Chapter One
The walk to the workshop was made in silence. Jack, for his part, was glad that Bernard was not in a talkative mood - not that he ever really was, to be honest. Still, the winter warlock was grateful for the head elf's constant and predictable character, because it gave him the opportunity to think over his experiences at the North Pole once more.
Things certainly had not been easy over the past year. It had taken a long while before the elves, Scott, Mrs. Claus (who Jack still found uncomfortable to address as just Carol) and most importantly, the other Legendary Figures to start trusting him. From January all the way up until early April, Jack remembered the wary, cautious looks he had been given by the majority of the North Pole inhabitants...and the Council.
But by late April through mid-July, a shift in the collective attitude could be observed. People started getting used to the new, defrosted Jack - slowly, of course, but with more certainty. Acceptance had finally begun to settle in, and Jack had watched as elves who'd once sworn to remain his enemy suddenly wished to be his friend. There were, of course, still a handful of elves who obstinately continued to mock and criticize him; but those were the elves whose remarks Jack resolutely ignored or embraced, depending on his mood.
From July onwards, however, most of the North Pole inhabitants and all of the Council members had fostered a new perspective of him, and began to treat the warlock with a sense of respect and decency. In turn the winter warlock found he had developed a new appreciation for these people, people once so angered and wounded by his selfish antics. It was gratifying to know he was being accepted even after what had happened recently, and in the past.
Jack still remembered the first time things began changing like this. He still remembered the shock he felt when an elf came up to him and actually had a delighted smile on their face - a genuine smile directed at him, in broad daylight, for no apparent reason.
As it happened, that elf had been Curtis...Scott's number two elf.
Jack smiled to himself. There was something about the nerdy, slightly awkward thirteen-hundred-year-old elf that was both down-to-earth and charming. Perhaps part of this impression came from Jack feeling as though he could be Curtis's father. Jack was over forty-hundred years old, after all.
The idea of a true family - as in a wife and children - had hardly ever graced his thoughts, however. Oh sure, he'd had a string of girlfriends throughout his lifetime, but he had royally screwed up every single one of those relationships. The only person he had ever come close to truly, dearly loving had been a wonderful spring witch by the name of Elisa.
Oh, snowballs, Jack inwardly moaned. Why did I have to think of Elisa at a time like this? At a time when I'm getting more and more worried that something drastic has happened at the workshop? I honestly don't need problems from the past bothering me right now and adding to my present worries.
It didn't help that Bernard was choosing to be vague, or was perhaps fairly clueless, as to what was going on. Both notions were equally frustrating. The only other times Jack was requested at the workshop was to chat with Scott about paperwork or personal matters, occasionally, help with the toy production lines, or to do a few various other jobs around the place. Scott only asked for his presence via word of mouth from Bernard if a serious situation had arisen, if there was an important message from the Council, or if there was a Council meeting coming up.
Knowing the Council, anything they had to say was either monotonously boring or extremely troubling. There was no in between. The fact that Bernard had expressed urgency in Jack being at the workshop made him suspect that this was likely something that fell in the extremely troubling category. Whether the Council was involved in it or not, Jack had yet to determine fully.
Jack's contemplation was cut short as both he and Bernard emerged out into what was known as Christmas Center - the heart of Elfsburg, where the most popular shops and elves resided, and where the workshop sat in all its cheerful glory. Far above the heads of the winter warlock and the head elf, the shimmering light of the glacier walls that protected the North Pole seemed to glow with the pure, multi-colored energy of Christmas Spirit itself.
It's amazing how you can appreciate the little, wonderful things more when your point of view has been slightly altered, Jack thought.
As the two figures continued walking in the direction of the workshop, Jack said hello to a few elves passing by; he also waved and called out to a few of the more distant North Pole inhabitants milling about in the town center. Christmas Center as a whole was, as usual, pulsing with joy and vitality. The sound of laughter and the smell of gingerbread mingled together in the air to create a pleasant, homey vibe, as well.
Already Jack could feel his nerves and muscles relax as the familiar activity reminded him of how grateful he was to have been given another chance...and even though this was his third strike, so to speak, he knew he wouldn't be making any foolish mistakes such as nearly ruining the essence of Christmas again. Mother Nature could have just as easily stripped away his powers and banished him to some dark corner of the magical world (or the mortal world, for that matter). It was only by the combined efforts of Scott, Mrs. Claus, and a few of the more well-known and respected elves to change the Council member's minds on the matter. This was one of several things that Jack could only dream of repaying for.
"Let me get the door," Jack said, abruptly breaking out his thoughts. He trotted gracefully ahead of Bernard, and in a prompt fashion he pulled open one of the heavy oak doors. Gesturing politely with one hand to urge the head elf inside, Jack added with a joking flourish, "A pleasure as always to have you, Monsieur tête de fées."
Bernard stopped in his tracks to roll his eyes and groan at the warlock.
