, and you'll be a man like Prism here."
"Shut up." Pitch's voice cracked with stress, humiliation, and fear.
"I still get to you, little Prism. And I'll take you again, right after him. You know of my voracious appetite."
Pitch began to waver, and Jack could feel the protective bubble shiver, as if it were being poked and prodded. The storm inside of Jack threatened to break free, and the boot stepped forward, crunching into the snow beside his head. A cry of rage left Pitch's mouth, and he surged forward. For one moment there was a scuffle before a muffled sob reached Jack's ears. He could stand it no longer.
He looked up through his fingers.
Pitch was caught in a lock, his arms immobile as a terrible creature smirked at him with full lips. A long, thin tongue snaked out and laved up Pitch's cheek. He shuddered, his eyes wild as he gritted his teeth. Jack stared at the two men, wondering how anything so disgusting could look so humanoid. But he looked remarkably like Pitch Black. Tall, thin, shadowy, but so much more horrible.
"You'll always be mine, Prism. I'll put out your light soon, and then the Man in the Moon is mine. I've already taken care of his little Nightlight."
Pitch was flushed with shadows, his face darkening. Jack felt so helpless. What could he do to help? The storm was so close to the surface, and he could hardly hold it back anymore. He needed Pitch to settle the storm again, to speak soothing words before it ripped out of him. Pitch's silvery-gold eyes met his blue ones, fear and tears of shame gleaming in them.
"I'm sorry, Frost," Pitch whispered through his mind.
Jack made his decision and struggled to his feet, his chest heaving. He could hardly hold himself up, but he glared at the creature, who turned to look at him.
"You don't like this?" Shadow Man said, drawing a thin finger over Pitch's hip before trailing inward. Pitch let out a wail, trying to get away, his face burning.
"Hey, what things go best together?" Jack asked, his body vibrating with the force of the storm.
"Me and Prism," Shadow Man said, then tilted Pitch's face toward him and pressed forward to capture Pitch's lips.
Fear and shame were so sharp on Pitch's face, and Jack ground his teeth together. "No," he croaked.
Shadow Man pulled back, licking the Nightmare King's trembling lips, as if making a horrible promise for later. He turned to Jack. "What then, little nuisance?"
"What goes best with darkness?"
What came out of Shadow Man's mouth was so lewd and so beyond foul that Jack grimaced, but he pushed on.
"No. Cold does. Nothing goes better together than cold and dark."
With that, Jack let the storm explode out of him. The force was so great that it sent him flying back. The mild winter day turned into a howling blizzard in a split second. Shadow Man screeched in agony and fled, cursing and promising lewd things. But his voice was cut off by the wind and snow. Jack lay on the ground, feeling as if he were turned inside out. The cold was numbing, and he was so tired.
A strong hand hoisted his head up, and Jack saw Pitch hover over him, his mouth moving. A long, thin black line went down Pitch's cheek, following the exact line that Shadow Man's tongue had made. Pitch also looked as if he were wearing black lipstick, more evidence of Shadow Man's defilement.
Pitch dug into his pocket, his mouth still moving. He scooped out something blue and then rubbed it into Jack's face. Jack's brain immediately went blank, and he watched as Pitch placed a bag into his pocket. Pitch turned around, knelt down, and pulled Jack over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.
Jack wanted to know where they were going, what was going to happen, but he knew if Pitch Black was there, he was going to be okay. There was more warmth and comfort in Pitch Black than he'd ever seen in any of the Guardians. So he closed his eyes and went limp, not asleep, but not entirely conscious, to wait for the end of the storm.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch watched Jack toss and turn. He could do nothing more for the pain that swamped the boy. He had used the last of his red dreamsand to send Jack into a deep sleep and ward off nightmares, and now he had to wait and see if he was going to be okay.
The storm that Jack had released raged outside, shuddering and shaking the little cave. The howling winds were a comfort to Pitch. He needed noise to feel safe. Noise, any noise, reminded him of happier days on the moon with Lunar, playing tag and running around. The gravity only worked on the inside of the broken ship, so outside they jumped and played, laughing and joking and as oblivious as children could be.
Pitch's heart hurt, and he rubbed his chest. That wasn't entirely true, though, was it? Lunar had been oblivious. But he, Prism, was not oblivious to the cruelty of the universe. His parents had been vicious, abusive, and they had terrified him. As a young child, all he knew was darkness. The light, the color, the joy he showed at home, in the darkest corner of the galaxy, was shunned and rejected. The other shadow beings had mocked and beaten him, but no worse than that. By the time the Moon Clipper had arrived, bringing more light and beauty than he had ever known, he was so low that he thought his own prismatic effect was hideous and ugly, something to be ashamed of.
Pitch's lips twitched as he recalled the chubby boy following his father out of the ship. Tsar Lunar, Lunar's father, was tall and handsome, with rugged features, and a smile that was brighter than the stars. Lunar's mother, Tsarina, was beautiful as the night sky, and Pitch watched her admonish the little boy to stay close, to not wander, for this place was a dark place. Lunar nodded and looked around for children to play with.
Pitch Black hadn't been Pitch Black back then. He hadn't even been Prism. He had been Nihilo Minus, a little nothing. Names were so important to his people, and to have a name that denoted that you were nothing had brought little Nihilo great shame. By the time the little Lunanoff boy had arrived, he avoided everybody on their little planet, and he had taught himself to shut off his light and color. But he was fascinated by the little boy who looked around with great wonder.
Nihilo had followed the boy around, noting that there was a tall, thin boy that watched every movement of the small child. He was ethereal, made of a shimmering light, and Nihilo was drawn to him, but he didn't dare approach. The tall boy was called away for only a moment to give a report of something, and little Lunar, mischievous as any child, ran off. Nihilo followed on silent feet, watching the boy even through the increasing shadows.
The small shadow boy knew the land well, having explored it in the weak light of the stars, and he knew where the child was heading when he turned. Nihilo gasped, torn between shouting and staying silent. If he shouted, it would draw attention, and attention was bad. At the last moment, Nihilo spoke in a little used voice.
"Little boy! There is a drop!"
But he hadn't spoken soon enough. Startled by the new voice, the boy turned his head then tripped and tumbled down an embankment. The next thing that Nihilo knew, there was a sob that nearly shattered his heart. The boy was injured! With nimble ease, Nihilo slid down and knelt over the boy. The darkness was thick, but the shadow boy could still see. He smelled blood, and he frowned, touching the trembling head.
"Who's there?" the boy asked, his little voice wavering.
"I am," Nihilo said. "Where are you hurt, little boy?"
"My knees and my elbow."
"Is anything broken?"
"My skin."
Surprised by the quip, Nihilo let out a laugh, and his entire body lit up, refracting the starlight into a rainbow of colors. In that moment, the chubby little Lunar was illuminated, and his mouth fell open, his tearful eyes widening in delight. He sat up, his bloody knees forgotten, and clapped. Realizing what he was doing, Nihilo clamped his mouth shut and made the light go away.
"Sorry," he whispered.
"Sorry?" Lunar asked, joy bubbling up through his tone. "That was beautiful! Like the ring around stars when you see them through water! How did you do that?"
"I don't know. I just do. Don't hit me."
Lunar looked puzzled, and that was the first hint that Nihilo had that what he went through wasn't normal. But he was too embarrassed by his momentary lapse of control to notice at the time. Lunar squinted and tried to see where they were.
"I can't see."
Surprised, Nihilo leaned forward. "You can't?"
"No."
"I can. I know where we are. Do you want to go back to the ship?"
"Yes. Mommy will help me with hurts. Her kisses make everything better. Can you help me to get there?"
"Of course," Nihilo agreed.
He took Lunar's hand and guided him up the embankment. When they were on level ground, they walked toward the village. Lunar's hand was clutching Nihilo's tightly, but it was a steady grip with no fear. Nihilo marveled at the brave boy who trusted so easily. There was a light moving ahead, and when it spotted them, it hurried over. It was the light boy, who looked disapprovingly at Lunar.
"What happened, little Lunanoff?" he asked.
"I fell down and this boy helped me to see my way back."
"You shouldn't have run off to begin with," the light creature said then turned to look at Nihilo. "Thank you for helping him."
Nihilo nodded once, releasing Lunar's hand. Lunar giggled as the light boy stuck out his tongue. He appraised the little boy then shook his head.
"You fell down again."
"Yes."
"Come, we will get your mother to tend to you."
Nihilo stood there, watching them go, when Lunar turned. "Come on! I want to show Mommy and Daddy your pretty colors!"
Stunned, Nihilo obediently followed them back into the glaring lights that surrounded the new arrivals. Tsarina gasped when she saw the blood on the chubby knees.
"Lunar! You're hurt!" she said, lifting her skirts to hurry over.
"I fell down!"
"You shouldn't have left Nightlight! Especially not here."
"This boy helped him get back," Nightlight said with a nod at Nihilo.
Tsar Lunar came forward and smiled. "Thank you. What is your name?"
Hanging his head, Nihilo answered. "Nihilo Minus, sir."
He looked up through his eyelashes to see shock cross the faces of the Tsar, Tsarina, and Nightlight. Lunar looked at him curiously.
"Surely, you're joking," Tsar Lunar said, unsure.
"No, sir."
"Do the rainbow!" Lunar demanded.
"Rainbow?" Nightlight asked. "You mentioned pretty colors. What did you mean?"
"Nihilo can make pretty colors!"
Clamping his lips together, Nihilo nudged a pebble with his bare foot, saying nothing. He found out later that the Tsar and Tsarina saw that he was embarrassed, and that started them on the path they had chosen. But for the moment, Lunar jumped over and tugged on his arm.
"The colors! The colors! Show them the colors!" he begged.
Nihilo, humiliated and angry, jerked his arm away. "No!"
A look of brokenhearted sadness flashed over Lunar's face, and his bottom lip trembled as he stepped back. Nihilo couldn't stand the sadness, so he glanced around, seeing the glaring eyes of the grownups of his village, and he resigned himself to a vicious beating. He poked Lunar's nose then allowed the starlight to filter through him. The colors lit up the world, and the shadow people hissed and drew back. Tsar Lunar and his wife gaped, their faces alight with wonder, and even Nightlight grinned at the display. Lunar clapped again.
"See Mommy! See Daddy! He's all pretty! So many colors!" he laughed.
A shadow being dashed forward and boxed Nihilo's ear with such force that the boy fell over. The light went out, leaving them in semi-darkness. He hissed a threat to Nihilo and dragged him off. Lunar wasn't laughing anymore, and the last thing Nihilo saw before being thrown into a house was Lunar gaping at him, rubbing his own ear as if he were the one who had been struck. What followed had been one of the worst beatings he'd received as a child.
Jack shifted and groaned, his face flushed a dark blue, and Pitch came out of the memory with a start. It took him a moment to realize that he was no longer Nihilo Minus, but Pitch Black. He was in the middle of a snowstorm, courtesy of Jack Frost, who was lying beside him in his makeshift bed, trying to regain his strength.
Pitch swallowed, running a hand through his hair. He was disconcerted by the strength of the memories. He had honestly tried to repress them, but it clearly hadn't worked. Tears stung his eyes as he thought of who he used to be. He would give anything to be able to light up like he used to. But Shadow Man had taken away most of his light, most of his power, and now he was a shadow, much like the people he grew up with. It hurt.
A jingling sound outside his cave made him freeze. He felt a person's fear. It was North. Pitch usually didn't care about the Guardians' fears, but this one was important. He felt physically ill as it beat a tattoo across his mind, and his own worst fear came true.

MiM isn't answering, and the moon is dark.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack awoke suddenly, wondering what was different. After a few seconds, he realized that the world was eerily silent. He felt hot and sticky, and he was starving. He untangled himself from the smooth, cooling blankets and looked around for Pitch. Steam rose from the back of the cave, and Jack stood up to investigate, his legs trembling as he walked.
The cave was bigger than it seemed on the outside; it angled downward and was mostly underground. The floor was rock, nice and cold against his bare feet. He rounded a short corner to find Pitch standing naked, washing himself with a rag. Jack was so startled by the man's appearance that he stopped and stared.
Pitch seemed taller without clothes. His entire body was absolutely covered in the same thin scars that Jack now had on his stomach. They were particularly bad on his arms and legs, and the long, unbroken lines spoke of some kind of torture that made Jack swallow. Pitch continued to bathe, drawing the white cloth over his dark grey skin. Jack started when the man spoke.
"Yet again, Frost, you are staring, and that is, I repeat, very rude."
"I…I just…I don't…"
"Spit it out, Frost."
"Will mine make me grey?"
Pitch glanced over, his eyes going to the dark line on Jack's bare stomach. "No. I got most of the poison out. You're fine. It should fade." A bitter smile crossed his face. "You won't be as hideous as I am."
"You're not hideous," Jack said.
"But I make you uncomfortable."
"Well, you're naked," the boy said, trying to cover up his true thoughts.
"Nice try, Frost. I know I'm ugly. I couldn't refract anymore even if I wanted to."
Jack blinked. "What?"
Pitch's pale grey face darkened, looking almost bruised. "Nothing, Jack. You should wash, too. You've been tossing and turning. The storm ended about half an hour ago, and your color is returning to normal. I think the worst is over."
Jack nodded, and Pitch reached over and picked up another rag, tossing it over, then continued to wash. Jack hesitated then struggled out of his pants, nearly overbalancing. He caught himself on the wall then walked over and dipped his cloth into the water. The steam didn't stop, but when he wrung out the water, it chilled in his hands. Jack looked down and noticed the same black fire from before. The flames gave out no heat, but the water was clearly hot in the bucket.
"What kind of fire is that?" Jack asked. "It kept the water hot, and it's not warm."
Pitch's lips twitched, and his eyes gleamed. "A special invention of mine."
Jack began to wipe away the sweat and dirt that coated his pale skin. "How do you make it?" Pitch glanced over, raising his eyebrows, and Jack flinched, looking down. "Let me guess. Golden Age secret?" he asked bitterly.
"No. Been talking to Sanderson, eh?" Pitch asked, his silvery-gold eyes gleaming.
"He wouldn't explain how to make the red dreamsand," Jack grumbled.
"Oh, that's easy," Pitch said dismissively. "Mix a dropper full of the essence of a Red Giant star with the white light refracted through a diamond. Let sit for two weeks then add a drop to thirty ounces of regular dreamsand. Presto. Red dreamsand."
Jack gaped at Pitch for a moment the shook his head. "Why wouldn't Sandy tell me that himself? It's not like I could make it myself!"
"You could if you had the ingredients," Pitch said, dipping his cloth into the hot water. "But Star Captains are notorious for being secret-keepers. So few people exist from the Golden Age anymore, and most of them keep their secrets jealously. I think it's a stupid thing to do, honestly. We're losing so many things from that age, all because the Ancients won't share them."
He scrubbed his face then set aside the cloth and grabbed a dry towel. Jack forced himself to focus on washing himself. The scar stung as he drew the rag across it, and he hissed. Pitch wrapped the towel around his waist and walked over.
"How badly does it hurt?"
"It doesn't," Jack lied.
Pitch pursed his lips and crossed his arms. "Let me be very clear, Frost," he said evenly. "I will not lie to you if you will not lie to me. I know when people are lying, so you will never get away with it. You want to be treated like an adult, then you must act like one. Lying is a childish activity that morphs into real problems if you continue to do it as you grow up. I know that you personally can't grow up, but that is no excuse to lie. If you lie, I can't help you with whatever problem you are hiding. Do you understand?"
Jack's face was cold, and he knew he was blushing. The rag hung limply in his hand, and Pitch's intense gaze made him feel vulnerable. He bit his bottom lip then nodded, muttering an apology.
"Good. Now, how badly does it hurt?"
"It just stings," Jack said. "You don't have to worry about it."
"Deep like a knife or shallow like a bee sting?"
"Shallow."
Pitch nodded. "When you're done bathing, come and let me look at it. It shouldn't be that dark."
The Nightmare King walked back around the corner, leaving Jack with his thoughts. With no more conversation, Jack washed himself quickly, glad to be clean, and then dried off with another towel. He pulled on his pants, grimacing as his new scar stretched too far. He followed Pitch, rubbing the thin line. Pitch was kneeling before another dark fire, tending to something in a pot.
"Sit down here," Pitch ordered, gesturing beside him. "Then lay back with your hands behind your head."
Jack obeyed, and if he'd thought the scar hurt before, it hurt even worse. It was stretched so tight that it brought tears to his eyes. A strangled noise escaped him, and Pitch's sharp gaze locked onto him.
"Still shallow?" he asked.
"It's tight," Jack said through clenched teeth.
Pitch leaned over Jack's stomach, drawing his fingers over the wound. Jack moaned, his body starting at the stab of pain. The Nightmare King didn't look happy as he pulled back.
"I'm going to have to cut you open again."
Jack sat up and backed away. "What?!"
"Calm down. I have anesthesia. But you're going to be conscious," Pitch said.
"Why?"
"I have no more dreamsand. That was one reason I was preparing my ship. I need more ingredients."
"Can't we ask Sandy for some?" Jack could hear that his voice was higher than normal, but he couldn't help it. Just the thought of a knife splitting his skin terrified him.
Pitch's jaw clenched, and he glanced over, his face pinching. Jack felt his heart sink.
"What's wrong?"
The Nightmare King looked back into the pot, stirring with slow, even strokes. But, as he had promised, he answered honestly.
"We could go to his island, but he's not on Earth anymore."
Jack shivered, noting that Pitch's expression was still troubled. "And?"
"I'll tell you what," Pitch said. "I'll talk while I'm working on you. It'll give you something to focus on."
Jack didn't like that thought, but he agreed. He lay back down and placed his hands behind his head. Pitch scooped out a shimmering substance from the pot and pulled out a knife. He began to sharpen it, and Jack moaned softly, his eyes locked on the blade.
"Did you know," Pitch said, drawing the knife over the whetstone, "that people get more anxiety from anticipating pain than actually being in pain?"
Jack glanced at the calm face. "R-really?"
"Oh, yes," Pitch said, thumbing the blade lightly. "Just thinking about being in pain makes people anxious. It's not usually as bad as they think it will be though." Jack nodded, and Pitch set aside the whetstone and picked up a rag to coat the blade in the shining substance. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, holding out the dirty rag. It shone in the black fire.
Jack shook his head, and Pitch took a crystalline spoon and filled it. He shifted and dropped it onto Jack's stomach. Within a second, the boy's skin went numb. Jack looked down to see that his skin was as white as his hair. Pitch used the back of the spoon to spread it around.
"This," Pitch said, scooping more of the gel onto Jack's belly, "is a mixture of Star Fish bones and the venom of a Creeping Slither. Neither are native to this planet. In fact, Star Fish are space dwelling creatures that swarm and swim around the galaxy. Now, I don't kill them myself. It is considered unlucky to kill such an innocent creature. But they don't have long lifespans, only a year at most, so I pick up their bodies and use them in my potions and experiments."
"What do they look like?" Jack asked.
"They're beautiful and bright, and you might think they were stars until they swim toward you. They're blue and yellow, with long tendrils they use to see in the darkness of space. They have poor vision."
Pitch set aside the rag then washed his hands. He set the knife in the fire to sterilize it. Jack swallowed, but before he could panic, Pitch began to talk again.
"Creeping Slithers are native to the darker reaches of this galaxy. They're water-dwelling creatures that creep and slither across the bottom. When it's time for them to die, they turn over and float to the top. If you get them within four days, you can extract their venom. It's a powerful numbing agent, and when combined with the powdered Star Fish bone, it's stabilized and its potency is lessened enough that it affects only the area you want."
Pitch picked up the knife then turned and positioned himself. He looked directly at Jack, and the boy saw the silvery-gold eyes gleam and glitter. Jack found himself relaxing, and he looked up at the ceiling of the cave. What Jack could only define as the smell of hot ice filled the cave, and Jack could feel nothing. He blinked.
"So what's going on with Sandy? Did he go to get ingredients or something?"
"Don't move," Pitch said. "But I have bad news."
Jack glanced at the taut face. "What?"
"Shadow Man got Lunar. The Guardians went after them. They've been gone for over a week. The moon is dark, and Lunar is gone."
"Lunar…" Jack mused. "Is that MiM's name?"
Pitch nodded. "Yes. His full name is Tsar Lunar Lunanoff XII. Most Earthlings don't know his family's great legacy. The Lunanoffs were great in the Golden Age. Everybody loved them." Pitch paused then shook his head. "Everybody good did, at least."
"You really love him, don't you?" Jack asked softly.
Pitch's face darkened, but he nodded again. "Yes. I never stopped. I didn't want him to get hurt. Shadow Man wants to destroy him. Lunar's so good, so amazing. He's everything that's good in this universe. I can't stand the thought of that light leaving his eyes. I never could take him being sad."
"How did you meet?"
Pitch's lips twitched into an almost-smile. He told Jack the story of meeting the chubby little boy that turned into the legendary Man in the Moon, and by the time Pitch was dragged away and beaten, he was done with the knife. Setting it aside, he grabbed a strange tool.
"This will hurt, but not like normal pain," he said. "You can move if you need to, but don't look down."
Jack swallowed but nodded, locking his eyes onto the ceiling. Pitch dipped down, and Jack gave a startled yell as prickling heat shot through his stomach. He arched back, trying to get away, and then the heat turned into ice, but it wasn't pleasant to Jack like cold usually was. The boy tried to hold in a curse, but when the ice turned to something akin to electricity, his entire body spasmed and he swore as tears streaked down his cheeks.
The sensation morphed into something that felt slimy and black, and Jack screamed until his throat burned. It felt like a serpent was swimming through his veins. Terrible thoughts, dark and dirty, filled his head, and for a brief eternity, Jack didn't know what was going on. Then, quite suddenly, his mind snapped back into place, and he was fine. He looked down to find that the long scar was now as white as his hair, and it was sealed. Blinking, he looked up to see Pitch stirring some kind of stew.
"Welcome back," Pitch said. "Would you like some rabbit stew?"
Jack sat up, noticing that his stomach was still partially numb. But it did rumble, so he slowly shifted forward and picked up the bowl that Pitch held out. They ate silently. As they finished, Jack cleared his throat.
"So what are we going to do about MiM?"
Pitch took a swallow of water then rubbed his chin. "We need to get you strong again. While you're resting, I'm going to work on my ship. We've got to get it space worthy as fast as possible. Now that the storm has stopped it should be easy."
Jack perked. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
Pitch's lips twitched. "Ever wanted to be an astronaut?"

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack hopped onto the deck of the ship, his arms full of the last needed supplies. He headed below deck, where Pitch was tying down a crate. Jack began to arrange the supplies in another crate. A black box tumbled out of his hands and broke open. A strange assortment of little things slid over the floor. A necklace with a crystal in the middle rolled over and bumped against Pitch's foot. He glanced over, his thin lips pressed together in displeasure.
"Please be careful with that, Frost."
Jack scrambled to pick up the items. "Sorry. Slipped."
Pitch tied an expert knot then leaned down to pick up the crystal. He stared at it fondly, one finger caressing down the length of it. No smile touched his lips, but his eyes were soft. Jack packed the crate then held out the black box.
"What's that?" Jack asked.
"A special piece of a phosphorescent rock that Nightlight and I found. We made a pact with it. He has the other half."
Jack was surprised when Pitch handed it over. Setting the box aside, he brought the necklace close to his face and turned the crystal around. Veins spread through it, branching off until they were too thin to see. Jack hummed.
"So it glows?"
"When the two halves near each other. Nightlight let Lunar and me out of his sight only after I had the crystal. It's a sort of beacon, a homing device. If I wanted, I could use it to find him."
"Great! We could use all the help we can get," Jack said.
Pitch shook his head, taking the crystal back. He tossed it into the box then turned away.
"I'm afraid that Nightlight has finally gone out."
"What?"
"Don't you remember what Shadow Man said?" Pitch asked, his shoulders slumped. "He put out Lunar's Nightlight. That's why he could get close. Because Nightlight went out. That means that the monsters can get him now."
"So…he's dead?"
Pitch shrugged, but Jack could tell the answer was yes. Jack fingered the crystal, watching Pitch regain control. The man straightened then turned to nod at Jack.
"Finish up and we can take off." He paused a few steps away, his intense eyes looking at the crystal. "Why don't you wear it? He's dead, but you're like him."
"I am?" Jack asked.
"Yes. More than you know. He was also brave and clever and stronger than his slight build would suggest." His eyes gleamed as he added. "And he was a child who couldn't grow up. I think you would have liked each other."
Jack looked down at the crystal, knowing that Pitch was entrusting him with an object that was very dear to him, and he smiled as he slipped the chain around his neck.
"Thanks."
Pitch inclined his head then headed up the stairs. Jack took a moment to admire his new possession before he placed the black box in the crate and worked on the complicated knot that Pitch had shown him. It took him much longer than the Nightmare King, but he finally got it then hurried up to the deck.
The ship was dark, the boards moving with the black hole shadows, which seemed alive as they swirled and danced with every step. The stars were glittering above them, but there was no moon to be seen. It was truly dark, and just noting that it was gone made him shiver. Pitch was at the helm, looking at him.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
Pitch crooked a finger, and Jack hurried up to him. When he got there, Pitch gestured at a black bell.
"Ring it."
Jack leaned against his staff, which Pitch had retrieved two days earlier and was fixed an hour before, then rang the bell. A thud sounded out, and the ship trembled under his feet. A sensation akin to flying hit him, and he bounced in excitement. Pitch nudged him then gestured upward.
"Get up on the lookout post. You'll like the view."
Jack called the Winds, which propelled him up into the crow's nest, and he stared around with great glee as the ship lifted from the ground and began to sail up. They had to take off at night because Pitch was concerned about them remaining invisible. Jack asked if the children would really care, and the man's jaw clenched as he replied.
"It's not the children that I worry about."
Jack understood and said nothing more about it. Now, he stood in the crow's nest of a dark ship, staring into the starry sky as they sailed on invisible winds up and up and up. Pitch guided the ship with skilled hands. After a few minutes, he called up to Jack, his voice soft, yet carrying.
"Brace yourself. We're going to hit the layers of the atmosphere. Earth has five. Don't fall. We're still in the gravitational pull."
The first jolt hit Jack hard, and he sat down. Another jolt a minute later, and Jack heaved himself up to look over the railing. The earth was receding quickly, and Jack could see the lights of big cities peeking through the clouds, shimmering like fireflies. The next jolt and Jack stood, planting his feet and clutching at his staff. The next layer and he felt like he had his balance.
"We're about to leave Earth. I'd sit if I were you," Pitch called.
"I've got this!" Jack laughed.
Pitch stared at him for a moment then pressed the wheel down. They shot up so fast that Jack screamed and fell over the side of the crow's nest. It was only a tangle of ropes that kept him from a brutal fall to the deck. There was a soft pop and Jack knew immediately that they were in space. The ship had its own gravity generator, so he didn't float, but his senses didn't know what was happening anymore. When his dizziness passed, he opened his eyes to find Pitch standing in front of him with his arms crossed, a knowing look in his eyes.
"Oh yes," he said blandly. "You've got this."
Jack's cheeks cooled, but he laughed. "Oops!"
"Hold still."
Pitch untangled Jack in less than a minute then rearranged the ropes into their proper spots. Jack watched, leaning on his staff, a grin on his still cold face. Pitch strolled back to the helm and angled the ship toward a black area with no stars.
"Should we be going toward that?" Jack asked, worrying his bottom lip. "I mean, it looks like a black hole."
Pitch snorted. "No. It's the moon. The reflective sand has been darkened, probably from Shadow Man." The man glanced over. "Trust me, you'd know if it were a black hole."
"How?"
Leveling his intense silvery-gold eyes on Jack, Pitch replied, "Because I'd be worried."
Jack shrugged. "Good point."
The boy didn't know what to do with himself, so he just sat on the railing and watched the dark spot increase in size. He had never been to the moon before, and he was excited to see where MiM lived. As he thought, he turned to look at Pitch.
"Have any of the other Guardians been to the moon?"
"They've all been to the moon," Pitch replied, adjusting the ship with small, precise movements. "But only Sanderson has been farther. North, Toothiana, and Bunnymund were all born on Earth. Pookas came from a distant planet, but as far as Bunnymund is concerned, he is one of the last Earth-born Pookas. There are some across the galaxy, here and there, but the ones on Earth either left or died out. Except for the dear Easter Bunny."
Jack nodded, dangling his foot over the edge. He could see more of the moon now, the surface covered in shadows that sharpened in relief in the starlight. Pitch turned the wheel and came alongside the moon, scanning the surface with sharp eyes. After a few minutes, he decided that it was safe and angled the ship to land. The landing wasn't as jarring, and Jack remained sitting. Pitch rang the bell again and weightlessness flooded the ship. Jack yelped.
"The outer shell's gravity is broken, remember? Less gravity," Pitch said. "Follow close behind me. Be ready to fight. I don't see movement, but Shadow Man might have left a surprise for us."
"Did he know we would come here?" Jack asked, gripping his staff.
"He knew I would," Pitch said tightly.
They disembarked and Jack's toes dug into the moon sand, cool and unearthly. He giggled, and Pitch glanced at him. There was no reproval in his gaze, but Jack felt a need to be serious, so he nodded and followed on quiet feet. They made their way across the surface, and nothing moved. After about thirty steps, Pitch held up his hand, his eyes scanning the still horizon.
Pitch knelt down and pressed a hidden switch. A hatch opened up, and Pitch gestured for Jack to go in. Jack slid in and dropped to the ground hard. The gravity surprised him, and he rubbed his sore elbow as Pitch landed beside him. The hatch closed above them, and the metal shivered beneath their feet as lights flickered on.
Pitch glanced around then helped Jack up, and they hurried onward. Jack was lost after four turns, but Pitch seemed to know where he was going. He took the corners with ease, not even pausing to consider. After ten minutes, they emerged into the central hub of the ship. It was only then that Jack realized something.
"The moon really is a ship," he whispered, staring at the control panels.
"Broken, but yes," Pitch replied. "It was known as the Moon Clipper in the Golden Age."
"How did it break?"
Pitch grimaced, and there was pain in his eyes. Jack backtracked immediately. "It's okay. So what are we here for?"
Pitch's expression eased into his usual apathy, and he nodded once. "I need to see if I can get a trajectory on Shadow Man's ship. We need to know what direction to go in. The universe is enormous, you know."
Pitch walked over and hesitated before touching the keys. The screen flashed, and Pitch breathed out. He began typing quickly, and it took Jack a moment to realize that he was using symbols that weren't in any Earth language. Information flashed on the screen, and Pitch barely seemed to glance at it before scrolling through. He inhaled sharply and stopped typing. His lips pursed as he read through the page. His face grew tense, and he tapped a button to turn off the screen.
"What's wrong?" Jack asked, tightening his grip on his staff.
Pitch's jaw was set like stone. "He did leave something here," he whispered. "We need to get back to the ship now. Pray that it doesn't know we're here."
Jack knew at once from the look on Pitch's face that it wasn't good. He tensed, and they turned toward the passage they had come down. A noise from the hallway branching to the right stopped them in their tracks. Pitch stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped in front of Jack, his gaze intense as he scanned the dark entryway. Too dark, Jack thought nervously. Pitch cursed under his breath as a shadowy mass slithered out. It reared back, blood-red eyes flashing as it looked triumphantly at Pitch Black.
"Oh, but I do know you're here," it crooned. "Hello, Prism-boy. Remember me?"

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack gaped at the enormous shadow, his heart pounding in his chest. It was snake-like, rearing up like a cobra ready to strike. The boy couldn't tell if it was thin and wiry or if it had muscles. One moment, there were powerful legs, the next the coiled body was serpentine with no limbs visible. The red eyes were sharper than the angles of a perfectly cut ruby and just as red. There was no mouth visible, but a sibilant hiss sounded from below the eyes.
Jack's hands gripped his staff tightly, and he wondered for the first time if he had any powers when he wasn't on Earth. It was a question he should have asked before boarding the ship. Now he was unsure if he was helpless in front of this terrible shadow-being. It wavered and flickered, its eyes dispassionately scanning the Guardian's form before turning its burning gaze to Pitch Black.
Pitch stood straight and still as a statue, his body taut as a bowstring. He was positioned half in front of the boy, and Jack couldn't help but wonder why Pitch was protecting him instead of himself while being grateful that Pitch was so considerate. The shadow creature slithered closer, and Pitch stepped back, one arm pressing against Jack's chest to push him back. A pressure in his head appeared, and Jack nearly screamed, but then Pitch's voice echoed through his mind, just like when Shadow Man had threatened him.

"Stay calm, Jack. Can you find your way out of here?"

"No!" Jack thought wildly. "I'll get lost!"

"Then you do what I say. Yes?"

Jack nodded slightly, and Pitch began to walk backward again, guiding Jack with his arm. They began to inch around the creature, which had not spoken since entering the room. Its red eyes followed them, its body shifting between creatures. Snake, wolf, bear, Jack couldn't tell what it was really. Was it a shapeshifter? Or something else?
"I know what you're trying, Prism-boy," the thing finally said, a deep note behind the tone, reminding Jack of a dog with its hackles raised.
"I know you do," Pitch replied, still guiding Jack around the room. The creature didn't move, tracing every movement. "You've been tainted as I have. You know fears and darkness as I do. You know me well."
The creature watched him for a moment then shifted forward. Jack knew it was prepared to strike, and he could feel his muscles tensing, spasming in pain as if he had already been bitten. A choked moan came out of Jack's mouth, and Pitch glanced over. As soon as Pitch's eyes left the shadow, the body seemed to solidify into a giant snake. Pitch expected that, because, in a supernatural show of speed and strength, he heaved Jack over his shoulder and leaped over the head of the creature. As he landed, he threw Jack into the hallway they had come from then spun around.
Jack tumbled head over heels, and he heard the snap of a jaw. Pitch swore, and Jack jumped to his feet, clutching at his staff, and he registered several things with one sweeping glance. Pitch was wielding some sort of shadow sword, the blade gleaming dully in the control room's light. There was a flash of blood, red as the eyes, which flowed from a deep wound in the creature's side. Another substance, strange and shimmering, was splattered over the floor, the light coming from it seeming to dancing with the ecstasy of childhood itself. And Pitch stood there, a hellish look of rage on his face as he stood poised, ready to strike again.
He spoke words in a powerful voice, the language unfamiliar to Jack, but it set his teeth on edge and made his heart tremble in fear and awe. Pitch's eyes shone with their own light, something profound and intangible that Jack had only known in the pale gleam of the moon, and the shadow creature writhed away from him, hissing one moment, growling the next, its body twisting in pain. Pitch advanced on it, still speaking in a powerful voice that contained the high lilt of a child and a deep note of power and authority.
Jack found himself grinning like a fool, his body trembling in joy and elation. He didn't understand the language or the feelings it provoked, but it was freedom! He watched as the creature slunk down the hallway it came from, hurrying away from them. The last gleam of its eyes faded into darkness, and Pitch stopped speaking. A hush fell over the room, and Jack stood there behind Pitch, his big blue eyes wide and full of tears. Joy and sorrow wrestled within him, and he stood there, shaking and grinning and crying, his sparkling teeth bared in a fierce show of emotion.
The sword disappeared from Pitch's hand, and he turned and ran to Jack. He paused for only a moment when he saw the state the boy was in, and a hint of a smile, no, slightly more than that, crossed his grey face, and his eyes sparkled, not with the intense fire of rage, but with delight. It was gone after only a moment, and Pitch grabbed Jack's arm.
"Follow. Quickly. It will not stay down."
They sprinted through the halls, Jack a step behind Pitch, who took corners and practically flew down the hall. Their bodies vibrated from the inhuman speed, and when Pitch opened the entrance they had come through, Jack leaped out, landing so softly that it surprised him. No gravity, he reminded himself, and then Pitch came up, shutting the hatch and tracing some obscure symbol on the top.
"To the ship!" Pitch barked.
The lack of gravity didn't slow Pitch down at all. He shot onto the black ship with control and speed that Jack found to be impossible. He struggled onto the ship, and the bell immediately sounded a loud, crisp note. The boards trembled under Jack's feet and the sudden influx of gravity drove the boy to his knees. He gasped hard, sucking in air that seemed too thin. Jack couldn't calm down. After three minutes, when they were far enough away for Pitch to relax, he left the wheel and came down to see what was wrong. Kneeling down, he tilted his head.
"Jack," Pitch said gently. "Take a deep breath. Slow down. Focus."
Jack shook his head. Pitch clicked his tongue and gathered Jack to his chest. They sat on the deck of the ship as it floated away from the dark moon, and Pitch ran his hands through Jack's white hair. He leaned down and whispered into Jack's ear. Once again, Jack didn't know the language, but in his bones, he heard a command to breathe, to calm down, to rest his weary mind.
The next thing Jack knew, he was below deck, lying in a hammock and staring up at the black ceiling. Blinking, he sat up and waited for his body to protest, but it didn't. He was relaxed and refreshed. He took a deep breath, standing and stretching lazily. Climbing to the deck, he saw that Pitch was sitting on the railing in front of the steering column.
The Nightmare King's long black coat hung over the railing beside him. His undershirt was off, baring his dark grey skin and his masses of scars. He had a knife in his hand, and the same shimmering substance that had stained the floor in the moon gleamed on his arm. It took a moment for Jack to realize what it was.
"You're bleeding," he said softly.
"Mmhm," Pitch replied, digging the knife through the dark cut. A tarry, black liquid bubbled out of the wound, and Jack's stomach clenched uneasily.
"Does it hurt?"
"Numbed it," Pitch said casually. "Come and help me, Frost."
Jack's insides squirmed, but he approached and stood in front of Pitch. The Nightmare King dropped down to the Winter Spirit's level and held out his forearm.
"Grab just below my elbow." Jack did so. "Squeeze as tightly as you can."
Jack obeyed, and the tarry goo gushed out. The boy wanted to throw up, but he didn't let up. Pitch took a strange needle-like tool and slid it deep into the wound. Jack gasped as something thin and slimy came out on the end of the point. Pitch's jaw was set, and Jack heard his teeth gritting together.
"Bandage, Frost," Pitch hissed, gesturing with his eyes.
Jack picked up the white strips and, when Pitch directed him to bandage the wound, he tightly wrapped the man's forearm. The slimy thing lunged forward and bit Jack's wrist. Nauseating pain hit him, and he turned and threw up all over the deck. Pitch jerked the thing back, grabbed the knife again, and slammed it into the part that bit him. It twitched, but instead of blood rushing out of it, it disintegrated into a black powder. Pitch wiped his hands over his dark pants and reached over to steady Jack.
"You'll be fine, Frost. Sit down for a moment."
When Jack's stomach settled, he took a breath and shivered, rubbing his sore wrist. A drop of blue came off on his hand. The thing had made him bleed. Something nudged his shoulder, and he looked up to see a strange mop.
"What?"
"You threw up, you're cleaning it up," Pitch replied. "I have to calculate which way to go anyway."
Jack took the mop, and he began to clean. Pitch leaned over a table, still shirtless. His face was serene. Jack wondered how he could be so calm after pulling that thing out of his arm. What was that thing? And more importantly, did he really want to know? Not right now, he thought. But he did want to know where they were supposed to go.
When the deck was clear, he leaned the mop against the wall and strode over to Pitch. He was staring at a plethora of maps. Jack didn't understand them, but he was fascinated.
"What kind of maps are those?" he asked, hopping onto a spare stool and kneeling down on the balls of his feet.
"Star charts," Pitch replied. "Combined, they're maps that go from one end of the Milky Way galaxy to the other."
"Looks complicated," he said.
"It's not simple," Pitch admitted. "But I could teach you if you'd like."
"Not today," Jack said.
"Hm," Pitch said, straightening up. "I think I know which way to set sail. It's going to be a long trip, Frost. Hope you're up for it."
"Heck yeah," Jack said, grinning.
As his lips curled up, he remembered the last time he'd grinned, and he paused. Pitch reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head. Jack tapped his shoulder lightly.
The Nightmare King turned to look at Jack. "Yes?"
"Um," Jack muttered, his mouth dry. "That language you spoke…" he trailed off, unsure of what he was going to say.
Pitch straightened his shirt. "It's a language of power from the Golden Age. Very, very few ever learned it. Even Lunar and Sanderson don't know but one or two words from it."
"Why do you?" Jack asked.
Raising his eyebrows, Pitch shrugged one shoulder. "I don't like to be helpless, Frost. You can understand that, yes?"
Jack searched Pitch's silvery-gold eyes. The man's face was darker, he thought, than it had been before the attack. The thing that had come out on the needle, it was slimy and wriggled, thin enough to go through veins. Jack reached up to touch his stomach, knowing the scar that lay beneath his clothes, so similar to the ones that covered Pitch's skin. He knew then that he had once had one of those things deep inside of him. It made him feel afraid, and he wasn't the only one. The shadows that coated Pitch's face were echoed in his eyes, a vulnerability, a fear of being alone and helpless like he was with Shadow Man, especially when he was a child.
The pale boy nodded. "I understand. Can you teach me?"
Pitch studied him for a moment. "Not yet," he said. "You're not ready for that kind of power."
"You'll teach me when I am?" Jack persisted.
The Nightmare King nodded then climbed over the railing to touch the ship's wheel. He turned it to point toward a cluster of bright stars. Jack stood still for a moment, looking at the man he had fought so many years ago. Even then, there had been something about Pitch that made Jack feel sorry for him. It was that shadow, he thought to himself, that shadow from his abuse and pain. It was never hidden. Pitch wasn't pleased by it, and his shame was a living thing, ever-changing with his moods.
And as Jack watched the tall frame guiding the ship, he couldn't stop thinking about how brave this shadow of a man was. He never hid his pain. He was completely open about his scars, not shying away from Jack's gaze or questions. But it wasn't just that. He didn't let his pain define him. It was the most inspiring thing that Jack had ever known, and he was pleased to be on an adventure with Pitch Black.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

