Memorandum
To : REDACTED
From : REDACTED
Subject: Corona incident
As part of our committee's investigation of damaged realities, we have collected several accounts from the ages of "Solstice" and "Wispshire". These two stories, describing the origin of the self styled "new four" may be of interest to you.
Weak. Starved. Exhausted. Alone in the dark, trapped deep underground in a swirling vortex of black sand, the being known as the Boogeyman knelt. For hundreds of years, he had waited, storing his power and preparing for the day when he would rise up to break the Moon's dominion and usher in a new reign of fear upon the world. His plans had been perfect, his army unstoppable, his foes weak and divided. And yet, he had failed. He had FAILED! Despite all his planning, all his preparations, his defeat had been brought about by Jack Frost, a novice guardian who had cared about nothing but idle pranks and mischief the day before. The boy had been stripped of his powers, left alone and despairing in the bottom of an Antarctic canyon, but even that somehow hadn't been enough. Frost had somehow managed to single handedly recover his magic, rally the guardians around the last child, and restore belief in the Four. Now it would be decades, if not centuries, before there would be enough fear to free himself, and even longer before his power would reach even a shadow of what it had once been. Again, he cursed Frost, and the meddling children who destroyed his nightmare army.
The ground trembled, and Pitch Black raised his head. He could feel it, a glorious wave of terror, as though the Moon itself had shuddered. His prison began to shift, and he could feel the stone around him cracking and tearing apart as thousands upon thousands of children cried out in terror. As the tremors continued, Pitch rose upwards on a pillar of sand, splitting the layers of rock and soil above him as he drove his way to the surface. Waves of wonderful panic came to him, and he drank it in like a man dying from thirst. The surface of the earth bulged, then erupted, and the master of fear burst free from his confinement.
Pitch stared up into the dark sky and laughed. Somehow, impossibly, he had gained years of power in the matter of a few moments. He thrust out his arms, and monsters of dark sand ripped themselves into existence, their forms shifting and twisting into the form of childhood terrors, before racing outward in search of dreams to devour and corrupt. As he watched them go, Pitch smiled, staring up at the moon in triumph.
"Welcome back, Boogeyman" A calm, dignified voice split the air behind him. Pitch whirled around to see an armored figure standing with crossed arms and a massive blade hanging on its back. "I hope that you are well?"
Pitch bared his teeth and snarled. A dozen of his Nightmares returned, racing around him in a ring of darkness and awaiting the command to strike. "Who are you, stranger?" he demanded, "and how is it that you are able to see me?"
"I am the one who summoned the tremors that freed you from your tomb. I am the one who has provided you with a feast of the fear that you depend on. I am the one who built this world itself, writing it from the ether." the being said. Behind its mask, red eyes seemed to glow with a malicious light. "But in the end, only one thing about who I am matters to you, and that is that I am the one whom you will now address as 'Master'."
"I have no idea how you found me, or where you learned the source of my power. If you truly are the one who freed me, then I thank you, friend." Pitch said. "However, I very much doubt that you are the creator of the world, and as for your last demand..." Pitch smiled, raising his hands as the nightmares tensed. "No one can truly control Fear." His scythe dropped into his waiting grasp, and his minions charged forwards.
The being seemed to smile at the attack. As the first of the monsters, a skeletal panther, raced forwards. Mere seconds before the Nightmare could strike, the being's form became translucent, letting the monster pass straight through its body. It then reverted to solid form, casually spinning to decapitate the disoriented nightmare as it attempted to change direction. The next two, in the form of armored trolls, approached simultaneously, raising dark axes above their heads. With a contemptuous air, the figure raised a hand, and an ear splitting blast of sound ripped them to shreds. The remaining trio of Nightmares continued advancing, but the figure simply pointed, and electricity arced from monster to monster, vaporizing all three.
Pitch gasped in astonishment as he watched his attack force disintegrated in a matter of seconds. He attempted to flee, summoning a shadowy mount, but beams of energy struck the beast, incinerating it instantly. The being lashed out with its sword, and Pitch barely had time to summon a shield before it slammed into him, sending him sliding several meters.
As the being advanced, Pitch clambered to his feet and reformed his scythe. He swung at his opponent, the dark blade moving with a speed that no human could hope to withstand. The being smiled, and dropped its sword. The air seemed to turn to molasses around Pitch's body, and he watched in horror as his motion slowed to a crawl. The being placed a single finger against the scythe, halting the pathetic attack a centimeter before it landed.
"Enough games." the figure growled. It seized the scythe by the shaft, and the weapon vaporized instantly, knocking Pitch off his feet. Pitch tried to scramble backwards, but a metal hand clamped down on his leg, and he groaned, feeling his newfound energy being ripped away. Weak, defenseless, the Boogeyman looked into the glowing eyes of his foe, and for the first time, felt the hopeless terror that he had so often inflicted in his victims.
"I do not wish to repeat this performance" the being said. "You cannot defeat me, you will never have the slightest hope of doing so. I could annihilate your pitiful existence this instant, and the only reason I do not is because you may still become a useful servant. Have I made myself clear?" Pitch desperately nodded his head. The figure straightened, retrieving the fallen sword, and Pitch felt his energies slowly returning.
I permit you to continue seeking the destruction of the ones known as the Guardians" the being said. "However, you will remain continuously at my call, and will perform any task that I demand. In addition, another of my servants shall remain with you at all times, as a precaution against any more meaningless attempts to rebel."
Pitch stood, surveying the night sky. "And tell me, what do you have to offer me if I do agree to submit to you?" he asked.
The figure sneered at him. "What do I offer you, worm? You speak as though I were asking." he said. "However, serve me well, and you will be rewarded with my aid in your trivial war. As a sign of my favor, I give you the following tokens." A massive centipede slithered out from under the being's armor. Decorated in twisting shades of red and gold, it screeched as it crawled upwards, settling on Pitch's right arm. "Do not worry about what this is called, for its name would be meaningless to you. However, as long as is close, it will allow you to invoke incapacitating fear in any save myself."
"In addition," the being continued, "it will ensure that I have constant watch over your actions. If you make some deluded attempt to undermine me, I will know instantly." The creature wound its way up Pitch's arm, and settled around his neck. "I assure you, if you should be so foolish as to attempt this, I will not show mercy a second time. Do you understand?" Pitch nodded slightly. "Say it!" the being demanded.
"If I attempt to betray you, or resist your orders, my life will be forfeit" Pitch muttered in defeat.
The figure then extended a hand, and a small book materialized. "As a second gift, I offer you access to another world, free of the Guardians' meddling." it said. "You may travel here at your whim, but be aware that the door this book opens will never close behind you."
"Go now" the being ordered. "When I have need of your service, you will know." With that, it opened the book, stretched its other hand towards the page, and dissolved into a shower of golden sparks.