As Jack neared the North Pole, the stars became his constant companion. Darkness fell for the last time after he crossed half of Canada, and even after many hours the sun refused to return. While this was normal for polar regions, knowing so did not make the transition any less strange.

It felt like days were passing, the stars moving in an elongated arc across the sky the only indicator that the Earth hadn't frozen on its axis. Being the adventurous frost spirit that he was, Jack did not pass up the chance to explore the ice formations he spotted along the way. They were not as impressive as those found in Antarctica, but they were nothing to take for granted either.

He stopped at an iceberg which had a thick vein diagonally cut through the middle of clear, deep blue ice amidst the opaque white. Perching at the tip top, Jack kept a firm hold on his staff, its end buried firmly in the snow as he slowly scanned his surroundings.

There was a lot more ice here than there had been during the summer months. Absolutely nothing looked the same. Thankfully, though, after a few more minutes of flying straight, Jack finally found North's base.

It was impossible to miss, really, literally lit up like a Christmas tree with a rainbow of colored lights strewn across every expanse despite the fact the place was largely consumed by a massive glacier. Jack couldn't help but feel a surge of elation at the sight; it felt like forever since he'd seen real illumination let alone something as magnificent as that.

He paused in mid-air to contemplate seeking out a door, but none of them looked as promising as the wide open runway which Jack was all too familiar with. Slipping inside, he used his stealth to his advantage as he made his way further in until he found the massive, wide-open globe room. That's where he spotted who he was looking for, but North wasn't alone as he'd expected. Sandman was there, too.

Jack floated upward to lightly land upon a wooden beam high above, crouching there momentarily. The other two Guardians did not notice his presence, even as he stood up and steadily began approaching along the balk.

North appeared to be very interested in a book which lay on the tabletop before him; he was leafing through it silently, and Jack couldn't see his expression. Slowly, the frost spirit tried to lean forward to get a look at what was on the pages. Just as he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a lit-up picture, North closed the book.

Almost immediately, Sandman started making grabby hands at it. Even from the angle he was at, Jack could practically see the puppy dog eyes the dream weaver was giving his comrade at that moment.

"You can have it now," North said slowly, but the other Guardian had already snatched it up and was flying off with it.

"But bring back when you are finished!" he shouted after him.

Figuring there was no more reason to hide, Jack glided down from the rafters. North was rubbing the bridge of his nose in agitation when the frost spirit hovered up behind him.

"What was that?"

North jumped up with a shout of surprise, nearly tripping over his chair. When he spotted Jack, he laughed at himself.

"Jack, it is you," he addressed, "Been a while, yes?"

The frost spirit looked a bit sheepish then, "Oh, yeah... Sorry, I'm still, uh, getting used to having... friends."

"It is fine," North assured him, "Want eggnog?"

"No, I'm-"

"Of course you are wanting some."

North crossed the room and returned with two large mugs, one which he offered to Jack. The frost spirit took it, the cup so big he had to use both hands to hold it, and stared dubiously down at the contents. It reminded him a little of melted ice cream sprinkled with cinnamon.

"Now, what is troubling you?"

Jack looked up in surprise; was it that obvious?

"N-nothing, is troubling me," he paused, noticing North's disbelieving stare, "Why do you ask?"

Out of nervousness, Jack took a sip from the mug he was holding, forgetting that he thought he didn't like eggnog. It was at that moment that he discovered he did, in fact, like it. Being a spirit, he of course didn't have to consume anything at all and thus preferred not to. He'd forgotten how pleasant it could be sometimes. The sweet, creamy and oddly tangy taste was at that moment like a little touch of heaven.

"You are bad liar," North stated, "But I will not force conversation."

Jack nearly sighed with relief. For some reason, he felt a flush coming over his face and his whole body felt a couple degrees too hot. He glided over to a nearby sofa, unable to resist its inviting cushiness. Setting his mug, which was now just over half-empty, down on a side table, Jack proceeded to drape himself over the couch. That's when he remembered what he'd seen when he first came in.