As the ship passed through the dark void of space, Pitch began to teach Jack the ins and outs of the art of sailing. And Jack was learning that sailing was indeed an artform. Each rope had a purpose, and the slightest movement of a sail meant something would change. The Winter Spirit found himself focusing on his lessons with a fervor that he hadn't felt in a long time. It took him a week to figure it out, but he wanted Pitch Black, once his feared enemy, to be proud of him. And he was.
Pitch never really showed his emotions outwardly, but a constant calm radiated from his core. Jack found that steady stream of confidence and peace to be more reassuring than the presence of any other Guardian. There was no pressure from Pitch when he made a mistake. Instead, the man would show Jack again and again until he got it right. And Jack absolutely loved Pitch's reaction when he got it right. It was only during those times of teaching that a small, proud smile graced his drawn, grey face. His eyes would sparkle, the colors shifting around in a mesmerizing way, and he would pat Jack's shoulder a couple of times before moving on to the next lesson.
Jack hadn't felt the thrill of learning a new skill in over a hundred years. He absorbed the knowledge like a sponge, sitting still and studying the star maps for hours as Pitch guided the ship. Every question was answered in a way he could understand, and Pitch never frowned at his curiosity. Unlike with the Guardians, who always demanded some level of seriousness, his former enemy took in the jokes and childlike energy with no sign of irritation. He allowed Jack to act his physical age nearly all the time. Because of this, Jack knew that when Pitch told him to be serious, there was a reason, and it was easier than with the other adult spirits.
The Winter Spirit also enjoyed sitting in the crow's nest, staring out at the myriads of stars. He'd often take out the crystal necklace and turn it this way and that, musing on the everlasting boy that he'd never gotten the chance to meet. The crystal would pulse with each touch, and he took to playing with it often. It was a comfort, but he stopped taking it out around Pitch very quickly. A pained look would enter his eyes, which dimmed each time they landed on the gorgeous rock, and he would focus on something else as the corners of his mouth turned down ever so slightly.
It was on one of those days, though there were no days or nights, especially since they didn't need to sleep, as he stood atop the crow's nest, watching Pitch study the star maps, that his chest warmed beneath the crystal. The heat startled him, but it didn't burn as most hot things did. It was gentle and pulsed every few seconds. Jack reached into his shirt and pulled out the crystal. The veins were glowing with a soft light, and it pulsed as he stroked it.
After a moment of hesitation, he cupped it in his palms and tapped it once. In a flash, an image appeared. It was a barren rocky field, and a dark shape lay huddled in a pile, a dark hand grasping a crystal that looked exactly like his. It lasted only an instant, then he was back in the crow's nest, sucking in the artificial air as if his life depended on it. With wide eyes, he stared at the crystal, his hands shaking like a leaf in a gale. His heart hammered in his chest, and he swallowed, tucking the crystal back into his shirt. He needed to ask Pitch about the crystal before the idea he had expanded any more.
Jumping down, he landed on the deck, his pale bare feet contrasting sharply with the black boards. Swallowing, he strode over to the maps and sat down, trying to seem casual. As usual, Pitch noticed it. His silvery-gold eyes scanned the boy, and his lips pursed slightly.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Did you see another ship?"
"Why do you think something's wrong?" Jack asked, waving his hand.
Pitch caught it, holding it up by the wrist. It trembled, and Jack flushed blue, pulling it back.
"I just…I just had some questions."
"About?" Pitch asked, turning back to the maps.
Jack hesitated for a moment, but, bolstered by the fact that Pitch had never refused to answer a question honestly, he spoke.
"Nightlight."
Pitch's expression pinched, but he didn't hide it. Sitting back in his chair, he turned to study Jack.
"What about Nightlight?"
Jack let out a breath and relaxed. "I just…You said I was like him, but you never tell me about him. Tell me a story."
Pitch tapped his chin. "Very well, Frost. I'll tell you how he and I became friends."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jack's hesitation was partially explained by the topic he'd chosen, but there was more than he was telling. Still, Pitch knew he hadn't lied, so he figured that whatever information he gave would get him the answer to the riddle. Leaning forward, he placed his hands together and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers.
"Nightlight knows more than Lunar ever did about what the adults did to me in that house. It was far more than a boxing about the ears. Lunar was ushered to safety on the Moon Clipper, but once he was asleep and guarded from nightmares, Nightlight asked the Tsar and Tsarina if he could check on me. He was fond of me, for some reason that I still haven't figured out.
"He strode through the shadow people, unafraid of their jeers. When he couldn't find me, he asked them outright, refusing to let up with childish stubbornness until they pointed him in the direction of my hiding spot. He walked through the land until he found me. I was considerably more bloody than I had been, and I shied away from his light. He stopped a short ways away, watching me with eyes that I still cannot describe."
"Try," Jack said, fascinated.
Pitch's lips twitched upward for a moment, and he stared off into a memory. "They are lanterns that see into the darkest night. When I knew him, nothing could put out his light. It was like the full moon on a cloudless night. He saw the truth in things, and he never shied away from it. Even if it was terrible, he took it in calmly."
"What color were they?" Jack asked.
"Silver. Like the moonbeams. And they did not shy away from the truth of my predicament. He stood silently, staring at me, meeting my angry gaze with serenity. Then he looked up at the stars and sat down. Pointing up, he said, 'Caninus Prima,' and traced out the shape with his fingers."
"What is Caninus Prima?" Jack asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar term.
"A constellation," Pitch replied then continued. "His light, which radiated from every inch of his body, hurt my eyes, so long used to darkness, so I turned my face up to the gentle starlight and traced out another, replying, 'Titan Ova.' We played that game for an hour until I ran out of constellations. With the same tone, he traced out about five others before falling silent. My eyes were adjusting to his light, and I studied him.
"'What are you?'" I asked.
"He turned to me with a piercing gaze and shrugged one shoulder. 'I am an anomaly, as you are Nihilo Minus.'
"'What kind of anomaly?' I challenged.
"He smiled and said, 'A light in the dark. And when you are a light in the dark, those who live in the shadows despise you.'
"I could not argue with him, and his words hurt. He reached out and touched a cut on my cheek. He looked sad. 'My people used to do that to me. Then the Tsar and Tsarina took me in. Are you hurt badly?'
"I was humiliated but nodded bitterly. 'Yes. My shoulder hurts. I can't lift my left arm.'
"He pursed his lips. 'Come. Tsar and Tsarina will heal you.'
"'Will there be more of that cursed light?'"
"Nightlight frowned. 'I shall ask them to dim the lights. But never curse the light, Nihilo. For if all the light were gone, no world could survive. Chaos and anarchy reign in the dark. Beatings and other hurts happen in the dark. Be grateful for the light. Learn to love it, even if you cannot always be a part of it. Come. We shall heal your hurts.'"
Pitch paused, the hint of a smile on his face. "And they did. Many times over. But after that conversation, I trusted him very much. Is that story to your satisfaction?"
Jack chewed on his bottom lip then nodded. "What about the crystal you gave me. When did that happen?"
"Many years later. Why?"
"How does the crystal work?" Jack asked, reaching up to press his palm onto his collarbone.
"When you are in range of its twin, you can send coordinates."
"And images?"
Pitch stood up abruptly, his heart thundering in his chest. "What are you after Frost?"
Jack didn't look afraid, a fact that Pitch found wonderfully encouraging, but he couldn't pause to be pleased. The boy shouldn't have known about the ability to send images. Unless somebody had sent him an image.
"Is Shadow Man sending you images?" Pitch asked.
"I…I don't think it was Shadow Man," Jack said slowly.
"What did they look like?"
"Dark. But it wasn't like the thing that you fought on the moon."
"When did this happen?"
"When I was up there?"
"Let me see it, Jack," Pitch said tightly.
Jack pulled the necklace off and handed it over. Pitch was surprised to see the faint pulse of light traveling through the veins. He stopped breathing then pointed at the wheel.
"Do you think you can handle that if I give you instructions?"
Excitement and fear crossed the boy's face. But instead of jumping up and down with the chance, he took a deep breath and hopped the railing to gingerly grab the wheel. He had never been allowed to guide the ship, and Pitch could see that it meant a lot to Jack. Gripping the wheel tightly, he looked down to meet Pitch's eyes.
"If you think I'm ready."
Pitch nodded, then scrambled up to the crow's nest. Holding out the crystal, he spun around slowly, holding it out. The crystal flashed when he was facing the opposite direction from which they were going.
"Turn the wheel to the right. Keep the vertical axis steady," Pitch instructed.
Jack obeyed, his movements careful, and Pitch called for him to stop when the crystal lit up. Closing his eyes, he projected his surroundings out then waited. After a moment, another image came, strong and clear. There was a small form lying still, gripping the crystal. A head lifted up, and the light of the crystal reflected on two luminescent orbs. Desperation and fear filled the eyes that had lost all of their light
Fury filled Pitch to the brim, and he clutched the crystal, whispering softly against the rock. "We'll be there soon, Nightlight. I thought you were dead. But if you're not, if this is real, we will be there soon."
'Hurry, Prism,' came the response. 'Everything hurts.'
Pitch jumped to the deck, slowing himself with his powers just before he hit. He walked up the stairs to the wheel and placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. He handed the boy the crystal.
"You did well Jack. I know what you saw. If it is Nightlight, we will find him. I need you to go up to the crow's nest and lead us to him. Use the crystal, communicate with him, guide us to him. I'll steer."
Jack saluted then launched himself up to the crow's nest. Pitch grasped the wheel, his heart in his throat. Was it true? Could their Nightlight still be alive? If he was, Pitch knew one thing: If Shadow Man really couldn't put out Nightlight, then his light was deeper than Prism's had ever been.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch guided the ship to the asteroid's surface. With a ring of the bell, gravity fled. There was some, but not much, and Jack's stomach flipped from the strange sensation. Pitch stood very still for a moment then took a deep breath. Jack could tell he was nervous, afraid that this was some trick. But there was something else: hope. If Nightlight was alive, they would save him. If he wasn't, Jack knew that Pitch would be crushed.
The Nightmare King strode off the ship. He had control of some kind of gravity within himself, or so it seemed. The lack of gravity on the asteroid didn't affect him at all. Jack struggled to step forward, muttering in frustration. Pitch glanced back, his lips twitching. Crossing his arms, he studied the boy as he tried to put one foot in front of the other and failed miserably.
"Trouble, Frost?" he asked.
"How are you walking?!" Jack demanded.
"I lived on a broken ship for the majority of my childhood. It's a skill most travelers used to learn anyway."
"Would you help me?" Jack asked, half floating.
"All you had to do was ask," Pitch replied.
Pitch strode back onto the ship and gripped Jack's slowly flailing arm. Jack hit the deck so hard that he nearly sat down, but Pitch held him up, his eyes shining.
"Do you feel your center?" Pitch asked.
"Center?" Jack asked, shivering.
"Center of gravity. It's a solid sensation that focused here." Pitch pointed at Jack's stomach. "I'm going to let you go. Try and notice the difference."
Pitch released his arm, and Jack immediately felt a tight ball burst out, filling his veins as he began to float again. It made him feel sick to his stomach.
"I notice," Jack rasped. "Please get me down."
"Looking a little green, Frost. It gives you a nice color."
Jack glared at him, unable to move fast enough to grip his stomach as his body rotated. "Keep joking and I'll puke on you."
Pitch snorted, righted Jack, and wrapped his hand around the boy's thin arm. Jack landed again, going to his knees as his stomach protested.
"Oh, don't let me go again," Jack groaned.
Pitch linked his arm with the boy's. "Crystal?"
Jack pulled it out, and Pitch took it in his free hand. Tapping it once, there was a flash of light that trailed from the veins and out into the darkness. Pitch inhaled deeply, and Jack could feel his arm trembling in his. He tightened his own, nodded, and then began to lead the way. They followed the light across the dim asteroid. Jack struggled to see, and when he tripped, Pitch kept him standing then walked out in front.
"Hole," he murmured. "Long step."
With Pitch telling him of the dangers in a low voice, they made their way to a valley. It was too dark to see. Pitch didn't even squint.
"There is a figure. The light ends down there. Do you want to stay up here or go down with me?"
"I'm not leaving you alone," Jack said firmly.
Pitch blinked, glancing at him. His brows came together for a moment before raising. "Hold tight then. Slide like you're on ice."
The valley was deeper than Jack expected, and he pitched forward when he hit the bottom, dragging the man with him. Pitch grunted as he twisted to avoid landing on Jack. A soft curse met Jack's ears, and Pitch tugged him up to his knees. Jack knew the moment that the Nightmare King saw the figure. He released Jack, who found himself in a dark gully, unable to see an inch in front of his face as he floated upward and began to rotate.
"Pitch!" Jack squeaked.
"It's Nightlight," Pitch said softly, wonder in his voice. There was shifting. "Nightlight? Speak if you can. Please, speak."
"Prism," a low voice croaked. "H-help. Hurts."
"I'll get you to my ship. I'll look you over there."
"What about me?" Jack gasped. "I don't even know which way is up! I can't walk! Help me!"
"Wait here, Frost," Pitch ordered. "I will be back in five minutes."
"Don't leave me in the dark!" Jack half-screamed, panic clawing at his mind.
Pitch went silent. There was more shifting, and when the Nightmare King spoke again, it was right next to Jack's ear.
"Do you trust me, Jack?"
Jack's heart pounded in his ears. "I…I'm afraid."
"If you're not afraid of me, why should you be afraid of the dark?" Pitch responded. "The valley is flat for half a mile either way. There is nothing that will harm you. Do you trust me?"
There was a soft quiver in his voice, a smidge of fear. Pitch wasn't afraid of the dark right now. He was afraid of Jack's answer. Jack knew that so few people trusted him. MiM had trusted him once, but what about now? Besides the boy that was currently cradled in Pitch's arms, nobody trusted the dark King.
Jack took a deep breath, calming himself. "I trust you."
Pitch sighed, a soft noise that spoke volumes. When he responded again, his voice had resumed its soft, calm tone. "Good. I'll be right back."
There was the sound of footsteps, then Pitch grunted. There were no other noises. Jack's heartbeat was the only thing he could hear. Unable to move, he began to hum to himself. The noise was loud, but it was a comfort as Jack floated helplessly in darkness. As he drifted in the blackness, he began to calm down. The dark wasn't so scary. Not when Pitch said he was fine. And his name was Pitch Black. And the only thing darker than him was Shadow Man. But there was no presence of evil. He was alone. In the dark. And it wasn't the worst experience of his life.
There was a sound from above him then Pitch's feet hit the ground near him. Footsteps sounded out, and Jack was rotated then gravity returned. His stomach didn't complain as much this time.
"Molly Malone," Pitch said, bemused. "Not a bad tune. A bit of a strange choice, all things considering."
Jack laughed. "It was the first thing I thought of."
"I'm going to fly us out of here."
"So that's why I didn't hear you climbing the bank."
"He's not doing well, Frost," Pitch said quietly. "He needs help. Now. Hang on."
The sensation of flying was a familiar one, and Jack relished the wind in his face. Pitch didn't stop at the top, dashing back to the ship through the air. Jack instinctively flipped, and Pitch started in surprise but allowed it. They landed on the ship. The gravity was already on, and Jack stretched.
"I never thought moving would be so nice," he admitted.
"I thought you had no control, Frost," Pitch said, grabbing a lantern for Jack's benefit and leading him down into the hold.
"What?"
"You flipped us. I thought you had no control."
"That was flying. I do that all the time," Jack said dismissively.
Pitch hung the lantern, shaking his head. "It's the same basic principle. Plus you didn't even have your staff. If you can control flight, especially on an asteroid with no wind to call upon, then you can definitely learn how to control your center of gravity. It will probably be easier for you than the other Guardians. Three of them have had gravity their whole lives, and none of them fly as you do."
"Tooth does," Jack said. His eyes landed on the dim form of the boy lying on a table, and he froze.
"But she has wings. It's different." Pitch shrugged his coat off and leaned down to look over the dark body, his eyes intense as he scanned the frail form.
"Is he…?"
"No. He's not dead," Pitch answered. "I knew it was hard to put out his light, but I didn't know that he could live without it. He's in agony. He needs to be healed. But I don't have the right materials."
"We're already out in space," Jack said, leaning against a crate. "Wherever we need to go to get the stuff, we can go."
"But Lunar…" Pitch muttered, his face troubled.
Jack stood up straight and spun Pitch around. Gripping his shoulders, he shook him. "Lunar is stronger than you think, Pitch. Nightlight is the one in front of us, and Nightlight needs help now."
Pitch worried his bottom lip, his expression falling for the first time into insecurity. "Jack…"
Jack stomped his foot. Grabbing Pitch's chin, he forced him to look at the black figure. "He needs you, Pitch. If Shadow Man's hurt Lunar, there's nothing we can do. We don't even know exactly where they are. But Nightlight is here right now. He trusts you to help him, Pitch."
Those words smoothed out Pitch's expression, and the man shook his head. "You're right, Frost. I…I'm…"
Jack smiled. "Somebody's got to shake the sense into you. Geez, grownups think they know everything."
Pitch rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth upturned. "So, we need to bring up his light. It's got to be slowly because he's been dark for a long time."
"So the red star core is out," Jack surmised.
"That would be so painful for him that I don't even want to think about it," Pitch said grimly. "There's a source of light that's softer, and we can distill it into a sort of medication. I know that Tsar and Tsarina used it before, and Nightlight told me of the recipe."
"What do we need?"
"There is a creature with glands full of light. They're on Icentuva in the lakes. The light is refracted through their crystalline bodies to fill the glands, which they use to lay eggs."
"Okay. How far is Icentuva?"
"Several hundred thousand light-years, in Earth speak," Pitch replied.
"How long will that take us?" Jack asked, wilting.
Pitch patted his shoulder. "About three Earth days, if we use lightspeed." When the boy looked confused, the Nightmare King added, "Your movies call it hyperspeed."
"Hyperspeed?" Jack asked, grinning. "That's really a thing?"
"Yes. But you'll probably be violently ill," Pitch warned. "It takes a while to grow accustomed to light travel."
Jack shrugged, gesturing at Nightlight. "His health is more important than me keeping my stomach. I'll get used to it. Let's go."
Pitch studied Jack for a moment then grabbed his coat. "You surprise me, Frost."
Jack frowned. "Why?"
"You don't even know him," Pitch answered. "And all you have is my word."
The Winter Spirit straightened up. "I don't care that I don't know him. And your word is good enough for me. I've never been veiled like the others, Pitch. You're a good man that bad things have happened to. What Shadow Man did to you was terrible, and I don't think the other Guardians could stand it. You're darker now, but there's still light inside of you. I don't understand all of your motives and actions, but I trust you to do the right thing."
Pitch's lips tightened, but there was a gleam in his eyes right before he turned away. "Come up to the deck. We'll set sail at once."
Jack followed Pitch up to the deck, and the Nightmare King walked up to the wheel and pressed down. The ship silently took off and Pitch steered until he was pointing at a dark region.
"Ready, Frost?"
"Probably not," Jack said.
"Right answer."
The bell made a strange twang as Pitch rang it twice, and Jack was on the deck before he could think. The contents of his stomach were spread over the boards as his body fought a tugging sensation that threatened to pull him apart. The feelings lessened but didn't stop, and Jack finally struggled to his feet to see Pitch holding a mop with raised eyebrows.
"You did it," Pitch started.
"I clean it," Jack finished, smiling.
He took the mop and pressed it onto the mess.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Icentuva was freezing cold. It was a planet so far from any star that it was covered in ice and snow with only faint starlight to light the dark world. But it was crawling with people, and Jack Frost was overwhelmed.
"So, these are the people Lunar based me on?" he asked in wonder, watching a snowball fight between little children.
"Indeed. Tsar and Tsarina brought us here when Nightlight was sick to make medicine. He was fascinated by the people," Pitch replied.
The natives of the land were paler than Jack was, just off white enough that compared with the snow they had a smidge of color. They were giants with blue orbs for eyes and serious expressions. As Pitch and Jack walked through their city, the natives stopped to look at the boy with just as much interest. The children pointed and whispered, their eyes wide as they took in Jack's appearance.
A fair woman stood outside of a building made of ice, decorated with blue symbols. Pitch knelt before her, whispering that Jack should do the same. She tapped each of them with a scepter of ice, and Pitch rose.
"Most honorable Chief," he said. "I came here long ago when I was a lad. I traveled with Tsar and Tsarina Lunanoff."
The blue eyes sparkled as they appraised him. "I remember. You were the tall, brooding boy. The other one was much more playful with me."
Pitch inclined his head. "Yes, madam. And my friend and I come for the same reason. The boy of light is injured badly. We need to make medicine, and for that, we humbly request that you allow us to use the glands of the Crystangler. We beg that you would grant us this request."
The chief considered Pitch for a moment then turned to Jack. "What is this boy?"
Jack blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You have our natural power, boy," she said. "But you are not of our race. Tell me how this is possible."
"Um…I don't know. But Pitch might," he said nervously, gesturing at the Nightmare King.
"I do know. But it is a long story, and we have a long journey ahead of us."
The chief frowned. "You will join me for dinner," she said. "And you will tell me of this boy. The light boy's healing will take at least two octons, as before. You have time."
"I fear it will take longer, Chief. But we would be honored to sit at your table as your guests," Pitch said. Only Jack saw his jaw tighten, and the boy leaned against his staff, biting his cheek.
Three hours later, Jack was led to a table carved of a type of ice that he'd never seen before. It was dark blue and more solid than any ice from Earth. He ran his hands over the ice, taking delight in the chill that seeped into his hands. The chief watched him curiously, seating herself at the head of the table. Pitch stood beside Jack and watched him.
"You, ice boy," the woman said. "Come sit on my right. Prism, to my left."
They obeyed. Jack studied Pitch. "Aren't you going to correct her?" he asked, looking over the strange assortment of cold food.
"It is impolite to contradict the chief," Pitch replied, patience in his tone.
"What am I to be corrected for?"
"His name isn't Prism anymore. It's Pitch. Pitch Black," Jack said, leaning down to peer at a frothing goblet of blue ice.
The chief studied the boy then smiled. "You don't know much about our people, do you?"
"I know little about any people besides the ones on Earth," Jack answered. "I've never been off planet before. Yours is the first other planet I've ever been to. And you're all like me!"
"I beg that you take that into consideration, madam," Pitch said. "He truly never has been off of his own planet before."
"So, he is from Earth?" she asked. Clapping her hands, servants came through the doors and served the food. Jack looked around, grinning.
"Indeed. He was once a human," Pitch said. "They aren't advanced enough to visit other planets yet. But there are several exceptions."
"Because of you," she surmised.
"And Lunar. And Sanderson Mansnoozie. There's even an Earth-born Pooka there."
"Sanderson?" the woman mused. "He sounds familiar."
"Star Captain from the Golden Age," Pitch said. "He landed on earth a few centuries ago."
"I see." Turning to Jack, she tilted her head. "And you. What is your name?"
Jack's plate was full, and he sniffed something suspiciously. "Jackson Overland Frost," he replied. "But everybody calls me Jack. And what's your name?"
"I am Freizena. But you are to refer to me as Chief for now."
"Alright, Chief," Jack said.
"And you are not to touch your food until I take a bite," she continued.
Jack putting the pale meat down. "Sorry."
"As long as you do well to remember it," she said. "You are small. You are a boy?"
"Yes, ma'am," Jack said, showing off his teeth in a bright smile.
"How long until you are a man?"
Jack shook his head. "I never will be, ma'am. The way MiM affected me, I'm going to be a boy forever."
"Like the light boy," she mused.
She picked up a piece of meat and took a bite. Jack glanced at Pitch then down at his food, and the man nodded, picking up a small white square. The boy dug in happily. The foods were so different from Earth, and it was all cold. Jack couldn't take heat unless he ate it, and even then, he'd turn blue from the heat. But this food was decidedly good.
Freizena faced Pitch. "So, you are Pitch Black now?"
"Yes, madam," Pitch said.
"You have changed a lot," she admitted. "Much darker on the outside. It matches your brooding insides."
Pitch nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Yes. I am darker now."
Jack swallowed a big bite of something salty. "But you still have light," he reminded the man. "But yeah, you do brood a lot."
The Nightmare King shook his head, his lips twitching as he picked up his goblet. Freizena smiled.
"The Lunanoff boy and the light boy were the only ones to ever make you do that."
"What?" Pitch asked, swallowing a mouthful of the sweet drink.
"To make you almost smile. I did try to make you smile. But you never would for me."
"My apologies," Pitch said dryly.
Freizena laughed, the sound like tinkling icicles. "You still have wit, Pitch."
"Buried under my beaming smile and dazzling personality," he deadpanned.
She laughed again, and Jack joined her. Pitch continued to eat, but Jack could tell he loved making them laugh. His eyes gleamed and shimmered as he watched them.
"So, this boy, Jack," she said. "How does he possess my people's power if he is not one of us?"
"You granted Lunar a trinket when he left," Pitch replied. "It contained the power of your people if he ever had need of it. Well, he didn't want it for himself, so he studied it and distilled it into a moonbeam then sent it down into Jack when he was dead. With some secrets of the Golden Age, he brought Jack back to life with the power of ice and snow and wind."
"Amazing," the chief whispered.
"It is indeed," Pitch said. "Unfortunately, I believe Jack's human memory was buried very deeply under the power and now it only comes up in times of great trauma or stress."
Jack swallowed. "Yeah. I got them back, sort of, with my baby teeth, but…" Jack looked down, his brows coming together as sadness bloomed inside of his chest. "I don't remember my sister or mother or father. But I saved my sister's life. That's why MiM picked me."
"MiM?" Freizena asked.
"Lunar," Pitch said. "On Earth, he is known to the children as the Man in the Moon. The spirits he makes call him MiM."
"I see. So, Jack is not the only one of his kind?"
Pitch finished his late bite of food, took a drink, and leaned back. "Depends on what you mean."
"Explain."
"He is not the only human that Lunar has turned into an immortal spirit. But he is the only one with the powers of your people. All of the spirits are very different on Earth. But they are loyal to Lunar."
"Like you and the light boy."
Pitch's cheeks darkened, but he nodded. "Yes. We are both very loyal to Lunar, even after all these years."
"Why did Lunar not come with you?" Freizena asked.
Jack watched Pitch lean forward, his eyes darkening. "He is in trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
The colors in Pitch's eyes swirled, now more silver, now more golden and Freizena's face became still as ice. The room seemed to lean forward in the silence, fear filling the room. Pitch took a deep breath then hissed one word, his voice low and quiet.
"Obscurus."
Freizena actually yelped and stood, stepping back from the table. The servants dropped everything they were holding, crytalware, food, and drink spreading across the floor. The looks of horror that filled their faces reminded Jack of just what they were up against.
"Dismissed," Freizena barked, sweeping her hand over all of the servants. They scrambled to obey, practically tripping over each other in their haste to get out. The chief sucked in a breath then stood tall. "Is he after you? Will he come here looking for you?"
"No," Pitch said. "He wants me to follow him. And I will. But we need to heal Nightlight. Jack and I need all the help we can get. Please, all we need are the glands of the Crystangler. Then we will leave."
Freizena tapped her foot, her breathing shaky. "Does he know how to control his powers?" she asked tersely, pointing at Jack.
"Not off of Earth. He does not know how to conjure snow and ice without a source."
The woman stood tall. "You may stay here until the light boy is well. If you will let us teach Jack how to defend himself. He has a part of our power, he is one of our people, even if he does not share our blood. This is a dangerous undertaking, Pitch Black. And I do not want you to lose him."
Pitch stood up and bowed low. "That would be wonderful, madam. If you would allow us to get the glands tonight, I can make the medicine."
"They are deep in the lake," she said. "I will get one of my people to get them. It is too cold for you, Pitch."
"I'll go with them," Jack said. "Cold doesn't bother me at all. And I don't need to breathe like humans do."
"Then it shall be your first lesson, Jack Frost. I will get my hunter to take you to the lake. You two will dive in. How much do you need?"
Pitch grimaced. "He is very dark. I think that twenty would do. That would give us over two months of medication, and we can save some just in case."
"You ask much. Luckily, it is breeding season and they are swarming. Please, wait in the front hall."
Pitch bowed, gesturing for Jack to do the same then they departed. Standing just inside the door, Jack stared over the land of snow.
"People are terrified of Shadow Man, aren't they?"
"Aren't you?" Pitch asked tightly.
"Very much," Jack said.
"Then you are smart, Frost," Pitch said. "You know only a fraction of what he has done. I am not the only soul he has crushed. He has destroyed whole planets with fighting and fear. If you think I can wield fear well, you should see him. I hope you don't, Frost. But I have a feeling things will get darker before they get lighter."
"Things are darkest right before the dawn," Jack said.
Pitch swallowed, his eyes focusing on nothing. "Yes. Until there is no dawn and darkness is allowed free reign."
Before Jack could respond, a giant came out. "Chief says you wish to dive, child," he said. "Come, the lakes are this way. It is cold and dark, but she has assured me that you are not bothered by the cold."
"The dark doesn't bother me either. At least some forms of it," Jack replied as they followed the man back out into the village.
Pitch trailed behind for a moment, watching Jack's small form move among the giants. Part of him wished that Jack had stayed on Earth, but a larger part was grateful for the company. He hoped that the boy was really as strong as he seemed. Because what he'd said was true. Shadow Man had taken away most of Pitch's light, and he feared that there would never be a dawn for him again. But he would do everything in his power to make sure that Jack Frost saw another day.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch watched Jack struggle against the giants. His power was very weak compared to the natives of Icentuva, and they were putting him through an emergency course of strengthening. They usually only forced their people to go through such a strenuous, painful action at times of war, but this time it was only Jack. Freizena had taken to the boy, which was good. She wanted to be sure he was prepared for Obscurus, and Pitch would be forever grateful.
The Nightmare King tore his gaze from the struggling boy back to the table. He had distilled the Crystangler glands and was in the tedious process of combining the ingredients for the medication. He had only one step left. Taking up the container with the liquid light from the glands, he mixed it in with the other ingredients. A flash of brilliant white light startled him, blinding his sensitive eyes. Feeling with his slim hands, he picked up a crystal rod and stirred everything together, trying to blink away the echo of the flash.
It took ten minutes for even a little sight to come back to him, but he continued to stir, counting in his head. The stirring stick vibrated in his hands, and he pulled it out of the dazzling liquid. Turning away, he rubbed his eyes. He needed to be in the dark. The dark was better than blinding light!
Squinting, he managed to section the light off, capping each serving of medication. It seemed to take forever and staring at the bright light in the crystal vials made his eyes water and burn. After twenty minutes, he was left with over two hundred vials. Two hundred days of medication. Okay, so he'd overestimated. But that was okay. They had extra now, in case Nightlight ever needed more. When the blinding substance was contained in the vials, he set them to soak in black hole shadows. It wouldn't do if the light escaped.
With his eyes still smarting and watering, he picked up a vial and headed into the darkness of the hold. Even the starlight reflected off of the snow and ice hurt his eyes. They hadn't burned so badly since the first time he'd gone into the Moon Clipper. The darkness of the hold was soothing, and he closed the door to the hold. It was constructed well, and no light could be seen anywhere but the vial. He threw his cloak over the small crystal container, leaving himself in blackness.
Sighing in relief, he sat down and looked at the shadowy outlines. When his eyes adjusted, he would be able to see everything clearly. That was the one advantage of his horrible childhood. He wasn't afraid of the dark. Or at least he wasn't afraid of places that were dark. People, on the other hand, were different. No, he thought, person. A person is different.
Pitch sat in the soothingly dark room, relaxing. He began to doze before a whimper reached his ears. Fear blasted his consciousness, coming from the boy lying across the room. Dark, dark, dark, bad things happen in the dark, get out of the dark, let there be light, please, please, please! Jumping to his feet, the vial fell from the crate he'd been resting on. He scooped it up and hurried to Nightlight's still, dim form. Pain was etched over the familiar features. Tears poured from his eyes, and terror shone from the black orbs that had once been silvery and light.
"Shh, I'm sorry, Nightlight," Pitch crooned. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like to be in the dark. But I have medicine. Just like Tsar and Tsarina gave you when you caught the Murk. This should help. Let me find an injector."
Pitch set the vial right beside the injured boy's head, and his fear lessened immediately. As the Nightmare King dug through his medical crate, he made himself remember that he wasn't the only one who had been hurt and left to bleed in the dark before. Pulling out a fresh injector, Pitch cleaned it with a cloth then uncapped it.
"Here we are," Pitch said. He filled the injector with the medicine then stood there, thinking. "Where should I inject it?" he mused. "Your neck would be good, I think. Yes?"
Nightlight, though weak and wounded, made a face. Pitch snorted, his lips twitching.
"I know you don't like shots. But it will help."
The boy closed his eyes as Pitch placed his thin fingers on the dim cheek. He turned the head to the side, placed the small needle against Nightlight's throat, then pressed it home. The reaction from Nightlight's light-starved body was instant. He screamed, the sound echoing through the small space. His back arched off the makeshift bed as his veins shot through with the medicine. His skin was translucent for a brief moment, then it was gone. It was only Pitch's keen eyes that saw the most minute change in brightness.
Nightlight's breathing was heavy, but he began to wriggle his fingers. A moan escaped his throat, and Pitch reached over to take the trembling digits. He pet the back of the thin, childish hand, humming a tune as old as the stars that Nightlight used to sing to Lunar while Pitch was listening. There was the sound of rapid feet on the deck.
"Pitch?" Jack's voice called. Fear pulsed against Pitch, light and nervous compared to the terror that had flooded from Nightlight. Scream, worried, was all that Pitch could hear from the fear.
"In the hold, Frost," Pitch said, caressing the anxious boy's mind.
The door was torn open, and Pitch flinched at the starlight; his eyes would be sensitive for days after that flash.
"You okay?" Jack asked, coming down the stairs. He squinted at what, to him, was nothing but a shadowy outline, though his tired expression and trembling limbs were plain for the Nightmare King to see.
"I am fine."
"Was that Nightlight who screamed?"
"Yes."
"Is he okay?"
"No."
Jack paused then snorted. "You know what I meant."
"The first half dozen injections will be incredibly painful," Pitch answered, looking down into the eyes which were just a shade lighter.
"Oh. Well, we all heard it, and we didn't know what it was. So I can tell them that you guys are okay?"
"Yes, Frost."
Jack's eyes lingered for a moment before he turned around. Pitch cleared his throat. "Jack?"
The use of his first name made the boy turn his head fast. "What?" he asked, clearly on edge.
"Bring the dark lantern please."
"Why? Aren't you okay in the dark?" Jack said, a half-teasing note in his young voice.
"I am. But he isn't," Pitch said, staring down at Nightlight.
"Oh. Right." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, okay. I'll bring it."
He was up and back in half a minute. The pain had lessened Nightlight's fear, but it had begun again as soon as he was conscious of the dark. He had been in and out of a half-conscious state for days, and Pitch could tell when he was awake. The Nightmare King smoothed his hand through the dark, greasy locks on Nightlight's head.
"Frost?" he asked softly.
"Yeah?"
"Are you done training for now?"
"Um, I guess. Why?"
"I would like to help Nightlight bathe. I will need assistance."
Jack's face twisted in embarrassment, a too-human response, but he nodded. "Yeah. What can I do to help?"
"I need you to bring enough water to fill a tub." Pitch stood up and pulled a large, old-fashioned bathtub from the wall. "This one, to be precise. We'll have to heat the water. Nightlight, unlike you, is affected by the cold. He's in enough pain. I'll set things up, you bring the water."
Jack nodded and dashed off. Pitch set up a firepit in a shallow metal bowl, lighting the dark fire in it. He placed a grate over it then heaved the tub on top of it. The fire wouldn't burn the wood, but he didn't want the bottom to be too hot for Nightlight. He went back to sit beside Nightlight, wrapping his fingers around the cold hand.
Within half an hour, Earth time, the tub was full of steaming water. Jack shut the door to the hold and stood there for a moment, his expression unsure. Pitch gestured him over.
"Get his clothes off, Jack," Pitch said. "They need to be washed anyway, and we can wash them after we wash him."
Jack struggled to peel the stiff, filthy shirt off the limp body. It seemed stuck to his skin. Nightlight didn't move, pressing his face into Pitch's shoulder. When the top was off, Pitch and Jack saw the reason it had been stuck. They were covered in a sticky black substance that clung to fabric and skin equally. Nightlight's entire torso was covered in it.
"He was wounded," Pitch said as Jack peeled the clothes off his hand. "That's what happens when the light disappears and he bleeds."
"Yuck," Jack muttered.
"Here, you hold him this time. I'll get his pants off."
Pitch had a much easier time, and when he was naked, the Nightmare King picked up the dim, shivering boy and dipped him slowly into the water. Nightlight shuddered, clutching at Pitch's neck as a long, sighing whimper left his lips.
"It's alright, Nightlight," Pitch murmured. "Relax."
After several minutes of easing the boy into the water, Nightlight did indeed relax. He sank into the water, and Pitch picked up a small pillow, settling it under the slim neck. Pitch took off his long, black overcoat and pushed his sleeves up.
"I suggest you take off your jacket, Frost."
Jack obeyed then retrieved the soap that Pitch pointed out. Dipping the soap into the warm water, Pitch began to scrub the almost too-thin body while Jack helped him. Pitch could sense Jack's worry that Nightlight was starving. For a few moments, Pitch wondered if he should say anything—he'd been keeping his fear-reading ability to himself—but he finally decided that Jack was as close to a friend as he could hope for, so he spoke up.
"He needs to eat as much as you do," Pitch said.
"What?" Jack blinked, his eyes narrowing.
"You're worried about him being skinny," Pitch replied.
"I…Yes, but how—?" Jack began.
"Worry is a few steps below fear. I understand it just as well. It speaks to me, too."
Jack stared for another few moments then shrugged. "Okay. So he's not starving like a human would?"
"No, Frost," Pitch assured him. "Food will give his body energy to heal faster, but he doesn't need food any more than you and the other Guardians do. It's just nice to eat." He paused. "Besides, Nightlight has always been very skinny. It has to do with his native people, just like my darkness has to do with my native people."
Jack nodded, worrying his bottom lip. Nightlight began to slip into the tub, and Jack gently pulled him back up. The dark orbs searched the blue, and Pitch could feel the buzz of a connection. Jack grinned.
"Can you hear me?"
A barely perceptible nod was the only answer the dim boy could give.
"Do you like stories?"
Another twitch of Nightlight's head.
"Cool. I got one about the time I was hit by a train."
Nightlight blinked, and Pitch snorted. "How in the world were you hit by a train? You're practically immaterial on Earth."
Jack giggled. "Yeah. Unless you put magic into an item. Then it can hurt you."
"What were you trying to do with the train?" Pitch asked dryly.
"Well, I watched this movie called the Polar Express, right? It's got a representation of North in it, you know, and it was great. But there's this scene where the train skates on ice."
Pitch stopped, looked up, and pressed his lips in a thin line. "Oh, you didn't."
"Um, no. I didn't. But I did try. When the people started screaming, I kinda realized it was a bad idea." Pitch gave him a look and he laughed. "Okay, a really bad idea."
"Do I even what to know what happened?"
"Well, the train was beginning to derail," Jack said, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. "And sense came back to me because there were kids screaming on the train. And I decided to try and stop it. I used South Wind because the train was going north. I thought I could do it…and it kinda worked. But I got hit with the engine." He paused then grinned, baring his sparkling teeth. "It hurt."
"You are truly a child at heart, Frost," Pitch said sternly, but his eyes were soft, and a smile teased the edges of his mouth. "But next time, don't try to imitate movies. Your life is exciting enough without making a train skate on ice."
Jack laughed. "I learned my lesson."
Pitch nodded. "Grab that towel, Frost. He's clean."
The Nightmare King wrapped the abnormally thin boy in a large towel then picked up the bloody clothes. Jack reached out and Pitch tossed him the pants. They worked to clean the blood out of the silvery blue clothes. The water ran black by the time they were done, but the clothes were spotless. They had great tears in them, but Jack ran his fingers over the cloth, willing his magic out to seal the rips.
"There we go," Jack said. "All better."
A knock sounded out at the door of the hold. A giant opened it, peering down at the occupants.
"Jack Frost?" he asked. "Are you coming back to train? The Chief has commanded that we recommence."
"I'll be right there," Jack said. Turning to Pitch, he winced. "I hope the training gets easier."
"It'll get harder before it gets easier," Pitch said. Jack pulled on his blue hoodie.
"See you later," he said.
Pitch nodded, waving Jack away. The boy closed the door behind him again, leaving Pitch in the dimly lit room. With great care, he dried off Nightlight then tenderly dressed him. Running his fingers through the still dark but now clean hair, he tilted his head as he gazed at the boy.
"Feel better?" he asked.
Nightlight swallowed, opening his mouth. A rasping voice came out. "Y-y-yes," Nightlight croaked. "T-Th-Thank y-you, P-P-Prism."
Pitch's expression was soft. He pressed a kiss to Nightlight's head. "I'm going to give you dreamsand, Nightlight. You need rest."
A small nod, and Pitch reached over to pick up a small bag of dreamsand. He smiled one of his rare smiles and blew out a small handful into Nightlight's face. Cradling the boy's head in his lap, he began a little chant that he had heard hundreds of times when the light boy had put Lunar to sleep.
"Nightlight, bright light, sweet dreams I bestow. Sleep tight, all night. Forever I will glow."
Pitch watched as Nightlight smiled and fell into sweet dreams without a hint of fear. He then sat back to watch over the boy's sleeping form, just as Nightlight had done for him all those years ago.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

