I do not, nor have I ever, nor shall I will, own Rise of the Guardians or any of the characters. I only own Lance and his crew.

Also, I read the first two books of the Guardians series by William Joyce (finally). I can't tell if North doesn't have an accent, or if he's speaking Russian except its written in English so no accent would be added? I dunno. Until someone clarifies, I won't write his dialogue with accents anymore... Not Bunnymund either. Turns outs he made Australia, not lived there... Oh well.

Notice: After this chapter, I will go back and fix ALL of my stories except for my discontinued one, so there will be a long period of time where no actual new material is uploaded, and rather just fixed up old material. Sorry, but jeez, have you read my first story? I keep getting compliments on the idea, but the grammar sucks so much it hurts for me to read. Hopefully, it will all be done by February 21, because that's when I'm going to release all the updated content all at once, unless I finish it earlier.

It wasn't long before the cows came home, so to speak. By the time Jack had woken up, which wasn't too long after, Sandy had made himself comfortable on a small dream cloud floating but a few inches off the ground, by Jack's head, but at this point in time, he himself had fallen asleep. Only once he was sure the young frost child was comfortably sleeping, nightmares no where to be seen, did he send sand fireworks up towards the Pole. While it was with the intention of gaining the other Guardians' attention, he personally doubted they would notice it for quite awhile and decided to stay put for the time being, until Jack arose from his unconscious state.

After all, who was he, Sanderson Mansnoozie, to deny any child or adult, spirit or mortal, a pleasant rest, unless it was under certain circumstances?

He found it easier to fall asleep himself, rather than to watch the grief-stricken child's face and be filled with guilt. Sandy most definitely felt guilty, and rightfully so; it just wasn't right to deny a child the loving attention and care of a guardian, adopted or biological, babysat or personally cared for, for a few days, much less 300 years. They owed this... this child so many things, so much time, but the child in question has had all sorts of bad and possibly good confrontations with other spirits, as seen a the party, which have altered it for better or for worse. On top of that, he's already spent so much time alone that suddenly having all sorts of physical contact and just attention in general would only be making him more and more uncomfortably.

So, here Sandy saw a dilemma. They basically owed him an involved family, blood or not, but the child was uncomfortable and did not openly desire it; not any that he had seen. It was easier to just sleep while he waited for the child to wake up, figuring that he would catch his attention when he woke up. Something he was a bit torn about was his and boy's relationship. They were mutual towards each other. They weren't quite friends, but they weren't acquaintances either, which Sandy was glad for, but he was also upset that he had the best relationship with the boy... out of the entire spirit world.

Jack didn't wake him up.

Jack was long gone by the time he did.

When Sandy had woken up not too long after - at least, he thought so -, Jack was gone and nowhere to be seen. It wasn't snowing and the terrain didn't appear to have been moved as though affected by a fight, so it didn't look as though there hadn't been some sort of physical confrontation. Rather, just a swept out spot where he had been lying down, and perhaps gotten up, and footsteps leading further south. A ways down, the trail ended when snow just lumped carelessly over the tracks, effectively hiding the escape route.

It was worse than he had though it was.

After a few moments of quick thinking, Sandy took off back to Santoff Claussen; something gave him the feeling he would need the other Guardians before trekking forward. They met rather close to North's ice ramp, actually, the other three in Santa's sleigh. After bypassing it momentarily, Sandy had turned around and zipped towards them so he could seat himself in the sleigh. Toothiana was babbling - though, you could tell how worried she was about the boy she already considered like a son - about how they only noticed the last few fireworks, but ended up arguing a little more about the actual location until they finally agreed to go and find him. Bunnymund was both too sick and too serious to say anything, and instead sat there with a tight, grim frown plastered to his face. Both his ears were down, and he simply stared straight ahead in the direction North was going. The man himself was holding a snow globe in his hand.

"Sandy! "Where is Jack?" Sandy simply formed the word 'Antarctica' and Tooth told North, who almost immediately opened a portal there. Bunnymund must have truly been concerned for Jack, seeing as he didn't say anything about being cold upon entering the snow-ridden area, or about being sucked through a portal that skipped through space as though it was nonexistent. He and Toothiana sat in the back of the sleigh, both huddled together under one of North's coats, which did well to conserve most of their warmth, but, undeniably, some of the cold managed to seep in and bite harshly at their flesh.

As they went deeper and deeper in, snow started to fall around them. They weren't gentle flakes, just falling and waiting for something to catch them. They were little, poorly formed chunks of snow and sometimes ice. It wasn't hail, by any means, or sleet, but it definitely wasn't snowflakes. North was mostly protected from the pellets, with all his furs, while Bunny and Tooth were able to take shelter underneath the coat. Sandy ducked by the edge of the sleigh. No apparent damage would have been done to Sandy, so long as he shook all the snow out of his sand before he went somewhere warmer, else it would melt and make quite a mess.

Eventually, Bunny dared a peek over the side of the sleigh, gulping back his frazzled nerves at being so unnaturally high for a Pooka who lived underneath Easter Island. He didn't say anything for a few moments, and instead gaped like a fish, eyes as wide as dish-plates, and ears flopped down like a wet blanket, slowly scanning the area they were passing over.

"North... Land the sleigh." He finally spoke, sounding out of breath all of a sudden. North, oddly enough, did not argue and did as Bunny asked. As the sleigh lowered, however, and they all started seeing what Bunny had saw, they were left breathless - save for Sandy, who didn't actually have lungs. All around them were shattered pieces of black ice and permafrost - which was unnatural, figuring it meant a winter spirit had been the culprit here - with spikes upon upon spikes upon spikes moving up through patches of ice, where ice had appeared to move up around it and suddenly cut off, like something snapped off from it, as though there had once been a statue or sculpture there of some sort that the spike had simply gone through... and broken.

