"Why have you summoned me here?"
He had never considered himself one to be easily afeared, but in that moment, held under the stormy gaze of the tempestuous woman in front of him – no, not in front of him, but all around him, for every part of her incorporeal nature surrounded him entirely in a whirling tempest – he began to feel the slightest twinge of unease.
He did not feel that his unease was irrational, however. After all, it was wise to remain wary when dealing with Mother Nature, for she was a wild, erratic force and unpredictable. Dangerous in a being with so much raw power.
The Man In The Moon would have to tread carefully with her.
"I summoned you because I wish to make a deal with you," Tsar Lunar said softly, gently as if approaching a wounded beast.
The stormy eyes narrowed. "You of all men should know that it is unwise to make proposals to me," she said, and her voice was like rolling thunder. "What can you possibly offer me that I would want?"
"I'm not naïve, Seraphina. I'm aware that you are unlikely to accept any offer I make. But I merely wish that you would grace me by hearing my proposal nonetheless. Will you do this for me?"
The stormy eyes frowned, and a small pair of rose petal lips pressed together.
"Alright, Tsar Lunar. I will hear your proposal."
Tsar Lunar allowed himself to smile. One had to take comfort in the small victories.
"I need your help," he started. "I have a plan, but it can only be executed with your complete willingness to help me. This is not something I can do if you do not completely and totally want to play a part in it. So effectively, I cannot force you to help even if I had the power to do so."
"Get on with it, Lunar."
"There is a boy."
Lunar raised his hand, a small moonbeam twining about it. Within the moonbeam, the face of a teenage boy drifted – about seventeen, a shock of spiky brown hair and large, animated brown eyes the colour of walnut, bright teeth flashed in an impish grin.
"You're not dragging another innocent into this mess, are you?" Seraphina growled. Her brackish hair flew about the man like whips. Tsar Lunar shook his head.
"He recently died," he said. "A pure child, he is. Noble death – he was killed in an accident that should have taken his sister, but he took her place. Arguably, he died by your hands."
"What of it? Innocent children die every day."
"This one is different. I believe he could become great. He would be of great assistance in controlling Pitch Black."
Seraphina's eyes flew wide open and she bared her teeth. "I will not help you to kill my father."
"Oh my dear, that's not what I meant. But you know as well as I do that he's growing harder to control. He's growing too strong for the Guardians to keep him in check."
"That's the problem of your Guardians, not mine."
Lunar sighed. "Pitch Black is a problem we all must deal with, not just my Guardians. If he becomes too powerful, he will pervert the way of nature and ruin the balance you aim to keep, you know this."
"Yes, but my father is in there somewhere. I cannot allow you or your Guardians to hurt him."
Lunar's eyes were sympathetic. "Seraphina..."
"Lunar, I've been on this earth for countless centuries. Thousands of years. I've had plenty of time to explore the possibility, and I can tell you without a shred of doubt: my father is still in there somewhere. If we could only remove the influence of the Fearlings –"
"Seraphina, that is nigh impossible."
"Well, then I shall keep Pitch unharmed until it becomes possible."
Lunar tried a new angle. "The possibilities for this child is endless. He may become the key to unlocking your father from his prison."
Seraphina raised an eyebrow, but Lunar knew she was entertaining the idea.
"Show me this boy. Where is he?"
"In Burgess; the town in America –"
"You know I do not care for the names humans assign to the places I create. Show me."
Tsar Lunar took the moonbeam showing the boy's face, and held it up. With a twist of his fingers, he manipulated the surface and zoomed out the image.
The boy became smaller and smaller, and the surroundings became apparent. Soon, the boy had disappeared and the town of Burgess was clear. Seraphina leaned in close to peer at the moonbeam.
"He's in this pond here. He fell through the ice. It was thinner than it appeared."
Seraphina shrugged uncomfortably. "A child's poor judgement does not make his death my fault."
She suddenly frowned, and turned back to Lunar. "Hold on. Where do I come into this? What do you want me to do?"
Lunar fiddled with his tie agitatedly. "He needs powers, Seraphina. I was hoping you could relinquish your control of ice and cold to him. Wind, even, if you can manage."
Seraphina suddenly became huge, her being filling the whole room. Squalling winds roared around the Moon, upsetting toys and trinkets and smashing delicate objects. Mother Nature's fury was not silent. Her voice turned from the threatening rumble of approaching thunder to the fierce crack of striking lightning.