By the end of three weeks, Jack Frost was so physically tired that he could barely stand. He had passed the course with a speed that surprised every single Icentuvan, especially the chieftain. After accepting the honors that the chief commanded to be bestowed upon him, Jack limped slowly to the ship, hoping that Pitch hadn't used all of the dreamsand that they'd snagged from Sandy's castle on Nightlight. He was desperate for rest.
When Freizena found out that Jack didn't sleep, she'd set a full day course for him, so all around the clock for weeks he'd trained until his body protested. He hadn't even seen Pitch since he'd helped bathe Nightlight, save once when Pitch had come to watch him train. In a brief respite, the Nightmare King had said that Nightlight was now walking around, but that was over a week ago. Jack was eager to properly meet and speak with this boy who had touched both MiM and Pitch when they were boys.
Pitch must have seen him coming because he was at the gangplank to help him up onto the ship. Jack shoved a medallion at him once they were on the ship. Pitch took it into his hands and studied it intently while Jack stumbled over and sat in the only chair on the upper deck. He could barely lift his arms enough to cradle his own head on the wood of the star map table.
"She has honored you," Pitch said. "Un-melting ice with the symbol of warrior on it. Not a bad prize, Frost."
Jack grunted, but he didn't move. "I'll appreciate it when I can feel my body again."
Pitch snorted. "Tired?"
"Exhausted."
"Would you like to sleep?"
"Very much."
"Come on then. Nightlight's sleeping in the hold. I'll string up a hammock for you."
Jack groaned, but he forced his half-numb, sore body to obey. By the time he'd dragged himself down the stairs, he was ready to cry. He was overwhelmed with fatigue, and he leaned against the wall, blinking back tears.
"I never want to do that again," he croaked.
"You won't have to. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity," Pitch said, tying another expert knot to keep the hammock in place. He tested its hold then helped Jack into it.
Jack gave a weary smile. "I'm glad I learned all that stuff. I can conjure snow without a source now. It's like that explosion I did with you, only bigger, better, and more powerful. I can even do it in heat. That's new."
"I can't wait to see it in action," Pitch said. He picked up a bag and peered into it. "Not much left. When we leave here, I'll have to make more as soon as possible."
He grabbed some sand and blew it into Jack's face, taking the boy's staff to lean it against the wall beside the hammock. Jack yawned immediately, relaxing into the hammock.
"Thanks, Pitch. I appreciate it," he murmured.
"You're quite welcome, Frost. Sweet dreams," Pitch said, then climbed up and shut the door.
Though there was no lantern, Jack found that it wasn't completely dark in the hold. There was a nice soft glow radiating from across the room. Before he could consider what that meant, he was asleep, dancing with dolphins in the water back on Earth. He wasn't sure how long he slept, but when he began to be conscious again, something was glowing in front of his face, bright enough to be seen without opening his eyes. It was soft and comforting, and Jack reached up to catch whatever it was. His fingers brushed a nose and mouth, which curled upward at his touch.
The Winter Spirit's eyes popped open and he found himself staring at a thin, bright face, which was grinning at him. The silvery eyes gleamed like the full moon, and light radiated from every inch of the boy's body. Jack stared at the strange creature, which was perched on top of a long, thin spear, the sharp point buried in the hold's floor.
"Nightlight?" Jack asked in wonder; he looked nothing like the dark, unmoving shape that he'd seen the last time he was there.
"Yes," Nightlight said, his eyes flashing like a faraway star. "You are Jack Frost."
Jack nodded, sitting up. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," the boy of light said, his body still as a starry night on Earth.
They stared at each other for several moments then Jack leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. "What are you?"
"A boy."
Jack laughed, his teeth sparkling in the glow that came off the boy. "No, no! I mean, what planet are you from? What's your race? I thought you were starving, but Pitch told me that you're race looks like you."
Nightlight's lips quirked again. "My race is a dark-dwelling people. They are known as Shades. They are a relative of Prism's race, which are Darklings. My race split from his many ages ago, and we developed into thin, wraith-like beings, while they continued to be solidly built and substantial."
"Do you all glow?"
The smile faded. "No, Jack Frost. They do not. I am the only one."
"Why?"
Nightlight didn't answer, studying Jack intently. "You mentioned pitch," Nightlight said. "What are you working on that requires pitch?"
Jack blinked. "What?"
"Pitch. It may burn for a long time, but it is not useful in many recipes from the Golden Age."
The Winter Spirit laughed for a moment before he realized that Nightlight was being serious. "No," Jack said, sobering at once. "Um, no, not that kind of pitch."
"There is more than one kind?"
Jack stared at the boy, shaking his head. "No. Pitch. Pitch Black."
"Pitch is black, yes."
"No!" Jack said, waving his hand. He watched Nightlight's serene face, and he suddenly realized how long it had been since Pitch and Nightlight had seen each other. His shoulders slumped. "It's a person. You call him Prism still. His name isn't Prism anymore. It's Pitch Black."
Nightlight took in that news without moving. "Why did he change his name?"
"He's…he's not a prism anymore. He's…" Jack gritted his teeth. "He's known as the Nightmare King on Earth. He's not what you remember."
The light boy finally shifted, hopping off of his spear to stand beside Jack. He jerked the spear out of the boards and spun it around the right way. Tilting his head, he held out a hand. Jack took it, and strength that he hadn't expected pulled him right out of the hammock and onto his feet. He grimaced as his sore body complained, but he managed to stay upright.
"He is darker," Nightlight agreed. "I can see his shadows have grown. But he cannot simply stop being a prism. It is in his blood, just as my radiance is in mine. He will find his way again."
Jack smiled. "That's what I think. I can see a little of what he was, but things have changed. What Shadow Man did to him…" He trailed off, unsure if Nightlight knew what had happened.
"Yes," Nightlight said, unblinking. "Obscurus took much from him in the dark. But he is still my Prism-boy. He is just all grown up. And the big people have much that hangs on their hearts, Jack Frost. Prism is different in that he can see through the veil still. I just hope that the little Lunanoff can, too."
"He can," a voice said from across the room.
Both boys jumped, turning to see Pitch staring at them with slightly upturned lips.
"Hey, Pitch," Jack said. "Didn't realize you were there."
"I did not, either, Darkling," Nightlight said, inclining his head. "Your skill has increased."
Pitch nodded once. "The Chieftain has requested that we feast with her and her people before we leave."
"When are we leaving?" Jack asked, slipping his hands in his pockets.
"Nightlight is well enough now," Pitch replied. "You are done training. So tomorrow, I think we will hold counsel."
"What?"
Pitch gestured at Nightlight. "Nightlight has learned much about Shadow Man," he explained. "I have let him rest while you have been training, but now we must discuss what happened to leave him in such a state, and he said he can help us to track him." Pitch paused. "I know it will be painful, Nightlight."
"It will," the boy agreed. "But you have given me time, and I believe I can tell you such things tomorrow. But I have a question for you."
"Go on," Pitch said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
"You did not tell me that you changed your name to Pitch Black."
The man grimaced. "I didn't," he said grimly. "That was the name the Guardians gave me."
"But you are still Prism," Nightlight said.
Pitch's jaw tensed, and he shook his head, but not a word passed his lips.
"We must bathe," he said after a few moments of silence. "It is impolite to not be presentable. Frost, you and Nightlight go and fetch the water. We will use rags this time, not submersion. Go on."
Jack scooped up his staff and was halfway up the steps when he noticed that Nightlight hadn't moved. His silvery eyes were troubled as he stared at Pitch, who was busying himself with lighting a black fire to heat the water. After almost half a minute, Nightlight turned away and followed Jack, his light slightly dimmer than before.
Jack leaped into the air, relishing the fact that he could fly even without the four Winds from Earth. Glancing at Nightlight, he arched an eyebrow.
"Can you fly?"
Nightlight laughed, the sound like twinkling starlight. "Can I fly, Jack Frost?" he asked, his glow brightening. "I can fly faster than anybody!"
Jack's blue eyes gleamed. "Race you," he challenged.
"You are on, Jack Frost."
And they launched into the air, dancing around each other for a moment before dashing away. Pitch watched from the top step, his feelings conflicted. He was glad that the two boys seemed to be getting along. But amongst the happy feelings were darker emotions that had been brewing for weeks. Ever since Nightlight had thanked him, thanked Prism, for bathing him, for easing his pain, Pitch's heart ached for the past, for what he had been.
Nightlight had continued to call him Prism for three weeks, and Pitch hadn't known how to tell him that he was no longer what he had been. So he'd pushed it back and back, and now Jack Frost had explained his new name to a boy that he hadn't seen in so many years. While Pitch had changed, Nightlight had not, and it tore Pitch's soul apart to see those eyes look at him with respect and love. Because deep down, he felt like he no longer deserved love. And that was one reason he didn't want to see Lunar again.
All of his memories with Lunar were a light in the darkness of his soul, but even that light wasn't strong enough to keep him out of Shadow Man's grip. Jack had never asked about what had happened when they'd first met, why he had been so different than he was now. The memories of that time were almost dreamlike, though it had been more of a nightmare. The grating sensation filled his head as he turned to walk down the steps into the hold, and he pitched forward, biting down on his hand to keep from screaming in fear and pain as an icy, prickling sensation rushed down his spine.
Though Shadow Man was lightyears away, tendrils of darkness tightened around Pitch's heart, and his sickly laugh echoed in his head. A sibilant hiss was followed by a whisper that caressed his entire body, reminding Pitch of dark, dirty things.

"You cannot escape me, Prism-boy."