"Oh! North," he got the other Guardian's attention, "What was that book Sandy took from you?"

There was a thoughtful look on the other spirit's face as he idly sipped from his own cup.

"It was... history book, from Man in Moon."

Jack's eyes widened, "The Man in the Moon gave you a book!?"

"Yes, that was third."

Jack's amazement was only subdued by the odd lethargy which had overcome him, stemming from the warmth in his belly which had spread all over. He idly fought to get the zipper of his hoodie down again.

"That's remarkable..." he slurred slightly, "Is it... hot in here... or is it just me?"

In response, North gave a hearty laugh.

"That is bourbon," he chuckled, "Please do not tell me you never had alcoholic beverage?"

"Alcoholic...? Oh God," Jack pressed his palm against his face, and then began to laugh, "You spiked my eggnog."

"It is in recipe!" North defended himself.

Jack slid a little further down the couch in the midst of his giggle fit, one leg propped against the back while his right arm was draped down onto the floor. Later, he would definitely be glad no one but North was there to see him like this.

"I really... really, want to see those books," he drawled, looking over at North with what he hoped was a sufficiently pleading expression.

The other spirit set down his mug.

"Maybe when you are not drunken idiot."

Jack looked as if he'd just been slapped.

"I was kidding," North chuckled, turning and walking toward the massive globe which was surrounded by book cases, "I will give you volume one."

Jack stopped following the other Guardian with his gaze, letting his head fall back so he could stare up at the ceiling with furrowed brows. His expression remained relatively the same until North returned with what he wanted.

The moment the frost spirit noticed North had returned, he scrambled to get upright. With his back propped against the arm of the couch, Jack reached out with obvious excitement.

"Do not let this leave room," North told him with uncharacteristic gravity, "Is too important to lose."

"I promise," Jack told him with equal seriousness, but given the circumstances it seemed unintentionally mocking.

There was a second or two of silence, and then, North smiled. He handed Jack the book before giving him a pat on the head.

"Enjoy," he said, before walking off.

Jack watched him. "Where are you going?"

"Check on yetis," North called back, before heading down a staircase.

A thoughtful look crossed Jack's features. He'd forgotten Christmas was near and thus work down below must have been chaos. Turning the book he'd been given in his hands, he inspected the dark, bland and textured cover. The only indicator of what was written within was printed on the spine in silvery lettering.

Volume I: Rise and Fall of The Golden Age

There was nothing else. No real title or indication of an author, but Jack could already figure who the author was. The very notion thrilled him.

It took him a moment to actually open the book and begin reading it. He wasn't expecting to be met with such a fantastical tale, coupled with images which were made semi three-dimensional with holographic technology. His mind still foggy from the alcohol, he didn't bother trying to concentrate on words for long and just began flipping through to look at pictures.

He paused when he came to a full-body picture of a man who looked startlingly familiar. Scanning over it with his eyes, he felt butterflies in his stomach. It looked exactly like Pitch; aside from the fact he was wearing armor and was brandishing a sword, frozen in the act of fighting what looked like a massive demon.

Jack scanned over the text in hopes of finding out who this man was.

Kozmotis Pitchiner, a general in the armies fighting for rather than against the good guys. No, it couldn't have been the Pitch he knew, but the resemblance was uncanny. Jack was having a hard time taking his eyes off the image. Slowly, he began to turn pages again, hoping to find more pictures of him.

The next interesting image he came across was near the end of the book; this one was definitely Pitch. He was twisted and huge, a leviathan of shadow filled to the brim by the Nightmares and Fearlings which seemed to be a part of him.

Going back a few pages, Jack began to read from where he'd found the first picture.

If he were to turn his gaze skyward right about then, he would have seen the small, dark and sleek form of a tiny sand Nightmare staring down at him from the rafters.

The creature, along with its even smaller sister which was currently unseen, had been ordered to follow Jack and had been doing so ever since he crossed the Canadian border. Pitch had not, however, foreseen that the frost spirit would wander into such dangerous territory. With both North and Sandman in the same locale, it was only a matter of time before one of them caught wind of something.