"How dare you ask me to give up my powers for your schemes! You insult me by suggesting that I would give in to you so easily."
Lunar stood straight in the gale, attempting to pat down his hair. "I would not expect you to give in to me at all. I cannot force you. But at least humour me and see the boy."
Seraphina scoffed, but in the next moment, the wind had died and she was gone. Lunar straightened his hair and looked about bewilderedly.
He'd tried. Now, he could only hope.
Seraphina was already in Burgess as Tsar Lunar attempted to dust himself off after her rage, squalling about the tiny town in her anger. She would only find the boy to prove that she had done everything and still was not willing to help Lunar. She knew the man had good intentions, but she would not – could not – help him. Sacrificing her powers was too much.
She reached the pond, and stood above the ice. The boy must be still trapped down here, then.
She dived through the surface, passing ghostlike through the thick ice. Down in the murky depths, she could see little.
Then something caught her eye.
A spectre of a creature, floating eerily above the bed of the pond. Somehow he had not sunk to the bottom.
She drew closer. Even in death, skin blue and white and swollen from the water, body stiff in rigor mortis, the child was beautiful. He must not have been dead for long, for the gruesome effects of death were not yet taking hold. The water painted his skin in shifting patterns, and the moonlight turned his hair silver. Seraphina was surprised by this waiflike creature; he was not entirely the same as the impish boy in the moonbeam. This version of him was more surreal, a phantom. She suddenly felt a helpless need to pull the dead boy into her arms and embrace him – she could not explain why, but she was drawn to the child.
A moonbeam returned to Lunar, who was waiting anxiously to find if Seraphina would cooperate. The moonbeam's message was simple, but it made Lunar whoop with joy nonetheless.
She will do it.
"What do you mean, I cannot contact him?!"
Seraphina's temper threatened to wreak its wrath on Lunar once again.
"It's too risky," Lunar insisted. "You cannot make yourself known to him; he cannot know you are there. If you must be there, you must be invisible, and you cannot talk to him. It's the only way, Seraphina. It will be a delicate balance as it is; I cannot allow you to upset it. You of all creatures know the importance of balance."
A storm of emotions broiled over the woman's face. Anger, frustration, helplessness. She opened and closed her hands anxiously. She had the look of a mother who was forbidden to see her son.
"I'm sorry, Seraphina. I know you care for the boy –"
"I'm giving up my powers for him! 'Care' is an insult."
"I know, I know. But it's the only way."
Seraphina agreed to be hidden from the boy, to remain invisible to him, but she refused to be absent from his birth. She watched and waited under the ice, staring expectantly at the white face she'd grown to fiercely love.
Lunar had been right that Seraphina could only help him if she wanted to – the only way her powers could be transferred was if she willingly gave them up. And this was what she was doing now – as she grasped the stiff, swollen hand of the dead child, she felt herself grow weaker and a sharp pain lanced across her torso.
She would give the boy her ability to control ice, snow, and cold weather. She would not completely give up wind, but she would willingly share it with the child. This was what she had agreed to give up to the child.
Giving up her power was painful and difficult, but she wanted to do it. Needed to do it. She had to see the boy live.
As the transfer was completed, the ravages of death faded from the child's body. The colour of life danced across his cheeks, and the new powers changed him physically, blanching his hair and skin. Seraphina didn't think the boy could become any more beautiful, but she'd been wrong. Delight filled her being, and she raised the boy up.
She gently pushed away the icy surface and lifted the boy into the air. She waited, and it was with endless joy that she watched the child – her child, she thought – take his first breath as Jack Frost.
She danced invisibly as he stood on the ice. The boy tried to take a step, but slipped.
"Whoops!" Seraphina said, unheard, giggling joyously as she whisked the child into the air so he did not fall.
He struggled with the wind at first, unsure of how to control it, this ability not as easy to grasp as the ones she'd given over to him completely. But he managed. He caught up quickly, like a newborn deer foal learning to walk – at first he was shaky, but within moments he was prancing and bounding with the joyous energy of a little one.
The way he used her powers were different to how she had used them. He had a certain grace to him, a flair that intrigued her. She knew her powers would not be wasted on the boy. "You will be great, little one," she crooned as he whirled through the air.
And so Jack Frost started his life, not as entirely alone as he would believe.