Pitch pressed his hands against his head, terror gripping his heart, which thundered in his chest. The shadows seemed to caress him like a hand, and Pitch retched, spreading bile all over the boards. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't escape the darkness. He was spiraling down, down, down, into the mist that shrouded his vision and let the tainted darkness out of his soul to spread like pitch across as many lives as possible because he had to burn them, taint them, slander, hurt, DESTROY!
And then a laugh sounded out, joined quickly by another one. It was Jack and Nightlight, dancing in the sky, chasing each other around like the children they were. And the illusion was shattered. Pitch found himself curled up in a ball, covering his face and breathing hard. He sat up, wiping away tears that he didn't remember crying, and looked around. The blessed starlight that filtered down on him from the sky high above brought peace to his heart, and the shadows withdrew far away. He was himself again.
Quickly, he grabbed the mop and cleaned up his mess. He was trembling as he set it aside and moved toward the dark fire. In response to his need, it turned blue for him. Jack and Nightlight would see what they needed in the moment. For Jack it would be cool to the touch, for Nightlight, it would be bright as the moon and warm like a cozy blanket. But for him, right at that moment, it was blessed light to chase away the shadows. Because no matter how far he went, Shadow Man was always a thought away to remind him of his lost innocence.
And Pitch knew that though he had indeed lost his innocence, he wasn't sure what he'd gained in return.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack helped to load up the last of the food that the Chieftain had granted them. The feast the night before had been a huge party, and Pitch, Jack, and Nightlight were the guests of honor. It was only the fact that the Icentuvans needed sleep that the feast ended, and the three foreigners took the rest of the sleep cycle to begin to get the ship ready for flight the next day. When the Icentuvans woke up, the Chief ordered food to be given to them, ignoring Pitch's statement that food wasn't needed.
"Food means life," she said. "Even if you do not need the food to live, it will help you to heal, yes?"
Pitch agreed, and the hold was stuffed with insulated food that would keep for months. As Jack tied down the last crate, he noticed how much easier he tied the knot. It was the same knot he'd struggled with at the beginning of his journey, and while he still didn't tie it as fast as Pitch, he was proud of how far he'd come. Smiling, Jack stood up, slipping his hands in his pockets as he began to head back toward the stairs.
On the third stair, as he took another step, pain shot through his stomach, and Jack's hands clenched inside his hoodie pockets, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. As his knees hit the stairs, his vision flashed white, and he saw Autumn's orange eyes, full of malice and glee as his fist raised to strike him again. The back of Jack's head swelled with pain as Autumn struck him, sending him sprawling onto the ground…
"Jack?"
Autumn's face receded, replaced with Nightlight's shining face. He was crouching beside the fallen boy's head, his fingers trailing over Jack's cheek. Jack shot up, looking around in bewilderment. His blue eyes were wide, terrified, and his chest was heaving. He was so afraid that he marveled that Pitch wasn't running for him, demanding what was wrong. But it was only Nightlight that knelt before him.
"What happened?" Jack asked.
"I think that you fell. You hit your head on the side of that crate. You are bleeding." Nightlight leaned closer, his bright eyes full of interest. "Your blood is blue. That is interesting. I've never seen blue blood before."
Jack heaved himself to sit up, leaning against the crate he'd hit in his fall. Reaching up, he ran his fingers over the back of his head. It was wet, and when he looked at his fingers, his dark blue blood shone in the lantern light. Jack looked away, confused. It wasn't the crate that had split his head open, he thought, it was Autumn. But how was that possible? He didn't know.
"Are you well?" Nightlight asked.
"I'm a bit dizzy," Jack admitted, leaning his head back. "Anything to patch me up?"
"I don't know where they are kept, but I'm sure that Prism has something."
"Where is he, anyway?" Jack asked.
"Saying goodbye to the chief. We're setting sail as soon as he gets back, then we will talk before we set our course. He doesn't want them to be put in any more danger than they're already in. Do you wish to come up?"
"Yeah. Help me get up to the deck."
Nightlight leaned his spear onto the wall then picked Jack up and set him on his feet. Jack leaned against the ethereal boy all the way to the desk. He leaned back, breathing deeply as the world spun, and Nightlight perched on the desk, saying nothing. Pitch found them like that, and he pulled the gangplank up before walking over. He sniffed the air.
"Are you melting ice?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"My head's cut open," Jack said. "I fell."
Pitch hummed and turned Jack's head to observe the wound. "Not deep, but it's bleeding a lot. Wait here." He glanced at Nightlight. "Take us into the skies."
Nightlight inclined his head and climbed over the railing to the wheel. With a clang of the bell, the ship began to float up. The Icetuvans were calling farewells to them, but Jack didn't care. He was too dizzy. Pitch descended into the hold and came back with a few items. He began to tend to the back of Jack's head.
"How did you fall?" Pitch asked.
Jack paused for a few moments then lied. "I must have slipped."
"Must have, eh?"
"Yeah. Icy."
"But you never slip on ice," Pitch countered in a low, steady voice.
Jack knew he was caught, but Pitch didn't say another word. He worked silently, pressing a clear, stinging substance to the wound to stop the bleeding. Jack shuddered, and Pitch stood up.
"It's already healing, Frost. You'll be fine."
He descended into the hold again, and when he returned, his silvery gold eyes glanced over Jack, as if reading him. Jack couldn't help but remember the promise that if he told Pitch the truth, then Pitch would be honest with him. He gritted his teeth then leaned forward, squeezing his eyes shut.
"I didn't slip."
By this time, Pitch had taken the wheel, sending Nightlight up into the rigging. But they both stilled when he spoke. Jack had never known people with sharper ears than those two.
"I figured," Pitch said softly, guiding their ship away from the white ball that was Icentuva.
"What happened then?" Nightlight asked, dangling upside down with ease. "I heard you cry out, but I thought that was you falling. Was it not?"
Jack shivered. "I don't know what happened."
"Describe it," Pitch replied. "We've been around the block a time or two, as the humans say."
"I…I saw…Autumn," he ground out. "And he was attacking me. I-I was just…"
Jack's heart began to beat fast at the memory, and his stomach spasmed in pain. He swore, doubling over again as tears poured from his eyes. Clutching at his stomach, terror exploded inside of him. He saw Autumn's bare, tan feet standing in front of him, and he threw himself back, trying to crawl away, but he was caught in strong arms.
"Let me go! Let me go!" Jack squeaked.
"Frost! Frost, come back! NOW, JACK!"
And he was on the ship again, trying to cower away from Pitch's grip. He looked around for Autumn, his heart in his throat, but there was nobody. Sweat poured from every pore in his body, and he couldn't speak as he stared at Pitch's face. There was a shadow of pain in his eyes, and his dark skin seemed to darken for a moment. Then Pitch cradled him close, tucking him against his shoulder.
"It's alright, Jack," he crooned. "It's just a bad dream."
"B-but I'm not sleeping," Jack croaked, his fingers clenched on the dark coat. "How can I dream if I don't sleep?"
"Shadow Man knows we're coming for him, doesn't he?" Nightlight asked, landing softly beside them without a wisp of sound.
"He's picking at Frost's scar," Pitch said, bringing his hand to Jack's stomach and pulling up his shirt and hoodie.
Nightlight pressed his lips together, staring at the white line. "Mine are tingling, but he cannot breach my light."
"He will try harder as we get closer," Pitch said. He gathered Jack in his arms and placed him back in the chair. "Don't think about it, Frost. Keep your mind on the light, and he can't get through it." He paused then leaned against the table. "Are you ready, Nightlight? We need to know now."
The boy of light nodded, plunging his spear into the deck then perching on top of it. "It is not pleasant. After I left you with the little Lunanoff, I went deep into the reaches of space. I determined to myself that I would find him and follow him and stop him from hurting either of you again. I thought that he couldn't hurt me, and in a way I was right."
"He attempted to rape me, as he did you, when he finally caught me and drained me of my light, but I was bleeding so heavily, and my blood burned him. So instead, he sliced me up and sent his slithers into me, but they died soon after he left me for dead."
Nightlight paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he continued, his voice was tight. "I lay there for what felt like eons, or so it seemed. Time meant nothing to me anymore except for pain. And then you communicated with me, and you saved me and healed me."
"And what did you find on your journey before that," Pitch pressed.
The boy's light was brightening, and his voice, typically low and soothing, began to climb in pitch and volume. "I learned of several lairs of his. Monsters guard them, but we must pass by them all. I have no doubt that he is in his stronghold. We will have to go through many trials before we get there. There are many fights ahead of us."
Nightlight was talking fast, and his hands began to wring together as he spoke. Pitch pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the boy. Jack had never seen Nightlight so bright, and his eyes were flashing like angry stars. Pitch grabbed the boy's hands and leaned close.
"You're safe, Nightlight," Pitch said. "Think of no shadows. You are with me, and you are safe."
Jack marveled at the way the terror drained out of Nightlight's face. His breathing evened out, and he leaned against Pitch's shoulder, gazing into the gentle silvery gold eyes that shimmered and gleamed with emotions that did not touch the rest of the man's face. Nightlight began to cry, but he radiated his relief, and Jack wondered if that was how he looked a few minutes before. Because that look of devotion and security, the overwhelming sense of protection, was exactly how he felt when Pitch held him.
And Jack's mind once again wondered about the Guardians. What did they see when they looked at this dark man? Admittedly, when Jack met him for the first time, he had sensed something evil inside him. But that feeling had dissipated when Pitch began to scream and run from the Night Mares. Something akin to realization had dawned on his face, and there was a change in his eyes as he'd swept his gaze over the herd of huffing, angry steeds. Jack had seen real fear on Pitch's face, and all the evil seemed to evaporate as he turned and ran.
That evil feeling had never returned, not in all the weeks that Jack had spent in Pitch's company. And looking at the tender, loving gaze of Pitch as he soothed his old friend made Jack's heart ache for Pitch, the man who had gone through darker nights than any of the Guardians and who was still strong and alive despite the horror he'd lived through. Jack sniffled, and Pitch turned to him, his eyes questioning. The boy shrugged, rubbing at his eyes; he felt no embarrassment, even though he would usually scoff at such a display of emotion.
Pitch's lips quirked just high enough that it might've been called a smile and he held out an arm. "Come here, Jack."
Jack walked into Pitch's embrace, unafraid of the man who controlled nightmares and Night Mares. Because in that moment there was nothing to be afraid of. It was like a father holding his two children, something that Jack could not remember ever experiencing. And Pitch pulled Jack close, running his fingers over the back of Jack's head in a comforting motion.
"I promise you both that you'll be alright," Pitch murmured. "You two are stronger than anybody else I know. You will get out of this alive. And you'll go back to Earth and try to make trains skate on ice and dance and play with Moonbeams and the children of the world."
After a few more moments, Pitch pressed a kiss onto both of their foreheads, then pulled back, got up, and went to the maps. Nightlight and Jack stared at each other, smiling. Jack thought that he saw a glitter where Pitch had kissed Nightlight, but it was hard to tell with the light the boy naturally gave off. Nightlight jumped off his spear, pulled it up, then walked over to stand by Pitch to plan their route. Jack joined them, beaming with emotions that he didn't understand.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch guided the dark ship through the wreck of what had formerly been a carrier liner. There were ruins of ships all over this place, which told him that they were reaching their first checkpoint. His skin crawled with the sensation of fear, but it wasn't his own. Nightlight had terrible memories of this place, of a great battle he fought with a dark foe, of a blow that left him terribly wounded and made him flee for his life.
Jack's emotions fueled the fear, and Pitch knew the boy could sense the darkness; it was more than the just lack of a close star. It was nearly tangible, and it spoke of Shadow Man's influence. Pitch's sharp eyes moved across the field to an asteroid. A tall tower was perched on it, a defense from the Golden Age that had been taken over by Shadow Man to deter unwanted guests. Though if anybody went by the tower, it would have to be on purpose, as they were doing.
"I don't like it," Jack whispered, his blue eyes narrowed as he tried to peer through the darkness that pressed on every side of them.
"Neither do I, Frost," Pitch replied. "It's watching us. It's waiting for us to get close enough to strike."
"What?" Jack asked.
Pitch didn't answer. He wasn't sure what creature inhabited the tower. Nightlight's description was vague, and Pitch could feel the edge of the boy's sanity, wavering like a flame on a windy day. He knew if he pushed the boy to remember any more, it would do damage to his psyche, perhaps permanent damage, and Pitch couldn't do that to his childhood friend. So he kept sweeping his eyes over the field, knowing that the attack was coming, and it could come from any direction.
The first strike was from below, and it rocked the ship like an earthquake. Pitch managed to remain standing by grasping the wheel. Nightlight nearly tumbled over the edge of the crow's nest, saved from a nasty fall by his hand grasping the railing. Jack was thrown into the navigation table, yelling with shock as he dropped his staff. Pitch grunted, twisting the ship until it was reoriented 180 degrees. A creature swam below them, glaring up at the Nightmare King with dark red eyes. Pitch met them, baring his teeth.
"What is that?!" Jack screamed, snatching up his staff.
"Void Serpent," Pitch replied, his eyes gleaming.
It was a dark snake that somehow swam through vacuum of space. Its fangs were dripping a viscous liquid into the void, shimmering like stars. Its whole body could have easily wrapped around the ship to crush it. But Pitch could sense that it wanted to play with them first. He was eager to meet the challenge.
Nightlight's terror reached a fever pitch even as he bravely stood straight, clutching his spear and ready for battle. Jack's panic grew, but he stood his ground, his eyes flashing with his inner power. Their fear filtered into Pitch Black, and it was so sharp that he could smell it. Salty with a dark tang that satisfied a terrible longing inside of himself to spread pain and fear, he couldn't get enough of it. Inhaling deeply, the scent went straight to his head like the finest of wines, and he laughed defiantly, power snapping at his fingers.
Both boys looked at him to see a strange glow around his form, a mixture of shadow and light that gave his body a depth that they had never noticed before. And as they met his flashing eyes, a surge of energy pulsed through their frames. As the strange energy washed over them, both of them let out yells of defiance, and the creature's red eyes narrowed as it twisted around to try and get beneath them again. Pitch twisted the wheel to turn the ship alongside the creature, and for a few moments they fought for an advantage. Then Jack leaped up to the crow's nest and held out his staff.
Power such as Jack hadn't shown since his battle with the Nightmare King exploded from his staff, and the creature shrieked as shards of ice dug into its flesh. It writhed and slithered away to regroup, and Nightlight whooped in excitement.
"That's it, Jack!" he laughed. "Bring us closer, Prism! I have a score to settle!"
Pitch grinned and turned the ship to follow the fleeing creature. Nightlight pushed off and flew through the gravitational barrier. He flew toward the serpent, his entire body glowing as brightly as the full moon on a clear night. Jack gathered himself and followed, his staff held defensively as frost shimmered in his wake. They were eager for battle, and they had the advantage of being smaller and more agile than the serpent, unlike the ship. Pitch followed their swift forms, watching with delight as Nightlight's spear flashed like a shooting star as he threw it into the flesh of the beast.
Their fear was gone in a surge of adrenaline, but the creature's primal fear blasted across Pitch's consciousness. It was darker and stickier, and it stirred Pitch's dark heart. He gathered his energy together and focused it into a sword. Releasing the wheel, Pitch threw himself into the void of space. There was a tightness as gravity squeezed him then he was free.
Focusing on his inner power, he projected a gravity field around himself as he flew toward the creature. Two smaller gravity fields from Nightlight and Jack brushed against his, but it was countered by the larger gravity field of the creature. Pitch and Nightlight were both gifted with this skill, but Jack's field was weak and wavering. He instinctively used his flying power more than a center of gravity, which was still a difficult concept to grasp for the Earthling.
The snake writhed beneath the onslaught of the two boys, snapping this way and that, trying to sink its fangs into them. Nightlight and Jack were too quick, and Pitch laughed at the helpless creature. Bloodlust boiled in his veins, and the all too familiar feeling of Shadow Man's grip on his essence began to pull him down. And with the serpent's primitive fear making his skin crawl with delight, Pitch didn't care that the darkness was beginning to press in again.
Jack swept past him, glancing at him for a moment. His blue eyes widened in shock, and Pitch grinned at him, baring his teeth in a feral grimace. Jack was so distracted that he stopped midmovement to stare. The snake's tail slammed into him with the force of a truck, and Pitch's anger was roused.
"Still yourself!" he screamed in the language of power, and everybody froze.
Nightlight's spear was upraised toward the serpent's mouth, which was open wide, and Jack was floating upside down, but neither of them moved other than breathing. The snake stared at Pitch with wide eyes, and it let out a strangled hiss as its terror washed over Pitch like a refreshing rain. He laughed again, a wild edge to his voice. He was drunk on fear for the first time in years, and it was intoxicating.
"Come serpent!" he mocked, holding his sword.
With a swift movement, it swept aside Nightlight and lunged for Pitch. Pitch slashed at the creature's snout, leaving a long, deep cut which bled an inky stream as it recoiled from the pain. He laughed and lunged again, driving his blade deep into the sinewy body. A hiss of agony coiled through the air, and there was a subtle shift in the fear. It changed from the fear of pain to the fear of death, and it quenched his thirst like the finest wine.
As the Void Serpent shot forward, fangs gleaming in a last attempt to wound and defend itself, Pitch Black raised his sword and plunged it deep into the mouth of the serpent. The snake writhed in the throes of agony and death, its fear thrumming through Pitch in wave after delicious wave that sent his heart soaring and his nerves tingling with delight. He gave a shout and jerked the sword out, his limbs trembling from the impact as the sense of death filled the void around him. The serpent snapped and writhed, but its movements were slowing as its dark blood poured from its many wounds. Then the snake stilled. Its fear ebbed away, and the soul left its dark body.
A hand touched Pitch's shoulder, and a spike of fear made him spin, ready to slice down whoever it was just for another taste of that exquisite terror. But when he saw Jack's wide eyes, he jolted back into reality. He grimaced and dropped the sword, clutching his ears as Shadow Man's taunting laugh echoed in his head. Gritting his teeth, he tried to extricate himself from the darkness.
Jack stared at him for a moment then embraced Pitch's middle. Shock slammed into Pitch from Shadow Man, and the innocent gesture helped him to pull his mind out of the muck. The shadows in his mind stuck to him, trying to suck him back down into the mire. Nightlight's arms wrapped around him, too, and the two boys guided him back into the gravity field of the ship, holding him up so he wouldn't hit the deck.
When Pitch's feet hit the boards, he went to his knees, curling up tightly as he clutched at his ears. He couldn't stop the tears that dropped from his thin face onto the dark deck. He felt lost in a maze, his eyes could see no light, and the world shrank until all he could perceive was himself lying in the black mud, stained with shadows that tugged at him. He began to sob, clawing at his ears.
Jack watched Nightlight grab Pitch's hands to keep him from injuring himself, his glowing eyes sad. He cradled the dark head in his lap, and Jack stared at the form lying there. Pitch was darker than ever, his skin almost charcoal grey. His body jerked and writhed in some kind of torment that Jack and Nightlight couldn't touch. The only thing that was the same were the shimmering silvery-gold eyes that searched for something that he wasn't finding, even as tears streaked down the man's cheeks.
"How do we help him?" Jack asked, kneeling down to touch the thin cheek. Pitch flinched away from him.
"I don't know," Nightlight said. "I do not understand grown-up pain."
"Poor Prism," a voice whispered, caressing the boys' ears.
Nightlight and Jack looked around to see a silvery gold outline. As they watched, some kind of mist began to fill the silhouette to form a girl. She was young and beautiful, with a sad, contemplative expression on her face. She wore an old-fashioned garment, a dress that swept the ground, with bare feet peeking out under her skirts. Her hair was long and thick, loose waves framing her full face.
"Who are you?" Jack asked softly, staring in wonder at the girl's shimmering form. There was a sense of light around her that no darkness could touch, and they trusted her immediately.
"Anthea," she replied. Her feet made no noise as she walked over to gaze down at the dark, troubled expression of Pitch. "He is hurting. He will hurt until this is over."
"Can we help him, Anthea?" Nightlight asked, stroking the man's face tenderly.
"Have you any of the golden dust?"
"Dreamsand?" Jack asked. "I think so."
He stood up and ran into the hold to search for the bag. His heart sank as he picked it up; it was so light. Had he and Nightlight used all of this precious substance without a thought toward Pitch? He ran back up to the deck and held his breath as he tilted the bag upside down over his palm. About half an ounce of sand trickled into his hand, and he relaxed.
"Will this do?" he asked.
"Yes," Anthea replied. "Nightlight, speak your rhyme and give him peace for now."
"Does my dream magic work on grown-ups?" he asked in surprise.
"Prism is different than most grown-ups," Anthea said, kneeling down to smile at Pitch. She brushed her hand through his dark hair. "He has no veil across his vision. He never grew up as other grown-ups did. Just because he's taller, that doesn't mean he's forgotten what it means to be a child. Think of how he acts, Nightlight. Think of everything he does for you both. Has he ever let you down? Doesn't he let you play and dance? What else does he do for you?"
Jack nodded as she spoke. "He's never mad at me for being curious," he murmured to the boy of light. "He listens to every word I say. He understands me all the time. I mean, I know he's not emotional, but he still allows me to be a kid."
"He is reserved," Nightlight said slowly. "But he always has been. He is more responsible, it is true, but he is still the companion I knew so well. Perhaps you are right, Anthea. Perhaps he is still young enough on the inside to need a Nightlight."
Nightlight leaned down, and Jack sprinkled the sand over Pitch's face. The wild eyes paused and grew heavy as the boy of light pressed a good night kiss on Pitch's cheek.
"Nightlight, bright light, sweet dreams I bestow. Sleep tight, all night. Forever I will glow," he sang gently into Pitch's ear.
As if Pitch heard him, his twitching stopped, and his eyes focused for the first time on Nightlight's face. He stared at the boy in wonder.
"You never sing that to me," Pitch said, his voice thick with exhaustion.
"You never indicated you wished for it," Nightlight replied. "Sleep, Prism. Sleep and have good dreams."
Pitch's eyes slid from Nightlight's face to Jack's, and the boy smiled encouragingly. Then his eyes slipped over to Anthea, and he chuckled.
"You're keeping your word, I see," he sighed.
"Of course. It's only been a couple thousand years," she teased. "Sleep, Pitch Black. Sleep and dream of the stars."
Pitch fell asleep without another word. Nightlight and Jack both watched his face ease into a peaceful expression then looked up to thank Anthea. All they saw was a dissolving mist that settled onto the shadow-stained boards. The two boys stared at the vacant spot for a moment, wondering just who Anthea was and how she knew Pitch, before they roused themselves and carried Pitch downstairs into the hold. He relaxed into the hammock, his expression remaining peaceful as he curled up under the blanket.
The two boys walked back upstairs and shut the hold. Nightlight glanced up.
"Can you steer?"
"Yes," Jack said.
"Good. I'll guide you and tend to the rigging."
"I have a question," Jack said, and Nightlight stared at him with his big, reflective eyes.
"Yes?" he prodded.
"Was…was that Shadow Man's doing?" Jack asked.
"Just as he picked at your scar, he is picking at Prism's. The only difference is that you have one scar, and Prism's scars are innumerable. He picked your scar like the string of a lyre, and it reverberated through your entire being. But he has such a hold on Prism that he can claw them open. He is bleeding on the inside, Jack. And it is messy."
"I just want Pitch to be okay," Jack said uneasily. "The look on his face after he killed that snake…" Jack could still see the crazed desire, a dark evil that he recognized from the first time he'd met the man. "Shadow Man can make him do such bad things."
"When he sinks into the shadows, he truly is Pitch Black. But there is still the fact that he has his inner light to show him the way. He just needs to break into that part of himself again. Now get to the wheel."
Jack took the wheel, and he followed Nightlight's instructions as he guided the ship in the right direction. His thoughts were below in the hold with the Nightmare King, who lay peacefully in rest for the first time in many years. And he thought over what Nightlight had said about Pitch's inner light. It was true. They needed to help him reach that inner light. It was the one part of childhood that Pitch had forgotten about. But how were they to break through the shadow?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The first thing that North noticed as he woke was crying. The sound was terrifying, hopeless, and darkened his heart. It was a child, or was it more than one? North wasn't sure, but they were in pain and afraid. He forced himself up, each movement a struggle, and he looked around for the child. A shadowy form was crouched in the corner, sobbing. It tugged at North's heart, and he tried to go over to help, but a voice stopped him.
"Don't bother, North."
North turned to see the Man in the Moon, sitting there with a pained expression as he stared at the shadow child. Why wasn't he helping? MiM didn't look at him, but, as usual, he seemed to know exactly what North was thinking.
"It won't help."
"Why not?" North croaked. His throat was parched, and he shivered as the sobbing continued.
"The child is nothing but a wraith, a shadow of a soul," MiM replied. "It is not in this world or the next. It is in between. There is nothing I know of that will help something as wretched as this creature. My knowledge fails me here."
"Is there no way to make it stop crying?" North asked.
"I cannot touch it, and it cannot hear me. I've tried, North. Besides, Obscurus put us in here to torture us."
North's eyes scanned the wraith, tears gleaming in his eyes. "It needs help…"
"Help we cannot give, my friend," MiM said. "I know nobody who is able to reach inside that veil. Come over here. Don't dwell on that poor thing."
The Spirit of Wonder stood on weak legs and walked over to sit beside the small, round Guardian of Childhood. His normally jovial expression was dark as he scanned the form of what used to be a child before looking at his friend.
"Are you well?" MiM asked.
"I am thirsty and hungry," North said.
"Unfortunately, nothing can be done about that either," MiM said solemnly. "Obscurus has offered no food or water, and while we will be uncomfortable, we will not die. So you must get used to the sensations."
North looked around to see Sandy, Toothiana, and Bunnymund lying unconscious, their expressions troubled. MiM continued to watch the child, his eyes bright and troubled. North finally coughed and leaned back against the wall. He folded his hands over his belly, wondering how long it would stay round with no food to satisfy him.
"Who is this Obscurus you talk of?" North asked.
"He's a bad man," MiM answered. "A twisted thing from the Golden Age, and one of the chief reasons it ended. He is the rapist of children, the murderer of men, the destroyer of women. He is darkness incarnate."
"Sounds like an ally of Pitch," North growled.
MiM glanced at him, breathing out hard through his nostrils, but he didn't argue. "I think he is the reason that Pitch is what he is now."
"His ally," North said firmly.
"Little Prism-boy? An ally?" a dark voice said, like something slimy that slithered into the ears. "That is amusing, to say the least."
North paled when he saw the tall, shadowed figure standing in the doorway. He stood up and moved between MiM and their captor. Obscurus's long face broke into a dim smile, bitter and angry to the core. He shook his head, striding into the room and looking around at the prone figures of the Guardians.
"Pathetic, Tsar Lunar," he crooned. "Your father had much better security."
"I had no warning that you were coming, or there would have been more of a fight."
"But you could have been warned," Obscurus said lightly. "Isn't that right, North?"
MiM frowned, glancing for a brief moment at North then back to the tall man. "What do you mean?"
"After I used that Autumn Spirit to wound Jack Frost, Jackie went to Prism. Prism and Jack went to the North Pole and told the other Guardians to warn you that I was coming."
Bewilderment turned to horror, and North swallowed. "Pitch was… was lying!" he exclaimed, but he no longer believed it.
"No, he wasn't," Obscurus purred. "Tsar Lunar's Nightlight did go out. I put him out. And your one chance to warn Tsar Lunar that I was coming you wasted because you don't trust little Prism. It's a really good thing that I've tainted his light so well. He's too afraid to look you in the eyes, Lunanoff, our little Prism-boy."
Obscurus paused, licking his dark lips with a black tongue. "But you were right, Lunanoff. I ruined your friend. I've ruined his whole life on that pathetic planet. Besides you, fool, every spirit on that planet that you've made sees nothing but a monster when they look at Prism. Every one of them would rather strike and kill him than listen to a word he said. Look at your precious Santa Claus. The Spirit of Wonder who sees beauty and magic everywhere cannot see the beauty and magic of Prism because of me. I've veiled the sight of the hopeful," he gestured at Bunnymund, "and I've veiled the sight of the mightiest dreamer left," he pointed at Sandy's limp form then turned to grin at Toothiana, "and to top it off, I've ruined Prism's memories of his childhood with you, Lunanoff. He can't even think of that time without withering up inside. You know why, Lunanoff?"
"Tell me," MiM said calmly, not removing his defiant, bright gaze from the inky pools that threatened to swallow his light.
"Because he's lost everything that he had. He lost his adoptive parents and blames himself for their deaths. And really, it is his fault. I wouldn't have attacked your Moon Clipper if Prism hadn't been aboard. He lost his friend Nightlight because of the promise the boy swore to your parents to keep you safe no matter what. Your Nightlight came out to impede me, but I ended him. And Prism lost his precious innocence to me, and the screams were intoxicating. You should have heard him squeal—"
"That's quite enough," MiM said, crossing his arms, his expression hard.
"And," Obscurus continued, his lips quirking as he scanned the round man. "He lost you. The only shred of hope he had left was to stay with you. But he couldn't do that. What if I found you and forced you to become my plaything? What if he lost control of his darkness and became something despicable? What if you found out that I raped him, and you thought he wasn't good enough to be your friend anymore?" The man laughed, a grating and broken noise. "Oh, shame is so glorious a thing, isn't it? Living, breathing, and it makes men do strange things!"
"You are so confident about yourself," MiM said, pursing his lips.
"I'm not lying, Tsar Lunar."
"I know," MiM replied coolly.
North was frozen, glancing between the two men. Somehow, he had moved to the side, and his big, blue eyes were looking between the two men. They were so different. One delighted in evil, the other selflessly defended the innocent. One glowed with the soft light of the moon that he lived on, the other exuded shadows like they were in his very soul. They were the perfect contrast, and North knew what side he was on. But he couldn't seem to move to stand beside MiM. He was locked in place, waves of slimy darkness sucking at his mind and body. He had never been so terrified in his life. Pitch Black was nothing compared to this being.
At that thought, North howled in pain and pressed both hands to his temples as he was driven to his knees. His vision turned red then a veil of ink flashed in front of his eyes. It dripped down, and in those inky blots, he saw Pitch's outline. When a hand touched him, he gasped and fell back, looking around wildly. MiM stood there, his hand still held out in midair where he had touched North. His gaze was on Obscurus still as he folded his hands together on his lap.
"I knew something was wrong with them," he said softly. "And it only involves Pitch Black. That is the only person that their expressions morph for. Yes, I've seen the shadows in their eyes. I've done so much research on it, and nothing comes up. But if you can put a veil over their eyes, why not mine?"
Obscurus shrugged. "Why bother?" he asked lightly.
"I don't think you can," MiM said. "I think because I knew Pitch when he was Prism that you can't taint my vision with the veil."
"Veil?" North asked hoarsely. "Jack mentioned a veil."
An idea flashed across MiM's face. "Yes, and Jack sees through it," he mused. "That's why Jack doesn't hate Pitch. That's why Jack trusts him."
"How do you know that boy trusts him?" Obscurus asked blandly.
"Because he willingly accompanied Pitch to the North Pole to warn me. Which he didn't. Why not?" The Man in the Moon turned to gaze at North.
"Erm, we drove Pitch away," North said uneasily. "And I think that Jack went after him. He was crying for some reason."
"Of course," MiM said, a small smile playing around his mouth. "You can't veil children, can you?"
"Not until I do that to them," Obscurus said, gesturing at the wraith, who still cried and moaned in pain. "You are very clever, Tsar Lunar. But you still can't figure out how to get out of here."
"No," MiM admitted. "But I have time."
"Time?"
"It's not me you want," MiM said. "You want Pitch Black. And Pitch will come for me. We both know it."
"Why would Pitch come for you?" North asked. "He is…" He paused then shook his head violently as his vision shifted again. "I don't understand why he would come for you. He hates you. When we mentioned that you would speak with him directly, he fled."
MiM sat up and turned toward North, his brown eyes intense. "No, North. He did not flee because he hates me. He fled because, as Obscurus said, he's ashamed of what happened to him and what happened between us. Pitch is my oldest friend, and Obscurus has admitted that Pitch still loves me. He hides in the dark because that is where he feels he belongs."
"But what about the Night Mares?" North asked.
"Ah, those were a pretty invention," Obscurus sighed. "He never would have learned to manipulate dreamsand if his mind hadn't slipped into my grasp again. He's rather fragile, you know. When he dwells on the shadows, he's as good as mine."
MiM frowned. "What I don't understand is why you want him. You've already tainted him. What else can you want him for?"
Obscurus grinned. "I get lonely," he said innocently.
"Liar. You have your reasons to want him, but I don't know what they are." MiM said coldly.
"I have my reasons," Obscurus said, his grin fading. Was it North's imagination, or was there actual unease in the dark eyes as they stared at MiM?
"You will tell me now, or I will figure it out. Your choice."
"Figure it out if you want," Obscurus hissed. He swept his black cloak behind him and stormed to the door. "I don't have time for you, Lunanoff."
"But if I were Prism, you'd have time," MiM said matter-of-factly.
The black eyes glanced back then the door slammed and there was a suctioning sound as it was sealed by magic. MiM clicked his tongue, then turned to North, who was still sitting down and staring at him.
"Are you well?" MiM asked.
"I… I do not understand, MiM," North stammered. "About Pitch. It hurts me to think of him. It always has. But should it be so?"
The Man in the Moon gazed at his friend for a moment then turned his eyes back onto the child-wraith. "No. It shouldn't be so, North. When we get out of here, I'll figure out how to free you from the veil he's shrouded you with. Until then, we must think of what to do."
"What are we going to do?"
"Wait for the others to wake. Then we'll tell them what we know. Then we try to escape. It should be interesting."
North shivered, staring at MiM and wishing for a fire. The light in the room was dim, and it was chilly. Still, he wanted to help, so he tore his eyes away from the Man in the Moon and went to check on his friends. They were all breathing, all alive, and they began to stir as North tried to rouse them. His mind was only half on his task, the other half thinking over all he'd learned and disturbed that he, a Guardian, the Spirit of Wonder, the immortal Santa Claus, could be fooled so easily into hatred, the one emotion he was loath to feel. And North tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he might hate Pitch because of something, no, someone outside of himself. He just couldn't do it, so he began to try and wake Sandy from the nightmares that plagued his friend, ignoring his conscience gnawing at him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch was suddenly aware, and for a few moments, he was confused as to what had just happened. Blinking up at the dark ceiling, he tried to remember what he'd been doing, then he realized he was lying in a hammock below deck. It took another minute of thinking before he came to the conclusion that he'd actually slept. He couldn't remember the last time he'd dared to sleep. And yet it had been a smooth sleep, undisturbed by memories and nightmares.
It was nice, he decided, to lay beneath the warm blanket and laze about, so for a few minutes, he let his mind drift here and there, not stopping on any definite thought. As his thoughts wandered, his mind went back to a familiar face. Anthea's young, fair visage passed through his mind. Had she visited him again? He usually didn't think about her unless she had. Perhaps she'd visited his dreams, frolicking in the fields that she had known while alive.
His pleasant musing was cut short by a violent jolt. The ship groaned, and Pitch was nearly thrown out of the hammock. Muttering a curse under his breath, he waited for the swaying to stop then heaved himself out of the makeshift bed. It had been nice while it lasted.
As he easily picked his way through the crates and supplies in the dark, the memory of what he was doing slammed into him.
Panic clutched at his heart as he scrambled to the deck. He had defeated the Void Serpent, but worse was out there, and what if Jack and Nightlight had just hit the next obstacle? And here he was sleeping with the two boys in danger! What had caused him to sleep? It was foolish for him to sleep anyway, what with Shadow Man's grip on his soul. The last time he'd slept had ended in disaster for more than just himself.
Shoving the hatch open, he emerged from the darkness of the hold. With a practiced eye, he swept his gaze across the whole length of the ship to find out what had happened. Jack was clutching the wheel, shouting up at Nightlight.
"No, you're other left!"
"There is only one left," Nightlight replied from the rigging. He had a smile on his face even as he turned to his left and untangled the ropes. "You're the one who hit the stupid thing, Jack."
"It came out of nowhere, Nightlight!" Jack argued.
"How? We are in space. Things don't 'come out of nowhere.' That only applies with gravity."
Jack was about to snap back when he glanced around and saw Pitch. "Oh! Darn! We woke him up!"
Nightlight glanced down as he finished with the ropes then leaped down with nimble grace. "Good morrow, Prism. How did you sleep?"
Pitch couldn't stop the horrified question that leaped from his lips. "Why was I asleep?" he demanded hoarsely.
The tone in his voice made both boys tense, and Nightlight frowned. "Is that a bad thing?"
Pitch swallowed, passing a hand over his eyes. "It…it can be," he whispered. He tried to change the subject. "What did we hit?"
"Hunk of rock or something," Jack said. He locked the steering column and hopped the railing to the deck. "Why is sleeping bad? I mean, I know you don't sleep much. I've never seen you do it, at least, but sleep is good for you, right?"
"For me?" Pitch asked, shifting his weight. "No, Frost. Sleep is not good for me."
"Why not?" Jack asked, leaning against the wall of the cabin.
Pitch gritted his teeth then let out a breath. "The last time I fell asleep, Frost, Shadow Man took control of me, forced me to learn how to transform dreamsand into nightmare dust, created a creature from that dust, and used me to try and destroy the hopes and dreams of children all over Earth."
Whatever Jack and Nightlight thought his answer would be, that was not it. Jack's blue eyes widened, and he stiffened, his pale face turning almost as white as his hair as the blood drained from it. Nightlight, who had heard Jack speak of what had happened with Pitch and the Night Mares off and on for over a week, pressed his thin lips together and crossed his arms.
"So we made a mistake sending you to sleep," Nightlight said.
"But the girl told us to," Jack argued. "And nothing bad happened."
Pitch blinked. "Girl?" He paused and the familiar golden face appeared before his mind's eye. "Anthea? She was here?"
Jack turned back to him. "You don't remember?"
The man shook his head. "No. I don't. She appeared?"
"Yeah. She told us to use the dreamsand to put you to sleep," Jack said.
Pitch snorted. "There was no dreamsand left. Nightlight used the last of it last week."
"No, there was dreamsand," Jack said.
There was a pause, then a hint of a smile played around Pitch's lips. "That's why I wasn't taken over. She watched over me."
"Who is Anthea?" Nightlight asked.
"An Earthling," Pitch said shortly.
"I've never seen a human all shimmery like she was," Jack said. "And she disappeared after you said something about a promise. No human can do that."
"No. A living human can't do that unless Lunar interferes," Pitch said. He walked up the steps to the wheel as Jack's mouth fell open.
"Wait…" he said, unsure. "So she's…"
"Dead," Pitch affirmed.
"She was a child," Nightlight said.
"She never grew up," Jack surmised.
"No," Pitch replied.
Nightlight bit his bottom lip then sat down, staring expectantly at Pitch. Pitch glanced down as Jack blinked at the light boy. He sighed.
"It's not a pleasant story, Nightlight," he said.
"Story?" Jack asked then flung himself down, his eyes bright and eager. "You're going to tell us a story?"
"I suppose if you insist," Pitch replied, unlocking the wheel. Jack and Nightlight nodded.
Pitch sighed again then, as he began to guide the ship again, spoke in a faraway voice. "After the Moon Clipper had settled around Earth, after Shadow Man caught me and drained me, after I left the moon for Earth to protect Lunar from myself, I was wandering around Earth, admiring how pretty the world is. I ran into a little girl. The grownups couldn't see me, but she could. She liked me and talked to me about the pretty flowers in the field. She told me that her name was Anthea, and she was a beautiful little girl, barely five years old at the time. As she walked away, she left me her flowers.
"I was intrigued and continued to visit her over the next few years, mostly at night to watch over her sleeping form. She was innocence that I did not possess anymore, and I watched her sleep many nights. And I quickly discovered that she was in danger. Her father drank wine. A lot of wine. And if she disobeyed, she was struck. He was not gentle, and every bruise he left on her body made me angry, but I could not touch the man. I was nothing more than smoke to him, an imaginary being that Anthea spoke of, only there in her eyes."
Pitch paused, his face going dark. "One night, it was too much. He hit her so hard that the damage was irreversible. She was lying on the floor, dying, and he left her there for more drink. So I picked her up and carried her away to the fields she loved so much. I was just out of my teens then, not quite as old physically as I am now, but she was almost weightless, as if her spirit were already slipping away. So I settled her amidst the wildflowers as she bled.
"She regained consciousness for about fifteen minutes before she died. She knew I was from the stars, and she asked if that's where she was going to go afterwards. I felt hollow inside, but I smiled at her, which was rare even back then, and I told her that there would be many flowers where she was going. She asked how I knew."
Pitch flinched and closed his eyes. Voices echoed around them, far away in time, a child's wavering voice, growing weaker and weaker, and Pitch's steady, low, soothing tone.
"I just know, Anthea."
"But how? Is this like how grownups know things?"
"No, dear. It's how a child knows things."
"I don't think I know very much. Grownups know everything."
"Well, you know about me. Grownups can't even see me. But you can."
There was a giggle. "Yeah." She paused. "I'll pick some flowers for you, Prism."
"Pick a whole bunch of flowers," he encouraged. "I'll be there one day, too."
"Aren't you afraid?" Anthea asked, her voice growing fainter.
"Of death?" Pitch asked. "No. I've never been afraid of death, Anthea. It's living that's difficult. Death is easy."
"But what's on the other side? Besides flowers."
A vision flashed through the boys' minds, and Pitch leaned down to press a kiss to her pale forehead. Where his lips touched, it shimmered and shone like light on shattered glass. Pitch was so much younger around the eyes, and there was a lightness around him instead of shadows. His skin seemed almost crystalline, and the moonlight that floated down sent a cascade of silvery light that surrounded him, making him look ethereal. His eyes glittered, shifting between gleaming silver and dusky gold. All fear fled from Anthea's young face, and she smiled. Then the light fled from her eyes and she lay still. And Pitch watched her face for a moment then reached up to close her eyes.
The vision faded, and both Jack and Nightlight blinked several times before settling their gazes on Pitch's thin, dark face. Tears gleamed on his cheeks, but he did not look the least bit ashamed. He guided the ship with a practiced hand, and his movements were steady. Nightlight sniffled and wiped his cheeks, and Jack realized that he, too, was crying.
"It is hard to see a child die," Nightlight said.
"Yeah, it is," Jack said, drawing his arm across his face. "I've seen about fifty freeze to death. They go all quiet in the end."
"Death is terrifying," Nightlight said.
"No, Nightlight," Pitch said solemnly. "It is not. Not to me."
"Why not?" Jack asked.
Pitch glanced down, his eyes gleaming just like in the vision. And they understood. It was hard to put into words, but they knew why Pitch didn't fear death. They knew that Pitch had felt death's cold threat many, many times, far more than they had. He did not welcome death, but he would embrace it when his time came. They knew without words that Pitch Black did not long for death, even after his rape, but that dark time had put things into perspective for him. And as if to confirm this, Pitch smiled a real, warm smile.
"Death," he said simply, "is the next great adventure, Jack."
And Jack smiled back, nodding. "I guess you're right. Peter Pan says something like that, too."
Pitch nodded, and his face grew serene again. "I have seen many children die. Thousands. Probably tens of thousands. And not one of them feared death in the end. They went off to the next world with a smile."
"Because of you," Jack said.
Pitch blinked. "What?"
"Because of that look you gave Anthea. That look you gave us," Jack persisted.
Pitch Black looked genuinely puzzled. "I only wished to ease their passing, Frost." He turned the wheel. "And I did nothing myself anyway. I just was there for them."
Jack opened his mouth to argue, but Nightlight pressed two thin fingers to his mouth to silence him. When Jack looked over, the boy of light shook his head and removed his fingers from the cold lips. He flew up to the crow's nest and Jack followed.
"Why'd you stop me?" Jack demanded.
"Now is not the time, Jack," Nightlight replied.
"But you know he can do it, right?"
"Yes," Nightlight said. "But let him be. He is happy right now. He is peaceful now."
"After thinking about Anthea's death?" Jack asked incredulously.
"You know as well as I that death does not frighten him," Nightlight answered. "And perhaps his connection to the dark helps him in this area. Perhaps there is something there that not even the little Lunanoff possesses. Something very precious."
Jack looked down at Pitch, who was steering the ship with ease, his posture relaxed. After a moment, he nodded.
"Just as precious as he is," he mused to himself, unaware that he'd spoken aloud.
Because he knew in his heart that Nightlight was right. There was something precious inside of Pitch, a power that even the Nightmare King himself was unaware that he possessed. And Jack knew it had something to do with that cold, frightening reality that was death itself and how it related to children. If only he knew what it was.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch's keen eyes studied the shimmering wall in front of them. It was a net-like mass, dark red crystals lining its surface. It reminded him of Shadow Man's eyes. Nightlight said that this was the final barrier, the one he hadn't dared to cross.
They had steered through a maze-like asteroid field a few days earlier. It was full of small creatures, but nothing attacked them. With Pitch at the wheel and Nightlight and Jack flying out in the darkness to map out the route, the maze had been simple. The corpses of two shadowy monsters had been at the center, wrapped around each other in the throes of a fight. They'd killed each other, leaving the path free.
It was almost a nonevent, but Pitch knew worse things lay ahead. And this net was it. Pitch didn't know what the point was. He reached forward to brush the net. It went straight through. The crystals were rough, the dark net soft and wispy, like a spiderweb. Pitch pulled his hand back, and the webby material stuck to him. But other than that, nothing happened.
"Well?" Jack asked, staring uneasily at the obstacle.
"No pain," Pitch replied. "But that doesn't mean anything. It's probably mental."
"Can we go around?"
"Do you think Shadow Man would make it that easy?"
Jack grimaced. "No."
They gazed at the net for another few moments then Pitch moved to the wheel. "Well, brace yourselves," he said grimly. "This will be nasty, whatever it is."
Pitch pressed the ship forward, watching as the net began to wrap around the ship. It hit Nightlight first, and nothing happened. Jack was next, and he flinched, but other than that, it had no effect. Pitch closed his eyes as the web closed over him, engulfing him in a sticky mass. He waited.
Nothing.
They all looked at each other, and Pitch shrugged. Nightlight reached up and began to tug the net away, but suddenly it tightened its grip on the entire ship. It disappeared into the wood of the hull with no adverse effect, but as it tightened over the living beings, the crystals burst, flooding a viscous, blood-like substance over their skin. For an instant, Pitch heard Jack and Nightlight wail then everything went dark.
Pitch's heart thundered in his ears as silence reigned. Where was he? What was going on? He couldn't remember anything. All he knew was blackness. Then arms wrapped around him, a hand covering his mouth as a long, slimy tongue slithered into his ear. And Pitch screamed in terror as fear engulfed him.
All else was forgotten as he struggled in the arms of the man who wanted to hurt him. He was too weak, too young to get away. He wished more than ever that Tsar and Tsarina weren't dead. They would protect him. But they were gone, and the tongue was disgusting and wet as it trailed down his cheek. Fingers tugged at his clothes and Prism tried to pry himself away. And as the hand moved away from his mouth, he shrieked for help, but a part of him knew that nobody would answer. He screamed louder anyway, hoping for a miracle.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
North trailed behind MiM, who peeked around another corner. Despite the precarious nature of their freedom, the Man in the Moon didn't seem worried. Bunnymund, Sandy, and Toothiana were huddled behind North, glancing around fearfully. They were all tormented by the hundreds of wraiths that were scattered throughout the dark tunnels. Their sobs and wails grated against the Guardians' ears, almost mocking them: You can't help us? Why not?! Help us!
MiM moved forward again, walking into a cavernous room. An orb rested in the middle of the room, covered in dust. This orb excited the Man in the Moon greatly. He walked forward, his brown eyes glittering with his unearthly light, and he ran his fingers over the dark, smooth surface.
"What is it, Manny?" North asked, peering around at all of the tunnels that branched out from the cavern.
Sandy stepped forward, forming symbols out of his sand that North didn't understand. He knew it was a question, but the word was unfamiliar. But MiM nodded.
"Exactly, Sandy," he murmured. "It looks intact… No cracks… No abnormalities… Do you think it works?"
Sandy shrugged, and North looked down at MiM.
"What is it?" he repeated.
The Sandman flashed his symbol again, but MiM laughed softly. "They don't know that word, Sanderson. It's not an Earthly word."
Sandy blinked then nodded, and the Man in the Moon pressed his palm onto the black orb. It lit up with a silver light, flashing like lightning and illuminating the cavern. MiM gave a soft cry of delight, brushing the cobwebs and dust from the surface. It was bright and perfect, and it was more light than they had seen in weeks. Colors played across its surface, swirling in meaningless patterns.
"Show me the children," MiM said. "Are they safe?"
And the orb pulsed for a second then projected an image up. It was the Earth, but it started shifting through scenes. There were happy children playing around, a boy with ice cream, a group of children playing soccer, but then the scenes shifted so rapidly that the other four Guardians got dizzy and looked at MiM's face. He was staring intently at the scenarios, completely unfazed by the speed. After a whole minute, he nodded.
"Now show me the Spirits on Earth."
Unable to help themselves, the four Guardians looked back up to see slower images, and these people they recognized. There were Autumn and Summer, the Groundhog and the Leprechaun, and about a hundred other faces they knew. But their expressions were dark, and the scenes were bloody, full of rage and fear. MiM didn't look happy.
"Obscurus has inflamed them," he murmured then looked up at the four Spirits standing before him. "You are all very lucky that you are so close to me, that you came after me. I fear what you would do with the power you wield if you were under his influence on Earth."
North and Toothiana were pale, Sandy looked grim, and Bunnymund's ears were slicked back. None of them had a word to speak as they saw Spirits they knew to be kind and gentle fighting and arguing and hurting each other. But then MiM frowned deeply, his eyes traveling over the faces that began to rotate through again.
"Where's Jack?" he mused.
"What?" North asked, tearing his gaze away from the shifting images.
"Jack. He wasn't there."
Sandy stepped forward. "Ask. It should show you."
MiM nodded, brushed his hand over the surface, and said, "Show me Jack Frost."
And the orb faltered for a moment then flashed again. And they all heard Jack screaming bloody murder. He was wrapped in dark webs, covered in red goo. His body thrashed against the dark boards beneath him. Tears streaked down his face, and he clawed the air as if fighting an invisible enemy. MiM paled.
"More! Show more!" he ordered, his voice rising an octave.
And the orb pulled out to show a ship, a dark ship in the midst of the stars. Two more figures writhed around, one on the deck, the other by the ship's wheel. The one on the deck was a boy that glowed even more brightly than MiM did, though it was tinted a ghastly red. His mouth was open in a silent scream as he gripped his head, shaking all over. The other form was the one that MiM looked to.
"Show me Prism," he demanded.
"Who?" Toothiana asked.
Then the orb zoomed in on the man who was cowering against the wheel, flailing and shuddering. The others gaped when they realized who it was.
"Pitch!" Bunnymund gasped, his eyes widening. "MiM! What's going on?"
MiM ignored Bunnymund completely, all of his attention on his old friend. And the four Guardians saw the Man in the Moon's face twist with indescribable agony as he stared at Pitch, who was sucking in great breaths, his pupils dilated, his gaze far away, as if he were lost in his own mind. He was fighting like Jack was, trying to get away from an invisible enemy.
"Prism!" MiM called, tears gleaming in his dark eyes. "Prism, it's a bad dream! Wake up!"
And then, to the surprise of the Guardians, even Sandy, Pitch stilled, his chest heaving as he looked around him, his gaze still far away.
"Lunar!" he screeched, sounding more terrified than anybody they Guardians had ever heard. "Lunar! Help me! Please!"
"Prism! It's not real!" MiM called back. "Fight it! Obscurus has you! It's a trick!"
"He's going to hurt me again! I don't want him to touch me! He's licking me! He's trying to hurt me, Lunar! Make it stop! Please!"
Pitch looked so defeated, so panicked, and MiM closed his eyes for a moment then breathed out. His glow became brighter and brighter, and he reached over to touch the orb.
"I'm here, Prism," he cooed, then he grew so bright that none of the four Guardians could even look at him anymore.
The room was so bright that they could see every detail of the cavern, and their fear retreated with the darkness. Even Sandy had never seen a Tsar of the Golden Age in all his glory, and this surpassed anything that he had ever known. The glare hurt even his eyes, and he audibly gasped and squinted to see the image of Pitch Black. He had stilled. What was going on? He had never heard of an Orb being able to convey voice and image, but something was happening, and he was fascinated.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Pitch strained to hear Lunar again. Was his old friend simply in his head? If he was, he needed to hear him again. When Lunar spoke, the fingers loosened their grip, the tongue seemed almost phantom-like, and he could breathe a little. He was about to call for Lunar again, desperate to be free of the present moment. Then light slashed at his sensitive eyes, and he cried out, shielding his face. He heard Lunar reassure him that he was there, and Pitch gasped for breath. He knew that light.
It was the same light that had greeted him as a child when the Tsar and Tsarina had first come to his dark home. It was the light that had radiated from the two Golden Age beings all throughout the years that he had known them. It was the light that Lunar had tried to tap into so many times, exhausting himself to the point of deep sleep. And it looked as if Lunar had finally found his own light, for it was Lunar's light, there was no doubt about that, and it was beautiful. It didn't hurt his eyes as the Tsar's had, as the Tsarina's had. It soothed him, and suddenly he could see where he was. He was wrapped in a net and covered in something red on his ship.
'Gotta get it off,' he thought, struggling to his feet.
He threw himself down to the deck and scrambled over to a barrel of water. Shuddering, he picked up a bucket, ducked it in, then doused himself. The red gushed down his body, landed on the deck, and immediately dissipated. Pitch found himself free, and he stumbled back, sitting down hard, sucking in great gasps. He hardly knew what was going on anymore. Lunar's light still shone on him, and he glanced around in bewilderment to see Jack and Nightlight writhing and fighting, covered in the same viscous red goo.
Pitch swore and shot to his feet. He dipped the bucket in the water again and half-ran over to Jack, throwing the bucketful of water over his thrashing form. Jack shrieked in surprise then stopped as the red substance fell away from him, his blue eyes blinking as if he were confused. Pitch didn't wait, hurrying back to the barrel to scoop up more water. He drenched Nightlight, and the light boy let out a yell and cowered away then blinked up with his wide, luminescent eyes.
"Prism!" he squeaked. "What…What's going on?"
Pitch shook his head, tossing the bucket aside, then sat down and hugged himself as he looked back where they'd been. The net was still there, unaffected by their passage.
"Fear," he croaked. "It was a fear barrier."
Jack and Nightlight blinked at him then burst into tears. Pitch, still terrified, felt as if he could offer no comfort, but still, he crawled over and pulled them both against him. The light was gone, and he wasn't sure if it had ever been there. He clutched the two boys, shaking and shivering and holding back his own tears. He felt as if kind eyes were on him, so he ducked down, holding the two boys tight, unable to speak.
Pitch was still afraid, but not of the vision. He'd had nightmares like that for years. It was an old enemy, one that didn't matter in the light of day. No, now he was afraid that Lunar's light hadn't been in his mind, that his old friend was somehow watching him, seeing him as he was, a tainted victim of another man's lust, and that terrified him more than anything else. How could someone so pure look on something as filthy, as unworthy as him? He didn't have an answer besides the tears that slid down his cheeks.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
MiM's light was soft now, the gentle, unearthly glow that they had always known. But they would never be able to look at the small man the same way again. They had seen the full power and glory of the Golden Age in him, and they were awed and a little afraid. Now they knew more closely who the Man in the Moon really was, what his capabilities were, and for the moment, they were not afraid of Obscurus. In fact, they guessed that MiM's power was the reason they weren't in immediate danger from the Shadow Man.
MiM watched Pitch hold the two boys as they cried into his shoulders. They were terrified, and they would be for a while. MiM wanted to make sure they were alright, but he couldn't risk it. Using his power like that would have sent out a clear signal. They had to act fast. He passed his hand over the orb's surface and turned to Sandy.
"Sanderson, I need enough sand to create a mimic of this. Quickly."
Sandy blinked at him for a moment then nodded and began to pull out dreamsand. The Guardians watched in fascination as, with a word of ancient power, fire erupted around the ball of sand, turning it to glass. With swift, precise movements, MiM grabbed the orb, shrank it down, and put it in his pocket, and placed the new orb in its place. Another word and dust coated the room, and the orb turned as black and listless as the first one had been. He took a step back, turned, and glared at a passage. A minute later, Obscurus appeared.
"Found the Orb, have you?"
"Yes," MiM said. "It won't work."
"Broken," Obscurus groused. "It wouldn't work for me, either. I guess it must be useless if the Tsar can't use it." He shook his head then clapped. Shadows slithered up behind him. "They will escort you to your cell again."
And MiM docilely followed the shadows, striding with purpose. The others followed, and for the first time since the light, they were afraid again, but not for themselves. Obscurus might have an idea of who the Man in the Moon was, but he was sorely mistaken in believing that he could beat him.
Unbeknownst to them, MiM was thinking the same thing, but not about himself. He had been thinking deeply since his last conversation with Obscurus. There were only a few reasons he could think of that the Shadow Man would be so eager to destroy Pitch. One in particular stood out, and it played across his mind in a shimmering prismatic display, a memory of his childhood with Pitch. Because Pitch was also from the Golden Age, and he was a being unlike anybody else that Lunar had ever met. And he doubted Obscurus had ever met a more resilient soul, either. And it was Pitch's resilience, his special resistance to the dark, that scared Obscurus.
Because that was the root of it all. Obscurus was scared of Pitch Black. Pitch didn't yet know it. But once he did, MiM thought, the tables would be turned, and it would be Obscurus who would fall.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The planet was completely dark, so far away from any stars that it was almost a void. Jack saw Pitch and Nightlight exchange a meaningful look, and he leaped down from the crow's nest, landing with gentle ease on the deck. He swung his staff up to rest on his shoulder and strode over to Pitch, whose lips were pressed tightly together, his sharp eyes resting on the dark surface as the ship glided noiselessly down toward the uneven ground.
"You know where we are," Jack said.
"Yes," Pitch replied, but he said nothing more.
"Nightlight knows, too."
"Yes."
Jack frowned. "Well then, where are we?"
"Tenebris," Nightlight said, landing beside Jack, his spear clutched in his fist as his eyes narrowed at the black mass.
"Which is?"
Pitch finally tore his gaze away from the planet's surface. "My homeworld."
Jack blinked. "Shadow Man went to your home planet? Why?"
"Darkness is a friend of Shadow Man," Nightlight replied as Pitch shook his head, his jaw clenched. "And Tenebris is very dark and deep."
"Deep?" Jack asked, unease working its way into his voice.
"There are tunnels beneath the surface," Pitch said. "Many, many tunnels. They won't be on the surface. If they're here, they'll be in the tunnels. With no light." He studied the planet's still surface again, seeing more with his sharp eyes than either boy could hope to see from this far away, then turned back to Jack. "I will be fine with no light. Nightlight will not need a light for himself. You, on the other hand, need light."
Jack nodded as the ship moved ever closer to the planet. Soon they would land, and then they would have to go down into the tunnels. In the dark. And it wasn't the dark that scared them. It was the creature that waited in those dark tunnels. Jack wanted to flee this still, dark world, but they all knew that there was no turning back. They knew that the moment they saw that net the day before. It was a barrier that was meant to keep prisoners in as well as unwanted guests out, and none of them wanted to relive the terror they'd experienced.
Jack shuddered, wrapping his free hand around his body. Unbidden, the images of Autumn came forward again, Autumn demeaning him, taunting him, beating him without end, telling him that he wasn't a Guardian, that MiM had made a big mistake. Autumn's fist flashed before his face, coming in fast, and Jack yelped, stepping back. Pitch's hands caught him, and he was pulled close. Jack was bewildered for a moment before relaxing into the grip. Of course Pitch knew what was going on. Pitch could read fear like a book.
"It's alright, Jack," Pitch crooned. Nightlight automatically moved to take the wheel.
"How are you okay?" Jack asked, trembling.
Pitch didn't reply, so Nightlight spoke behind them. "I would like to know that, too."
The Nightmare King sighed. "It's a nightmare I am well familiar with. I've lived with it ever since it happened. I can't escape the reality of what happened."
"Nor can I," Nightlight said softly.
"What did you see?" Jack asked, pulling back and wiping his wet eyes.
Nightlight cringed. Neither of them had the nerve to ask what the others had seen. They both knew that Pitch knew because of his connection to fear. There was a moment of hesitation where they were unsure if they could bear to speak of it, but after a few seconds, Nightlight sighed and answered.
"My parents."
Jack paused. Never had he heard Nightlight speak of his time before the Tsar and Tsarina. Pitch's expression was grim as he nodded.
"I understand."
"You saw your parents, too?" Nightlight asked.
"No. I was a child with Obscurus," Pitch said.
No questions followed. They both understood that statement, as much as it disgusted them. It was a more horrifying experience than either of them had, and yet their own fears seemed more real. They glanced at each other, guilt working into their expressions. Pitch shook his head as the ship touched down on the surface of the planet.
"Don't compare," he said. "Fear is a personalized experience. Your fears are just as valid."
Nightlight released the wheel and locked it then stood straight. "Thank you, Prism," he said. "I needed to hear that."
"Me, too," Jack said softly.
Pitch paused then sighed. "You should talk about your fears," he said, crossing his arms. "It will help to allay them. They will be exacerbated in those tunnels."
Nightlight nodded, taking a deep breath. "I know." He shivered. "I do not like thinking of my time with my family, Jack. Even Prism knows little about it."
"And yet I know far more than Lunar," Pitch replied darkly.
The boy of light gave a small smile. "That's true. You were beaten when you were with your own family. Tsar and Tsarina were more my family than anybody else. But I can still see my own parents in my nightmares."
"So…" Jack hesitated for a moment. "What did you see?"
Nightlight clenched his jaw and breathed heavily. "The last day I was with my parents. If you can call it a day. My planet had as much light as this one. I was the brightest thing there, and I fared as well as Prism did when he was a boy. I told him once that those who live in the dark despise the light. I knew that from personal experience."
The boy of light dimmed as he shivered. "They were so angry with me. The Tsar invited me to go with them. The Tsarina was heavy with child, and they knew with their curious wisdom that I had more power than I knew of. When he extended the invitation, I was excited. I craved adventure, light, and a chance to get away. So I accepted, then I went to tell my family."
Nightlight paused. "I had never received such a beating. The words they said I won't repeat. They were the foulest words we had in our culture. I was a traitor in their eyes, and I was no longer welcome. So I stumbled back to the Moon Clipper without a thing. My possessions were all taken by the tribe, and I was too ashamed to knock at the door for many hours. It was the Tsarina that found me, bloody and bruised, half-asleep outside of their ship. She tended to my wounds, and she wiped away my tears. It was then that I became loyal to the Lunanoffs. But in the nightmare, I did not get to the comfort. I was being beaten."
Jack nodded. "Trapped in your scariest moment," he said. "That was my reality, too."
"What did you see?" Nightlight asked.
Jack flushed and turned to glare at nothing. "Autumn."
"Who?"
Jack took a deep breath and let it ease out. Nightlight had no idea who any of the Spirits from Earth were. He hated that he had to go into it, but he finally planted his staff and leaned on it.
"Autumn is the Spirit of the season of Fall on Earth. He was picked years after me by Lunar and turned into the embodiment of his season. He's a grownup. They all are, I guess, except me. And he's a loudmouth braggart that despises me. He bullies me and picks on me and I can't do a thing about it."
"Why not?" Nightlight asked.
Jack glanced at him. "He's bigger and stronger than me."
"While he might be bigger in stature, Frost, there is no way he's as strong as you," Pitch replied.
"He's a grownup!" Jack exclaimed bitterly. "He's got more muscles than me!"
Pitch froze for a moment then did something that neither boy expected. He laughed. It was a startling noise, and Jack and Nightlight stared at him with their mouths agape. And Pitch couldn't seem to stop. Jack grinned, unable to help himself even though he was bewildered, and he met Nightlight's eyes. The boy of light raised his eyebrows and leaned over.
"Watch him," he breathed, his luminescent eyes gleaming.
And Jack's gaze fell upon Pitch again. He gasped, his blue eyes widening at the image before him. The charcoal grey skin was lightening, turning dusky silver, a glimmer of colors ringing his body as the starlight coursed through him. And the longer he laughed, the brighter he became, the more defined the ripple of colors became. And as the rainbow of light lit up the dark planet, Jack finally understood the name that had been bestowed upon the man in front of him by the Tsar and Tsarina. Every inch of exposed skin glowed and sent out refractions of rainbows. It was the most beautiful sight that Jack had ever seen.
"Prism," he hissed, and Nightlight laughed in his ear.
"Exactly. I've never seen anything like it."
Neither had Jack, and he smiled as Pitch finally calmed down. He swiped his sleeve across his eyes and giggled, a boyish noise that made Jack grin with delight.
"Oh, Jack," he sighed. "I haven't laughed in so long."
"Did I say something funny?" Jack asked cheekily.
"Strength is not just muscle, Jack," Pitch said, a bright smile still hovering on his lips. "You never fought back because you didn't think you were allowed to. You're allowed to defend yourself."
Jack blinked. For a moment, he was too surprised to speak. Because that was the issue. He had never had anybody tell him that he was allowed to fight Autumn. The other Guardians had taken the problem into their own hands, but it was Jack's problem, not theirs. And Pitch had just told him the solution. This time, it was Jack that laughed, a brief burst of relief that made Pitch's smile widen.
"Thanks, Prism," he sighed.
Pitch's smile faded. "What?"
"Thanks," Jack repeated.
Something was wrong with the man. The silvery glow that made his skin so unique began to darken. Jack watched in dismay as all joy drained from Pitch's demeanor and darkness flashed into his skin and then his expression. And Prism was there no longer. He was staring at Pitch Black, grim and solemn.
"Why did you call me Prism?" Pitch asked, his jaw clenched.
Jack blinked, staring at the dark man before him. All color and light were gone, but it was still the same person. How was that possible? How could such beauty be contained in such a dark form? Jack looked Pitch up and down, aware of the question that Pitch was waiting for an answer for. He rubbed his chin, tilting his head then spoke, his voice hesitant and unsure.
"You… you lit up," Jack stammered. "All rainbows and silver."
Pitch's eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed. A wall came down, and Jack felt more cut off from Pitch than ever before. Pitch snorted, turning away with a bitter expression on his face. When he spoke, his words were emotionless.
"Very funny, Frost."
"What?" Jack asked. He stared in disbelief at Pitch. "You did! You were refracting!"
"I am no longer able to do that. Don't tease me."
A hint of depression, of anger, was in his tone. And to Jack, this was the most self-deprecating thing Pitch had ever said, and it enraged him. The boy of snow and ice knew that Pitch was special, knew that there was goodness inside of him, and that rainbow of light he saw convinced him of it. He might not know the full extent of Pitch's goodness, of his magic, but he knew enough. And Jack Frost refused to allow Pitch to believe that lie.
He flushed, his cheeks turning purple. "I am not lying, Pitch." The boy grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Pitch blinked in surprise, catching his balance on the wheel as Jack met his silvery-gold eyes with his bright blue ones. "You can sense lies, right? So, I'll say it again, and you tell me if I'm lying." He paused, stood straight, and said clearly, "You were refracting."
Pitch's cheeks darkened. His eyes were no longer shining, and he looked uneasy. Jack saw a war raging in his mind, and he wished he knew how to touch Pitch's mind like Pitch could touch his. Pitch's expression pinched, and he slumped his shoulders. There was no longer a confident grownup in front of him. Instead, there was pain in his eyes, a deep, aching pain that broke Jack's heart.
"It's impossible," he grumbled, hugging himself like a child.
"Why?" Jack demanded; he wasn't going to back down that easily. "Why is it impossible?"
"Drop it, Frost," Pitch said tightly, trying to turn around.
Jack snagged his shoulder and backed him up against the railing. "No," he replied. "Why is it that you believe you can't refract anymore?"
Pitch searched the earnest eyes in front of him, looking for truth. He finally lowered his head, his bottom lip trembling as he passed a hand over his eyes. "I'm too broken. I'm… I'm cracked."
"That just means that the light can refract even more," Nightlight said wisely.
Pitch hesitated. The two boys weren't lying. He could tell. But how was it possible? He hadn't refracted in years. He needed to be sure.
"I… I really refracted?" he asked, his voice small.
"Just as brilliantly as ever, Prism," the boy of light assured him.
They saw the moment that Pitch Black believed them. His skin lightened a shade, and a small smile graced his face. There was still doubt in his heart, but he knew that something must have happened. He looked pleased as he answered.
"Well, if you say so."
He looked out over the planet the sighed. "We need to get ready. Jack, grab food from the crates. I have a pack for you."
"Food?" Nightlight asked. "Why food?"
"To strengthen Lunar and the Guardians," Pitch replied. "We need to be at top strength. Now, get me a clean sheet of star map paper. We'll see how well I remember those tunnels."
Both boys scrambled to obey, and Pitch strode down the stairs to sit at the navigation table. He had a map to draw. Then they would go down into the tunnels and face their fears yet again. But to Pitch's surprise, he felt more ready than before. And he knew the boys did, too. And for a moment he marveled, then he uncapped the ink and took the paper from Nightlight. After a moment, he dipped his quill in and began to draw.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack's heart thundered in his chest, and he glanced down once again at the fire cupped in his palm, a bright spot of blue that illuminated the labyrinthine tunnels he was traveling through. He had checked several rooms for the other Guardians, but he hadn't found them yet. He was searching for another room big enough to be a prison. Squinting down at the map, he traced his path then turned right at the next intersection.
The tunnel stopped abruptly in a dead-end, and Jack cursed under his breath then paused. The map had been completely accurate until this moment. He scanned it again, checking to make sure he was right. There should have been a decent-sized cavern in front of him. On a whim, he drew his fingers over the wall, and he immediately regretted it. It was sticky and dark, bringing to mind the fears. He brought the fire closer and saw that it was a door.
He stood there, studying it for several minutes then glanced at the fire. It was the same kind of fire that Pitch had shown him on Earth. He knew how to make it again if it went out, and he had plenty of ingredients hidden in the pocket dimension he had slung on his back, so he thought about what he needed. I need a light strong enough to shatter the darkness that protects this room.
And the light blinded him, becoming so fierce that he thought he'd go blind. With a gasp of shock, he threw the fire forward and it engulfed the door. There was a hiss as the shadows disappeared and the door began to burn. Within seconds, it was gone, and Jack blinked furiously, rubbing his eyes to try and reacquaint with the dimness. A hand touched him, and he lashed out, sending out a burst of frost so cold that it would burn a normal human. There was a yelp followed by a Russian curse. Jack knew that voice.
"North!" he gasped. "Sorry. I can't see. Stupid fire blinded me."
"Come on in, Jack," a soft voice said, sounding pleased. "North, please lead him over here. Poor thing can't see. I can help him."
North grumbled. "As long as he doesn't attack me again."
Jack laughed, the sound breaking into the darkness and he could feel the room lighten. North grabbed his hand and guided him forward. He pressed his hands onto the boy's shoulder, and Jack went to his knees. Small hands gripped his face, and the same pleasant voice spoke, both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
"Close your eyes, Jack."
Jack obeyed, and there was a soft pressure. When he opened his eyes, a gentle glow met his gaze. He blinked, smiling, and then he scanned the owner of the nice voice. He knew who it was immediately. The small, round man, with a bald head and bright eyes, smiled back at him and brushed his hair back in a fatherly fashion. The gentle glow was radiating from his very core, and it reminded him of Pitch's rainbow, only it was more constant and less colorful.
"Lunar!" Jack exclaimed. "Gee, thanks!"
The Man in the Moon jumped a little, blinking at him in surprise for a moment, then he smiled again. "Any time. We didn't expect you for a few more days."
Jack nodded, slinging the pack off of his back. "Pitch didn't want us to linger on the net. He said lingering on fear is bad for you. And if anybody knows what he's talking about, it's the Nightmare King, am I right?" He paused. "That was you that helped him, right?"
"Yes, Jack."
"Cool," Jack glanced at the door. The fire was still burning in the doorway, and he hummed. "I bet if I remove the fire, the door will reform."
"Would it?" Lunar asked pleasantly.
"I betcha it would. I'm not supposed to be found out yet. Not until Nightlight finds your weapons and stuff."
Before any of the other Guardians could talk, Jack strode over, leaned down, and scooped up the fire. North, Toothiana, and Bunnymund gave a cry of fear, but Jack didn't seem bothered. As he'd predicted, the dark door reformed, and he smiled triumphantly. Turning, he walked back over and set the fire on the floor. Then he began to pull things out of the black pack he'd brought. The Guardians were interested in the fire. They couldn't tell what kind it was. It crackled merrily like an Earth fire, but there was a tinge of blue light they didn't understand.
"What is this, Jack?" Lunar asked, leaning close.
"Pitch calls it a Sparking Paradox," he said idly.
"I've never seen anything like it," Lunar murmured. "You touched it, yet you didn't get burned. You, of all people!"
"It's not hot for me," Jack explained. "It changes depending on the needs of the person who looks at it."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You guys probably see a normal fire with some blue stuff in it, right?" They all nodded. "Well, that's because you think it's a normal fire, and I lit it. First time I saw it, it was black because Pitch had lit it. Right now, it's a soft blue light for me. But it can be whatever you want. It can be hot or cold, red, blue, black, green, purple, whatever you want."
He glanced up to see them thinking to themselves, and he wondered what they saw. North grinned and laughed, a booming noise, while Sandy flashed several symbols of wonder. Toothiana squealed, and Bunnymund tilted his head, his green eyes gleaming. Jack giggled, then he focused on pulling out the rest of the feast. To his great amusement, it was North that recognized what he had first.
"Food!"
Every eye turned to him. Jack grinned and nodded. "Food. Pitch says to eat all you can. Get your strength back. We have plenty. You can eat it cold or hot. Just use the fire to heat it up. It's all cooked already. I have some drink in here somewhere…"
He looked into the pack then shoved his entire arm down into the depths, shocking everybody once again. Sandy clapped and made several unknown symbols, and Lunar nodded.
"It's a pocket dimension, Sanderson. You're completely right. Pitch must have had one."
"One?" Jack asked, heaving his arm up and out with a jug in his hands. "I think he said he had three on board the ship and more on Earth."
That surprised Lunar and Sandy more than anybody else, and Lunar leaned forward. "He has multiple pocket dimensions?"
"Is that important?" Bunnymund asked, reaching for a piece of meat.
"They have become rarer and rarer since the Golden Age," Sandy said solemnly. "The art of making them has faded from memory."
"Pitch knows how," Jack said pointedly.
More silence then Lunar leaned close again. "Prism is certainly surprising."
Jack's eyes lit up. "Oh, yeah. Prism is certainly surprising." He beamed at them then gestured down at the huge pile of food. "Eat up. As much as you want. I have lots more, and it's going to take a few days for the plan to come together. There are a lot of tunnels."
Jack picked up a piece of a strange, cold fish, and he took a bite as the others dug in. They were looking thin and hungry, and they were very eager for food, and especially for drink. It took about half an hour for them to be satisfied, and they leaned back, satiated for the moment. They glanced back at Jack and saw him tracing some black lines on a paper, mouthing to himself. He shook his head and reached into his hoodie, pulling out a small crystal.
Lunar immediately became interested, and his glow brightened as Jack began to murmur against the crystal. He waited then nodded and spoke again. North opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Lunar held up his hand, staring intently at Jack as the boy nodded and slid the crystal back into his shirt. He pressed his finger against the paper and a mark appeared in blue. Lunar cleared his throat.
"Is that the connection crystal that Prism and Nightlight used to use?"
"Yep," Jack said, trailing his finger over the lines, leaving blue behind it. "Pitch gave it to me."
"And the paper?"
"A map of the tunnels."
"Map?" Toothiana asked, perking up as her wings fluttered.
"Yep."
"Why do you have a map?" Lunar asked.
Jack paused then looked up. "Because Pitch drew it."
"How could he know the tunnels?" Bunnymund asked, his ears slicking back with anger.
Lunar turned sharply. "You're doing it again."
The Pooka flinched. "Sorry."
Jack stared at them, looking wary, almost afraid. "You're… sorry? That you were mad… at Pitch?"
There was the dreaded flash of a shadow, then it passed. Lunar sighed. "I will find a way to get rid of it when we get back to Earth, Jack." He glanced at the boy. "Yes, I know of the shadows. Yes, I know it has to do with Pitch. It's from Obscurus."
"The veil," Jack muttered, shaking his head. "I hate seeing them like that. It scares me."
"Seeing us like what?" Toothiana asked.
"Seeing you hate somebody. Because you do hate him," Jack said bitterly. "You hate, him and you don't know why, but you hate every bit of him! I can't stand it!"
He slammed his fist down, and ice spread out across the dark floor. Lunar stood up and went over to Jack, sitting right beside him and wrapping an arm around him. Tears slid down Jack's face, but he didn't brush them away. Instead, he held the map out.
"We're here," he said, pointing at a dark splotch in the maze of tunnels. "I just heard from Nightlight, and he's checked several of these over here." He pointed at several blue splotches that he'd marked. "I checked these four looking for you, so I know the weapons aren't there." Another gesture at more blue splotches. "And we figure that Shadow Man is here." He pointed at the largest cavern.
"Makes sense," Lunar said, reaching up to wipe away the tears. "But how does Pitch know these tunnels?"
Jack looked up and smiled. "We're on Tenebris."
Lunar nodded. "His home planet. I see. That makes sense. It would be a good place for Obscurus to base his operations."
There was a noise, and Jack shot up. Somebody was coming, and he moved fast. Within seconds, the remains of the food were dumped into the pocket dimension, along with the map and the fire. Then Jack threw the bag down and sat on it, hiding it. He crossed his arms and glared at the door as it creaked open. Shadow Man walked in and looked around, his gaze lingering on Jack before he pulled somebody from behind him. It was Pitch.
"You know them, Prism-boy," he said, as sweet as a cavity. "If they don't kill you, I will."
And Obscurus threw him across the room. Pitch slammed into the wall then dropped to the floor. He didn't move. Obscurus laughed, then he focused on Jack.
"As for you, boy. I want to know how you got in here."
Jack stuck out his tongue. Obscurus took several steps forward, and there was a flash of movement. Pitch had gotten up with such remarkable speed that none of the Guardians had seen. He stood in front of Jack, looking ready to rip the Shadow Man's head off. And they saw something strange happen. Obscurus actually hesitated as he stared at Pitch's dark, drawn face, and his fierce, bright eyes. And then he stepped back.
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you can't get out again. You will both be dead soon."
He turned and strode toward the door then paused and took two steps to the corner. He reached out toward the child-wraith. It had quieted down since the Guardians' first days in the dark, but as Obscurus got closer, it began to scream and sob. The dark man stood over it then reached down and slapped it. It cowered away, sobbing louder than ever.
"Ah," he said brightly. "Sweet music. Enjoy."
Then he went to the door and slammed the door closed. It sealed behind him and left them all in a darkness that was only lit by Lunar's soft glow.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch glared at the door for a few moments then huffed. He readjusted his trench coat, then rubbed his right shoulder. Obscurus had so much physical strength that he'd felt like a ragdoll being tossed by a child, and that wall was made of stone. It didn't feel broken or dislocated, so he rolled his shoulder around, then turned to the group. Jack stood up, revealing the pocket dimension rucksack that Pitch had given him before they'd gotten off the ship, and Pitch cautiously glanced at the faces around him before focusing on Jack.
"I see you found them, Frost," Pitch said. "Any word from Nightlight?"
"He's going deeper," Jack replied, reaching up to touch his collarbone where the crystal rested beneath his hoodie. "I've marked my map. Lunar has it."
Pitch couldn't help glancing at his old friend for a moment. He looked fine, healthy even, and unaffected by anything. He looked back at Jack. "I'll look at it later."
There was a loud wail, and Pitch flinched, looking over to the corner. He scanned the shuddering form, and he blinked. He was surprised that the poor thing hadn't been helped by now. Had Lunar become heartless since he'd last seen him? No, he couldn't have. Especially not for this poor child. She was cowering and sobbing so loudly that it was grating on Pitch's ears. Jack looked over at her, shivering.
"What's that thing?"
Pitch shook his head disapprovingly. "Don't call her a thing, Frost."
"Her?" Lunar asked, sounding surprised.
The Nightmare King turned to appraise his old friend. "Yes, Lunar, her. She's clearly in pain, but that's no reason to call her a thing."
Pitch became aware that he was the recipient of five hard stares. He glanced around their faces, seeing shock, incredulity, and pure disbelief. Pitch was in disbelief himself.
"You're the Guardians of Childhood. Don't tell me you've been calling this poor girl a thing the whole time you've been here."
"No," Lunar said slowly. "We've been calling… her a wraith." He paused. "How can you tell she's a girl?"
Pitch hadn't expected that question. He looked back at the sobbing shadow, and he took in her appearance. She was exceedingly thin, but she had been old enough that her body had begun to develop. Her hair was bedraggled and hung in her face, but that didn't hide the beautiful feminine face that peeked out. How could Lunar ask such a ridiculous question?
"It's obvious she's a girl, Lunar," Pitch said coldly.
"Is it?" Jack asked into the awkward silence.
Pitch huffed. "What do you mean, Frost?"
"It… Sorry, she looks like a thin shadow. I can't tell what sex she is."
Bewilderment didn't even begin to explain Pitch's feelings. He shook his head.
"Look at her face, Jack!"
"What face?" Jack asked uneasily.
Pitch uncrossed his arms and stared hard at the boy. He wasn't lying, wasn't joking. He really couldn't tell she was a little girl. But why not? He blinked again then turned to appraise the girl. Her bare feet were pale against the black stone cavern. Her dress was tattered and barely went down to her knees. She had clearly grown a lot while she had been a prisoner because the dress was for a smaller child. Pitch rubbed his chin.
"You can't see her face?" he asked.
"It's just a void, Pitch," Jack replied. "It's a shadow. There's no features."
Pitch stared hard at Jack for a few moments then shrugged. "Whether or not you all can tell what sex she is, why haven't you sent her on?"
"On?" Lunar asked. "What do you mean by on?"
"On! On!" Pitch exclaimed irritably. "On to the other side of the veil! To the other world! Surely you can tell she's suffering! Listen to her, Lunar! Why not send her on to give her peace?"
Once again, the five older Guardians stared at him, but Jack had drawn closer to the girl, trying desperately to see her features. Pitch looked around and his irritation grew closer to real anger. With a cry of frustration, he turned around and strode toward the girl.
"Fine! I'll do it myself! I thought you were better than this, Lunar!"
"But Prism, we can't touch…"
Lunar trailed off as Pitch set his hand on the wraith. His thin hand did not go through the wraith's narrow, shadowy shape as each of theirs had. Instead, it settled onto a dark, hunched part of the form. And then North gave an oath as Toothiana screamed, and Sandy stepped back as Bunnymund shot upright. All of them stared in disbelief at what was happening to the wraith. Because it wasn't a wraith any longer.
Almost in slow motion, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, the beautiful outline of a girl began to bloom out of the shadow. As they watched, the black of her form turned silvery white. The thin, bonelike structure that they saw filled out with flesh. Her entire body was suddenly clear as day, and they saw that it was a girl. Pitch's hand was resting on a pale shoulder, encased in a tattered purple cloth. The girl sat up straight and looked around in bewilderment. Then she looked up at Pitch, and her fear disappeared as if by magic. The Guardians all belatedly realized that she had stopped crying as soon as Pitch had touched her.
Pitch knelt down, gently tilting the girl's head up. "It's alright, little one."
"Who are you?" she asked, her musical voice light and curious.
"I'm Pitch Black."
She made a face. "You're not black. You're silver."
Pitch's lips quirked. "Call me Prism, then, little one. And you are?"
"Prism," she said thoughtfully. "Yeah. I like Prism better. I'm Alicia. Have you seen my mommy?"
"I'm afraid not," Pitch said. "How did you come here?"
Alicia's face twisted. "That tall dark man. He came to our planet and stole me from my bed. He… He did things. Things I don't understand. He made me hurt a lot. Then one day, everything went dark. And I've been so dark and cold and afraid for a long time. But you made it better."
Pitch pressed his thin lips together. "I try. Don't worry. Shadow Man can't hurt you anymore."
"Why not?"
A sharp expression flashed over Pitch's face, and Jack saw something that made his heart freeze. He knew that look. It was a look he'd seen on North's face, on Toothiana's, on Bunnymund's and Sandy's. It was the exact look that defined how he felt when a child was in danger. And a wild thought slammed into him with such force that he couldn't speak. All he could do was stand there dumbly and watch as Pitch comforted this dead child.
"Because I won't let him," Pitch replied. "Because you're going to a place that he can't follow."
"I'm going on a journey?" Alicia asked excitedly. "Are you coming with me?"
"I will follow later, Alicia," Pitch said calmly. "When my time comes, I will follow. But not yet. Perhaps soon. Hush now! Do you hear that?"
The older Guardians listened hard, but they heard nothing. But Jack gasped and lit up like the sun.
"Someone's calling for her!" he said, bouncing up and down on his heels.
For he could plainly hear a woman calling the child's name. Pitch tilted his head, and he actually smiled. Alicia jumped to her feet, a beaming smile on her face.
"Mama!" she shouted. "Where are you, Mama?"
"Here! Oh, darling, I'm here! Come to me!"
Jack couldn't tell where the voice was coming from, and he looked around wildly, then his gaze settled on the little girl again. She was staring hard at the blank wall, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Oh! Mama! Mama! I want to! May I? May Prism come, too?"
Pitch shook his head, answering for the woman. "I tell you, I will follow later, dear Alicia. Come, your mother is calling for you."
And he stood up, holding out his hand. She clutched at his hand then hurried toward the wall. She reached up then paused and looked back, her face falling.
"You really can't come, can you?" she asked sadly. "You won't go through. The ones with wings say you won't."
"Not yet." Pitch knelt down and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You go ahead. I promise one day I will join you. When you get there, find Anthea. She knows me. She'll show you around. And I want you to pick all the flowers you can for me."
"Flowers?" Alicia lit up again. "Yeah! I'll pick so many! And then when you come, I'll give you a bunch." Her smile faded, and fear suddenly worked its way into her voice. She looked over her shoulder. "I can't come back, can I?"
"You won't want to," Pitch replied.
And he smiled again, a warm, gentle smile that was so unlike anything that most of them knew. Only Jack was close enough to see Pitch's eyes shimmering and shifting between gold and silver again. But they all saw when the fear drained from her face, and she relaxed. She took a deep breath then turned around.
"I'm ready to go now, Prism."
Pitch nodded and stood up, patting her shoulders. "Then go."
She reached up to her chest and her hand came away with a small, golden coin. Lunar and Sandy gaped, but Pitch didn't notice. He held out his hand, and she dropped the shining gold into his palm. He curled his dark fingers over the coin and smiled again.
"Thank you very much, Alicia. Go on now. Your mother is eager to see you again. You have been away for a very long time."
She stared at the wall for a moment then ran forward, throwing a wave over her shoulder. And then she disappeared. For a brief moment, the outline of a large, shining door could be seen by the Guardians, then it faded into black, leaving Pitch standing there, staring at the blank wall. He exhaled heavily then held up the coin to examine it. Jack bounded over.
"Can I see it?" he asked. "What is it? What did you do? How did you do it? Where'd she go? How do you know you'll go there?"
Pitch glanced at him then handed him the coin and replied to each question in turn, "Yes, you may see it. It's a soul coin. I sent her onward past the veil of death. I just did it. She went to the other world. And I'll go there because everybody goes there."
Jack's eager fingers traced the coin, which seemed to have a glow that rivaled Lunar's. He grinned, holding it up to gaze at the pretty gold. Words were etched on it in a strange language.
"What does it say?" he asked, handing it back to Pitch.
Pitch scanned the coin, pursing his lips. "It's her core aspects. I won't read them aloud because the only language you can understand the true meaning in is the one you don't speak aloud just for any reason."
"You mean that Ancient language you used against the shadow thing on the moon?" Jack asked.
Pitch nodded, gazed at the coin, then slipped it into his pocket. "I'll add it to my collection."
"Collection?" Lunar asked, and Pitch turned to glare at his old friend.
"Yes, collection. What of it?"
"You have a collection of soul coins?" Lunar asked, his face intense. "How? Why?"
"Is that a big deal?" Bunnymund asked cautiously.
"A big deal!" Lunar exclaimed, spinning to face the other Guardians. "Yes! Soul coins are the rarest relic from any age of this universe! They are so rare that I've never seen one. My parents never saw one! Sanderson has been almost everywhere, and he hasn't seen one!" He turned to stare at Pitch. "And you have a collection? How many?"
Pitch crossed his arms. "Over 100,000."
That number was so staggering that Sandy sat down hard, and even Lunar stumbled back to clutch at the wall. He stared at Pitch as if he had never seen him before. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Then he stood straight and placed his hands behind his back.
"Explain, Prism. How did you get such a collection?"
Pitch shrugged one shoulder. "Doing exactly what I just did. If you had done it, she would have given it to you. I thought you were better than that, Lunar. Why didn't you help that poor child?"
"I couldn't do it, Prism," Lunar said calmly. "I couldn't touch her. None of us could. She was crying and screaming for weeks, and we couldn't touch her. We went right through her. She was noncorporeal. We saw what Jack saw, not what you saw. We saw a thin, shadowy wraith with no distinguishable features. There was no way for us to help her. We tried, but nothing worked. We didn't know she was a child. All we knew was that she was in pain, and we couldn't help her."
Pitch frowned, shifting uneasily. "You're kidding, right?"
Lunar tilted his head. "Why do you think I'm kidding, Prism?"
The Nightmare King snorted. "You're being ridiculous."
"Am I? Or are you refusing to admit that you possess something that I don't have?"
That was too much for Pitch Black. He made a derisive noise in his throat, shaking his head.
"Me, possess a power that the great Tsar Lunar Lunanoff XII doesn't have?" he scoffed. "That's ridiculous."
"It is?" Jack asked.
Pitch turned his head to appraise Jack once again. "Of course, Frost. Their family was the greatest in all of the Golden Age. Me, a poor little Darkling with a bizarre genetic mutation, possess something that the Tsar doesn't have? No, that's not possible."
Jack stuck his hands in his hoodie pocket then turned to Lunar. "Can you control ice and snow, then?"
Lunar smiled and shook his head. "I cannot. Not as you can."
The boy turned back to Pitch. "So… I possess a power he doesn't have. Why can't you?"
Pitch's face darkened as heat rushed to his cheeks. "That's beside the point."
Jack frowned. "You're just saying that because you don't believe you have anything good and unique inside of you."
The Nightmare King scowled. "Drop it, Frost."
The Spirit of Fun, who was as serious as he could be, shook his head. "No. You don't think you're allowed to be special in any way. You just sent a dead child on, or whatever, and Lunar and the other Guardians couldn't even touch her. You have a collection of soul coins that prove that you've had this ability for most of your life. There is so much evidence that you do possess something that nobody else has. If that's not proof, then I don't know what is."
Pitch stubbornly shook his head. "Ridiculous," he stated again.
"If it is so ridiculous," Lunar said softly. "Then why does Obscurus only want you."
"What are you talking about, Lunar?" Pitch growled. "He wanted you. He stole you, not me."
"Because he knew you would come for me," Lunar replied. "As you can see, none of us are harmed in any way. He has starved us, yes, but we can handle that. He hasn't tried to break my power or hurt me or done anything that would indicate that he wanted to destroy me and my lineage. He has been after you this whole time."
Pitch opened his mouth to protest, but Jack interfered. "Yeah. I bet he went after me to get to you, too. He couldn't take you because of my storm, so he figured out another way to get you. You said yourself that he knew that you would go after Lunar."
The Nightmare King stared between Lunar and Jack, who had inexplicably teamed up to attack him. After all he'd done for both of them, and they were trying to humiliate him! Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed over to the corner where the little girl had been. He plopped down, leaned back, and closed his eyes. As far as he was concerned, this conversation was over. Lunar and Jack seemed to realize they'd pushed him too far because they dropped it and turned back to the rest of the Guardians.
But Jack only half-listened to the conversation that North and Bunnymund was having. His mind was swirling around the shocking thought that had slammed into him as Pitch had comforted that dead child. Could it be possible that it was true? If so, what was the exact nature of his power, of his title? Was Lunar even aware of what Jack now knew for certain? He didn't know, but he wasn't going to say anything yet. Not with North and the others glancing over with shadows dancing in their eyes as they glared at Pitch. But still, Jack wondered, and wondering, he marveled at Pitch Black, at Prism, once again.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Obscurus didn't actually come back in for two whole days. Jack was in constant communication with Nightlight, who was thoroughly searching each cavern for their weapons. The Guardians spent their time resting, eating, and regaining their strength. Out of all of them, Sandy and Lunar were the least affected by the starvation, and Sandy practiced with his sand, making different weapons to practice with. Jack showed off his newly acquired skills with ice and snow after digging his staff out of the pocket dimension, and he loved the attention. Everything was going well. Well, almost everything.
Pitch was in a mood that Jack had never encountered before. He was silent and still, so still that Jack sometimes wondered if he was dead. His eyes watched the Guardians with an intensity that was startling. And Jack had the feeling that Pitch spent most of his time watching him. It made the persistent thought pop up again and again, and Jack was sorely tempted to ask Lunar about it, but he didn't. There was something inside of him that told him to wait, that the time would come where the idea would be important and powerful. So he waited.
After two full days, Nightlight contacted Jack with the news that he had found their weapons. It was time to act. Jack agreed, but he said that the Guardians should eat one last time before they met up. Nightlight conceded, stating that he would start winding his way through the tunnels toward them. Jack set out a feast, pulling the fire out of his bag to heat the food. Lunar was staring at Pitch, and Pitch was staring at Jack, and the Guardians were talking when he called everybody over. Pitch didn't move.
"Pitch, we need to eat. Nightlight's found their weapons," Jack said. "Come and eat. You haven't eaten in days."
"I don't think it's wise," Pitch said; those were the first words he'd spoken since his argument with Jack and Lunar, and the sound of his soft, powerful voice made all of the Guardians look at him, the shadows filling their eyes.
Jack glanced around, saw the veiled gazes, and shuddered. He picked up enough for the two of them, then he walked over and sat beside Pitch. Pitch inclined his head and reached for a piece of meat. They ate in silence, the tension palpable. North, Bunnymund, Toothiana, and Sandy glaring at Pitch, watching carefully to make sure he didn't hurt Jack. Now that Jack was beside him, Pitch was more relaxed and had stopped staring. Jack slurped up some of the smooth, sweet drink that the chieftain had given them, smacking his lips.
"I wonder how long it will keep," he said, swirling the dregs of his drink.
"They use a peculiar preserving process," Pitch replied. "If stored correctly, it should last for months. We should probably finish what you have in the sack today or tomorrow. It's not cold enough."
"The stuff in the crates should last," Jack said. "Those crates are amazing. I can't make that kind of ice yet, but she said to practice."
"She?" Lunar asked from across the room.
"The Chieftain of Icentuva," Jack said, turning to look at the Man in the Moon. "We had to stop by there to get medicine for Nightlight."
"I thought you said at the Pole that Manny's nightlight had gone out," North said, a dark edge in his voice.
"He was," Jack said. "But we saved his life so we could come and get Lunar."
Lunar chuckled. "You know something, Jack? You're the only Spirit I've ever created that calls me by my given name. Everybody else calls me MiM or Manny. I was certainly surprised to hear that come from your lips."
"It's what Pitch calls you," Jack said with a shrug.
"True," Lunar said thoughtfully. He sipped the last of his drink then set aside the cup. "But Prism is a friend from my youth. I was not MiM or Manny then. He lived in the moon as much as I did. And it wasn't the moon back then. It was the Moon Clipper. One of the finest ships of the Golden Age. At least until it broke. Now it is simply the Earth's moon."
"How did it break?" Jack asked curiously.
Lunar paused for a moment then sat back. "Prism?"
"No," Pitch said tersely, an edge in his voice. "It is not the time for a story, Lunar. Drop it."
"I'm no longer a child. I can take the truth," Lunar insisted.
Pitch gritted his teeth then pushed away the rest of the food. There was pain etched into every line in his face, and he pushed himself up and strode to the door to look it over.
"How did you get in here, Frost?" he asked coldly.
"Sparking Paradox," Jack replied softly. He was afraid of the tension in the room, afraid the Guardians would do something rash in defense of Lunar.
"Bright and hot, I suppose."
"Made me go blind," Jack said.
"We need to make a fire for each of them," Pitch said. "Give me that rucksack."
Jack moved to stand up, but Lunar was walking past him with the bag before he could even turn to where he had been sitting. Lunar held out the bag, and there was more tension. The other Guardians had finished eating, and they stood up, watching carefully. Pitch didn't take the bag, so Lunar nudged his hand.
"It's not your fault, Prism," Lunar said softly.
And Pitch turned with fire in his eyes. "You don't know that, Lunar," he hissed.
North took a step forward, ready to fight, but Lunar shot him a look so intense that the great man cowered away and lowered his eyes. Lunar took Pitch's hand.
"After we get out of here, you will tell me the story," he said firmly. "I am not a child anymore. I want to know what happened. The honest truth."
"I wasn't the one who wanted to keep it from you," Pitch said after a moment.
"It was Nightlight's call," Lunar affirmed. "He was my guardian once my parents became constellations. I understand that you wanted to tell me. But I am my own man now. I want the truth. And I want you to tell it."
"Why me?" Pitch asked, his shoulders slumping.
Lunar smiled. "Because you were always better at telling stories. Even Mother and Father never told them like you, Prism."
Pitch hesitated, then he reached forward and took the bag. "If you insist."
"I do," Lunar replied. "Now show me how to make the fire."
Half an hour later, each Guardian had a small fire in their hands, and Jack stood in front of the door. He took a deep breath then cupped both hands around the fire.
"Close your eyes. This will be super bright," he warned.
A flash of light later, and they calmly walked right out of the door. Jack scooped up the fire and hurried up to walk between Pitch and Lunar. Pitch held the map, though he didn't need it, Jack grabbed the crystal, and they began to coordinate with Nightlight. As they wound their way deeper, the shadows cowered away from them, as if they were alive. They passed over a hundred wraiths, and Pitch slowed down each time, seeing the dead children as they were, but Lunar placed a hand on the slim man's back and urged him on.
After a particularly large group of wraiths, Pitch stopped, gritting his teeth. It was clearly bothering him in a way that the others didn't understand.
"Pitch?" Jack said, nudging him gently.
"He's destroyed so many lives. I can help them, but I'm not. I know I can't yet, but…"
Lunar nodded. "We will send them all on, my friend. But we must face the source of the problem first. Take heart. It will all be over soon."
Pitch nodded, then paused. A soft glow was coming toward them, and Jack grinned and raced forward. Nightlight met him and embraced him.
"I have been alone for so long," the boy of light sighed. "I missed my companions."
"Nice to see you, too," Jack laughed.
"Who are these people?" Nightlight asked.
"Make it quick, Frost," Pitch replied, crossing his arms. "We are in danger. The shadows are murmuring."
Jack pointed and talked fast. "North, Spirit of Wonder. Toothiana, but we call her Tooth, Spirit of Memories. Bunnymund, Spirit of Spring and Hope. Sandy, Spirit of Dreams. These are the Guardians of Childhood. And you know Lunar, of course."
Nightlight grinned, leaning on his spear. "Little Lunanoff!" He laughed softly, bending down. "Still little, but no longer a boy! You grew in the wrong direction!"
Jack burst into a merry laugh, doubling over and gripping his middle, while the other Guardians looked horrified. Lunar's face split into a wide grin, and he walked forward and embraced the thin boy. Nightlight fell to his knees and hugged him back, nuzzling him.
"It truly is good to see you again, little Lunanoff," Nightlight murmured.
"We need to catch up," Lunar said.
Nightlight stood up and grabbed his spear from Jack. "Later."
"Weapons?" Pitch asked, breaking in. His eyes were dashing from place to place, seeing the shadows that the others couldn't.
Nightlight turned, scanned Pitch's face, then grew somber. He pulled a rucksack off of his back like Jack's, and he tore it open. North's swords were yanked out by the hilts, and Jack passed them to their owner. Bunnymund's boomerangs followed, and the Pooka took them with great relish, twirling them easily in his paws. A spear followed, more Earthly than Nightlight's with ancient Indian symbols carved into the ivory tip. Toothiana grabbed it and smiled. Nightlight then pulled out a silver dagger. The others stared at it, unsure of where it came from. But to their surprise, Lunar plucked it up and stored it in a sheath at his hip.
"That was all I found. The Star Captain has no weapons?" Nightlight asked, closing the pocket dimension and slinging it onto his back again.
Sandy smirked and flicked his wrists. Two long, thin whips of dreamsand appeared, and he cracked one against the wall for emphasis. Nightlight appraised him then smirked and nodded. Pitch snapped his fingers. He was standing straight and looking behind them now. A rumble filled the tunnel, and he snarled.
"Run!" he barked, then turned and sprinted down the tunnel.
Jack and Nightlight broke into a run behind him without question, and Lunar followed an instant later, surprisingly nimble on his feet. The other Guardians fell into step behind their leader, and they ran as if their lives depended on it. Pitch was in the lead, taking corners with ease, winding them to the biggest cavern in the system. He knew that they were being herded, that they were found out, and he could sense fear. The main fear was fear of the dark, but as they ran, it morphed. They could sense the creatures after them, could sense them swarming in the shadows, and they were terrified. Pitch knew what they saw through the vibrations of their fear.
North saw bears with red eyes, ready to eat him. Sandy saw the void of a black hole racing up on his heels, ready to snuff out his shooting star. Toothiana saw the mob of angry villagers ready to kill her and her parents for her own oddity. And Bunnymund saw dogs running at his heels. Nightlight's fear was of his light being put out to be left in the darkness, and Jack heard Autumn's taunting voice that he would be caught and punished soon. But it was Lunar's fear that sang through Pitch's mind the loudest. It was the fear of being left alone, of being taken far away from his friends. One friend in particular he was afraid of losing more than anything. The loss of Pitch was his fear, and it made Pitch sad because, in a way, that was his own fault.
And then they were there, in the arena. For it was an arena. Battles had been fought there by Pitch's own people long ago, battles for honor, their skewed sense of it anyway, that would be won by a death blow. And Pitch knew. This would be his last stand with Obscurus. One of them would have to die. And Pitch was ready to go out in a blaze of glory. It wasn't for North, Toothiana, Sandy, or Bunnymund that he would fight. It would be for Jack Frost, Nightlight, and Lunar Lunanoff that he would die. For he knew in his heart that he would die. Obscurus would finally destroy him, and he was ready for it. But he would make sure another day dawned for each of them, those precious lights that continued to shine in his cold, dark, lonely world. And he stopped in the center and turned to face the darkness, purpose coursing through his veins, knowing only one thing.
He would die for them because he loved them.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Everybody stared at the entrance to the arena, watching the shadows slink and slither in, heralding the arrival of their enemy. Pitch's keen gaze caught sight of the man first, if Obscurus could still be called a man. His red eyes lingered on Pitch's silvery-gold ones, and then he stepped forward so that he could be seen in the glow given off by Lunar and Nightlight and their fires. Everybody tensed, but Obscurus seemed like he didn't care about any of them. His eyes were locked onto Pitch.
"Clever little Prism," he sighed, his voice caressing their ears like something slimy, and they all shuddered except for Pitch. "You found their weapons." He paused then looked at Nightlight. "I thought you were dead, little nuisance."
"It is difficult to destroy light," Nightlight said; a thrill went up Jack's spine at those words, and he saw Obscurus's eyes flick to Pitch.
"I will concede that point," he said coolly. "But a black hole destroys everything it touches. Even light."
"But are you dark enough to steal my light?" Nightlight replied, gripping his spear so hard that his knuckles stood out.
Pitch could smell fear, like an exquisite perfume. It wafted from Nightlight, and it was so powerful that flashes of memory were woven into it. Pitch saw pieces of the fight that had put out Nightlight's glow, and the fear was compounded. Obscurus was fanning the flames without a word or a movement, and Pitch narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth. Not his Nightlight. Without conscious thought, Pitch sent out a mental shield.
Immediately, the fear from everybody began to calm, and they all relaxed a little. Lunar turned his brown eyes onto Pitch, surprised by the force he felt in the shield. None of the others seemed aware that there was a shield except for Jack, whose mind reacted like a cat nuzzling and wrapping its body around its owner He was happy, relieved that Pitch was defending them. Nightlight seemed to sense something different because he straightened up, flashing white teeth.
"You can't touch us," he said confidently.
"Now, now," Obscurus said, focusing his attention on Pitch. "We all know that your little display will not help, Prism-boy. You will falter, and I will win. Come here and I will make your death quick and… relatively painless."
Pitch didn't move. "Pain doesn't scare me, Obscurus."
"Oh, I know all about what scares you," Obscurus crooned. "You're afraid to die."
Pitch let out a bark of laughter, throwing his head back so that he didn't catch the flash of terror on Obscurus's face. Jack saw, and his eyes flicked over to see that a soft light began to glow in Pitch's skin as he chortled. But then he stopped, his silvery-gold eyes latching onto the now-calm dark creature. He stepped forward, pushing past the Guardians, who looked threateningly at his back, but they didn't attack.
"You know very well, Shadow Man," Pitch said evenly. "That death does not scare me. Death has never, ever scared me." He paused, scrutinizing the man, and tilted his head. There was a distinct feeling of fear coming from Obscurus, one that he'd never recognized before. "But you are, aren't you?"
"Death will never touch me," Obscurus scoffed.
"Death comes to everybody," Pitch corrected. "Even those of us from the Golden Age are susceptible to death. Or else there would still be life on this planet." He paused. "Or you killed everybody. Both are plausible. But the point is, death comes to everybody. There is no point in fearing the other side. Dying is an awfully big adventure."
Obscurus hissed, standing tall. "I am as good as immortal."
Pitch shook his head. "Nobody is immortal. Not even you."
The Shadow Man shifted topics as easily as the shadows grew around them. "You're the reason they died."
Pitch stiffened, the shadows draining from his face as he blanched. For a moment, his complexion was as clear and white as it had been when he was a child, and Lunar wished for a sign of the boy he'd known. Jack wished for the colors for an entirely different reason, his young mind working quickly to connect the dots, all of his thoughts stemming from the one realization that he'd had days ago. His heart hammered in his chest as the shadows crept back up Pitch's face as he flushed with anger.
"Shut up," Pitch said hoarsely.
Obscurus laughed softly, the sound sibilant. He turned to Lunar. "Did you know that, Lunanoff? That Prism is the reason your precious parents died? I would have left you all alone if it wasn't for him."
"Shut up," Pitch snarled, his eyes growing wild.
"Stupid fool, thinking he could handle the light. Because all he is, is a shadow, and all he causes is death. And when you die, it will be his fault, too."
Pain slashed through Pitch's heart, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that those words were true. He let out a cry of agony and lunged, ready for death. Obscurus laughed gleefully, melting into the shadows. Before he'd even solidified, Pitch spun to face him, his eyes swirling with pain-filled rage.
"Don't you talk about them!" he spat.
"Or what?" Obscurus taunted.
Pitch shrieked and jerked his arm forward, throwing something at the man. Obscurus sidestepped, but the blade of the thrown dagger sliced into his cheek, leaving a long, black line. And Obscurus yelped, raising his hand up to his cheek. Shock didn't even begin to describe the expression on the dark face as the slim hand drew back, black blood smeared across his palm and cheek. He looked up in disbelief.
"You… You hurt me," he said faintly. Then anger began to build. "Enough of this! Attack!"
Nightlight and Lunar moved first, jumping toward the shadows as they began to take form into beasts so terrible that it ached to stare at them for fear of losing your mind. North and the other Guardians, when they saw Lunar move, began to fight as the beasts surrounded them. Pitch didn't even care about the shadows, and he waved his arm.
"Let me through!" he bellowed, and Obscurus was surprised to see them obey. They turned their attention to Jack, who laughed gleefully, sending out a burst of frost.
"Kick his ass, Pitch!" he crowed, unafraid as he turned to fight.
Pitch went straight for Obscurus, materializing a sword with his power. The blade was dark, and he held it up defensively, his silvery-gold eyes locked on his foe.
"Let's end this," he said through clenched teeth.
"Gladly," Obscurus said, pulling a sword from a sheath at his hip.
They circled, ignoring the chaos of the Guardians' fighting across the room. This was between them, and it always had been. Pitch breathed calmly, though the fear pulsing throughout the room was amazingly potent. Obscurus inhaled.
"Smell that? You do. I know you do," he teased. "You hate it, too. You hate knowing fears, but you always will. We're alike, you and me."
"We are nothing alike," Pitch hissed.
"You are just a filthy shadow like me," Obscurus said. "And you will die knowing that I will kill everybody here, and it will be your fault."
And he lunged forward. Their swords met with a loud clang and they began to dance. Across the room, North was fending off the bear that had attacked him as a child, killing his best friend. Terror gripped his heart, and all he could think of was 'I'm next. He's going to kill me next.' Sandy fought two shadows shaped like Void Serpents, and they were promising to bring him safely to the black hole, where he could grant no wishes and protect no children from the night, and he was feverish with fear.
Toothiana and Bunnymund were back to back, her fighting monkeys, him fighting enormous dogs. Whenever they switched, the shadow beings would switch, so that there was no escaping their fears. It felt like fear was so thick that they were sweating it through their skin. And Nightlight was fighting a lion, which snarled and snapped, teasing him with the thought of being smothered by the dark again. His fear was so sharp that the boy was sure he bore its marks in his skin as it cut even deeper.
Jack was dancing around the shadows, and the shadows morphed into something that resembled Autumn. Fear began to bubble inside of him, and then he remembered Pitch's words: "You are allowed to fight him." So Jack stood straight and spoke to his fear.
"You will never touch me again, Autumn," he said firmly. "I won't let you. You are a pathetic bully, and I belong in the Guardians. Lunar chose me for a reason, and you will not control me anymore."
To Jack's surprise, the form of Autumn stared at him, searching for something, and then it exploded in a shower of sparks. Obscurus screamed in pain, spinning to see Jack standing still and watching the sparks settle. With a wave of his hand, he flung Pitch back and stormed over to Jack. His eyes searched Jack's face, looking for something, and Jack stared back, unafraid. And then the red eyes widened.
Jack saw a realization dawning, and his mind wondered what new fear he would show him. He wasn't sure because he was not afraid. And then it hit him. He wasn't afraid anymore. And Obscurus didn't understand that. He couldn't find fear in Jack's heart. And that's what the Autumn-like shape couldn't find either. It couldn't turn into a fear because Jack wasn't afraid. Jack let out a loud laugh, and Obscurus raised his hand to strike the boy, but Pitch suddenly grabbed Obscurus by the throat and spun him around.
"Don't you touch him!" Pitch screamed, slinging Obscurus to the floor.
Obscurus gasped then surged up, and Pitch gave a cry of pain. A shimmering substance, almost like a rainbow dipped in ink, splattered the floor. The hidden blade had torn across Pitch's stomach, leaving a cut that began to ooze. Obscurus backhanded Pitch, who crashed to the ground, groaning. The Shadow Man grinned in triumph as he raised the blade. Jack panicked and blurted out the first thing in his head to try and stop Obscurus from killing Pitch.
"I know what you're afraid of!"
Obscurus paused. "Death?" he asked dryly, lowering his arms to arch an eyebrow.
"That's not your main fear," Jack babbled.
The room went silent as Obscurus raised a hand, silently ordering the shadows to stop. The Guardians were pinned, save for Lunar, who glanced over to analyze the situation. Obscurus snickered. "Pitch knows I'm afraid of nothing."
"That's not true," Jack said, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to keep talking. "Pitch doesn't know what you're afraid of because you're good at hiding it, but you are afraid of something. And I know what it is. And I know why, too."
"Really?" Obscurus asked, turning to kick Pitch as he tried to stand. "And what is that, Jack Frost?"
"You're afraid of Pitch Black."
Obscurus's face pinched, and everybody knew immediately that Jack was right. Only Lunar wasn't surprised. But Pitch certainly was.
"What are you talking about, Jack?" Pitch asked, a little winded as he forced himself to sit up, grasping his stomach.
"He's afraid of you. That's why he wanted to kill you when you were a kid and on Earth when he tracked you down, and then he lured you here. Obscurus is afraid of you."
Pitch's face was blank, and Obscurus gritted his teeth. "And why would I be afraid of little Prism-boy."
"Because you haven't managed to make him a wraith yet," Jack said, speaking fast. "You tried when he was a child by raping him, but his light didn't fade like you wanted. So you got him again and again, I don't know how many times, but you kept finding him and hurting him and hurting him, and he began to fade, but not as quickly. You keep trying to put out his light, but you can't, and you need to kill him now before he realizes that he is the only one in the whole wide universe that can kill you. Because darkness can't fight the light. Where there is light, there is no darkness, and you're afraid of his light."
Obscurus growled and took a menacing step forward, but he paused when Jack continued.
"I know something else, too. Something that nobody else knows. Not even Lunar knows what I know." Jack paused for a moment then took a deep breath. "Pitch Black is one of us, he just doesn't know it. Nobody knows it because nobody thought to look. But I know he is."
"Is what?" Lunar asked quickly, his eyes bright.
Jack looked Pitch directly in the eye. "He's a Guardian of Childhood."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch's ears were ringing as he stared at Jack, the words echoing in his head. He's a Guardian of Childhood. All the man wanted to do was laugh in derision, but no noise would escape him. The boy stood tall, staring at him, and Pitch could feel the truth in Jack's words. At least the boy believed they were true. But how could they be? How could he, Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, be a Guardian of Childhood? He was nothing like the others.
Obscurus concurred, belting out a laugh that grated on the ears. "That pathetic thing, a precious Guardian of Childhood?" he scoffed. "That's impossible."
"Is it?" Jack demanded, turning his gaze back to Obscurus. "Because he has a collection of soul coins from children that would prove you wrong."
Memories flooded Pitch's mind, all of children reaching up in their last moments of life for a hint of reassurance. And none of them were afraid in the end. "Because of that look," Jack had said. And Pitch came back to himself, his heart hammering in his chest, blood pounding in his ears. Was he? Could he be? Was it possible that his power and affinity toward children, which he'd felt all of his adult life, were indications of his Guardian status? He began to giggle, elated with the thoughts that he might not be a monster, as Obscurus had led him to believe over the years.
Obscurus spun to face him. "Shut up," he said, a tinge of panic in his voice.
Pitch began to chuckle, his eyes gleaming silvery-gold again. He could feel the fear now, the fear that he'd never known was there before today. But he'd sensed it earlier, thinking it was the fear of death. But it wasn't death that Obscurus was afraid of. It was him. Obscurus was afraid of Pitch Black. He grinned, his eyes shining as his skin began to lighten and gleam in silvery light. Lunar grew excited and his glow brightened considerably, which only made the refracting light even stronger.
The Shadow Man's eyes were wild as he raised his blade, aiming to kill. Lunar threw his dagger quickly, and it struck the blade and knocked it out of the dark hands. The blades clattered to the floor, and Shadow Man stared in horror at Pitch as colors began to expand, sending away the shadows that were around him. They were screaming in pain, and Obscurus knew that he was next. He turned to try and run, but Jack swept his feet out from under him with a simple swing of his staff. His own white teeth were gleaming as he stared at Pitch, who was beginning to glow more brightly than even Lunar.
Jack giggled ecstatically, watching with great delight as the colors spread out, filling the room. And then Obscurus began to scream, cowering away from the light. Smoke rose from every inch of exposed skin, and he tried to crawl away, tried to find a shadow. Jack ignored him. The shadow beings that held the others were hissing, but they were still there, hiding behind their captives. That wouldn't do, Jack thought, so he looked around, and his blue eyes landed on the inky rainbow on the floor.
With a sweep of his hand, the blood solidified into ice crystals, and he raised them up and sent them spiraling through the room. As soon as Pitch's rainbow of light hit them, the room flashed and the fractals refracted every bit of color and light that radiated from the man, who was now clutching his stomach as he laughed gleefully. Jack began to laugh, too, as did Nightlight. Then Lunar's voice reached Jack's ears, joining in their laughter with such abandon that Jack knew that the man was truly a child at heart, the perfect Guardian for children.
"Prismatic fractals!" Lunar cried, spinning in place. "Oh, it's so pretty!"
Then there was a strangled noise, and Jack and Lunar turned to see North, Bunnymund, Toothiana, and Sandy gazing with wide eyes and open mouths at the rainbow that was Pitch Black, and then they reached up and gripped their heads. A whistling noise shot through the room, and then shadows exploded out of their skulls, sending them flying back to lay dazed on the floor. And Jack gave a whoop of triumph as the shadows withered away.
"It's gone, Lunar!" he laughed. "The veil is gone!"
For another few moments, the blinding glare of rainbow light permeated every inch of the room, and then it began to dim as Pitch's laughter tapered off. The light retreated into the center of Pitch's being, leaving him gasping for air as he wiped the tears from his face. Pitch looked a bit dizzy, so Jack hurried forward to kneel down beside him.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I… I think so," Pitch said, bemused as he looked around. His gaze landed on a heap of shadowy clothes that was whimpering.
Standing on shaky legs, Pitch cradled his wounded stomach as he hesitantly walked over to see a pitiful creature, Jack a single step behind him. The small form, weak and fearful, was huddled in a corner, shuddering in pain. Lunar and Nightlight walked over to observe what was left of the great Obscurus. They all felt great pity and disgust at the form. Jack swallowed.
"Can you send him on?" he asked.
"He's not dead," Pitch replied softly.
"Surely we can do something for him," Lunar said uncertainly.
Pitch raised his hand and formed a knife. Jack blanched, and Nightlight cringed. Lunar stared then nodded once.
"It is the best we can do for him," he said.
The Nightmare King didn't move for a moment, staring between the blade and the creature. Thoughts swirled in his head, and he spoke after a pause.
"If he were in my position, he would leave me that way to make me suffer."
Jack nodded. "But you are a thousand times more merciful than him."
"True," Pitch replied, then leaned down.
Jack and Nightlight turned away quickly, unwilling to see the moment of death, but Lunar watched with sad eyes. When Pitch straightened, the whimpering had stopped, and Lunar placed a hand on his back to comfort him. Pitch took a deep breath then pulled off his coat and covered the body of his deceased foe. He then stood up and grimaced, grabbing his stomach. Lunar smiled.
"We can ease your pain."
"I know," Pitch said. "But not yet. We've still got a lot of work to do."
"What?" Nightlight asked. "He is dead. What more can we do?"
"The children, Nightlight," Jack said. "He has to send on the children. There's probably a hundred."
"No," Pitch said grimly, stripping out of his shirt as he conjured a clean knife. "There are seven hundred and sixty-four."
Silence greeted those words, and Pitch took the opportunity to make strips of cloth from his shirt. He wrapped his middle tightly, cinching the cloth with a hiss of pain. As he was tucking in the end of the makeshift bandage, a groan sounded out from across the room.
"Manny?" North asked, his voice shaking. "What happened? Did we win?"
The four people turned to see the other Guardians staring around as if they had no idea what was going on. Jack frowned.
"They can't help," he said softly to Pitch. "None of us can."
Pitch nodded. "Get them back to the surface. Take the map. Prepare food and drink for me. I'm going to be exhausted after this."
Jack nodded, and he and Nightlight walked over to help the Guardian's up. Lunar watched then clapped his hands.
"Well, let's get going, Prism. I assume you can pinpoint each one of them?"
Pitch glanced down at his old friend. "You're going with Jack and the others."
Lunar snorted. "No, I'm not. I'm not leaving you alone to send seven hundred and sixty-four children to the other side. Just one hurts your heart. You need me, whether you'll admit it or not."
The dark man's eyes burned as tears prickled at the corners. It was a relief to hear Lunar say that, to say that he would stay with him through the difficulties. "If you insist," he said softly, blinking away the tears.
"I do. You all be careful," he called to the others.
Then Pitch turned and led him across the room toward the tunnels, following the sobs that tore at his ears. Lunar's soft, natural glow meant that they didn't need to bring a fire. They had all been thrown down in the heat of battle, but still, they glowed on the floor, and they stepped around them, plunging into the dark depths of the earthen tunnels.
They walked in silence, Pitch following his senses. He was almost overwhelmed by the enormity of the task before him. Over seven hundred children were crying in these tunnels, and he didn't know if he could stomach sending them all on. But he also knew that once he started, he would not stop until they were all safe and sound on the other side. He saw the form of a little boy, and he slowed, glancing worriedly at Lunar, who nodded encouragingly.
Taking a deep breath, he knelt down and placed a trembling hand on the boy's shoulder. Immediately the silvery form brightened, and the boy stopped crying, blinking up at Pitch as if he'd just come out of a daze.
"Hello," the boy said. "Who are you?"
"Prism," Pitch responded, remembering the way the little girl had denied his real name. "And what's your name?"
The boy, whose name was Drake, told a similar story as Alicia had. He was stolen from his home planet and tortured and raped by Obscurus until everything went dark. And then Pitch paused, turning to look at the wall across the tunnel. It was glowing slightly, the outline of a door clearly visible to his keen eyes. He nudged the boy and pointed.
"Would you like to go there?" he asked.
Drake's eyes widened, and he nodded, but it was hesitant. "Is there stuff to do there?"
"Of course," Pitch replied. "You can sail in boats and play games and have as many adventures as you want."
Drake looked fearful, and Pitch did what he always did when faced with a fearful child. He touched him gently and smiled at him, and he could feel the peace spread over the boy's soul and this time he knew that he was taking away that fear. And Drake smiled, so Pitch stood up and offered his hand.
"Come along, little dragon," he said, winking. "They are waiting for you."
The boy took the slim hand and allowed himself to be led over to the wall. His face held such wonder, and Lunar couldn't help but ponder on what the boy could possibly be seeing. For he saw nothing but a wall with nothing out of the ordinary, save for a slight shimmer that told him something powerful was happening. Drake took his hand back and reached up to his chest, pulling out a soul coin and holding it out to Pitch, who took it and nodded.
"Go on, Drake," he said. "I'll see you there one day."
Drake turned, looked around, then gave a whoop and dashed into the wall. Lunar saw the outline of the door for a brief moment then it was gone, along with the shimmering. Whatever had happened was over now. And Pitch looked tired, leaning against the wall as he gripped his wounded stomach.
"Seven hundred and sixty-three to go," he said tiredly.
"You can do it, Prism," Lunar said. "One at a time. Then we'll tend to your wounds. All of them."
Shadows raced up Pitch's face as he blushed, and he quickly turned away. The implication wasn't just for physical wounds. But he felt that the mental and emotional wounds he had were too messy for such a clean, perfect person as Lunar. Lunar frowned, grabbing Pitch's hand, and spun him around.
"Why do you do that?" he demanded. "Why do you always turn away from me, Prism? You never used to. We talked about everything. We were open and honest, and then you pushed me away. I understand that Obscurus wounded you when he took you, but why didn't you speak to me about it?" Pitch didn't respond, so Lunar snarled in the language of power, "Tell the truth!"
Pitch cringed, and the answer poured from his mouth before he could stop himself; the language of power could not be ignored. "Because somebody as perfect and wonderful as you doesn't need to know about the pain of an abusive mother and father who would beat me, and an abusive community that put me down every day of my life, and the pain of having your innocence torn away from you. And I don't want you to know that I'm just a scared little boy who never really grew up, and I'm confused and scared every day of my life that you hate me, or that you will hate me, because of stuff I can't control."
Lunar stared up at him, surprise in his round, shining face. "You think I'm perfect?"
The blush came back, hotter and darker than before. "I… Yes," he said reluctantly. "You've never had a nightmare, and I've lived one my entire life."
"I never had a nightmare as a child," Lunar corrected. "But that doesn't hold true now. And I've been living one, too, Prism. The day you left for Earth and told me you were never coming back without giving me a reason was the beginning of a nightmare for me. And when you started to attack children, it only got worse. That was not the boy I knew."
Pitch stared for a moment. "You've had nightmares?" he asked faintly. "And it's all my fault. I ruined you." The man crumpled to the ground and began to cry. "I'm sorry, Lunar," he moaned. "All I do is ruin things."
Lunar sat down right beside him, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm ruined, am I?"
A strangled moan came from Pitch as he cringed away from Lunar, but Lunar grabbed his hand and refused to let go.
"You listen to me, Prism," he said sternly. "I am not ruined because I've had nightmares. You are not ruined because you've had nightmares. And neither of us is ruined because we've been living a nightmare for so long. A nightmare goes away when you wake up, and I think we're starting to wake up."
Pitch hiccoughed, shivering as tears poured from his soul, which ached so badly that he was afraid it would implode. "B-but I dragged you and your parents into my nightmare. You heard Obscurus. H-he never would have at-attacked the Moon Clipper if I hadn't b-b-been there."
"Was that true?" Lunar asked, tilting his head.
A nod was all that Pitch could manage. Just remembering the Tsar and Tsarina made him cry even harder. He could hardly breathe through his pain, and he tried to tug his hand away from Lunar, ashamed of himself, but Lunar tugged back with more force, and Pitch found himself cradled by his old friend as he sobbed on Lunar's shoulder. He let out a soft wail and clutched at the little man, unable to see anything through his tears.
Pitch Black cried his heart out, releasing all of the fear and pain and shame that had been bottled inside of him for longer than generations of Earthlings' lifespans. Lunar held him gently, murmuring comfort just as his mother and father had so many years before, running his fingers through Pitch's dark hair and just letting his friend cry. His own tears, of pain for his friend's pain, of anger at Obscurus, and of sheer relief that Pitch didn't hate him as he'd feared for so long slid down his cheeks.
Neither of them knew how long they sat there, holding each other as they cried, but it finally tapered off, and Pitch drew back, rubbing at his face in a childlike manner that made Lunar giggle. Lunar wiped his own cheeks, and he blinked up at Pitch, whose shadows were considerably lessened. He looked almost crystalline again, though there was still some darkness to his complexion.
"You look like you feel better," Lunar said.
Pitch leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling of the tunnel. "I do. Thanks, Lunar. For… For not hating me."
"Me hate you?" Lunar asked, nudging him. "I thought you hated me. I thought that was why you left."
"No," Pitch sighed. "I left because I didn't want to make your light fade. I was afraid that Obscurus would hurt you as he hurt me."
"But we were practically grown up then," Lunar argued. "I think I could have handled him. I am a Lunanoff, you know."
"I know," Pitch said, smiling a genuine smile. "But at the time it seemed like the best option."
Lunar considered this and they sat still in the dark tunnel, which was lit only by the Tsar's glow. Then Pitch stood up and held out his hand.
"Let's get back to work, shall we?"
The Man in the Moon nodded and took the proffered hand. "Seven hundred and sixty-three to go," he agreed. "Lead the way, Prism."
They turned to face the dark tunnels and began to work their way toward another poor soul, both of them considerably lighter and happier than before. It was a good feeling.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Silence greeted Pitch's ears. Blessed silence that made his sore, aching body relax a little with relief. They were all gone. There were no other children to send on. Three entire Earth days they had spent in the tunnels, giving peace and comfort to children. And now it was over, and Pitch was ready to sit down and rest. So they headed for the exit, the quiet between them comfortable and peaceful.Lunar smiled at him as they emerged into the starlight, bright compared to the dark tunnels. Nightlight must have been watching out for them because he hurried over, his glowing eyes sweeping their faces. He paused before them, looking from one to the other."It is done?" he asked."It is done," Lunar assured him. "There are no more. They're all gone."Nightlight reached up and tapped the crystal. "Jack will prepare some hot food. We have a short walk, little Lunanoff."They walked back to the ship, or more specifically, a small camp that Jack and the others had set up near the ship. The smell of hot, cooking meat made Pitch's stomach rumble, and he placed a hand there, grimacing at the sharp spike of pain from his untended wound. That would need to be cared for. Lunar patted his arm reassuringly."I'll look at it after we eat," he said."Good. It's getting worse," Pitch grumbled.Jack looked up from the fire he was cooking over. His fingers were blue from the heat, which was needed to cook the meat. Pitch paused several steps away, warily glancing at the Guardians, who were staring at him curiously. He didn't sense hostility, and he didn't understand. Jack shook his head quickly."It's okay, Pitch," he said. "The veil is gone.""How?" Pitch asked."The shadows couldn't stand your light," Jack explained. "When they saw what you really are, the shadows fled and withered. They're not going to hurt you anymore."Pitch hesitated until Lunar pulled him forward. He sat down, cringing at the pain in his stomach. He needed to drain the darkness from it; usually he never let it fester for so long, but the children came first. Lunar patted his shoulder then turned to look hungrily at the food."Is it almost ready?""Yep," Jack said. "North, hand me those plates."The Guardian of Fun piled the plates high with food then passed them over. Lunar picked up a large piece of meat and bit down with relish. Pitch was so tired that he ate slowly, which gave him a chance to savor the food for the first time since the feast on Icentuva. Both Lunar and Pitch cleaned their plates and drained their cups. Jack took the dishes to wash, and Lunar turned to Pitch."I need any medical supplies that you have."Jack and Nightlight stood and headed for the ship to retrieve the supplies. While they were gone, Lunar carefully unwound the makeshift bandages to see the damage. He paled a little, his light dimming at the black mess that was revealed."Oh my," he murmured."Wow, that's bad," Jack said carrying a jar full of the anesthetic gel and bandages. Nightlight carried a knife and several other supplies. "Want to be numb?" the ice boy said, holding up the jar."Give it here, Jack," Lunar said. "Lie back, Prism."Pitch eased to the ground, and Jack stripped off his hoodie, folding it over and placing it carefully behind the man's head. A mumbled thanks was all he got, but Jack didn't mind. Pitch was pale with pain, so Jack sat down and held his hand. The Nightmare King smiled a little and squeezed Jack's hand slightly. Jack smiled back, then turned his attention to Lunar, who was mixing the gel with a spoon. After a moment, the Man in the Moon carefully scooped out a bit of the gel and smoothed it onto the wound. Pitch sighed softly as it was spread around and absorbed into his skin, immediately numbing it and taking away the pain."That's nice," he said softly."I've never seen a wound like this," Lunar said, clearly unsure about what to do."I have," Jack said. "Here, Nightlight, give me that knife."After preparing the knife, Jack carefully sliced into the wound. Lunar watched, waiting to help. Nightlight handed him a thin, needle-like object."Now slip that in the wound and pull on the end," Jack said, his focus on the wound.Lunar obeyed, and the ugly wound began to lighten immediately. They worked to get the slithering creature out of Pitch's wound, and when the blackness was gone, Jack nodded."Pull it out, but don't let it bite you," he warned."Something might bite me?" Lunar asked in surprise.He withdrew the needle to see a thin, snakelike creature writhing at the end. It lunged for Lunar's hand, and Lunar yelped. Jack was there at once, slashing with the knife. The creature turned to dust, and Lunar stared in surprise at where it had been."What was that thing?" he asked. "I've seen many strange things in my days, but not that.""It's like a virus," Pitch said, still lying back and staring blankly at the stars. "They slither through veins and drain lifeforce. It's one reason I'm not silver anymore. I don't think it'll ever fully go away for me. But that's okay."Lunar nodded then grabbed a needle and thread. "It's too deep, Prism. I have to stitch you up.""That's fine," Pitch replied. "I can't feel anything."Ten minutes later, Lunar snipped the thread and looked over his work. The wound was pale against Pitch's grey skin, and there were hundreds of lines that mirrored the fresh cut on his stomach. Lunar felt his throat constrict with anger, and tears burned in his eyes as he bandaged the wound."I know I'm ugly," Pitch said, his lips quirking. "You don't have to stare.""You are not ugly," Lunar said sternly, blinking away the tears. "Scars are not ugly."Pitch gazed at him with an almost unfathomable gaze. "If you say so, Lunar."Lunar nodded. "Now, let's get some sleep.""No!" Pitch gasped, jerking himself into a seated position.There was silence, then Lunar leaned forward. "Why not?""B-because…" Pitch paused then thought about it. Was there a reason he couldn't sleep anymore? As if Jack heard his thoughts, the boy spoke."Obscurus is gone, Pitch," he said. "He can't take you over again. You can sleep. You can rest now.""Take him over?" Bunnymund demanded. "What do you mean?"Pitch's mouth went dry, and the shadows drained from his face again. He didn't have the energy or desire to talk to them. Jack saved him."I'll explain," he assured the Nightmare King. "You just get some sleep. Sandy?"Sandy nodded and waved his hands. Before Pitch could protest, before he could think about it, he got a faceful of Dreamsand, and all of his exhaustion caught up with him at once. He fell asleep sitting up, and it was only Jack's quick hands that prevented him from toppling over. Lunar giggled then lay down tiredly, ready for a nice, long sleep. Pitch was settled back onto Jack's hoodie and curled up, muttering softly in his sleep.Hours later, Pitch floated up from pleasant dreams to hear soft talking. He picked out Jack's voice first, followed by North's Russian accent. Bunnymund answered with his Australian lilt, and Toothiana's feminine tone cut through. For a moment, he considered sleeping some more—after all he'd been having a fantastic dream—but then he decided that he'd slept enough and allowed his consciousness to slowly spiral back up to waking.Pitch opened his eyes, and he flinched at the bright fire. As soon as he thought about what he wanted, the fire turned black and warm. He stared at them for a moment, watching them talk. Sandy glanced over and smiled, waving at Pitch. His symbols began flashing."Welcome back," he said. "Come and join us if you feel up to it."Everybody paused when Sandy waved, and then they realized who he was talking to. They all smiled hesitantly at him, except for Jack and Nightlight, who both grinned. Pitch slowly sat up, his stomach twinging with pain, but it was only a prickle, which meant that he was already healing, and the anesthesia hadn't quite worn off yet. He stood and stumbled over to the fire, watching for any sign of hostility, but all he saw was curiosity. He lowered himself by the fire and sighed as his stomach relaxed."Are you in pain?" Toothiana asked sympathetically."It's bearable," Pitch replied. "I'll put more anesthesia on it later. It will take a while to heal.""The other one didn't," Jack said."This one festered for three days," Pitch said, brushing over his bandages. "It will take longer. It was deeper than most of his cuts, too."Jack nodded, and they all lapsed into an awkward silence. Pitch's eyes fell on Lunar, who was sleeping peacefully with North's coat under his head. He shifted then relaxed again. North cleared his throat, and Pitch glanced at him."Jack told us what Obscurus did. How he took you over and made you do the things you did.""And?" Pitch asked sharply.They flinched back. "And we don't hold it against you, mate," Bunnymund said. "So don't be snapping at us. We were under his spell, too."Pitch's jaw tensed as he stared at them, still looking for hostility, and it was only when Jack touched his hand that he relaxed. He nodded slowly."It will take a while to get used to the way things are now," Pitch said. "You have hated me for many years. There is no way that you are just fine with me.""We've been talking about that," Toothiana said, drawing her knees up to her chin. "It's like a void now. For us, it's like a whole new opportunity to get to know you.""From what they've said," Jack put in. "It's like somebody hit a reset button.""But I do not have that luxury," Pitch said. "So forgive me if I'm wary. You have hurt me before.""And we'll try to make it up to you," Toothiana said."Yeah, but ya've got to see that it's not our fault any more than the Night Mares were yours," Bunnymund said.Pitch thought about it then nodded. "I shall try. We need time."Then his eyes dashed to Lunar, his pupils contracting as a disturbed expression crossed the Man in the Moon's face. Sandy grimaced and stood up, but Pitch was closer, and he was faster, too. He was beside Lunar in a moment, passing his hand over the man's face. A dark, gritty substance came from his head, and Pitch clenched his fist around it, tugging it out. Then Lunar's expression relaxed, and he sank back into pleasant dreams. Sandy stared in surprise, and everybody else looked at Lunar."What just happened?" North asked, moving his eyes from Pitch to Sandy."Nightmare," Pitch ground out. "I took care of it.""What was he dreaming about?" Jack asked, looking at Sandy, who shrugged.
"I can read dreams, Jack, not nightmares."
Jack turned to ask Pitch, but the man cut him off. "That is his business and nobody else's, Jack. I don't tell nightmares like I don't tell others' fears. Drop it."The boy nodded, unoffended by the harsh tone. "It's personal. I get it," he said.Pitch looked down at the sand in his hand, squeezing lightly. He saw the nightmare flashing into his mind, and it was the day that he left the moon for Earth. Now he knew the full impact of what his leaving with no explanation had left on Lunar. It had torn him up as much as it tore Pitch's heart apart. He regretted so much, but he finally breathed out and tossed the sand away, letting the soft breeze carry it away.Things would be different now. He didn't know how different yet, but he was willing for the first time in years to work things out. He turned back to see Sandy staring at him while the others talked. Sandy gave him a respectful nod and Pitch knew that things would be okay, so he settled down to wait for Lunar to wake up.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

