Hey, guys! Here with another story. I promise I'll update my other ones soon, and I'm going to do my best to keep updating on this one! I watched RotG twice over the weekend, and I loved it. Jack Frost is amazing, Tooth is beautiful, Bunnymund is hilarious, North is just plain epic, and Sandy is awesome. This may be a Jack and OC story, but I am going to do my very best to make it the best I can. So there will be a main bad guy who's not Pitch, it will have other character's point of views, and the romance will not be the main focus, though there will be parts of fluff.
So here it goes :) Hope you like it!
Prologue:
Tyra Hopewell was born hundreds of years ago. Even she doesn't know how long it has been. She was raised in a land where winter ruled-where the sun only showed its face for a very short time out of the year. Her mother was a herbalist, and they were very poor. Tyra's father had died a year after Tyra was born. He had been a woodcutter, and he had gone to chop wood for their home fire during the winter. He had never returned. They found his body when the sun returned. He was frozen to a tree, still clutching his ax and a bundle of wood for his family.
Tyra was a curious child, and easily excited. Everything fascinated her, and there was always something new for her to see. She was raised on herbs and songs and stories from her mother. Every New Year, on January 1st, she and her mother would celebrate by venturing out into the forest in the cold, and gathering enough wood to light a huge fire, instead of their usual small one for warmth and cooking. By the time Tyra was ten, she was already helping her mother with mixing the herbs, and delivering them to the sick people of her home. Her life was poor, because far too many died of cold instead of sickness, but happy.
Then, one day, it all changed. The coldest winter yet blew through Tyra's home village, killing most of them. No one left their homes for those months, preferring to stay huddled in blankets in the corners of rooms. It was during those months that Tyra's mother died, while a 14 year old Tyra tried to warm her. Tyra nearly died that winter as well. By the time January 1st came along, she had given up hope. She stopped fighting, and was ready to die. It was a full moon that night. Tyra looked up at it, shivering. Something about the moon was familiar. It gave her something that felt almost like hope, which she hadn't felt in months. If the moon could go on rising day after day, she could do the same.
That night, Tyra went to the forest, which had long since become forbidden for the sakes of all those who died in it. She gathered wood with shaky hands, before returning to her empty house and lighting a large fire, like she and her mother had used to do. The children of her hometown peered out from their windows, fascinated by the fire that the small teenager was sitting all alone by. They flocked to her and her fire, and she rewarded them with stories of the warmer times and of heroes and magic. She gave the children, who had been hopeless in their cold homes, their imagination, their excitement back.
Tyra spent a year doing this every night, telling the children of anything and everything she could think of. And on New Year's Eve night, the celebration lasted until midnight. When the new year began, the children cheered before returning to their homes, full of excitement and stories.
In the morning, the fire had died down. Tyra was dead beside the circle of rocks, her head resting on the frozen ground. A thin blanket covered her, and a smile was on her icy lips.
On that day, the Man in the Moon looked down on the dead girl. He had seen her and the hope she had given the children. She was deemed worthy to return as the Spirit of the New Year. He gave her brand new life, with a few memories of her old. She remembered her mother, and the nights with the fires. Other than that, she did not know.
When Tyra awoke, no one could see her. That hurt her, because she had spent the past long time using her voice to bring people excitement and hope, and now no one could hear her. She did her best with what she had, though, and would draw on windows to tell her stories. She was walking along the frozen earth one day, when she looked up at the moon again. She smiled. She still loved it just as much as she always had. When she looked back down, her hands were alight. Tyra had gasped, and tried to blow it away, afraid of burning to death. She slowly realized that it was not burning her. She focused on it, and was astounded when it grew and sparked. It was just as familiar as the moon, and it was just as beautiful. She began to light fires each night as she had used to, inviting cold children to come and warm themselves and play games.
It was another New Year when Tyra stood on a rooftop, creating fireworks and sparks and shooting stars in the sky for the land.
Ever since that day when Tyra was brought back, the New Year has been a special event. Whenever you see a firework in the sky or feel a spark in your heart, that is Tyra Hopewell, the Spirit of the New Year.