The Winter Soldier

Prologue

Jack Frost

The night looked different as the dark forest glinted in the moonlight and shadows danced and slithered in the ground. The night was dark and menacing, even with the moon's ever present glow in the sky; a vast contrast to the dark trees that loomed in the night and the howls and shrieks of dark beings prowling underneath the leaves.

A tendril of shadow slithered through the trees, fast enough to be missed in a blink of an eye. It let out a hiss as it passed by in a blur of black, flying through branches, heading towards one direction. Its brothers are not far behind, travelling in a flock of shadows, big and small, thin and thick, followed. Some took in the forms of ghouls, deformed creatures, or dark mares with menacing golden eyes. They all took shelter in the dark shadows of the trees, where the moon's light cannot reach them along their journey. The forest was filled with their shrieks, strangely terrifying and happy, like an evil cackle in the air as they flew through like evil witches in the night. They brought with them a heavy lingering feeling that set one's stomach to twist.

All life in the forest went still and silent at the knowledge of their presence. The critters scurried went back into their burrows and the wolves retreated into the mountains, fear and terror telling them to survive and live for another day. 'Only the shadows shall feast tonight.'

The mass of dark formless creatures flew on towards a clearing in the middle of the trees where a lone pond lay in the middle, frozen solid and crystal clear. White powdery snow surrounded its surface that shone in the light with the power of winter, ethereal and cool, so different than the dark tone of the forest around it. There, the shadows congregated, neighing in anticipation, and grunting in cruel glee. There is something here that has called them, pulling at their insatiable hunger.

Last to reach the clearing, sat upon his great dark mare like a glorious general, the master of shadows entered and gazed upon his subjects.

"Pi-i-TCh blac-ck. Lo-Or-od Of sHa-add-oWs." The creatures whispered his name in great veneration. A dark song that made the air tremble in fear.

His skin shone a dark sickly grey that seemed to combine with his dark robe, and eyes of burning gold studied the wintry wonderland around him. 'This is no mere pond.'He thought with a grin and licked his shark-like teeth as he felt the rush of magic in the air.

The shadows gathered to him, like pet greeting their master. They caressed his skin and cuddled against his wiry frame, soaking in the attention of their dark master. He caressed them back, reveling in the power that they gave him.

"Ah evening my little nightmares. You've done a good job at finding this place," his voice rang smooth and dark into the air. The nightmares neighed and preened at his praise.

The moon watched behind the dark clouds that had come to obscure it, its light powerless and dimming in despair.

The dark master pushed his own mare into motion and it brought him across that icy surface of the pond, towards the center where he settled and got down. His skin tingled at the large amount of magic that permeated the air at the center. The fearlings followed him and they all took in the magic like a breath of fresh air. "Mmmm Yes. There is magic at work here. Very powerful and… young."

He paused in his realization and peered down at the ice below his feet in puzzlement. He searched through the solid water, confused at what could have set him off and was surprised at what he saw. A rush of excitement filled him at his discovery and he let out a cruel laugh. "Yes, very young indeed."

He looked up at the moon, eyes cruel and sneered," I see what you've done here old friend. But I won't let you get away with what you want. I will make him mine." Yes, he will take things into his hands. Take away the things that the man in the moon loved, just as he had taken away his.

He returned his gaze to the ice and with one wave of his hand, a great scythe made of shadows formed in his hands. The fearlings cheered and stomped their feet, and with one powerful swing, he brought the blade down upon the ice.

A crack resounded through the air, piercing and sudden. The ice cracked and spread outwards, dividing the whole pond into two. The dark lord pulled his blade and watched in amazement and glee as the surface continued to crack and rise around the middle. Beneath the surface, he could distinctly see the figure of a boy rising and slowly unraveling.

The ice further rose and opened, paving way for the cold corpse. As if pulled by some invisible force, the figure passed through the surface to be fully freed from the icy depths and out into the open air. Pitch black stared with triumph at the corpse that floated before him. A boy-only a young child- of pale coloring and bearing the marks of winter- this will be his feast tonight.

The moon weakly sent out its light and the figure shuddered and opened its eyes. A gasp of breath was heard and the boy was lowered into the ground, crystal blue eyes confused and frantic at the world around him. He gazed up at the dimming moon in wonder, until finally, he noticed the shadows and fearlings that circled him. Fear radiated off the cold body and ferns of frost burst out from him in reflex.

"Interesting." A voice said, and the child immediately turned around to face the speaker. Pitch watch, thoroughly intrigued. It has been a happy night for him.

"Wha- Who are you?" the boy asked, young and afraid.

Pitch's eyes glinted and he stalked towards him, inhaling the delicious fear. He gazed deep into the boy's icy blue eyes and smiled. Blue eyes gazed back at him in curiosity and desperation. Of course, the child wanted answers.

"My name is Pitch Black, the Lord of shadows. I am your master and you are my champion." Yes, the boy will be his soldier, loyal and true only to his master's cause. He will be his greatest weapon yet.

"Now, speak to your master boy," Pitch sneered in anticipation, "give me your name."

The wind howled, flurries of snow and ice went up into the air and danced around the ethereal child. He glowed and belonged right here in his element. A Pale, innocent child, bearing the whole power of winter upon his shoulders. Cold and deadly – that is what he will soon become. That is how Pitch will make use of him.

Up in the sky, behind the dark clouds, the moon grieved in silence as a name was uttered into the air, to be forever claimed and owned by the darkness.

A name, that soon became cruel to others by circumstances –Winter's cold vessel.

"Jack Frost."