Being just a tainted version of his own dream sand, the Sandman sensed the evil presence first and, disregarding any level of interest in what he was reading, sought it out. One floor above Jack, Sandman saw the little Nightmare the second he walked onto the loft. There was a moment of stunned stillness, until Sandy was sure the creature had not spotted him. Slowly approaching the Nightmare, coils of golden rope began to wrap around one arm as it was formed right from his hand.

Jack heard an odd scraping sound from above which caused him to look up, but by then there was nothing to be seen. He stared with a puzzled expression for a couple seconds before turning his attention back to the book.

It was impossible to see Sandman from the angle Jack was at, and thus the cat-sized hogtied Nightmare was held up by its rope for only its captor to inspect. He did not notice the tiny black speck of a horse take off from a knothole near where its sister had been perched, the insect-sized Nightmare making a beeline toward the nearest exit

Sandman took his captive with him, flying down to the lower parts of the dwelling to find North. The spirit of wonder was loudly giving directions to a few yetis within the workshop, but he instantly went silent when he saw Sandman come into the room. A couple of the yetis looked as well, and recoiled when they realized what he was holding.

Raised up high for North and everyone else to see, the sandcrafted Nightmare struggled weakly in its binds.

"Ah," North recollected himself, glancing at the small group he was just instructing.

"Keep doing what you were doing; I'll be back."

The two Guardians left the workroom for somewhere more quiet.

((()))

While all Nightmares of the natural born wild variety were thought to roam Earth at all times inciting fear where it was needed and sometimes where it was not, there were actually more which preferred a lazy day spent at home.

The wretched creatures often huddled in the deepest parts of Pitch's lair; tangled like spiders with only their glowing eyes, long sinuous necks and sharp angles to distinguish between them and the thick haze of shadows.

It wasn't a rare occurrence when Pitch would join them. Most people would be driven mad within seconds by the multitude of voices forcing their way into their heads, but Pitch was not most people. He had listened to the Nightmares' conversations for hundreds of years, he had talked with them and at times instructed them to do his bidding. It was no different for him than being in an overcrowded room.

The Nightmares regarded him as their own, made room when he decided to sit with them as he was currently doing now. The massive warhorse which he was leaning against looked big even compared to his tall stature, its body curled in a way which gave the impression of a sofa's back. There were other Nightmares lying around, one's tail end making up a sort of 'arm' for the makeshift couch while there were simply more tangled behind in a great black mass.

Pitch had his arms spread out resting across the Nightmares' back, reclining against the monster which remained tame as a house pet beneath him. Staring up at the ceiling with cold, silver eyes, Pitch listened silently to the creatures as they talked.

It sounded like whispers, hissing, loud, vicious and more worthy of a serpent's pit, but occasionally a phrase or location would stand out. They spoke of events, ones witnessed or current. More often than not they would mention traumatic death. Drowning, burning alive, wild animal attacks; it was their favorite type of fear to consume, but it was also the most fleeting.

For the longest time, Pitch did not spot the tiny horse flitting about his head trying desperately to be heard above the real Nightmares. When he finally noticed it, it was like a switch had been flipped and he was animate once more. Swift as a cobra he snatched the little Nightmare out of the air before rising to his feet.

He traveled through darkness to a much higher point of his lair, a hall lined with carved marble pillars which at one time had known a shade other than black. It was here that Pitch released the fly-sized Nightmare, black sand flowing from his hands to add to the creature's size.

As the Nightmare grew, its agitation became more apparent. It whinnied loudly and began to gallop circles in the air, snorting and stomping its hooves against nothing. There was some concern on Pitch's face as he reached out to calm the creature, running his hands over the now reasonably proportioned Nightmare's jaw, all the way to its neck when he drew closer.

With uncharacteristic sweetness he shushed his creation, "Easy, girl... it's alright now," he whispered, "show me what happened."

