Salut, mes amis~, and welcome to my first ever Rise of the Guardians story. I'm so excited for this one! In all honesty, the first chapter has been in the works for about a year. Every method I tried turned out lack luster products, as my editor was so very eager to point out. So, after abandoning the story for a while to refresh myself and focus on my studies, I sat down and wrote this thing.

I sincerely hope you'll like it


Chapter 1

The joyous rings of laughter echoed off of every frosty tree branch occupying the whitened forest. A young boy of pale features and lithe physique slid across an icy pond, swirled staff in hand, with no trouble despite his very much bare feet. He cackled and shrieked as he whirled and switched across the frozen waters, unaffected by its cold bite as he was the barer of the teeth. Jack Frost, a sprite of 310 years controlled winter with a playful hand, "Mischief" truly being his name. As he spun across his improvised skating rink, the Guardian of Fun felt at peace. Many a snow day he had given many a town, and pride radiated off him as he watched children cheer at the news of an absence of school for the day. Though he had very few youth who believed his existence to be more than just a superstition, he was overwhelmed with a sense of fulfillment and happiness. The blue-eyed sprite skid to a stop just short of where the ice met the fluffy snow and fell right in, rolling around and enjoying his creation with a youthful spirit one would normally see in a giddy child. He slowed to finally even out his breathing, his pale eyelids slowly covered his brilliant blue, shimmering irises.

All of a sudden, a whiff of foul smelling air brushed his face and left a painful sting in the caverns of his nostrils. In an instant, his eyes were open and alert and met with the frighteningly close image of the muzzle of an ebony horse. In a blur of blue, Jack was ready with his curled staff at attention, with clear view of the Nightmare in front of him. His hands tightened around the long post of wood, inwardly scolding himself for letting his guard down. But strange enough, for the first time, the young Guardian could see the dark figure clearly, and what he saw surprised him. Golden flames flared inside of the the deep eye sockets and its tail and mane turned into wisps of thick locks that flowed like calming waters despite that lack of actual wind. It was a sight of wonder and whimsy. Then something else struck the winter sprite; he was allowed to examine the midnight stallion. The thing hadn't attacked or whisked away at the very sight of a threat, it had come over and alerted Jack of its presence. Not only that, but the it wasn't made of sand. The visibly grainy texture of the solemn steads was replaced with a sort of foggy midnight black coat. Quite strange indeed...

For a while, they stared. Neither budging to attack nor to retreat, simply staring, paying a close, sharp eye to any sign of movement. But quite a startle came when the misery spreading entity turned without a sound and just walked away, one hoof in front of the other in an "I've grown tired of you" manner. In the back of the pale young man's mind, he was insulted at not being taken as a force to be reckoned with but was also intrigued, so against his better judgment he followed.

The cheval moved with confident ease, seemingly very sure of where it was going. Mounds of snow crunched under the weight of Jack's feet as he followed the shady stead.

They walked into to a small clearing, naked hardwood trees gathering in a circle around it. The Guardian stood still awaiting further silent instructions, but the Nightmare kept trotting, however, until it came to a stop in front of a hole in the ground that the boy wouldn't have noticed had it not been pointed out with a downward nod from his mute guide. A sudden sense of dread enveloped Jack's heart in a shaky grip. He knew this place, he knew where that seemingly dug up entrance led, and it wasn't anywhere pleasant.

"I'm not going down there..." he said sternly. The horse's blazing eyes narrowed in a most indefinite glare and repeated the action. "No! He can't fool me! I know who's waiting for me and I won't fall for his tricks ever again!"

It gave huff before trotting over and biting the sleeve of Jack's frosted sapphire hoodie. The winter sprite tugged his arm away and gave the ebony stallion an unwavering glare. It was then that the flat of the creature's face rubbed itself against the pale boy's chest in a silent plea for cooperation.

'This fucking horse...'

Suddenly, the pressure on his chest was gone and all he could see was black. The ground seemed to vanish out from under the blue-eyed Guardian's nimble feet as the air retreated from his lungs faster than an army of frightened children in the face of bloodshed. The hand wrapped around the twisted wood of his staff tightened while the other one gripped his alabaster throat in an instinct in the face of suffocation. But as soon as the darkness had overwhelmed him, the comfort of distinct surroundings reappeared. But the sights were far from comforting. Dusty pastel staircases came from every angle in every wall, begging the question of 'What is up?' and 'What is down?' while empty, rusted cages hung above the Jack's pearly white head, a few having fallen to the ground below and shattering into small strips of black metal.