"Ha, ha, very funny showing off your fluency in the French language," he replied, one hand resting on his hip. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to not call me the "head fairy," could we please hassle up to Santa's office? I'm becoming very, very late where getting back to a number of important jobs is concerned, as you're well aware of."
There was a pause as Bernard huffed and Jack smirked; then the head elf readjusted his beret, whirled on his heel, and crossed the threshold into the workshop, Jack following close behind.
"So what's the deal anyway?" Jack asked when they had reached the workshop's residential area, reserved for the Claus's and a few odds-and-ends rooms where experiments for new toys had taken root. "You said Scott needed me ASAP, but you never said specifically what for."
"To be honest, I don't know what's going on," Bernard responded. "I literally walked into his office and he told me to go find you. Apparently something had come up that had unsettled him, but who knows what. Maybe the man who was in the office with Santa is the reason."
"Man?" Jack repeated, eyebrows narrowing. "What man? Why was there a man in Scott's office? Who was he?"
"Beats me. I only caught a glimpse of him. He had snow white hair and was wearing a warlock's robe, but that's all I remember. Oh, wait...now that I think about it he might have had a beard, too."
Jack thought about this description for a moment, trying to match it with anyone he knew back in Coventry, the kingdom where all magical beings were from. No one in particular sprang to mind, however, which left Jack feeling even more troubled. What was an unknown warlock doing here at the North Pole, and did his arrival have to do with problems stirring up in Coventry?
As Jack and Bernard finally reached Scott's office door, the winter warlock felt certain that they would find answers to these questions very, very soon.
There was nothing but the smell of decay and destruction in the air. As Queen Miranda padded her way carefully between the patches of scorched earth and the charred remains of once-noble cottages, she couldn't help but feel a great sadness tug at her heart.
This place...it had once been a mighty town. A town where many a merchant had sought to sell their wares to the good people, where vendors had crowded the streets every solstice to celebrate the coming seasons. There had been lights, laughter, and life in boundless supply here...once.
Now it was all blackened, choked, obliterated. Any sign of life had been snuffed out like a candle one by one until the sun had finally peaked out over the tainted horizon. It was tainted both literally and figuratively, of course - literally, because the haze of smoke and ash left over from the attack had sufficiently poisoned the skies with blackness, and figuratively, because this new dawn had opened up upon the new wound that had been made to the skin of Coventry.
Queen Miranda sighed despondently, stopping for a moment in a charred clearing to allow a few tears to slip from her eyes. This had been going on for far too long. Her people had had to live with this terrible darkness hanging over them for twenty years now, and nothing she nor her husband King Aron did seemed to make that darkness go away. If anything it just grew stronger, destroying more towns and lives as it went, while at the same time slowly consuming Coventry bit by bit. And this path was certain to continue, for Queen Miranda and King Aron had no idea how to stop the spread of the darkness.
At last, the Queen wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her elegant blue dress, and took a deep breath to compose herself. Then she turned around, meeting the eyes of her chief advisors, who had followed her here on horseback.
"I am ready to return to the castle now," she called out to them. "Please check that my horse is still prepared for travel, and I shall join you both in a moment."
One of the advisors, a witch of the sun named Ileana, nodded, and called back, "Yes, your Highness!"
Ileana then turned to her companion, a warlock of the moon who went the name of Karsh, and said in a softer, worried tone of voice, "Do you think King Aron is safe at the castle with the twins?"
Karsh managed a reassuring smile. "Stop worrying, Ileana," he said gently. "The King and the twins are perfectly safe. The darkness has made no move to attack Coventry Castle directly, and even if it did we're prepared."
"I know, but..." Ileana trailed off and bit her lip anxiously.
Karsh's brow furrowed, and he gazed with growing concern at his fellow advisor. "There's something still bothering you, isn't there?" he asked. "You're worried that the darkness will find a way to reach the twins no matter what it takes."
Ileana's light green eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know?"
"I'm a warlock of the moon, remember?" Karsh smiled slightly. "I have inclinations towards telepathy and other extra-sensory powers. Besides, I've been vaguely worrying about the same thing."
Ileana smiled a little, as well. "Of course," she said. "Well, you're right in any case. I'm still worried about the twins' safety. I mean, what if something slips by the tiniest fraction and we lose them? I couldn't bear that...neither could the King and Queen."
"We'll be as flawless as we can," Karsh promised, as he took one of Ileana's hand and placed a soft kiss on top of it. "We'll fend off the darkness at every possible turn. And if it truly manages to best us, we'll have no other choice but to send the twins away...where the darkness can't possibly reach them."
"Hopefully it doesn't come to that." Ileana pulled Karsh's outstretched towards her and likewise kissed it, a sad sigh escaping her. "All we can do is hope."
Karsh nodded in agreement. "Hope is all we have left," he said, "and sometimes, hope alone can create miracles."
"Or save kingdoms."
Karsh nodded again. Then with a last smile, the two magical advisors turned and began to prepare the horses for the voyage back to Coventry Castle.
