I really wanted to call this Black Ice but that is unfortunately shared with a popular shipping name and I wouldn't want to give people the wrong idea. My introduction as-shared on my tumblr (fear3loathing).
Rise of the Guardians
Cold and Dark
Prologue
Guardian or no, nothing beat a good snow day as far as Jack Frost was concerned.
Not that he begrudged being a Guardian. Sure, there were times at which the newest addition could be found snowing people into their homes and bringing down power lines instead of harking the call of the Aurora Borealis, but that was to be expected. His purpose was bringing joy to children of all kinds and creed, not attending meetings about flickering lights on a globe.
However, to his relief Jack had quickly realised that with Pitch Black out of the picture the demands of being a Guardian were significantly less than he'd imagined. While Tooth and Sandy had to work around the clock, racing dawn at the speed of light, and North and Bunny prepared an entire year for one single day, Jack's duties largely consisted of touring the globe starting snowball fights and freak blizzards that kept people home with their families over thanksgiving. So aside from the odd informal meeting, there wasn't actually a great deal to worry about. Jack had never been cut out for the serious gig anyway. Everything was business as usual.
Back in Burgess he was inciting one of his world-famous snow days when something went amiss. Since becoming visible to almost every kid in town he had to be more careful, and hovered high above the eyeline where his silhouette against the sun would be written off as a trick of the light. Snow warfare ended when children and adults alike scattered, screams of fright replacing joy as a car charged over the pavement like a bullet flying out of a gun.
A clever gust of wind swept everyone clear of the crash as the vehicle ran straight off the road and careered into a ditch with horns blaring. Jack was stunned; nothing slipped like that unless he made it slip, and he'd never send something dangerous off the road.
"What was that?" "Where did it come from?" "I thought I was a gonner," people were chattering around the car as the driver emerged dazed from the car. He seemed all right, if a little shaken, but was no more certain of what happened than anyone else had been. Emergency services were on the scene in minutes.
"It was as if the road just went out from under me," he mumbled quietly to a police officer, wrapped in a shock blanket with a cup of cocoa in his shaking hands.
"Probably black ice you had there," the officer replied solemnly. "It happens sometimes. Sheer as glass, and you don't even see it until you're right on top of it."
"That's baloney," Jack barked over their unhearing shoulders. "I never put down ice like that in my-" A flicker crossed the corner of his eye. The sun was sinking down over the hill like lava melting into the sea, and shadows had grown long over sparkling snowdrifts. The shadows of lamposts striped the street almost like prison bars.
Black ice, he thought to himself, and turned around cagily. But it couldn't be.
"Yeah, it was probably black ice, like you said officer," the driver reaffirmed. "Never can trust Jack Frost, eh?"
"Hey-!" Jack snapped, but he couldn't spare time to get worked up about slander right now. He was twitching and circling like a spooked dog, sure that every patch of darkness was going to leap the second his eyes were turned. But something had moved. In an alleyway, where the golden afternoon collected like water clinging to a gutter. Only the Eastern side of the buildings were still lit above the first story. Everything else was in shadow.
Jack bounced on pockets of air, skating just centimetres off the ground towards the channel cut through the buildings. Holding his staff low, he stepped closer and wondered if the dread in his stomach was his own invention or a signal of something else. North's belly was rarely wrong, but Jack didn't trust his own. He moved like a stalking animal, chasing shadows, waiting for something that wouldn't come.
'Now... there's a little Fun.'
It didn't sound like a normal voice. It was an echo from everywhere and nowhere. It tickled the back of Jack's neck and stung the soles of his feet. It was wrong and soothing at the same time. It shouldn't, couldn't be here – not now, not so soon.
"Pitch?" it was too easy to say the name, and that gave Jack a bolt of worry. Like it helped to summon him. "Is it really-?"
'Really what?' asked the sinuous echo, rattling like a dime in a tin can. 'Been so long?' It hadn't been long, not long enough, not nearlylong enough for him to be back.
Then Jack saw him, an elevated cutout against the russet brickwork in the sun. Not him as he was, but a shadow, the outline. Jack moved his gaze to the top of the opposing building, but saw nothing except a flicker of black sinking downwards. It slid like paint, or blood, down the wall; not quite solid but too thick for a liquid.
The puddle of darkness leapt just as instinct forced Jack's hands up in front of him. His staff clashed against the lash of a scythe as it swung out of the shadows and almost gouged the wood in two.
Blows fell in quick succession, one, two, then a third cracking against sheaths of ice Jack put up. Each was smashed, absorbing shock that would've sent him flying across the street otherwise. Snowfall and broken ice rained like glass on the floor around them, until a swoop finally came wide enough to dodge and Jack slipped around it on a gust of wind. He pushed one foot back and pointed the end of his staff outwards, sending a blast of hoarfrost across Pitch.
Except it went straight through him and iced the wall two metres away.
"What?" Jack gaped. That wasn't meant to happen. The ice had acted as if Pitch weren't even there.
'That was good fun, Frost,' the voice spoke, but that was when it became clear how wrong everything was. Pitch's mouth didn't move, in fact, he barely had a face. An outline held his shape, but his features plunged inwards – as if his form were a black hole that sucked in mass rather than possessing it. 'Don't let the bed bugs bite.'
Then he was gone.