Pitch's lair...

The stinging memory of the Nightmare King's painful deception and cruel taunts were being ripped open at the dreary space. But the question remained; Where was the elusive Boogeyman?

Out of curiosity (and perhaps sheer stupidity), the pale boy took daring steps further into the suspicious maze. The corridors were littered with the most disturbing details; masses of cobwebs, blackening blood smears staining the cracking walls and every ten feet or so, a pool of midnight sand spreading across the floor.

A ringing silence occupied the spirit's ears, not even his feet, as they softly padded across the hard expanse, making a single noise. Thus, when a loud whinny sounded off behind him, he gave a girlish squeal and jolted. When he turned, he was met with the misty ebony body of his kidnapper.

'This FUCKING horse!'

The horse gave a nudge to the sleeve Jack was seriously considering it had a fetish for pulling. "Stop that!" he exclaimed, pulling his attention-lavished arm away. "What the hell have you done?! Taking me down here and leaving me on my own in this deathtrap?! ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?!" He was met with a silence, which only heightened his building rage toward the brash stead. And to make matters worse, the whimsical entity trotted around the pale boy and down the depressing corridor, stopping after a few feet to look over its shoulder and nodded for him to follow. Jack's entire frame shook with a boiling irritation, threatening to spill over the edges and release a hostility not yet known to man or spirit. But he couldn't expel the accursed stallion just yet; it would be in his best interest to follow before he was left behind in this disturbing place.

As time passed, the sights took a turn for the damned and dark. White feet trudged through a sloppy liquid coated in the appreciated cover of darkness, bringing a blissful obliviousness to the identity of the ice-cold fluid. The blue-eyed sprite's stomach churned and twisted with the renewed application of the thick goo, nausea spelling itself in every fiber of his demeanor. "Oof!" he exclaimed as he bumped into the rear of the midnight wisp. The creature craned it neck over its narrow shoulder, showcasing the amber flames that made up its eyes. The Nightmare slowly turned and nodded forward straight. There, not 10 ft. away, surrounded by the blackest darkness, was an eerie door, dark chocolate wood littered with scratches that somehow gave a startling contrast despite its lack of bright tones. The pale boy gave a gulp. 'What the hell am I getting myself into...?'

Nervous tremors took hold of his pearl body, slithering under his skin like icy snakes in tall grass. 'Why should I be afraid?' he asked himself with a frown. 'I beat that pompous Boogeyman once before! Who's to say I couldn't do it again if I needed to?!'

Feeling especially brave, he flew over to the questionable entrance to somewhere, sneering in disgust as the sludge remnants cooled on his sullied feet, and landed right in front of the intimidating hunk of wood. His hand slid over the rusted silver of the curled handle as his thumb rested on the dipped switch. He gave a shaky breath and closed his eyes in a futile attempt to calm his racing pulse, feeling all his courage flee from him quicker than children faced with bloodshed. With a bit of pressure, the ringing CLICK sounded out and the sapphire hooded spirit cringed at the sound. He gave a light push, but the door moved like rushing liquid and slid open with few difficulties and a long, aggravating squealing protest until it hit a hard wall Jack didn't think was there. What rest on the inside were walls made of unimpressive stone coated in thin darkening layers of blood, further into the barring were covered by a thicket of black the Frost was becoming unintentionally used to. Taking his feet into account, he floated into the chamber with his staff in the ready position should he need to protect himself, and ignited his frost as a slightly pathetic source of light. The room was spacious and dark (Shocking...) and as more was revealed to him a feeling of uneasiness twisted his innards into a near nausea-inducing tightness. He didn't want to be here... He really didn't-

"Well, well... Well... W-What... Do we h-have here...?"


Does this count as a cliffhanger? I'm too out of practice to know. Fear not, my lovelies, for I will have the next chapter up very soon.

Thanks for reading! See you next time!

Sincerely,

Sirrah!