After several days of rest, the Guardians awoke one morning to see Jack high in the rigging of the ship, Nightlight beside him, cleaning the sails with some kind of strange water. They walked onto the ship to see Pitch leaning over the maps of the stars. Sandy blinked in surprise and hurried over to jump onto the chair that was beside him. Pitch's gaze flicked to him for a moment then looked back at the maps. Sandy scanned the papers, then he tapped Pitch's shoulder. Pitch glanced over, raising his eyebrows."You use an old-fashioned way of navigating," Sandy said."Yes," Pitch replied, straightening. "This ship is not equipped with the tech that yours no doubt is. Old ship, old way of navigating.""Let's see if I remember how to use these," Sandy said."If you want, Sanderson," Pitch replied, shoving the maps over.Sandy began to flip through the maps, a look of intense concentration on his face. Pitch turned to see the other Guardians moving around the ship, gazing at everything with wonder. Lunar's eyes fell upon him, and they both smiled."So," Lunar said, striding over. "You finally built your ship.""It was a pain in the backside to build," Pitch said fondly, looking around with great pleasure. "I can sail it by myself if need be, but it's nice to have Jack and Nightlight aboard.""You always admired these kinds of ships," Lunar said. "How long did it take?""With the limited materials of Earth and the repeated trips to the depths of space in a tiny ship?" Pitch asked. "About a hundred years. But it's perfect.""It is. Black as pitch," the Man in the Moon teased.A soft laugh fell from Pitch's lips, and there was a splash of color that radiated out of his skin for a moment. He could feel the other Guardians staring at him with curiosity. They couldn't remember the rainbow that had removed the veil, and they were all eager to see it. When Jack told them that Pitch radiated best when he was laughing, they began trying their hardest to make Pitch laugh. But they were finding it the most trying task they had ever experienced. Pitch didn't seem to find anything they said funny. It was with a bit of envy that they gazed at Lunar, who could so easily bring emotion to the front of Pitch's sullen state.Lunar laughed, too, pleased by the burst of color. "So, we're heading out soon?" he asked as he looked around the deck."We must get back," Pitch said. "If North knew how close it is to Christmas on Earth, he would be panicking."North stiffened. "What day is it on Earth?" he asked.Pitch glanced over then focused back on Lunar. "We should be able to get there by Thanksgiving if we leave soon.""Good, good," Lunar said happily. "You must spend some time on the moon with me.""Jack would like that, too. He wants to play on the surface," Pitch said. "He finds the lack of gravity quite fun."North was quietly panicking as he calculated the days. Bunnymund slapped his back."We'll getcha straightened out, North," he said. "There will be a Christmas.""I've been gone for too long!" North muttered.Pitch turned to see his pale face. "You've saved many children from Obscurus's abuse, North," he said. "And if Christmas is less grand than usual, you should be satisfied that you have protected millions on other planets, not just Earth."North paused then nodded. "You are right, of course," he said. "But it is my job.""And you do your job well," Pitch said. "But sometimes, interruptions happen. As long as each child gets a present, you've done your job. Don't worry about it yet. We've still got a lot of space to navigate, even at lightspeed."There was a rap on wood, and they all turned to see Sandy. He began to speak with his symbols. "He's right. We are far, far away from Earth. It will take a couple of weeks to get back, even at top speed. And I need to pick up my ship." He paused. "I'm not looking forward to the docking fees.""It will be covered," Lunar said. "We'll find a way."Pitch glanced around. Everybody looked a little dejected, even Lunar. So he turned and headed into the hold. He scanned the crates, looking for one in particular. When he spotted it, he shifted things around and pulled out two bottles. The drink inside glimmered like a night sky, stars spotted throughout the dark liquid. He smiled a little. This would definitely perk up Sandy and Lunar, and the others would follow suit once they tasted it. There was no better time to drink it, and they needed to really celebrate their victory.He rearranged the crates, then he headed up with the bottles. When he came out of the hold, Lunar, Sandy, North, Bunnymund, and Toothiana were bunched by the map table as Sandy tried to explain the system of navigation. Jack and Nightlight had finished their cleaning of the sails, and the simmering cloth would absorb the starlight with ease, and it was currently glowing and flapping in the breeze, ready to lift them up. They both landed with ease on the deck, and Jack grabbed his staff, swinging it over his shoulder."What's that?" he asked, pointing at the bottles."Ooh," Nightlight said, his glow brightening. "I'll take some.""Is it alcohol?" Jack asked, wilting a little. "I'm not allowed. North said so."The crowd around the maps turned to see what Jack was talking about, and Lunar gasped and clapped. Sandy broke into a grin, hopping down and walking over."No, Jack," Pitch said patiently. "It's not alcohol. But it is potent. I figured we should celebrate.""You are sure it is not alcohol?" North asked cautiously, staring at the strange liquid, which sparkled in the bottles.Lunar laughed. "It is not alcohol," he said. "It does not dull the senses. And Jack is over four hundred years old. He can handle it."Pitch smiled, tossing one of the bottles to Lunar. "I would bet he handles it better than them.""Ha!" North said. "I have been drinking since my youth.""Yeah, mate, I can handle anything better than Frostbite," Bunnymund said proudly. He paused then amended. "Except for cold."Toothiana didn't join in the boasting, but she studied the liquid. "Is it good?"Sandy nodded vigorously. "Delectable.""Jack, Nightlight, get some glasses," Lunar said.They popped the corks out of the bottles, and they filled eight glasses with the drink. Sandy and Lunar were especially excited, and Jack sniffed it suspiciously. He couldn't explain it, but it smelled like fun and joy. Lunar held up his glass for a toast."To the Guardians," he said. "All eight of us."There was a pause then everybody toasted. "To the Guardians."Pitch stood still, watching to see if he'd win the bet. North and Bunnymund threw back half their drinks in one gulp. There was a pause then North's face turned purple, and he yelled in shock, stumbling back to crash to the floor. Bunnymund's fur stood on end and he suddenly took on the colors of some of his best Easter eggs. He sprang into the air with one powerful leap, slamming his head hard on the mast and getting hopelessly tangled in the ropes. Lunar and Sandy were shaking with laughter, and Nightlight pointed at them, tears running down his face from joy.Jack watched curiously then took a long swig of the drink. Laughter bubbled inside of him and poured from his mouth. He felt as light as air, as light as fluffy snowflakes drifting to the ground, and he jumped into the air, did a backflip, and landed with ease. His face was tinged pink with delight, and he laughed again."That's good!" he said. "What is it?""And I just won the bet," Pitch said slyly. He held up his glass and drank deeply. His skin flashed and shimmered like starlight, and rainbow light poured from his exposed skin. He smirked smugly at North then set aside his glass and climbed into the rigging to untangle the Pooka. Lunar took a drink of his and his glow turned from silvery white to a shade of blue, and he smacked his lips."Good vintage," he said jovially.Sandy took a long gulp, then he turned bright red and steam came out of his ears. He looked extremely happy. Nightlight swigged from his cup, and his light flashed and shimmered like Pitch's had, mimicking the stars instead of emitting a rainbow light."I agree," he said to Lunar. "It's aged nicely.""What in blue blazes is that stuff?" Bunnymund demanded, wriggling to try and free himself from the ropes."Stay still," Pitch said sternly. "It's Tickling Fancy.""Stupid to take such a big gulp when you've never had it before," Lunar teased."Do I dare?" Toothiana asked, holding her cup gingerly."I would," Jack said, still tickled pink (literally) by the sensation of the drink.Toothiana shrugged and took a healthy swig. Her face lit up, and her feathers ruffled, and then they rippled, changing colors rapidly. Jack crowed in delight, taking another drink. Pitch finally freed Bunnymund, who dropped down to the deck looking embarrassed and slightly irritated."Should have warned us," he grumbled, glancing sideways at Pitch as he landed gracefully on the deck."Now where's the fun in that?" Pitch asked dryly.He picked up his cup and swallowed the rest. The rainbow flared again, flashing brightly and dazzling their eyes. Lunar laughed giddily after tilting back his cup and draining it to the bottom. His glow turned from blue to ruddy orange. North and Bunnymund both glanced at their glasses then took a smaller drink. North began to chuckle animatedly, and the Pooka rapidly tapped his foot on the ground. Toothiana's feathers continued to change as she finished her drink, and her face glowed with pleasure."So, what is Tickling Fancy?" North asked, smacking his lips."I ain't never tasted anything like it!" Bunnymund exclaimed, draining his glass."What does it taste like?" Jack asked. "It's not sweet or sour or cold or hot."Pitch raised his eyebrows. "It tastes like whatever tickles your fancy," he said coyly.The Guardians paused then burst into a merry round of laughter. Pitch poured them all more of the Tickling Fancy, and they each took turns drinking it, flashing colors, and physically reacting to each swallow."So, Jack," Bunnymund said casually when the first bottle was gone. "What does your Tickling Fancy taste like?"Jack smiled. "Like snowball fights and fun."Pitch hummed. "Interesting.""What about you, Bunny?" Jack asked, grinning at the Pooka."Mine tastes like chocolates and fresh spring flowers and hope," Bunnymund admitted after a moment, his ears slicked back to indicate some embarrassment at the admission.Toothiana smiled. "It tastes like curry and toothpaste and all the best memories in the world.""Only you would taste toothpaste," Jack laughed. He turned to North. "What about you?""Fresh cookies and wonder!" North exclaimed happily. "Sandy?""Wishes and dreams," Sandy replied, swirling the starry liquid. "The best tastes in the world."Jack turned to Nightlight. "And what about you?"Nightlight considered this for a moment. "It is a personal answer," he said. "Asking such a question is frowned upon unless you are close to everybody present."The Spirit of Fun paused. "I didn't realize that."The boy of light smiled. "I suppose it is fine. We have come far to find and save them." He sipped his drink. "Like starlight and safety."There was a pause, then Jack slowly turned to look at Pitch and Lunar They had watched and listened to each admission, knowing how precious the answers were. Pitch's lips pressed together tightly, and Lunar smiled."Are you going to ask us?" he asked."I don't know," Jack said. "If you want to share, you can."Lunar hummed, swirling the drink in his cup, looking thoughtfully into the starry depths. Jack turned to Pitch, who gritted his teeth and looked into his own drink. They said nothing for so long that Jack was ready to give up. But then they spoke at the same time, startling everybody."Family," Lunar said."Light," Pitch muttered.They paused then looked at each other, smiling. "And other things, of course," Lunar said. "But I have no desire to share them with the rest of you. And don't ask Prism, either."Pitch nodded then drained his cup. "Well, finish off the bottle," he said. "No use wasting it. I've got to figure out where we're going. Sanderson, which port are you docked in?""The Stargazer," Sandy replied quickly.Lunar followed Pitch to the map table, away from the others, who were splitting the rest of the Tickling Fancy. Pitch glanced at him as he sat in the chair and pulled the maps toward himself."Friendship?" Lunar prodded.Pitch nodded. "Hope.""Wonder," the Man in the Moon said, looking up at the stars."Good memories.""Fun times."Pitch paused, the shadows creeping up his cheeks in a blush. "Love."Lunar laughed softly, nudging Pitch. "I love you, too, Prism.""Best friends forever?" Pitch asked hesitantly."Forever," Lunar sighed then toasted Pitch and tilted back the rest of his drink.They burst into a fit of laughter. Everybody else turned to look curiously at the two men as they turned to the maps, still smiling at whatever they had said. Then they turned back to the bottle and emptied it into their cups, content to finish off the delightful drink.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch made his way through the dark tunnels. The others were all asleep. They were to be leaving the next morning, if any time of day could be called morning on this dark, starlit planet. Memories flooded Pitch's mind, invaded his dreams, and most of them were unpleasant. But one, in particular, woke him so much earlier than the others today. He was determined to act on the thought, which had presented itself three days before: Pitch Black would give Obscurus a funeral in the traditions of their people. For he knew they were of the same race.
So now he wound through the earth under the dim surface of Tenebris with a dark blue fire in his hands to light the way. When he arrived at the arena, he paused for a moment, searching the dimly lit room with eyes that saw every crack in the rocks, every shadow cast by the flickering flames. And they stopped on the pathetic, unmoving form that had once been the terror of the galaxy.
After pausing to take a breath, Pitch crept toward the corpse, half afraid that Obscurus would leap out at him, as he had all those years ago on the asteroid where he'd lost everything to that beast. No, he thought fiercely, recalling Lunar's bright smile from only the day before, I just thought I had. And then he was there, staring down at the wraith that Obscurus had become. He knelt down, scanning the dark form that had caused so much misery and pain in the lives of thousands, tens of thousands of children all across the universe.
The tall, imposing figure was now shrunk in on itself. The shadowy form lay there, as small and delicate as a child, draped in clothes that were now far too big for it. Pitch knelt down and reached out shaking fingers to brush away the lank, limp hair so he could properly see the face. It was a child's face, and it made his heart break. This man had also once been a child, and he had been broken so badly that all he could do was spread pain and destruction to all those around him.
"You never had a Lunar," Pitch breathed, recalling the peace of his life after meeting the Lunanoffs. "And I'm sorry about that." He paused then placed the blue flame on Obscurus's thin chest. It hovered there without burning the clothes or body, and then Pitch gently gathered the childlike shell of the man he'd feared nearly all his life into his arms and turned to carry him back out under the stars.
He carried the body away from the bright fire that marked their camp. Making his way across the rugged surface of the planet, he walked for fifteen minutes before he got to the funeral pyre. His people had used this same ground to send many souls to the stars. It was one of the only beautiful things about his people that he could recall. Most of the rest was pain and blood and anger at their dark lot in life.
In a near reverent state, Pitch looked up to the stars where the souls were said to swim in freedom once they'd left the body, the only lights that his people could handle in any degree, he walked slowly to the pyre and tenderly placed the body of his old enemy. Without a word, Pitch stripped the too-big clothes from the body and began to fashion them into a funeral robe worthy of the kings of their planet. It was only his own powerful magic that allowed it to happen so quickly. Months were normally spent on the robes, but with his own concentration and abilities, which were far beyond the typical Darkling powers, he formed the finest he had ever witnessed.
With great care, he dressed the childlike figure, then he settled the limbs into place. He stared at the serene face, wondering what had happened to such a handsome Darkling that would twist him into such a brute, but then he shuddered. He didn't want to know. He really didn't. And it was with great surprise that Lunar, Jack, and the others watched him caress the face of the man who had destroyed so much of Pitch's life. His profile was grim but determined, and they all watched in fascination as he exhaled and began to hunt around on the ground for something.
Unaware of the audience he hadn't heard approach, Pitch knelt down and began to gather the starstones that would grant Obscurus passage to the next plane of existence. It was tradition to have at least five stones, but Pitch gave him seven, a number of wholeness, completeness that Obscurus had clearly never known in his life. With great care, he arranged the stones in the proper places. He changed the one from the forehead to the left eye, adding one of the extras to the other eye and the other over Obscurus's heart.
He stepped back, searching the form for the enemy he had feared for so long. There was none of that left. Only a broken child who had never truly grown up. Like the Guardians, he thought bemusedly. We never grew up either. Funny how we're to defend children.
A shifting noise behind him startled him, and he spun around to see the other Guardians watching him. Out of all of them, only Nightlight looked as if he understood what Pitch was doing. He was leaning on his spear with the knowledge of generations in his young eyes, and he nodded once in approval. Lunar and Jack, when they saw they had been noticed, quickly stepped forward. The others stayed where they were.
"What are you doing, Pitch?" Jack asked.
Pitch pressed his lips together and turned back to the body. "I'm giving him a funeral."
"Why?" Lunar asked, moving to stand beside Pitch. Jack stopped on the other side, staring at what was left of such a powerful man.
The Nightmare King pursed his lips. "Because he was just a broken child who never grew up. Because he didn't know any other way to act. Because he was in pain all his life. And because it's the right thing to do."
Silence reigned, and then Nightlight moved forward. "What else do you need?"
"Nothing physical," Pitch said grimly. "Just fire. The Sparking Paradox will suffice."
"What do we need to do then?"
"You are under no obligation to give him any honor," Pitch grumbled.
"Nor are you. Yet you are," Nightlight replied. "And if you, of all people, can give him this dignity, so can we."
Jack smiled and nodded. "Come on, Pitch. Let us do this for him. For you."
Pitch glanced back at the other Guardians, who quickly hurried forward, nodding. It was still so bizarre to have them not be angry, not be scared of him and his powers. But he finally nodded, grabbed Lunar's shoulders, and guided him to stand off three feet to the side. Next, he grabbed Jack and guided him to the point several yards away from Lunar. Nightlight, without a word, went to stand on the other side of the body directly across from Jack. In a similar manner, Pitch guided the other Guardians to stand until they were in a nearly complete circle around the body. Then he went and took his place directly across from Lunar at the head of the body.
After a moment's silence, he raised his hands and spoke ancient words from his people. "The stars in the heavens watch over a new soul," he recited. "As we send his body on to the nonphysical world of the stars high above, we send with him the blessings of our people." Pitch paused, then swallowed and added his own words. "Though his life was dark, and his pain was great, he is free now from all of the bitter rage in his heart and soul."
With a simple thought, the fire, which still lay on top of the chest, exploded into an inferno, and everybody else gasped and flinched. Everybody except for Lunar, who tilted his head curiously. Pitch smiled at him, unable to help himself. And then the starstones began to burst in the flames. They leaped high over the body, a parody of sparkling stars. Seven times they burst, and seven stars hovered over the body, crackling and popping like the fire beneath them, but so much more beautiful.
And then, to Pitch's great surprise, a stately, handsome Darkling unfurled from the fire. He glanced around, and then his gaze landed on Pitch. He glanced around at everybody else, but none of them saw the form, not even Lunar and Nightlight. They were solemnly staring at the body being engulfed in flames. The figure stood tall between the stars, and then he smiled at Pitch.
"Thank you, Prism," he whispered, then the fire arched up into the sky in a flare of ecstasy.
The bright light dazzled Pitch's sensitive eyes, and he squeezed them shut. And then it was over. Nightlight was suddenly beside him, helping him to sit down as he rubbed his aching eyes.
"Stupid light," he muttered, tears sliding down his cheeks.
"Still can't handle much direct light, eh?" Lunar asked, walking around the now-empty pyre to stand beside Pitch.
"Our peoples are very different from yours, little Lunanoff," Nightlight said quietly. "Pitch does not have my anomaly, and he cannot stand such light."
Jack laughed and skipped over. "That was pretty cool. So, that's what a funeral was like for your people?"
Pitch nodded, his thin hands still covering his aching eyes. "I need sleep."
"Well, then let's go and finish sleeping," Lunar said sensibly. "North, guide Pitch back to the camp. No doubt he can hardly see where he's going."
"No doubt," Pitch replied with a snort.
North's large hand landed on his shoulder, and he was guided, as he had guided the others, back to camp. He didn't look back, knowing that the darkness would be that much darker because of the light. But as he settled back into his bedroll, he couldn't help but think of the Darkling that had appeared amongst the flames. It had been Obscurus, of that there was no doubt, but it was Obscurus as he had never been during his long life. And as Pitch closed his eyes, he knew what he had told Lunar was right.
Giving Obscurus a funeral had been the right thing to do. Not only for Obscurus but for him. Because peace settled over his tumultuous soul, and he smiled as he drifted into a new dream, a better dream. And he honestly couldn't wait to get back to Earth. But first, they had to get Sandy's ship.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The clang of the bell rang out loud on the silent, dark planet, and the ship's sails immediately absorbed the starlight as it rose slowly into the air. Jack and Nightlight were in the crow's nest, Sandy was explaining to the other Earthlings how the ship worked (and that they should really hang on in about five minutes), and Lunar stood beside Pitch, watching the others with a happy glow radiating from his core. Pitch's tall, dark form stood at the wheel, guiding the ship up, and he was wondering how he was fooled into having a passenger liner.Lunar nudged him. "Are you well, Prism?"Pitch made a noncommittal noise. "They're going to throw up on my ship," he grumbled.The Man in the Moon laughed heartily, slapping Pitch's back. "They'll clean it up."The Nightmare King couldn't help but smile a little at Lunar's merriment. He was still the same as when they were children. It was refreshing to have Lunar laughing with him again. Jack and Nightlight laughed all the time, but it was Lunar's joy that always made him feel better. If Lunar was laughing, things were going to be alright. After a few minutes, there was a jolt. Lunar, Sandy, and Pitch kept their footing, and Jack and Nightlight gave yells of delight, clutching at the railing around the crow's nest. Toothiana, Bunnymund, and North hit the deck with cries of surprise and pain. Lunar laughed again."It's going to get worse when we go into lightspeed," he called jovially.Jack whooped as they hit another layer. "How many today, Pitch?" he called down."Only three," Pitch said evenly, his strong voice carrying despite him not raising his voice. "One more. Then we go lightspeed." He paused. "Jack, get the mop, please."The boy's face turned mischievous as the last layer of the atmosphere passed, and then they were in the freedom of space. Jack leaped down, landing with ease, then scuttled into the hold to find the mop. Nightlight stared out into the darkness of space, searching for the net. He saw nothing. They theorized that since Obscurus was gone that the net wouldn't be there any longer. They didn't want to go lightspeed without confirming this. They had an hour at top speed to get to where the net had been, and Nightlight was watching closely, not even a smile touching his lips now; he knew personally the fear of the net, and he didn't want to run into it again.As they sailed, Jack scurried up the stairs then handed the strange mop to North, who stared at it."What is this for?"Jack grinned. "You'll see."Sandy smiled knowingly, but he said nothing. He was fascinated by this old-fashioned ship. It was beautiful, almost like an Earthen ship that sailed on the water. Its black boards were a clever camouflage, and it spoke of Pitch's daring; it was nearly impossible to get black hole shadows in the quantity that would be needed to cover every inch of the ship. Yet the entire ship was covered, rendered nearly invisible in the vastness of space. It was brilliant.After an hour, they reached the net. It wasn't gone but still floated there, immovable and terrifying. Pitch pulled up alongside it without a word, scanning the crystals. Lunar frowned and approached the side of the ship to get a better look. Sandy came up beside him. Pitch didn't move from the wheel, and the others didn't move; they would be no help in this matter."Well," Lunar said slowly. "I could try and use my power to try and get through.""I think Pitch should try and get rid of it," Jack said from the crow's nest."What makes you think I can?" Pitch asked; the others were surprised that he didn't scoff at the idea."Well," Jack said, hopping down and floating to the deck. "You could touch the kids, and you commanded the shadows to go away from you and they did when you were fighting Shadow Man. Maybe if Obscurus is gone, you can control his fear barrier, too."Pitch pressed his thin lips together, considering this. Lunar reached out and plucked a crystal out of the net. One immediately grew back. The crystal lay there for a moment, then it popped, spreading the red, gooey liquid over Lunar's hand. He stared at it, his brows coming together."It burns," he said softly. "Images. Fear. Pain." He swayed a little, paling.Then water doused him, washing away the goo. Lunar blinked and shook himself, water wicking off of his short, round body. He looked up at Pitch, who held a bucket."Don't touch," Pitch said grimly."You could have just washed my hand off," Lunar said, his mouth twitching."I could have," Pitch affirmed, then he set aside the bucket, a smile hovering around his own lips. "Well, I don't know how this will work. Stand back."He stood very still, staring at the net as the others retreated away from the net. Lunar alone stayed by his side. Pitch took a deep breath then held out his hands and whispered softly in a powerful tongue. The effect was immediate. The net fell apart, raining the red crystals over the ship and into space. Pitch raised his eyebrows in surprise as the crystals lay harmlessly on the deck and on the others. He hummed."You were right, Jack," he said. "Might as well gather the ones on the ship. I'll use them in some experiments. They really are an interesting thing."Pitch returned to the wheel and pointed the ship toward Earth while everybody else gathered the crystals into a small crate. They didn't pop or hurt anybody; Pitch had somehow disabled their power with his own unique abilities. When all of the crystals were collected, he spoke."Lightspeed. Brace yourselves."He reached for the bell, then he paused. Lunar looked hungrily at the bell, and Pitch smiled."Two times, Lunar. Quickly now."With the enthusiasm of a young boy being allowed to blow the whistle of a train, Lunar reached up and clanged the bell twice in rapid succession. As the sensation of lightspeed travel washed over them, there was the sound of retching, and Pitch laughed, his body refracting the starlight. Sandy was shaking with laughter, his golden eyes gleaming with pleasure, and Lunar laughed so hard that he had to wipe tears away from his cheeks."And that," Jack said, still standing and grinning at North. "Is what the mop was for.""Gee, thanks, Frostbite," Bunnymund croaked, shivering from the strange feeling of lightspeed."You'll get used to it," Lunar said. "We aren't coming out for a few days.""How can anybody get used to this?" Toothiana asked, her face almost as green as her feathers."Got no choice, do we?" Bunnymund asked."It did not feel like this on Sandy's ship," North groaned."Sanderson's ship is much more advanced than this one," Pitch replied from the wheel, setting and locking the controls so he could move around. "No doubt he has the shields necessary to shield passengers from the sensation of lightspeed travel."Sandy nodded vigorously. "Indeed. Finest controls available. Why do you not have one?""It was hard enough to build a ship like this on Earth," Pitch replied. "I had to take a thousand trips into the stars to get enough materials. And the tech needed for a ship like yours is rare and expensive. This isn't the Golden Age anymore, Sanderson."Sandy didn't respond, unsure of what to say. But Lunar walked down the stairs with Pitch and nudged him."And?" he prodded.Pitch glanced down and his lips twitched. "And I always wanted a ship like this one. I like the look and design of the old-fashioned sailors that I remember so well.""How do you remember it?" Jack asked. "I mean, where did you see one for the first time?"Pitch paused, looking at Jack. "General Starfinder," he said quietly.Sandy lit up, symbols flashing. "I remember him! His ship was very similar to yours now that I think of it. Beautiful sails, handled well. He let me steer it for a while.""He let Prism sail his for half a lightyear," Lunar said. "Father vouched for him, and Prism loved it. He actually smiled.""Ha, ha," Pitch said, but his face was a little darker than usual.Jack tapped his chin with his fingers. "What was the Tsar like, Lunar?"The mood changed instantly. Nightlight looked down from the crow's nest, his glow dimmer than it had been since he had been sick. Every bit of color drained from Pitch's face, and his expression went blank so that he looked to be a strange, white statue. Lunar pursed his lips, a wistful look on his round features."Father was a kind man," Lunar said. "He was gentle and bold and wise beyond measure. And Mother was beautiful, fair as the starry skies with eyes that twinkled as such. She was also kind and gentle and wise, and they ruled for a few thousand Earth years before their deaths…""No," Pitch said hoarsely, his face still white as snow."You promised, Prism," Lunar said pleasantly."Promised what?" Nightlight asked, hitting the deck with such force that it shuddered beneath his slim form. A sharp glow was in his eyes, a warning.Lunar was unfazed. "That he would explain what happened the day that Mother and Father joined the constellations of our ancestors.""He had no right to promise that," Nightlight said, speaking sternly; it was as if Lunar was a little child asking about grown-up things.Lunar tilted his head. "I want to hear the story.""No, Lunar," Nightlight said, using the Man in the Moon's first name for the first time since he had joined them."Why not?" Lunar asked, his voice still pleasant."You're not old enough."Lunar's face remained jovial, but a hardness came into his tone. "I am physically older than you, Nightlight. But I'll always be younger than you age-wise. I am not the little boy you were in charge of for so long. I am Tsar now, Nightlight. Are you going to challenge that?"Nightlight's jaw was set, his eyes bright as they bored into the small man before him. Lunar stood resolute, his gaze intense as he stood before the boy who had raised him for many years. Pitch watched them stare at each other, neither bending. And he could feel a niggling fear in Nightlight, that the truth would destroy the little boy he had so lovingly watched over and protected from nightmares. Because Nightlight didn't want him to have any nightmares, ever. But Pitch knew that Lunar had. He was no longer a child, Pitch realized. He deserved the truth."That's enough," Pitch said, the shadows on his face returning to a pale grey. Both of them looked at him. Lunar's eyes narrowed in anger, but Pitch shook his head. "Nightlight is not going to challenge your claim to the throne, Lunar. And Nightlight, Lunar needs to hear the story. We've kept it from him long enough. I understand why you didn't want him to hear it when he was younger. Your job was to keep the nightmares away. But he grew up, you left, and they came anyway. He's had nightmares, Nightlight."Horror crossed the boy's thin face, and he turned to stare at Lunar again. "You…?"Lunar shrugged. "Nightmares are a part of life, Nightlight. I don't mind too much. You did your job. Father and Mother would be pleased with what you did. And then you left to protect me from something, but you would not say what. I assume it was Obscurus.""I… After what happened with Pitch," he said, clutching his spear so tightly that his knuckles stood out. "We thought he would come after you to hurt you. I was to deter him, to make sure he didn't figure out which moon we were.""But Earth only has one moon," Jack said after a moment's pause.Pitch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "The Earth originally didn't have a moon, Jack. Seven thousand years ago, your moon was a ship. And on that ship lived a king, a queen, and three little boys…"

