General Kozmotis Pitchiner was elated to be able to return home after being away for months on duty. As he rode his large black horse across the field, he was able to spot his family's cozy cottage against the background of forest.

"What do you say girl? We're almost there. How about a quick run?" He spoke to the horse that he had ridden in battle for years now. She was his family away from home. He didn't know what he would do without her.

He nudged the horse with his heel, and she lunged into a full-on gallop. All Kozmotis could think is about having his darling, little girl in his arms again and seeing his wife's beautiful face. The metal of his armor clinked together as the horse took the gathered steps needed to run. He was nearing the cottage now. Suddenly, his daughter ran out of the front door.

"Daddy!" Her sweet, little voice was loud over the horse's hooves against the ground. Kozmotis pulled his horse to a stop and jumped off in a quick motion. He knelt down and caught his daughter in his arms. She squealed with delight as he held her tight.

"Seraphina! Oh my darling!" Kozmotis exclaimed.

"I missed you, Daddy," Seraphina said into his hear.

"I missed you too, sweetheart," he replied. He got up and held Seraphina with one arm; with the other, he led the horse to the cottage. He smiled when he saw his wife standing in the doorway of the cottage. She was also smiling.

Next thing he knew, darkness obscured his vision.

Oh no... Kozmotis thought. He knew what was coming. He felt the darkness surround him in its cold grasp. Pain shot through him as his body had to make room for the shadows and nightmares that engulfed him.

Kozmotis opened his eyes. The field was in flames. He looked around and spotted the cottage, fire licking up at all sides of it. He saw his wife and Seraphina standing a distance away from their home. He heard Seraphina's cries...and felt her fear. He blinked and there he was standing in front of his wife and child. His wife took Seraphina in her arms and backed away from him.

'No! It's alright! Everything is going to be okay!' he wanted to say to them. But he realised he had no control over his body.

"Daddy, what's the matter with you?!" Seraphina shouted at him. He wanted to tell her that it was nothing, that Daddy was okay. But it would have been a lie. With his back to the flames of their home, he could see his shadow cast out in front of him. He saw himself lift the scythe that the Golden Guard had given him...and bring it down on his family with a force that he never knew he had.

Pitch Black shot up in bed, a cry dying on his lips. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and his body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. A nightmare... he thought to himself. His face fell into his hands. His body trembled with silent sobs for a few minutes. Finally, he took several deep breaths to calm himself down. Pitch swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He walked toward the bathroom but stopped in front of the full-length mirror beside his closet. It had been a while since he had looked at himself. He had not seen himself since...since he started to become weak.

Pitch's skin was no longer the polished grey it had been about ten years ago when he fought the Guardians. It was paler. His body no longer showed the physique he once had. His muscles had deteriorated to the point of skin stretching over bone. His golden eyes had dulled to a light yellow and a few grey hairs shown in his hair. That's odd, he thought. His kind didn't normally get grey hairs, even if they were millions of years old. It meant he was ill and weak. When he thought about it, he really didn't have much left. His shadows and nightmares had left him. He couldn't even use the nightmare sand. He no longer possessed the power that he once did. All that was left was him and his home. His home was grand though. Black, silver, and gold everywhere with a touch of class that one would think Pitch didn't have.

Pitch decided the the hairs weren't important to him and continued on to his bathroom. The black marble floor was cool underneath his feet. To be a single person living there, the room was huge. Pitch stripped out of his black short-sleeved, thermal shirt and black boxers. He grabbed a towel from the linen shelves and turned on the shower to the the desired temperature. Once the water had heated up, he got in. This was a normal everyday thing for him now. He had no one to talk to, nothing of importance to do. After half an hour, Pitch headed down the hall to enjoy a cup of coffee. He was dressed in his usual black cotton pants, black undertank, and black robe with light, black boots. He didn't need to eat or drink, but he allowed himself simple things. Most of the time, Pitch was in his library. The room stretched twenty feet high and the walls were floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked full of books. He had always loved to read, so he kept himself occupied that way. What he thought was going to be another usual day though was going to quickly turn interesting.

It was mid-afternoon when Pitch heard the noise. He looked up from the book his nose was buried in to listen. Clang! There it was again. That was peculiar. He had not heard anything like that in years. Pitch was glad that there was at least one thing he could still do. He put the book down and transported through the shadows to his bedroom. He took the long-sword from its cabinet. The blade was silver in color and the hilt was gold. On the blade, the alphabet of the Golden Warriors shone. Pitch transported to the hallway behind the atrium. His instincts told him that's where the noise came from. He had taken down the bronze bird cages years ago. They were awfully ugly things, but they had been necessary for his plan at the time. Pitch felt someone's fear in the room. It was a familiar fear, and he tried to remember who it was. Pitch walked quietly out of the hall, sword at the ready. He peeked around in the dark, his eyes used to it, trying to see if someone was there. The room was colder than usual and the temperature was dropping still. Pitch lowered his sword as he started to see his breath. He knew exactly who was here.

"Frost," Pitch called out. "I know you're there." He placed the tip of his sword on the floor and leaned on it casually. Pitch watched as ice spiraled around one of the pillars in front of him. Jack Frost stepped out from behind it, staff in hand. He didn't look like he was trying to threaten Pitch.

"Explain why you are trespassing in my house," Pitch said to him plainly.

"It's about Mother Nature," Jack said quickly. "As much as I hate to say it, the Guardians need your help."