The Nightmare calmed instantly under his touch, going still and expectant. Pitch placed his hand against her forehead, opening the gateway to her memory. He hoped she had just gotten lost. The exact reason he hadn't made both Nightmares so tiny and easily thrown around by the slightest gust. But of course, that would have been a stroke of luck much too big for him.

The second he was finished looking over those last few moments of memory, Pitch pulled back as if he'd been burned. The Nightmare instantly fell apart into sand, which disappeared as it scattered over the floor.

"The bloody Sandman of all things!?" he shouted with ill contained rage.

There went his secret. After he'd been so discreetly pilfering that very Guardians' dream sand for years just to get to the meager amount he currently had. Any time he'd ended up observing Jack Frost before now, the kid was always alone; not another Guardian in sight. He just had to choose now to go pay a visit to the bloody North Pole, the only time Pitch had intentionally sent something to spy on him.

Pacing quickly, he tried to think up a plan to somehow deal with this. There was a moment of inaction before he teleported off in shadow, appearing to melt through the floor. It was time to increase the security, because that was all he really could do.

That, and hide.

((()))

"Man in Moon is quiet."

North's blunt statement was slow to catch on with both Jack and Sandman, who had thus far been staring with expectant wonder at North who stood before the gigantic globe; the very same place they'd all been sworn to action before.

"Perhaps the little Nightmare was ... fluke?" he suggested.

Sandy responded by frantically waving his arms in a dissident fashion, before creating a little ball of sand in one hand which he then pointed to.

North rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

"If Pitch is weak in hiding, we could... go get sand back ourselves?"

"What?" Jack shouted, his voice reaching a couple octaves higher than normal, "He hasn't been weakened at all!"

Both the other Guardians looked at Jack, surprised by his outburst. Quickly, however, their surprise turned to expectancy.

"...How do you know?"

Sandy joined in by forming question marks above his head.

Suddenly, the frost spirit looked an awful lot like a deer in the headlights.

He couldn't admit he'd seen Pitch again, not only because it would raise suspicions, but If they knew the Boogeyman was doing just fine he was sure they would want to do everything in their power to make that no longer true. Jack simply couldn't bear another war against Pitch. He literally would not be able to fight him; would not be able to kick him while he was down again, and he wouldn't be able to see anyone else do it either.

"I just don't think we should underestimate him," Jack responded, forcing the calm into his voice, "Just now I finished reading everything that he's capable of, and we haven't even experienced a fourth of that!"

North waved his concerns off, "That was ages ago," he said, "Now, Pitch is nothing; hardly 'King of Nightmares'."

Sandy crossed his arms and nodded in agreement.

For some reason, Jack found himself severely offended by that.

"He is just as much 'King of Nightmares' as he's always been," he ground out before he could stop himself.

For the first time, North gave Jack a scrutinizing look, one which made all the frost spirit's anger and all his bravado disintegrate instantly.

Jack shamefully averted his gaze.

Sandy was left bewildered.

"Something is telling me... you are more worried for Pitch, not us."

"That isn't true," Jack immediately responded, his voice wavering on an unknown emotion, "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

There was no anger in North's gaze, just a sad kind of disappointment; somehow that hurt so much worse.

"We will get sand back," North stated, "You can come, or you can stay."

Jack looked toward the floor again as North walked away, his hands closed into fists. The Sandman lingered behind, still confused about what had just happened and clearly concerned. With little time to waste, however, he reluctantly put his worries aside and tagged along after North.

For a long time, Jack did not move. The things he'd read in that book about Pitch's life before he became the King of Nightmares put his own experiences to shame in every single way. At first he'd just found it impressive, but now he realized just how much sturdier the feelings he already had for Pitch had become.

He didn't want to go alongside the other two Guardians because he was afraid he'd end up standing against them. He didn't want to see anyone lose, anyone get hurt, but what would North and Sandy think the second he interfered? Stood up to them because he cared, not only about them, but about Pitch, too?

Time was running out; he had to make up his mind, fast.