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The little boy Prism watched quietly as Lunar slept. Once again, Nightlight had worked his magic, and peace was the expression on the little princeling's face. There was a soft noise, and Prism turned to see the Tsarina, her soft, beautiful face just as bright as the rest of the ship. He was no longer bothered by the bright lights. They were not quite natural yet, but they comforted him. He liked the light now. He never wanted to live in the dark again.
"Yes, ma'am?" he asked, his young voice deeper than most and solemn.
"You should be sleeping, Prism," she said, her mellifluous voice washing over the young boy's mind in a swirl of comfort. She was like a mother to him, a real mother that cared for him and fed him and helped him when he was hurt. It was only natural for her to be concerned that he wasn't asleep.
"I don't want to sleep," Prism murmured, his crystalline features thoughtful.
"Why not?" she asked. Her skirts rustled as she went to sit on his bed beside him.
"Something bad is going to happen tonight," he said, turning back to Lunar. "And if I'm not awake, Lunar will be hurt."
The Tsarina considered this for a moment. "Have you had another premonition?"
"I think so," Prism admitted. "But I do not know what will happen this time. I woke up crying after the dream. I know it was bad. I know it is tonight. I do not know what will happen."
"Things will be alright, no matter what happens," she said. She stood and pulled Prism to his feet. "Might as well come and spend time with us on the bridge. Nightlight is uneasy, too. He cannot sleep either."
Prism's jaw clenched as he followed her obediently to the bridge. If both he and Nightlight were uneasy, something really bad was going to happen. Both of them had known darkness, and they knew the signs. They could sense disasters like the Tsar, Tsarina, and little prince couldn't. Prism had often had premonitions about terrible things, and he could often prevent them from being so awful. But this one was different. He couldn't change this one. He knew that much. And a part of him was terrified.
They got to the bridge and the Tsar and Nightlight turned to look at them. His brows furrowed.
"You, too, Prism?" he asked.
His handsome face pinched as Prism reluctantly nodded. "Yes, sir."
"This isn't good," Nightlight said simply, capturing all of their moods in one short sentence.
Tsarina pulled Prism to a small sofa, sitting right beside him as he looked around, waiting for something bad to happen. Nightlight and the Tsar were doing a full scan of the darkness around their ship. It was only when the Tsarina brushed his hair from his face that Prism looked into her kind face. With startling force, he knew this would be the last peaceful moment the four of them would have together, and tears filled his young eyes and poured down his thin, white cheeks. The Tsarina said nothing. She only pulled him close, a sad resignation in the air around her. She could sense something, too, but she didn't know what it was.
The ship was suddenly rocked by a vicious explosion. The Tsarina stood immediately, unwavering as her husband, who narrowed his eyes at the screen. He pressed several keys, and there was a hiss and a sucking sound.
"I must go to the little Lunanoff," Nightlight said, standing from where he had been thrown down.
"I sealed him in. He will not be harmed," the Tsar said tightly. "We need you right here."
"Why?"
The ship suddenly lurched again, harder than before. Nightlight clutched his spear as the warning lights blared, announcing a break in the outer hull. Somebody, or several somebodies, has broken in. The Tsar typed in a code that Prism didn't recognize. A pair of swords were revealed; unbeknownst to those standing there, the swords would later be passed down to a young Earthling whom the Tsar's son would choose to become the Spirit of Wonder for children many thousands of years later.
"Prism, Nightlight," The Tsar said grimly. "I need you to stay back."
Prism didn't respond, sensing something coming toward them. It was sticky and dark, reminding him of his home planet. He was rooted to the spot, terror washing over him like a parody of a sun rising, leaving him paralyzed. This was the sensation from the dream, and it grew bigger and bigger. Shadows pooled in the door, and Prism's mouth went dry as his skin began to crawl. This was terrifying, yet his young, darkness-inclined mind found something enticing about the shadows, like they were beckoning for him to join them.
Before he knew what he was doing, he took two steps forward, curious and fearful, drawn to the shadows like a moth to flame. With shocking suddenness, a large, strong hand gripped his shoulder and jerked him back with such force that he cried out. The Tsar stood before him, swords drawn, eyes containing a fire that Prism had never seen before. The Tsarina caught him and pulled him behind her. Her own soft face was full of the same fire as her husband's.
"It's him," she hissed.
"Of course it is," the Tsar muttered. "You don't think he would just give up, do you?"
"Who?" Nightlight asked, pointing his spear at the shadows.
Prism tried to go past the Tsarina, but she grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip.
"Stay, Prism!" she commanded.
"But he's calling for me," Prism murmured. And he could hear an enticing whisper that he wanted to heed. It called him by his new name, not his old one. It promised that he wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. "Please, ma'am, let me go."
"No," she said sternly. Then she looked at her husband. "We must do something. He won't leave him alone."
"We will end this tonight. If he is so desperate for Prism, we'll give him a reason to stay away."
"Who is after Prism?" Nightlight demanded. He was frightened of the shadows, and he didn't understand why Prism was so eager to go toward them.
"Nightlight," the Tsar said firmly. "Keep Prism back. Do not let him get involved. Those are orders."
Without another word, Nightlight strode right over to Prism and grasped his arm tightly. He was still taller than Prism, and stronger, too. And if the Tsar ordered it, Nightlight would obey to the death if he had to. Then a soft laugh filled the room that made Prism's hair stand on end. He no longer wanted to be with the shadows, and he pressed back into the thin frame of Nightlight.
"Making things difficult, Tsar Lunar?" a low, sinister voice murmured. "Fine. I will have the boy either way."
And then a dark, shadowy form came through. It was a figure that Prism thought should never have been revealed by light. He was tall, thin, and resembled the Darklings that he'd known all his life. His sharp features held something hungry that made Prism's insides quake with terror. He swallowed convulsively, and the man turned to him, his red eyes tracing the boy's frame. The Tsar stepped in front of Prism, holding out his swords.
"Get out, Obscurus," he said icily. "You will not have him."
"Who's going to stop me?" Obscurus asked, his lips parting to reveal perfect teeth.
"Us," the Tsarina said.
Obscurus snorted. "He's not even yours. Just give him up."
"You'll have to get through us first," the Tsar snarled.
And he lunged forward, light flashing on the blades as he swung them. Obscurus countered by materializing a blade and holding it up to block the strike. They began to dance a dangerous waltz, dodging and twisting with grace as they fought. The Tsarina snagged the boys' arms and turned to sprint down the halls. Nightlight and Prism followed, their hearts pounding. Terror, unnatural terror, washed over them. If it hadn't been for the Tsarina's presence, they would have curled up and cowered behind anything nearby.
A scream sounded behind them, a hoarse cry of pain. The Tsarina winced, recognizing the voice of her husband, but she urged them on. She gasped as she saw slithering creatures down the tunnel to safety and she turned to see that they were surrounded. A snakelike creature lunged, and quick as a flash of starlight, the Tsarina jerked a knife from the folds of her gown and stabbed at the creature's eyes. It shrieked in pain, and the others stayed back for a moment. Nightlight looked around then jumped up and tore open a hatch.
"Up, Prism!" he barked.
Prism jumped and slid into an air vent. Nightlight followed immediately. The hatch slammed closed behind them. The vent passage would have been black as a black hole but for Nightlight's natural, dim glow. Nightlight moved first, nudging Prism forward.
"Go," he murmured.
"Where?" Prism hissed.
"Forward," Nightlight said. "The only way we can go."
That was true, so Prism began to crawl. If he had been much bigger, he would have been stuck. It was only Nightlight's naturally thin form that allowed him to fit so nicely. For half an hour, they made their way through the air ducts. Just when Prism thought he could go no further, his keen eyes saw a hatch. He stopped.
"What?" Nightlight asked.
"A hatch."
"Up or down?"
"Up."
Nightlight hummed. "We can get out and go in another way closer to the safe room."
Prism nodded, maneuvered his way toward the hatch, and shoved as hard as he could. After a few moments, the hatch hissed as it opened, and they crawled out onto the surface of the ship. The stars were bright as they stood up and stretched their cramped bodies. Nightlight planted his spear and looked around, judging their position.
"We need to go that way," he said, pointing behind Prism.
Prism didn't even look, gaping at something behind Nightlight. The boy of light spun around, his spear ready. A dark ship hovered there next to the breach in the hull. They stood unmoving until a dark figure came out of the hole to stare at the two boys. Nightlight, obeying the Tsar's orders, stood defensively in front of Prism. They both noticed the blade in his hand, dripping a dark substance onto the surface of the Moon Clipper.
"Your protectors have fallen, Prism-boy," Obscurus said idly. "Come here or the light boy is next."
Prism gritted his teeth, staring at the face of the man who had disturbed everything. He didn't want to believe that the two wonderful people had fallen, but he knew what was dripping steadily into the dark grey sand at his feet. Nightlight held out a hand to keep him back.
"Stay away," Nightlight growled, his luminescent eyes narrowed.
Prism swallowed. He couldn't let Nightlight fall, too. If he did, Lunar would have nobody left. "I'm sorry, Nightlight," he murmured.
Before the boy of light could turn to give him an order, Prism touched a series of nerves that made him collapse. His big eyes held betrayal and shock as he stared up at Prism, unable to move. Prism stepped over him and walked forward.
"If I come with you, you'll let them go?"
"Yes," Obscurus said, his grin widening.
Without another word, Prism went to board the ship. As Obscurus's thin hand clutched his shoulder, a feeling darker than the blackest pits fell over him, and he knew that he would die. Why Obscurus wanted him dead, he wasn't sure, but at least Lunar and Nightlight would be safe.
Then a blindingly bright light hit his eyes. He spun around to see the Tsar shining like a great star, his wife beside him with her own light gleaming from her core. Nightlight cried out and was on his feet in a moment, his spear held out protectively. The Tsar and Tsarina were bloody, but they were standing. Obscurus cringed away, his fingers clutching at Prism's clothes as he tried to drag the boy back into his ship. That displeased the royals.
In a flash of light, the Tsarina yanked both Prism and Nightlight toward them. She held their shoulders and knelt down. Her face was pale with pain, her hands trembling from weakness. Prism knew then what was going to happen.
"No!" he cried. "Don't leave us!"
"You are to go and hit the hyperspeed," the Tsar said tersely. "I've set the coordinates."
Nightlight blinked, uncomprehending. They had never been allowed to fly the Moon Clipper before. Why now? And why was Prism so upset?
"Papa!" he burst out. "Papa, Mama, please! We can't do this alone!"
"We will always be with you," the Tsarina said. "Look to the skies, and we will be there."
The light became unbearably bright, and Prism screamed again. "No! Mama! Papa! No!"
The last word echoed as a blinding flash of light engulfed them and they slammed down on the bridge. Nightlight hit hard and lay very still, too dazed to move. But Prism screamed in pain as the alarms blared, forcing himself up and toward the controls. If the Tsar and Tsarina did this for him, he would obey their wishes. Maybe if he did it fast enough, everything would be fine. Heaving himself up into the pilot's chair, he reached out his trembling hand and punched the hyperspeed button with all the force he had.
Instantly he was thrown back. His head slammed into the wall and he knew no more.
When Prism woke up, he was so sore and his head ached. He groaned as he sat up. Where were they? What had happened? After a moment, his own voice echoed in his head.
"Mama! Papa! No!"
Prism jumped up, looking around in bewilderment. The Tsar and Tsarina! Where were they? A soft noise brought his attention to the doorway. Lunar stood there, rubbing his eyes. His young, round face was curious.
"Hey, Prism," he said. "Mama didn't wake me up." His eyes fell on Nightlight, who was slumped on the floor against the far wall. His face pinched. "Why is Nightlight sleeping on the floor?"
Prism hesitated. "He hit his head."
"Mama will kiss it better," Lunar said confidently.
Prism didn't speak. He needed to get out to see what had happened. Something was wrong with the ship. The emergency lights were lit, and the engine was no longer humming. He looked at Lunar.
"Why don't you try and wake him up? I'll go and find your mother."
Lunar bounced over to Nightlight and began to shake him. Prism didn't stay to watch. He dashed down the hall and up onto the surface of the ship. Immediately he noticed a distinct lack of gravity. With a flex of his power, he gravitized himself and began to hunt for any evidence of life. When he reached the place where the breach had been, he paused and looked around.
The breach was sealed. The glint of metal proved that it had been this spot where Obscurus had broken through. The rest of the ship was covered in moon sand. And then Prism noticed that the ship was no longer a ship. It was in lunar mode. That explained why they weren't moving. But there was no sign of the Tsar and Tsarina. Unsure of what else to do, Prism looked up at the stars. And there they were. Two constellations that shone brightly above him, their arms linked as they smiled down at him.
There was a cry, and Nightlight came running, his eyes wide. He hunted around on the ground, searching desperately for footprints, for any sign of the Tsar and Tsarina. Prism looked down to see Lunar waddling up, watching Nightlight curiously. He got to Prism and blinked.
"I thought you were going to find Mama?"
"I did," Prism said quietly.
"You did?" Nightlight asked, relief on his thin features.
Prism nodded and lifted up a hand to point up at the sky. Both boys looked up and Lunar lit up. He waved.
"Hi, Mama! What are you doing up there?" he called.
Nightlight lowered his eyes to Prism's grim expression. They both knew what it meant that they were constellations. They both knew that they had perished to save them. But little Lunar didn't understand yet. Prism gestured with his eyes to Lunar, and Nightlight's expression hardened. He shook his head then placed a hand on Lunar's shoulder.
"They're going to watch over you from there now," he said quietly. "To keep us safe."
"Will they come to visit?" Lunar asked.
"You can talk to them always," Nightlight said gently.
Prism didn't respond to Nightlight as he wove a web of secrecy around the princeling's parents' deaths. He stared up at the stars, a hole in his heart. They had died for him. He knew that it was his fault they were dead. For some unknown reason, Obscurus had come after him and in the process of saving him, the Tsar and Tsarina had given their lives. He agreed that Lunar didn't need to know yet. It would probably be a few weeks before they would tell the story. But what hurt him the most was that in begging for them to stay, he had called them mama and papa. It was his first acknowledgment that they were like parents to him. And they would never be able to respond in kind.
As Nightlight called for a lunar moth to carry Lunar up closer to his parents, Prism squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he would never forgive himself. He didn't deserve forgiveness. Lunar would hate him when he admitted it. How could he ever live without Lunar and Nightlight? They were the only family he had left. A hand suddenly gripped his. Lunar stared up at him with a bright smile.
"Come on, Prism. Let's go talk to Mama and Papa."
Prism tried to withdraw his hand, ashamed and horrified that Lunar would touch him after what he'd done to his wonderful parents. But Lunar didn't let go. But one day he would, Prism knew. When he found out, Prism wouldn't be welcome anymore. But for now, Prism would go with Lunar and talk to the stars. Until he was rejected, he wouldn't leave this kind boy who saw the beauty in everything, even something as dark and dreary as himself. So he climbed onto the soft, fuzzy back of the moth and it took off toward the heavens. As they flew up, a strange blue and green world floated a long way away and they stared at the pretty jewel-like planet, unaware of just how much this world would come to mean to them in the future.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch stood silently at the edge of the ship after the story was done. Tears wound down his thin cheeks just as they had so many millennia before. He couldn’t bear to see Lunar’s face, to see the hatred and betrayal on his normally kind, jovial features. Nightlight said nothing either, sitting on the railing with his own gleaming tears tracking down his face.

