The Nightmare King's Shadow.
Chapter One: The Demon
Jack was known, both in his life as a spirit and (although he didn't know it) in his life as a human, as a boy without fear. And it was true; things that would terrify most mortal men- jumping off of cliffs into the wind, standing in the path of an avalanche, flying through the center of a snow storm- were things that he did every day.
However, as the darkened shadow that is the Boogeyman would tell you, fear can be a good thing. Fear can teach you to avoid dangers, to back away from the cliff and to stay clear of the avalanche zone. Of course, most of these dangers cannot affect Jack, for he is the immortal embodiment of winter and thus invulnerable to many things that can harm normal children.
Most. And most can only cover so much, can't it? Besides, there are things that only spirits have problems with. Such as wizards and their pesky habits of summoning forces beyond their control.
But even that is not much of a problem. After all, breaking their runic circles is easier than the foolish mortals believe, and most Immortals can tell what it means to be summoned.
Most, it seems, is a word that does not describe Jack Frost.
The wizard rose up slowly from his crouching position, back sore from hours spent agonizing over the runes meant to trap the demon as it was summoned. It was crucial that all of the runes were placed properly, lest the demon escape and ensnare his spirit in it's icy grip. It was a harrowing thing, summoning spirits as powerful as this, but it must be done.
Seeing that the runes were perfect, the wizard moved on to the next step in his preparation. Six candles, light blue in color, were placed as to make the points of a hexagon, as if it were the honeycomb of a bee. With hands slightly trembling, they were lit, the flames burning blue although cold to the touch. Outside the circle, the wizard stood, reciting the chant memorized long ago, in a language long sense dead. Eventually, the eldritch words gave way to simpler ones, although no less harmless. After all, the spirit he wishes to invoke is young, as far as spirits go, and wouldn't be able to appreciate the dialect, if it could comprehend it at all.
The wizard called out. "Awaken, oh ye spirit of winter, bringer of chill and ice! Rise up and do my bidding, demon of the snow! Jokul Frosti, I summon thee!"
And with a strong gust of wind and the cold crackle of breaking ice, the circle was filled with… a youth, barely on the cusp of adulthood. The wizard was confused but only for a moment before realization dawned on him. Ah, so the demon took the guise of a child, but the wizard would not be fooled by such silly tricks. It's disguise was incomplete, with unearthly pale skin, hair as white as the snow it commanded and no shoes upon the feet. Did it think of him as a simpleton?
The demon was looking around now, fake curiosity and showing in it's ice-blue eyes. "Whoa," it muttered, and even if the rest of it's disguise was believable, the voice would have ruined any credibility it had as a child. It was far too deep, too smooth, to flow out of a youth's mouth. "Where am I?"
Well, if the demon wished to play at being a child, then who was he not to take advantage. "Why, dear boy, you are in my cabin." His tone was fatherly, almost a little playful, as though the being in front of his was an actual human and not a monster playing pretend.
The demon's eyes widened, and focused directly on him in amazement. At once, the wizard felt a little uncomfortable. It was only a guise of course, but the emotions on the spirit's stolen face were a little too real.
Suddenly, it struck him. Just because it was not the demon's body doesn't mean that it wasn't somebody's body. He heard tale of a boy once, who fell through the frozen surface of a lake and whose body had never been found. Perhaps he had found it? After all, what's to stop the demon from taking possession of a body after the soul has left it's mortal coil?
The wizard smiled softly at the demon as something inside clenched. How dare this monster try to trick him using the remains of a father's lost son? Perhaps it was god's will then, to have the thing here where it can be used as a tool of justice against the man who stole his son from him.
"You can see me?" The creature asked, eyes alight with a childlike glee that was not it's own. And for his part, the wizard acted on emotions that were not his as well, forcing his features to look upon this demon as if he was nothing more than an unexpected guest. "Why, of course I can? Why wouldn't I be able to?"
Was the monster invisible as well as a thief of the dead?
The false-child's shoulders sagged, as it pretended that a creature such as itself could feel sadness. "It's just… everybody before you, they…"
It clutched at it's stomach, hugging itself tightly before whispering. "They all just walk through me, and it hurts, and why can't anybody believe inme?"
If this being was in truth a child, then the wizard might have felt some feelings of pity towards it. But as it were, all that he saw was an opportunity. "Dear child, what would you say if I told you I could make people believe in you?"
The demon raised it's head, the tears that were not it's own pouring down it's cheeks. "R-really?" It's unnatural voice hitched as it asked, an obvious ploy to play at his emotions.
It utterly failed as the wizard smiled sweetly at the demon, all while reaching into his pouch for some sleeping powder. "Of course."
The demon awoke midst preparations, although thankfully the bindings on it's powers were already in place. It looked around confused, as well it should be. It had gone from being upright within the circle to being tied down to the stone slab, stripped into nothing and unable to move all but it's face. It looked increasingly uncomfortable as well, likely from the forge it was nearby. Hopefully it's mortal disguise didn't sweat, lest the ink of the runes be spoiled and it's havoc unleashed upon him. It was only a temporary solution, anyway. The real ritual was about to commence.
"I see you awoke, demon." He emphasized the last word to prove he knew the spirit's true nature. "I had hoped to have gotten farther along with the process, but I suppose your demonic abilities prevented the powder from taking full hold, in spite of your mortal form. At least I managed to get most of the temporary bindings set up."
He paused to make a marking near the demon's head, tut-tuting as he saw it's mouth move uselessly. "Don't try to talk. I've already put bindings on your vocals so I wouldn't have to hear any of your lies."
He ignored all of the demon's silent pleas as he finished painting with the ink. After putting the small brush back within the inkpot, he removed the metal rod from the forge, and with his magic caused the thin metal top to bend around into the form of the rune for control. Almost cheerfully, he approached the demon, whose eyes were wide and filled with tears; as if he would take pity on it and let it go just for a few crocodile tears.
"In all honesty, I'm almost glad that you awoke for this. I'm not quite certain if a demon could even feel pain, but if anything could harm you this would." His eyes flashed dangerously as he held the heated rod above the demon's bare chest. "You should not have taken the form of the child who drowned in a lake in front of a father who lost his only son."
He continued, eyes right on the demon's stolen face as fear spread across it. "Despite your evil nature, you should be happy with what I am about to do. Be thankful I am kind enough to grant you your wish, be it true or just lies woven to ensnare a man's sensibilities with the use of guilt and pity. You shall have your name known by some certain people, Jokul Frosti. They will know you as the being who dealt them the final blow on my behalf, an angel of justice punishing the wicked. Oh yes, they will know you as the killer of killers."
And with that, he thrust the metal against the demon's chest, all in the name of his dead son.