"I brought Frost as you requested, sir," Bernard said as he opened Scott's office door and stepped inside.
Scott's office was always cheerfully warm, the smell of cinnamon and sugar cookies permeating the room and giving it just as homey a feeling as Christmas Center. Today was the exception, however. Instead it seemed as though a tense, unnatural curtain had been dropped over the whole room, masking the warmth and cheer. No, choking it...like a thick, black sheet.
Scott was standing at his desk, a troubled expression on his face as he turned his head towards his two visitors. A figure, presumably the one that Bernard had described from earlier, stood with their back to the head elf and Jack in the upper right-hand corner of the room, beside a bookshelf.
"Ah, there you are," Scott said, though whether he was referring to Jack or Bernard, neither of them were certain.
There was an awkward but tense pause. Finally, Jack cleared his throat, clasped his hands behind his back, and stepped closer to Scott.
"So, what's the problem, mon ami?" the winter warlock asked. "One doesn't simply call up the Prince of Frost in an urgent fashion for nothing."
Another pause followed. Then Scott took a deep breath, cast a unreadable glance in the robed figure's direction, and turned back to address Bernard and Jack.
"I've just received some troubling news," the legend of Christmas told them. "I don't completely understand what's going on, or how long we have to prepare, but after a bit of persuading by that man standing in the corner there, I thought you'd like to be in the know of things, Jack. I mean, it's just awful. Awful and hideous and devastating!"
"Whoa, whoa, hold on a second." Jack threw up his hands, hoping the gesture would calm Scott down. "What in the name of hail are you talking about? What do we have to prepare for, and what's so awful? Please just tell us what's wrong, but calmly, alright?"
A chuckle drifted out from the corner where the mysterious man stood; a moment later he turned and revealed the full splendor of snowy hair, beard, and robes he possessed. There was nothing at unusual about any of these factors, for warlocks often donned long, flowing garments and grew out their facial hair.
No, the only truly startling thing was that Jack recognized this warlock. In fact he knew him very well...so well that an involuntary shiver of dread and shock soon rippled down his spine.
"J-Jonathen?" Jack found himself stammering, as he leaned against the edge of Scott's desk for support. "My gods...is it really you?"
Bernard, who had been standing with an annoyed frown on his face and with his arms crossed, suddenly looked between Jack and the stranger in a startled and concerned way.
"Are you alright?" the head elf asked the former, squeezing his free arm. Normally he didn't give two burnt gingerbread cookies about how the winter warlock was feeling; but the profound effect this other warlock had had upon him was perturbing even to Bernard. Words like evil and darkness were beginning to spring to mind as Bernard studied this cool, collected character before him.
"It really has been a long time, hasn't it, Jack?" the man who had been called Jonathen said, as if the head elf was not even there. There was a regretful hue tinged in both the man's eyes and his voice.
Jack remained silent, his eyes diverting to the floor as he shook and breathed in an unsteady manner. Bernard kept his hand on Jack's arm as he stole a look in Scott's direction. The Christmas legend was also looking between the two warlocks, but mostly at Jack, because his glittering blue eyes were studying Jack's reaction anxiously.
"Forgive me for causing your friend such distress, Mr. Claus," the man called Jonathen apologized, clasped his hands in front of him. "I have brought about enough concerns already by telling you of the situation in Conventry. Let me explain myself. You see, I did not only come here to warn you of the dangers persisting in other parts of the magical world." Jonathen gazed around slowly between Scott, Jack and Bernard, then rested his eyes back upon Scott. "I also came to see Jack, and hopefully make amends for things that have transpired in our past."
"Past?" Bernard repeated with wide eyes. "You mean you and Frost really do know each other?"
"Of course," Jonathen replied with a charming smile. "You see, my full name is Jonathen Hailstorm Frost. As you can tell, the name clearly explains itself. I'm a member of the Frost family. But I'm not merely a distant relative...though Jack and I have been estranged as they say for quite some time now."
With a twinkle of his ice blue eyes, Jonathen went on radiantly, "I don't mean to beat around the bush. I suppose it's just my nerves. What I'm essentially trying to say, gentlemen, is that I am not only related to Jack, but that I am...his brother."
Well, my plan to write ahead has not been very successful so far. I have only had time to write out this chapter, and it has been painfully slow. Hopefully I can commit to sticking with my schedule after this. In the meantime you guys get to enjoy another chapter, while I try and sort things out!
By the way, I'm not entirely sure where this is going. I'm still working on the plot, though I do have a general idea of what direction I'll pursue. Please bear with me!
Finally, I would like to point out that I used elements from the live-action Disney movie T*Witches in this story. I do not own that movie, the characters, nor the kingdom of Conventry in which the movie takes place; I am simply using these elements to add a certain richness to my story and to show my love of many aspects of the Disney franchise. :)
Thank you for your time and patience, and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!
~Felicity-Neverhawk