Lunar stood completely still, his cheeks wet, his expression thoughtful. He stared first at Nightlight’s pained face, then at Pitch’s ramrod-straight back. After a few minutes of quiet, Lunar swallowed.

“So that is what happened,” he said.

“Yes, little Lunanoff,” Nightlight said thickly. “Your parents died to save the three of us.”

Lunar pursed his lips then turned to Pitch. “Prism?” he said gently. “Look at me.”

Pitch didn’t move except to grit his teeth. Lunar approached and reached for his hand, but Pitch moved away quickly, launching himself up to climb the rigging into the crow’s nest. Lunar watched him for a moment, sadness in his eyes.

“Should… should we go up and bring him down?” Bunnymund asked, unsure.

“Give him some time,” Lunar said. “He is in pain. He blames himself for their deaths.”

“Who’s going to steer?” Toothiana asked.

“I can,” Jack said. “Or Nightlight can.”

Sandy tapped his chin, his eyes bright. “May I steer?” he asked. “I’ve always wanted to captain a ship like this. Even for a few hours.”

Jack looked him over then nodded. “Okay. I’ll read the maps. You said you’re slow at it, so I’ll do it and you can captain the ship.”

Nightlight grinned. “For a few hours, at least.”

Up above, Pitch ignored everything going on below him. His heart ached so badly. He never liked thinking of the deaths of the only parental figures that he’d really loved. He settled down and stared at the stars. They were nowhere near Earth, so he couldn’t even look up at the Tsar and Tsarina’s smiling constellations. So he lay back, closed his eyes, and lost himself in his memories, unable to sleep without Sandy’s dreamsand, and too angry and afraid to go down and ask.

Two hours later, the ship suddenly groaned so loudly that Pitch sat up. They were no longer going forward. They were going sideways. Heaving himself to his feet, Pitch looked down. Sandy was at the ready, a terrified expression on his face as he fought with the wheel. Jack was demanding to know what was wrong and Nightlight, Lunar, and the others were clutching onto the ship for dear life. The ship groaned again, and Pitch turned to see a dark spot that was drawing them closer.

Pitch leapt from the crow’s nest, landing with a grunt on the deck. “Black hole!” he bellowed, and Jack turned to face him, all the color draining from him until his skin was as white as his hair.

Pitch jumped the railing and shoved Sandy out of the way, taking the wheel in his nimble hands. Sandy snagged the railing, looking frightened. He’d had only one experience with a black hole, and he had barely made it out alive. He couldn’t even organize his thoughts enough to symbolize. His own ship had been one of the most modern in the Golden Age, but this ship, primitive by Golden Age standards, would not hold up. There was no way.

Pitch turned the wheel to aim directly at the rapidly approaching black hole, and Sandy’s eyes widened. He turned to gape at the man.

“I’m not crazy,” Pitch replied, a glitter in his eyes. “This is the only way this kind of ship can survive. Trust me, Sanderson. We’ll be fine.”

But Sandy’s golden sand began to turn green with fear. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. Jack struggled up to Pitch, the gravity of the black hole stronger than that of the ship.

“Rope, Jack,” he ordered.

“W-where?” Jack asked.

The fear coming off of everybody on the ship was almost divine, but Pitch focused on the task at hand. He locked the wheel and scrambled for a box, tearing it open to reveal silver ropes. Without hesitating, he snatched them up and shoved them into Jack’s hand.

“Tie everybody to the ship,” he commanded. “Sanderson, go help. Quickly!”

“What about you?” Jack asked.

“A captain goes down with his ship,” Pitch replied, turning back to unlock the controls.

Jack stared with wide eyes. “Pitch!”

“Leave one with me, Jack!” Pitch snapped. “I have bigger things to worry about than tying myself to the ship!” Jack stood there, terrified, and Pitch glanced over. Only his eyes softened, but he reached into Jack’s mind. “I will be fine. Leave me a rope. Tie it off if it makes you feel better.”

Jack nodded and tied off a long, thin rope, leaving the other end at Pitch’s feet. He trusted Pitch’s decision-making, but as he hurried to the others, he couldn’t see how such thin ropes could hold against a black hole. But Sandy was tying himself in with expert knots, handing two ropes to Lunar. Immediately, Lunar cinched a rope around Toothiana’s waist and turned to the mast.

Within a minute, only Lunar was untied, and he began to knot the rope at his waist. The ship groaned from the pressure of gravity, and he paused for only a moment. His eyes rose up to the helm to see Pitch standing there, his tall, dark frame silhouetted by the stars that were being slowly pulled in. His eyes were bright, and though no rainbow shone from his form, he looked more powerful than ever before facing this destroyer of stars and worlds. Then Pitch jerked the wheel, and the Tsar flew to the side, hitting hard. He grasped at the railing on the side of the ship, but it slipped through his fingers and he was instantly dragged toward the hole.

“MiM!” North bellowed, but he couldn’t go after him. The rope was tied short, and he had no length to move around.

For one moment, everybody watched in horror as the Tsar was sucked toward what was surely to be his death. Then a flash of movement brought their gazed to Pitch. In one smooth movement, Pitch slammed the controls into a locked position, grabbed the rope at his feet, and launched himself over the edge of the ship. The others ran for the edge, wondering how this could possibly end well.

Pitch soared toward Lunar, as unafraid as Lunar was terrified. He snagged the untied rope, pulled it hard, and neatly tied a knot to the one in his hand. Lunar yelped as he was stopped by the rope. Pitch released the rope and flew toward him, stopping himself with ease at Lunar’s side, his hand on the rope.

“Want to see something cool?” Pitch asked, his eyes sparkling.

Lunar, fascinated by the calmness of the man in front of him as they flew to their deaths, nodded. Pitch materialized a bag in his hand and handed it to Lunar.

“Hold it out and brace yourself.”

Lunar obeyed and Pitch reached out to Jack with his mind. “Ring the bell three times in rapid succession. Now!”

There were three seconds of nothing then the ship burst forward like a shooting star. Lunar cried out, clutching at Pitch with one hand with the bag held tightly in his hand, terror keeping his grip solid. Then he heard Pitch laughing like a child, and rainbow light surrounded him. After a few seconds of the wild, light-filled ride, Pitch said a strange word and the rope recoiled back to the ship with rapid speed. They hit the deck with great force, and the ropes coiled on the boards, gleaming silver. Lunar couldn’t speak as he looked up at the still grinning Nightmare King, who still had no rope around his waist and who had saved the Tsar’s life with ease.

Pitch strode calmly over to Jack, who stood gaping at him by the wheel. “Good job, Jack. Step aside.”

Jack blinked. “How did we get out of that?” he asked dazedly.

“Because I knew what to do. It’s not my first black hole. I’ve faced hundreds, some in much smaller ships.”

Everybody stared at him as he stepped up to the wheel and readjusted the controls.

“You must have guided us to Ultren-7. Too far to the naughts, Jack. Go and see how we need to get back on course for the Stargazer Port.”

Jack unglued his feet from the deck and slowly walked down the stairs. He paused at the bottom and looked at the others. Without warning, he burst out laughing. It was frantic and slightly hysterical. Within a second, everybody was laughing except for Pitch, who stood at the wheel and felt the fear dissipating. He glanced at Lunar, who was calming down quickly. When he relaxed, he met Pitch’s eyes then smiled. Then he looked down at the bag at his feet.

“What are they?” he asked, his calm voice cutting through the noise effortlessly.

The bag contained a dark, slippery mass of what appeared to be paint. How the bag had been filled with it, Lunar didn’t know. He could remember nothing but terror as they flew toward the black hole. It was Jack that answered, sounding gleeful.

“Black hole shadows!”

Sandy scurried over and dipped his hand into it. It came out black, and Sandy grinned, wiggling his fingers. Jack approached and knelt down then splashed some all over Sandy. Within seconds, they all devolved into children, having a splash fight with the dark liquid. Pitch watched, a small smile on his face. Then Lunar broke away, smeared with black, and walked over to him. At the top step, he paused and gazed intently at Pitch.

“Oh, if you must,” Pitch grumbled.

Lunar strode over and reached out to pull one of Pitch’s hands off the wheel. He gripped it tightly, staring up with solemn eyes. Pitch flinched and tried to tug his hand away, as he had done when they were children. But once again, Lunar refused to let go.

“I don’t hate you, Prism,” he said firmly. “Mama and Papa gave their lives to save all three of us. I don’t blame you. I don’t reject you. You’re my friend, Prism. You believe that, right?”

Pitch stared at their hands, his face pinching with pain. “It was my fault Obscurus hunted us down. It was my fault that they had to defend us. If I hadn’t been there, you would still have your parents.”

“Our parents,” Lunar said. He turned and used his free hand to point at Nightlight. “He wasn’t their son either, not biologically, but he was still their son. And so were you, Prism. A parent is to protect their children. And they protected all of us. They are heroes, Prism. And we are all still here, still alive. And I would like us all to be together still. Is that possible?”

“Why don’t you hate me?” Pitch asked in exasperation.

“I don’t want to,” Lunar replied, smiling. He reached up and grabbed a splatter of shadows then tugged Pitch down and smeared it all over the grey face. “Oh, much better,” Lunar teased. “Black as pitch.”

Pitch snorted. “If I were mature, I would say that I have light inside of me that would dazzle the best and brightest in the galaxy.”

“If you were mature,” Lunar replied. “I’m sure you would realize that it doesn’t matter what Guardian of Childhood looks like on the outside. It is what is on the inside that counts.”

“And since I am not mature,” Pitch responded. “I have no qualms saying that I still don’t believe that I am a Guardian because I don’t know what use I am to children.”

Lunar paused. “We should explore that before we swear you in. But we will figure it out.”

Pitch smiled, squeezed Lunar’s hand, the let go to grasp the whee again. He knew that if Lunar couldn’t blame him for his parents’ deaths, then there was nothing that would make Lunar despise him. And it made him smile a little brighter as he guided the ship toward the port.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack stared with wide eyes as they pulled into the spaceport. He had never seen something as fantastic as this gathering of people from all over the galaxy. There were all sorts of people, big and small, male and female, finely dressed and dressed in rags, and they swarmed around the small planetoid. All kinds of ships were docked in garages and around docks that were reminiscent of the sea docks on Earth. He hugged the railing of the crow’s nest, his cheeks flushing blue in his excitement. It was more than he could ever have imagined.

“Jack, please come down,” Pitch said. His voice was even, without a raise in volume, yet it carried to the boy’s ears without effort.

Jack looked around one last time then leaped down, landing easily on the deck. The others were all sleeping below deck, and Pitch alone stood at the wheel, expertly guiding the ship into one of the older docks. It settled in and Pitch rang the bell. The gravity did not flee this time but seemed to intensify. Jack glanced at the man who waited to board. He had reddish skin and was as tall as Pitch, with glowing, ember-like eyes that scanned the ship as it settled in place. Pitch lowered a gangplank, and the man walked up, checking his list.

“Name?” he asked.

“Pitch Black,” Pitch recited. “We’re staying for one sleep cycle and one wake cycle.”

“Fine. 20 silvronds.”

Pitch nodded and hurried to a chest. Jack said nothing as Pitch unlocked the locks, not with a key, but with a whispered word, and then he pulled out a handful of coins. After counting out twenty silver coins, he handed them to the dock manager, who inclined his head, marked something on his list then looked up.

“We don’t get many like this anymore,” he said, admiration in his tone as he looked around the sleek, black ship.

“Built it myself,” Pitch replied.

“Just yourself?” was the surprised reply.

“Took a long time,” Pitch answered. “May I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“There should be a Comet ship docked around here. Belongs to an old retired Star Captain, Sanderson Mansnoozie. Any idea where it’s docked?”

“Are you here to claim it?” the man asked sadly. “He must have died. We have so few men like him, and he’s gone now, too.”

“Gone?” Jack blurted out, leaning against his staff. “Sandy’s not gone!”

“I beg your pardon?” the man asked, shocked at being talked to by a boy.

“No, sir,” Pitch said, raising his eyebrows in warning to the boy.. “Jack is right. Sanderson is sleeping below. We’re here to get his ship.”

“Well, if it doesn’t need claimed, he’s built up hefty fees,” the man replied.

“That’s why I want to find where his ship is.”

“Halfway across,” the dockworker said, pointing with his pen. “Docked in the finest section. I don’t envy him.”

Pitch nodded, pressing his lips together. “Thank you, sir.” When the man left, Pitch turned to Jack. “If you would like to explore the port, you’re welcome to come with me. But you keep your tongue around this place, Jack. There can be some powerful men and women here, and looks are deceiving. Deal?”

“Deal!” Jack exclaimed, his blue eyes gleaming as he flashed his teeth.

“Follow me then. And keep your staff.”

Pitch pulled out a large sack from the chest, shrank it with his powers, and placed it in his pocket, then he locked the chest with another word. With a simple gesture for Jack to follow close behind, Pitch strolled off the ship and into the crowd. The people pushed past each other, jostling and engaged in their own business. Several men and women glanced curiously at Jack, which made the boy uneasy. He pressed close to Pitch.

“Why are they staring?” Jack muttered. Pitch glanced sharply at him and shook his head, pressing his lips together. A touch to Jack’s mind took away his discomfort and fear.

“Don’t speak aloud like that. There are many ears, and they are not all friendly. But it is because you look young and unsure. Few boys on ships would look so afraid. They would be used to places like these. Try a lazy confidence, even if you don’t feel like it.”

Jack blinked then straightened and swung his staff over his shoulder. He matched Pitch’s stride and posture, and the man’s lips quirked.

“Better.”

Jack looked around, keeping pace with Pitch as they passed by ship after ship, all with different shapes and styles. Jack found that his preference was Pitch’s simple ship, not all of the fancy, machine-like ships. Still, he couldn’t help but stare with bright, shining eyes at the delightful array of lights and gleaming metal.

Pitch stopped suddenly, and Jack nearly ran into him. He pointed when Jack asked a question with his face. There was a sleek, streamlined golden ship with a tail like a comet, and Jack understood why Pitch had called it a Comet.

“That’s it?” Jack asked, figuring it was a safe question.

“That’s it. Come.”

They walked over and stood in a lengthy line that ended at a large shop. Pitch crossed his arms and stood like a stone, his face taut. Jack nuzzled the mental connection, and Pitch glanced at him.

“Something wrong?”

Pitch flushed a little darker but his eyes returned to the booth. “That obvious, eh?”

Jack smiled. “I know you. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like crowds. Especially of adults.”

Jack hesitated for a moment as they stepped forward. A purple-toned man stormed by, muttering what had to be curses in a strange tongue. Was it too personal a question, he wondered. But he saw no harm in asking. Pitch could always not answer, and besides, there was little else to pass the time.

“You’re very kind, Jack. Ask your question.” Jack started then realized that no thought was safe from Pitch. He blushed a dark blue, and Pitch sniggered. “Well?”

“Why don’t you like adult crowds?”

Pitch hummed low in his throat as they moved up another space. “They fear many more things than children, and they are much more abstract. A crowd of children is bad enough, but their fears are simple, easy to understand. But how can you explain the darkest fears of an adult’s soul? Most of the time, they are ignorant of what they fear, and there are so many layers, Jack. Loneliness, death, love, and many more things are wrapped in many layers of emotion, with webs connecting them all, sticking in layer after layer. And I have no choice but to be aware of them. Each person here, besides you, has a fear that is complex, and most have more than one. Being aware is painful, almost like a torture.”

Jack nodded as they stepped forward. “I thought that you liked fear?” He paused, suddenly afraid that he had insulted Pitch, but Pitch shook his head.

“I know you’re not accusing, Jack. You are asking the question with the honest curiosity of a child. And so I will answer. I have conflicting feelings about it. If the fear is potent enough, it acts like a drug to my mind, addling it. It’s like a rush that affects every part of me. I hate that it does that, that it makes me lose my inhibitions. But it is a part of me, Jack.”

They moved forward again. "But that’s not what’s happening right now?”

“No, Jack. It’s like a cheese-grater is rubbing against my brain and nerves. I am aware of pinpricks all over my consciousness, and it’s painful. The fears are presenting themselves to me in a constant stream, and it is only because I have had years of practice that I’m not curled on the floor in a ball and screaming until I go hoarse.”

Jack cringed, feeling sorry for his friend, but before he could say anything else, a pleasant female voice washed over him, and he realized that they had made it to the front of the line. They woman was very fair, with dark brown skin and crystalline blue eyes. She stared at Pitch expectantly. Jack hadn’t heard the question, but Pitch replied cordially.

“I’m here to pay Sanderson Mansnoozie’s fees on the Comet.”

She smiled and clicked through a holographic screen. “Dock 314?”

“Yes, ma’am,”

“It’s hefty,” she warned.

“What is it?”

“287 goldrons.”

“Include one more sleep and wake cycle,” Pitch said. “And we’re moving it to Dock 879.”

She updated the price, and Pitch pulled out the bag and tossed the required money down. She calculated it, gave him a receipt on some kind of stone, then she handed him the key. Pitch nodded his thanks and then they walked toward the ship. Pitch unlocked it and slid into the captain’s seat. Jack plopped down in the second seat and looked around.

“Fancy,” he commented.

“Finest machinery of the Golden Age,” Pitch said.

They moved the ship to dock right beside Pitch’s ship, and the dock manager came over to charge. When he saw who it was, he checked the receipt and nodded at them.

“Let me know if you’re staying longer,” he said.

“I will,” Pitch replied.

They walked up the gangplank and settled down to rest. An hour later, Sandy came up, his expression grim. The others walked up behind him. Jack smiled at them, waving.

“Bad dreams?” he asked.

“Large docking fee,” Sandy said, grimacing.

Jack glanced at Pitch. “He never asked, did he?” he asked mentally.

Pitch shook his head, a smile hovering about his lips.

Jack grinned. “May I?”

“Have fun.”

“There’s a cool ship that docked beside us,” Jack said idly. He pointed. “Really fancy.”

The look on Sandy’s face when he saw his Comet docked right beside the black ship made Jack burst out laughing. Lunar strolled over and stared at it.

“How?” he asked pleasantly.

“I paid the fees,” Pitch said shortly. He tossed the receipt and keycard down. “You were afraid you couldn’t afford it. I could.”

Sandy looked shocked, and then he smiled and popped into the air, bowing low. “How can I repay you? I don’t think money will do.”

“Dreamsand would be nice,” Pitch said shortly. “It comes so naturally to you, and I have to make it.”

A look of pleasure appeared on the ancient’s face. “Is that all?” he asked. “Consider it done!”

Pitch inclined his head. “I’ve booked us for a sleep cycle and a wake cycle. I figured you would want to show everybody around.”

“There’s an excellent diner here,” Lunar said. “We were just talking about that. Care to join us?”

“No, thank you,” Pitch said. “I’ve had enough of crowds today.”

Jack’s expression pinched with sympathy. “But that’s not right. Fresh, hot food would be great, wouldn’t it?”

Pitch shrugged. “Go on, Jack. Nobody will mess with a Star Captain and a Tsar. Bring me something. I don’t want to go back out. You know why,”

After a moment of staring at Pitch’s dour face, he planted his staff and smiled. “Any requests?”

“Surprise me.”

Nightlight smiled and nudged Jack. “Come, Jack. We shall feast!”

“Are you sure, Prism?” Lunar asked.

“Ask Jack about it. He’ll explain. I’m going to chart our course. I want to go home.”

Lunar glanced at Jack then nodded. “Very well. See you in an hour or so.”

Pitch nodded, seating himself at the chart table. Jack and Lunar paused at the bottom of the gangplank, and Jack grimaced.

“Is it a good reason?” Lunar’s asked in a worried voice.

“It’s not good. It has to do with reading fear,” Jack said grimly. He turned to the others and they began to walk back down the dock as Jack explained what Pitch had told him.

Pitch remained on the ship, his keen eyes searching for the best route back to Earth. He felt raw from the crowd, and it was almost completely quiet now, allowing him rest. There was only a woman three docking spaces over who was having a nightmare, and then there was the dockworker. It was so much more manageable, and Pitch sighed in relief. Perhaps he would nap before they left. He had avoided sleep for so long, and now it seemed like the most pleasant prospect in the world. He resolved to ask Sandy for a bit of dreamsand when he got back. For the moment, he would work, so he began to shift through the star charts.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jack was up in the crow’s nest, watching out for home and keeping an eye on Sandy’s beautiful Comet, which streaked through the darkness of space like a beacon of hope. It contrasted so much to the dark, Earth-like sailing ship. It’s golden color was fantastically beautiful, and Jack felt so happy just seeing it. But he still preferred Pitch’s ship. The other Guardians had all decided to ride with Sandy, all except for Jack, Nightlight, and Lunar. They loved the freedom of open space above them, and Lunar was reluctant to part from his old friend.

The first sight of Earth in months met Jack’s hungry gaze, and the homesickness that had been building since they’d left the spaceport made his heart ache. The planet looked like a blue and green jewel, hanging in the vastness of space, and it was the most welcome sight in the whole universe to the travel-weary boy. Tears filled Jack’s eyes and he crowed with joy.

“I see home, Pitch!” he called down. “We’re almost home!”

Pitch smiled to himself at the excitement in Jack’s voice. He understood it well. Earth may not have been his original home planet, but it was home to him now. Lunar stood from the star charts and hurried over to look over the bow. His glow brightened so much that a shimmer of the power that lay inside of him teased the eyes, glittering around him like gold. Nightlight skittered up into the crow’s nest, eager for a look at the planet that he had rarely visited, yet which had been the backdrop to their adventures on the moon for so many years. Jack jumped down, landing on the deck with a grunt then hurried over to Pitch.

“I can’t wait!” he exclaimed.

“You must,” Pitch replied. “We must go to the moon first, Jack.”

Jack didn’t even look disappointed. “Still close enough to home for me! And this time I can play on the moon!”

Pitch laughed softly, causing a flash of rainbow light to brighten the ship for a few moments. Lunar spun to face him, glee in his round face, and Nightlight grinned down at the prismatic display. Pitch turned and signaled to the Comet, and it flashed once, like the twinkle of a shooting star. Pitch signaled once again, and he turned to face the planet.

“We slow in five minutes,” he said calmly. “Brace yourselves.”

The ring of the bell sounded out loud and clear and the sensation of slowing from light-speed washed over them. Sandy’s ship slowed, too, and they both angled toward the moon, which floated to the left of them, serene and quiet and much too dim. Lunar pursed his lips.

“I don’t like that. We must brighten the sand again,” he said, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth. “The moon must be bright for the children.”

“We’ll take care of it, little Lunanoff,” Nightlight replied, landing right beside him. “It will shine brightly again.”

Sandy flashed his ship, lighting it up for a brief moment. Pitch hailed him, and Sandy pulled ahead to land on the moon first. Pitch followed, his ship landing with a small puff of moon dust. Jack was ready for the bell, and the gravity fled again, but this time he was ready. He adjusted his center of gravity, took several normal steps, then looked at Pitch with delight shining from his youthful face. Pitch smiled.

“Excellent job, Jack,” he praised.

They all strode off the ship without any trouble. Sandy met them halfway, beaming and pointing excitedly to Earth, his golden eyes shining with happiness. Jack scooped the small man up into a hug, and Sandy shook with laughter, landing after a moment to bow to Pitch and Lunar. Jack looked around to see where the others were, and a laugh burst from him before he could stop it. They were all struggling with the lack of gravity.

“Oh, I s’pose you can do better, Frostbite?” Bunnymund demanded, his ears slicking back.

Jack grinned and rushed over to tweak the Pooka’s tail, and Bunnymund’s expression morphed into irritation.

“How the heck are you doing that?” Bunnymund exclaimed.

“You have to learn to control your gravity,” Jack replied, doing a back handspring. He landed gracefully, stuck out his tongue at the Easter Bunny, then strolled back to Pitch.

“How?” Toothiana asked, her pink eyes narrowed with concentration

Lunar laughed. “I’ll teach you during your stay. You’ve never asked before, you know.”

“We did not think it possible for an Earthling to learn,” North said, taking a leap and floating almost gracefully to a stop beside the group.

“Well, if Jack can do it, we can,” Bunnymund said through gritted teeth.

Pitch stood back, watching them interact. His senses were ablaze with something. He stepped carefully to the hatch into the ship and tugged it open. Darkness greeted him, but it wasn’t unreadable to his keen eyes. He dropped in silently, and a Jack caught sight of him as he disappeared. Pressing his lips together, the boy’s mind went back to the first time he’d been here. And suddenly he knew that that shapeshifter was still alive. The moon was too quiet. There were no Lunar Moths flying around, no Moonmice, nothing moving around that should have been eager to greet the Tsar on his long-awaited return home. So without a word, he followed Pitch, his hands gripping his staff defensively.

Pitch could hear Jack’s soft tread behind him, but that wasn’t what had his attention. He could feel the black creature, slimy and suffering from its wounds. So he hunted for it, unsure of what losing its master had done to its sanity. After winding his way through the twisted hallways of the broken Moon Clipper, he emerged into the main room. The shadowy creature lay before the monitor, and it flinched at the light that flooded the room as the motion sensors detected Pitch. It hissed and shrank away, but it couldn’t move far. It was too wounded.

Jack stopped behind Pitch, looking with great pity at the damaged creature. He planted his staff and sighed.

“What do we do?”

Pitch took a step forward, holding his arm out to prevent Jack from getting past him.

“Can you speak?” Pitch asked cautiously.

“What do you want, Prism-boy?” it croaked, red eyes hovering in a mass of shadow. “Come to kill me, too?”

“Not if I can help it. I’ve seen enough death to last me for eternity,” Pitch replied.

“You will not kill me?” the creature asked suspiciously.

“Not if you don’t provoke me,” Pitch said soothingly, and the creature began to relax as its fear ebbed away. “If you stay still, we can ease your pain.”

“Swear you will not injure me further!”

“I swear that if you do not attack or harm us, I will not injure you any more. I cannot promise no more pain, for you are gravely wounded. But we will help you if you let us. I know you are finally free of Obscurus’s control. Give yourself a second chance to live free of his influence.”

The shadowy mass narrowed its eyes. “What about them?”

Pitch didn’t even turn around. “They are honorable, and the Tsar will help you.”

“Indeed,” Lunar said from behind Jack and Pitch. The boy looked back in surprise; he hadn’t heard them approach. “We will heal you from the shadows as far as we are able,” the Tsar continued, “and we will doctor your wounds.”

The shadow considered them then it solidified into a young man with grey skin even darker than Pitch’s. Dark blood caked on his side, and Jack saw the damage that Pitch had done to him all those months ago with his sword. His eyes were red, but they were cautiously hopeful.

“Very well. Help me.”

Lunar and Pitch walked right over and began to work. Sandy also approached, ready to offer his services if they were needed. The others hung back, wary of such a strange, dark creature. After an hour, Sandy was ordered to help the man, who told them that his name was Razor, to sleep. North was summoned to carry him to a soft bed. And as soon as North left with Nightlight, who was to guide him to a guest room, carrying the sleeping stranger, Lunar Moths and Moonmice rushed out of hiding to flutter and squeak their greetings to Lunar. They had so many questions, and Lunar spoke to them kindly while Jack grinned at their excitement.

When North and Nightlight returned, Lunar silenced the mass of animals, and he turned to the others. “Before we summon the other spirits to help us brighten the moon, we should refresh ourselves with rest and a good cleaning. Prism, Nightlight, you have your old rooms. Pitch, take Jack to the room beside yours. I will take the others. Get cleaned up and I’ll bring some dreamsand to you in a while.”

With that, Lunar led the others down a hallway. Pitch gestured for Jack to follow, and he and Nightlight headed down another hallway. Nightlight paused outside a door strewn with glittering stones that reminded Jack of stars, waved, and disappeared into the room. Pitch continued to a door with a prism set into the door. He pointed to the next room.

“That’s the room. There are showers connected. Take one, Jack. You need it.”

Jack laughed out loud. “Ha! You’re one to talk!”

Pitch chuckled and went into his room. It was spotless and just the way he’d left it so many years ago. The bed was made with black sheets and a grey blanket; back then, he had no other way to show the growing darkness inside of him. Now he looked fondly at the bed, glad that the darkness was not as complete and soul-destroying as he’d feared back then. After a moment, he walked to the bathroom and stripped down. He took a long, hot, soapy shower, a treat that had become as rare as a good night’s sleep what with his nomadic lifestyle on Earth. When he turned off the water and grabbed a fluffy towel, he sensed a soft anxiety that wondered if he was welcome.

“Of course you are, Jack,” Pitch said, wrapping the white towel around his waist. He hadn’t shut the door, seeing no need to, and he turned to look at Jack, who wore an expression of surprise. Pitch snickered as he came out. “Anxiety is fear,” he said.

“Right,” Jack said. His white hair was plastered to his head, and he wore his clothes, which were clean and wet, though it clearly didn’t bother the boy. “Excited to be back?”

“Yes,” Pitch replied, walking over to a drawer. He opened it and pulled out a long, black robe. After drying off, he wrapped it around his thin body and cinched it tight. “Lunar sure kept everything clean and fresh in here,” he said idly.

“He loves you,” Jack said. “Obviously, he hoped you’d come back.”

Pitch nodded, going to sit on the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“You did, though,” Jack said. “And I’m sure he’s glad of it.”

“Of course he is!” a voice said from the doorway.

“All clean then?” Pitch asked, turning to face Nightlight.

“Yes,” the boy of light said, walking over to plop on the bed. “Finest washing I’ve had since you gave me a bath.”

Pitch smiled. “I hope Lunar gets here with the dreamsand soon. I want a nice rest before the others get here.”

“Why are they coming again?” Jack asked.

“To brighten the moon sand,” Nightlight said. “Last time, it took the three of us weeks to kick the sand enough for the moon to be visible.”

Jack snorted. “They’re coming… to kick the sand?”

“Of course, Jack,” Lunar said from the doorway. “And I need to make sure they’re free of Obscurus’s influence.”

“And if not?” Pitch asked.

“Then you will refract and drive the shadows away.”

Pitch pressed his lips together and looked down at his hands. “I’ll try,” he said after a long silence.

“That’s all I ask,” Lunar said gently. “Now, to bed, you two.”

Nightlight laughed. “The roles are reversed now, I see!” He stood and walked over to receive his dreamsand. “Good night, little Lunanoff!”

Jack followed, took some sand, and smiled at Pitch before heading to his new room. That left the two old friends, one standing, the other sitting. Lunar approached and heaved himself onto the bed.

“Everything will be okay, Prism. I know you can do it.”

“I hope so,” Pitch muttered, passing a hand over his eyes. “I still can’t do it on command like I used to.”

“Then I’ll just have to make you laugh.”

Lunar pressed a pouch of dreamsand into Pitch’s hand, then leaned over to hug him.

“Sleep well, Prism.”

“You, too, Lunar,” Pitch said.

When he was alone, Pitch sat very still for a few moments then stood and peeled back the blankets. He slid in between the crisp, fresh sheets and sprinkled the dreamsand into his face. After a few minutes, his eyes slid closed, and he began to dream.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch stood in the shadows as over a hundred spirits crowded into the auditorium of the ship. It used to be the place where Lunar’s father decided important things with other leaders of the Golden Age. Now it was a meeting space for Lunar and the spirits of Earth. Many of them had never been to the moon before, and yet there wasn’t the customary excitement that usually came with a first visit. Instead, there was bickering and snapping, and North, Sandy, and Bunnymund had already broken up three fights. Pitch knew what that meant, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Lunar simply stood by him, his unearthly glow diminished to almost nothing. He wasn’t pleased.

“I’m going to speak to them,” Lunar murmured. He took several steps forward and clapped his hands once.

The noise echoed in the room like a clap of thunder, and silence fell immediately. The gazes of the spirits were hostile as they looked up at Lunar. Pitch pressed back into the shadows. This was a crowd, and their fears were straining against his mind, from little pinpricks to the sensation of a knife scraping against his consciousness. A specific fear that lingered in each heart was that something was wrong and that it would never be right again. A hand brushed his, gripping it tightly. He jumped and turned to see Jack standing beside him. Nightlight stood back to keep him in the dark, but the boy nodded encouragingly.

Lunar appraised the group. “You all know something is amiss with yourselves.”

“Aye,” the Leprechaun said, crossing his arms as his green eyes blazed. “Unluckiest time in my life!”

There was a rumble of agreement, and a fair girl stepped forward. Her dress was covered in sunflowers, but it reminded them of wilted petals. Her beautiful golden gaze seemed to see everything.

“MiM, we are scared. I am not as blinded as the others, and I don’t know why, but anger is in every heart here. There are no spirits who aren’t affected.”

“Not true. There is only one of you who has escaped this anger,” Lunar corrected gently. He turned and gestured for Jack to join him. So Jack squeezed Pitch’s hand reassuringly then hefted his staff over his shoulder and strode forward. He grinned at the shocked faces. “This, as I’m sure you know, is Jack Frost. He is unaffected by the veil that has descended on you.”

“Why?” Autumn demanded, shoving forward to stand at the front.

There was a twinge of anxiety from Jack, but otherwise, he was fearless. He no longer feared the Fall spirit’s fists. He had gone on an adventure through the stars, fended off a Void Serpent, and finally faced the darkest being in the entire galaxy. Autumn was easy compared to that. Jack leaned on his staff and flashed his teeth again.

“Because I’m a kid,” he said proudly.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Autumn snarled.

“Quite a bit, Autumn,” Lunar said coolly. “Obscurus could not veil a child. Jack is young enough physically, mentally, and emotionally that he couldn’t hide the truth from him. The reason you, Summer, are not as veiled is also because of your young age. You have enough child left in you that he could not fully take you over.”

Summer, the girl in the sundress, nodded, looking thoughtfully at her Winter counterpart. “I see. Is there a way to fix this… veil?”

“There is,” Lunar said. “There is only one way I know of. Do you all trust me?”

There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation as they chorused an emphatic yes. So Lunar took a deep breath then turned and gestured for Pitch. The Nightmare King shuddered, hesitated, then stepped into the light. He hated being in crowds, he hated being the center of attention, he hated being stared at, and all three were happening. And the gazes switched from hostile to downright murderous. Immediately, there was a movement toward Pitch, and though North, Bunnymund, Sandy, and Toothiana tried to keep them back, there were too many. Lunar stepped in front of Pitch, and then he transformed into the Tsar. Light shone from his core, and there were screams of bewilderment and fear as everybody drew back in shock. Lunar floated into the air, his brown eyes aflame.

“Enough!” he stated, his voice holding more authority than anybody had ever heard before.

Jack had never seen Lunar show off his power, and he was fascinated, but a flash of movement to the right of Lunar’s outstretched arms caught his attention. Autumn had a knife in his hand, heading straight for Pitch, who was mesmerized by his friend’s power. Jack snarled and lunged forward. He hit Autumn with such force that the spirit flew backward, the knife clattering to the ground. Autumn roared in anger, swore at Jack, then lunged for his throat. Jack, in his haste to get away, stumbled, and Autumn was quickly within an inch of his windpipe. A burst of fear, potent and all-consuming, shot from him, and Pitch snarled. Lunar moved to protect the boy, but Pitch moved faster. Shadows raced from him, his eyes took on an unearthly silvery-gold glow and he rose up in front of Jack, baring his teeth.

“If you touch him,” Pitch said into the shocked silence. “I will make sure you know what fear is.”

The silence stretched on, and all eyes were upon the gold and black beings that lit up the room. Lunar stared at Pitch in surprise. Then he reached out and touched him. At the gentle touch, the shadows receded and Pitch landed on the floor again. His dark face was not smiling as he took in Autumn’s pale face. Then he stepped back, jerked Jack to his feet, and shook his head.

“Don’t run. Fight him!” Pitch barked into Jack’s mind.

Jack, with wide eyes, nodded and turned to face Autumn. “Back off,” he said coldly.

“Or what, boy?” Autumn spat.

“You’ll find out,” Jack said grimly. “Now shut up. Pitch’s prismatic display is the only thing that can cut through the veil.”

“Prismatic display?” Autumn laughed. “There is no color in that man! He deserves to die.”

“Why?” Jack demanded, planting his staff on the floor. Frost erupted onto the floor at his feet, a warning that Autumn didn’t heed.

The Fall spirit stepped forward, getting right in Jack’s face. “Because he is evil.”

“No, he’s not,” Jack said quietly, another warning sign.

“He is. And if you like him, I get to kill you, too.”

Autumn’s first strike was fast, and Jack gasped, staggering back. Sandy narrowed his eyes and he and the other Guardians stepped forward to help, but Pitch suddenly slid over and shook his head.

“This is Jack’s battle. Let him be. He can do this.”

“Hard when you can’t fly away, isn’t it?” Autumn crooned.

Jack got his feet under him then twirled his staff. The temperature of the room plummeted. Big, fat snowflakes began to flutter down from the center of the ceiling. Autumn was undeterred and ran at Jack, who actually laughed. Then, without calling upon any wind, Jack leaped into the air and flew, his blue eyes full of fire.

“I don’t need the Winds,” he said icily.

The force of the snowy blast that hit Autumn was startling in its power. Snow exploded in a torrent of drifts off of him, burying him completely. Jack threw his head back and laughed.

“How’s that, Autumn?” he crowed as Autumn scrambled out of the snow. “You just got your butt kicked by a boy!”

And suddenly, there was another voice raised in merriment with the boy’s. Every eye turned to Pitch, whose laugh sounded very out of place. The Guardians all looked surprised, yet eager to see the lights they couldn’t remember. They got their chance because Pitch didn’t stop. Lunar’s golden glow seemed to have a magic sort of of refraction into Pitch’s skin, because a silvery mist seemed to descend upon everybody. The rainbow lights began to shine brightly and those in the first few rows gasped at the light then scrambled at their skulls, as if something were bursting to get out. Autumn gaped dumbly at the display, and Jack grinned.

“Watch this!” he laughed then formed perfect ice crystals and flung them our across the room.

Immediately, the silver mist brightened and the rainbow light seemed to be sucked toward the crystals. The colors flashed across the room, reminding Jack of the seventies and disco, and then there were cries. The whole room seemed to be shuddering and shaking and then they fell. And Pitch continued to laugh, shining brighter than the stars.

When he finally began to calm down, a silly grin was plastered on his face. At that moment, the Guardians all saw the crystalline skin that had marked Pitch as a boy. He smiled at Lunar, whose glow diminished back into his normal, silvery gleam. He looked pleased as he approached Pitch.

“Thank you, Prism,” he said gently.

“”It was worth it,” Pitch replied, his expression melting back into cool apathy. “Did you see the look on Autumn’s face?”

“Can’t say he didn’t deserve it,” Lunar replied. “Jack, please stop the snow. It’s chilly in here.”

Jack eased himself to the ground and nodded. “Yes, Lunar.”

With a simple wave of his staff, all of the snow swirled around then turned into an icy wind. The wind dashed at Jack then seemed to go into the boy, whose complexion lightened as the room warmed up again. He bowed to Lunar, who nodded his head, pleased.

“Jack, why don’t you and Prism go and make sure the food is ready.”

Without a word, Pitch and Jack headed down a corridor. Pitch remained a step ahead, guiding the boy through what would appear to the outsider to be a maze of twisting hallways. The man was completely at home, and they soon emerged into a huge dining hall. Jack skipped over to the roast turkeys, inhaling happily. Pitch sat down, exhaling as his raw consciousness began to relax.

“Did you know,” he began softly, and Jack looked at him eagerly. Pitch continued, “Did you know the Tsar used to hold royal banquets in here? Once there was over a thousand nobles in here, eating much different fare, of course. There was roast meat and delicate wines and the most beautiful desserts. We had creams and cakes and delicious stews. And it lasted twenty days. We never ran out of food and drink.”

Jack’s eyes were wide. “Twenty days?” he asked in wonder.

“Yes. There was dancing in the ballroom and games for all the children. Lunar loved it. I did, too, but not for the games. I liked seeing everybody happy. Few on my home planet were ever happy.”

“I know you like making Lunar smile,” Jack said, sitting down beside him. “And Lunar loves making you smile, too. So does Nightlight.”

Pitch smiled slightly. “There is one more who can make me smile now. And I don’t mind at all.”

Jack looked curious. “Who, Sandy?”

“You, Jack,” Pitch said, nudging the boy. “You make me smile. And laugh. Not so easy to do.”

Jack blushed blue, but he smiled. “Yeah. That’s just because you’re darker than anybody else.”

A troubled expression flashed across Pitch’s face. “That’s why I’m not a Guardian. Why would you even suggest it?”

Jack knew from the small voice that Pitch was facing an old insecurity. The boy stroked his chin.”

“Fear is a part of life, Pitch. Everybody gets scared. You and Obscurus, too. But there’s a difference between the two of you that makes you a Guardian.”

Pitch hesitated as Jack paused. “And that is?”

“You know that fear isn’t a pleasure. He was addicted to fear, others’ fears. He needed that drugged haze that you described all the time. And he was willing to do anything to get it. Anything. He learned to weild fear like a weapon to get what he wanted. I think he needed it to forget some fear in his past that he didn’t want to face. But you, Prism Lunanoff,” Jack said firmly, and Pitch started and turned at the name. “You know what fear is. You don’t want the drug, even if it takes you over sometimes. You have faced your fear and come out the other side. And that lets you understand others’ fears. You understand them, so you can relieve them. And the biggest fear you have faced is death. And because of that, you have a power that Obscurus never could hope to have. You can touch the other side, however briefly, and bring the peace that lies over there over here to other people. And you do it a lot with children. And that, Prism Lunanoff, is why you are a Guardian.”

Pitch felt his eyes prickle, and he wrapped an arm around the boy. “Thank you, Jack,” he murmured. A smile broke out on his face as he said, “But I think we should think of another name other than the Guardian of Fear. Sounds a little off, doesn’t it?”

Jack burst into a merry laugh as Lunar led the spirits into the room. They headed for the Thanksgiving feast with great relish, and Jack stood.

“I can get you a plate if you want.”

Pitch considered this then shook his head. “I feel like getting my own. Crowd or no crowd.”

Jack beamed as he and Pitch strolled toward the food. Whatever lay in their future, the present looked pretty good. And when Pitch saw Lunar’s brilliant smile and wave to join them, he smiled back and headed over to join his family, both the new and the old. For just a moment, across the room, Pitch saw the shadowy outlines of two golden figures. They both graced him with a loving smile, and Pitch bowed his head toward them. Then the Tsar and Tsarina disappeared, leaving Pitch with Lunar and the others. And Pitch felt peace flow over him for the first time since their deaths. Jack Frost turned to beam at the Nightmare King, Pitch knew that somehow, in some way was Jack’s doing. And he was glad of it.

Jack saw Pitch studying him, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. He didn’t mind. As he reached for a piece of turkey, an orangish hand bumped his. Autumn froze in place, studied Jack for a moment, then backed off.

“After you, Frost,” he said curtly.

Jack knew then that he would have no more trouble with Autumn. All it took was facing down fear itself, he thought wryly as he filled his plate. But he was just as glad as Pitch was. When their eyes met, they both smiled, content and happy with their lots in life for the first time in ages. All that was left was to enjoy the party. And whatever came the next day would come, and they would all face it together.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Pitch Black stood quietly in front of Lunar. A large book was held in North’s hands. Nightlight’s star flashed into existence on the floor, marking the completion of his ceremony. The boy of light bowed low then skipped over to stand by Jack, who slapped him on the back and flashed a dazzling smile. Nightlight wore a wonderful costume of a strange, clingy material with glittering crystals that absorbed his natural glow and reflected it out like stars. It had been a gift from the Tsarina, and it looked like the effect encapsulation of Nightlight’s being. Sandy shook his hand in congratulations and Toothiana hugged him while Bunnymund smiled and nodded his approval. It was a warm, lovely scene. And then Lunar turned to Pitch, gesturing him over.

Pitch hesitated then walked over. He stopped at the place indicated, and waited. It was his turn to be added to the Guardian’s ranks. He was nervous and excited. This would mark a new chapter in what had been a long and mostly lonely life. He stood straight and waited.

Lunar smiled and began. “Will you, Prism Lunanoff, vow to watch over the children of the world. To guard them with your life, their hopes, their wishes, and their dreams, for they are all that we have, all that we are, and all that we will ever be.”

Pitch swallowed then breathed out. “I will.”

Lunar nodded, and North closed the book, ready to jump in with his usual zeal, but the Tsar spoke again, and all went still and quiet.

“You are far different from the others, Prism,” Lunar said solemnly. “While North protects their wonder, Tooth their memories, Bunnymund their hope, Sandy their dreams, and Jack their fun, you do not do so. Even Nightlight is different from you. He is the Guardian of Light, a light in the dark that guides them, but this is also not your job. Your job, Prism, is not to protect them from fear, for that is impossible. But you are to help them face it. Whether it be thunderstorms, the dark, or even death, you have stood with children for thousands of years without this oath. You were the Guardian of Courage long before now, and I bestow the title with great joy upon you. You are the most worthy Guardian to bear this title because you have faced your fears and come out on top. Do you promise to face the fears of others just as bravely as you have your own?”

Pitch could feel his face grow hot at the praise. He smiled, unable to help himself, and once again agreed.

“I do.”

“Then welcome Nightlight, the Guardian of Light, and Prism, the Guardian of Courage!” Lunar cried, clapping his hands with joy.

And the uproar nearly deafened Prism Lunanoff, who couldn’t stop a burst of laughter. The flash of prismatic colors lit up the room as another symbol appeared on the floor. The outline of a wolf appeared then filled in with a rainbow light. Prism liked it very much, and Jack bounded over, grinning and laughing with him. Sandy floated over, grinning at the boy.

“I bet this isn’t what you thought would happen when you wished for it, did you?”

The noise died down as Prism stopped flashing. He tilted his head. “Jack wished for what?”

“He wished to understand the darkness inside of the rest of us Guardians.”

Lunar looked curious. “Really?”

Sandy nodded. “I heard him make the wish, but I didn’t understand it at the time.”

Prism thought for a moment. “It was granted.”

Jack couldn’t believe that Sandy had heard him. “I don’t think I spoke out loud,” he protested.

“Sandy hears all wishes made, especially on his island,” Bunnymund said, grinning.

“He was an old Star Captain, remember,” Toothiana added.

“And the island itself is the remains of a shooting star,” Lunar said. A smile was on his round face. “A wishing star, to be precise.”

Prism chuckled and the darkness on his skin lightened for a brief moment. “So we can all thank Jack Frost for this fortuitous set of circumstances.”

Jack looked confused so Bunnymund laughed. “All this is your doing,” he translated.

Jack shifted, his own face cooling significantly. He knew he was practically glowing blue, but he didn’t care. “I’m glad it did,” he finally said.

“I think we all are,” Prism said.

After the chorus of agreement, they all turned toward their Christmas dinner. Pitch and Jack both looked around then their eyes met. There was no fear in either heart at that moment, and Pitch flashed Jack a smile of his own. Jack returned it, then they both began to fill their plates to really begin their celebration.

Because that’s all it was, a beginning, and they all knew there was so much more to come. It was Prism who raised his glass.

“The the Guardians!” he called out.

“The Guardians!” they all echoed. And they all drank.

And this is the final chapter of Prismatic Fractals. It's been a long journey. I posted the remainder of the chapters today to give people a chance to unwind from all of the events that are taking place across the world. Enjoy and let me know what you think of this!