The spikes themselves were made with cores of permafrost and thick black ice coating the part of it subjected to the open. Sometimes there would be a large chunk of ice laying around, appearing to be taken out of the side of an interpretive piece, or a pile of tiny glass-like pieces that looked more like diamond dust than pieces of ice. They were perfectly flat on either side, and paper thin, and always appeared in the shape of a small diamond. They often were piled together in clusters around a spike that would perhaps have more... accessories, such as little tiny spikes protruding from the original, or with sharp patterns running up and down. Even rarer were larger chunks that looks like they had been made to look like people, though sometimes there were frozen-solid carrots, little clothing items, and black rocks around.

The reindeer quickly made themselves comfortable upon the lumps of snow, already made to be accustomed to this sort of weather, and settled down as the Guardians began to trek forward by foot. They had barely gone more than a few meters before they started hearing screams. Not screams for help, or because they were afraid - there weren't even any children down this far south. If there was, they would be frozen to death by now - but rather screams of sorrow and anger... screams of agony. When they got a little closer, although carefully, and with Bunny and Tooth sharing a single coat they also had to move a little more slowly, they could hear cracks that would occur in a rapid succession, then some heavy breathing, another scream, or muttering, and that would just repeat over and over and over again without stopping.

Anger, sadness, loneliness, helplessness... all these and more flooded my mind, making my thoughts and actions muddy as ever. I could only keep it at bay long enough to get my staff and far, far away from Sandy - after all, who would he be to wake up the person who had just scared away his nightmares? I was awful enough already - until I finally came upon a place I had hoped I would never see again. Somewhere I went... whenever I felt like a do now. I don't know if it was a therapeutic activity, or perhaps counter-productive towards that, but I did it anyway and I always felt better. The activity itself was rather simple... but everything involved exhausted the heck out of me.

It wasn't always the clearest. Sometimes I would wake up with a throat so raw I couldn't speak for days, and gory statues retelling violence and anger all different kinds of disturbing. Sometimes I would wake up with my face covered in ice from frozen tears, and statues retelling emotional agony and just looking at them make a lump form in my throat... both of them among many others. The worst of all was when I actually remembered what did happen. It would almost always start with a few smooth edges and lines, and slowly work from that; sometimes it would take hours, and even days, and that always triggered a huge mood swing for me, always between two negatives, and sometimes neutral. When I was done, I would start screaming or crying, and freeze it several times over in anger and eventually would just drop the staff and start punching it with my bare hands, always leaving me with bloody and torn fists. I always shattered them - simply simply nudge a thin, flexible piece of ice through the bottom, cutting out a little hole... and rapidly expand it outwards into a massive spike, often minimally conformed to the shape of the structure. When I was feeling really bad, I created the entire thing with one fell swoop of the staff, rather than building off.

Before I knew it, I had flung myself into the fields and was causing these massive things to rise out of the ground in a blind fury, screaming and wailing... Breaking them almost as soon as I made them. There was most definitely some drawbacks in it, the most prominent being... every time I destroyed one, it felt like I was ripping a piece of my own heart out. By making these statues, I was putting a piece of myself in there, and then destroying it. It had to be destroyed for the same reason, though. It showed weakness and made me vulnerable to anyone who cared to interpret the meaning behind any of it.

I was about to destroy the latest one, although rather hesitantly.. my arm paused in midair, as if not wanting to slam the staff into the ground and destroy the damn thing. I wanted so badly to get rid of it, so make sure no one ever saw it... but I just couldn't bring my arm down and get rid of it. I couldn't.

And then is when it all went to hell.

"Frostbite!" "Jaaack!" "Sweet Tooth!" I dared to turn my head just a little bit to look back, which was a huge mistake. There were the Guardians, stumbling through the maze of spires and spikes that had accumulated over the years. They hadn't quite spotted me yet, but Bunny especially seemed intent on finding me, though was a little slowed by... sharing a coat with Tooth. Figures. Me and my general 'home' are too cold for him to be around, much less walk around on the land. A new resolve set in mind, I quickly turned to finish of the stupid thing and hide - Wind was being a little upset with me, but reluctantly helped me along, although a bit slowly - but as I raised my staff to finally get rid of it, I heard Bunny.

"Jack!" I looked back, to see him bounding towards me - he had left behind the warmth of the coat in favor of catching me. I quickly moved to slam my staff, but something grabbed it from above, preventing me from bringing it down. I looked up, and Bunny was looking right back down at me, eyes wide and clearly shivering. Tooth and the other soon caught up - though Tooth needed a little help with the heavy item on its own. It was a little confusing to me at first when I heard a little squeak of a gasp escape Tooth as she stared at the most recently formed sculpture. The more logical part of my mind caught up, saying that Tooth probably wasn't accustomed to feeling the way that I do sometimes, and most likely had not seen any of these before today.

North was speechless and could only stare. He himself carved ice sculptures, but this brought it to an entirely new, and much more serious and dark level. Sandy made no signs or movements, simply staring; almost like he was scrutinizing it. Bunny remained above me, still holding the staff, looked at the statue with the eyes of a critic, trying to decipher a meaning from it. His grip had gone a little slack and stiff, likely from the cold, which I used to rip the staff away from him in a downward motion to hit the ground with it, so it greatly annoyed me when he caught it with the other hand. He looked down at me, and I returned his gaze. A few moments passed with all eyes on me, when he finally spoke.

"Don't destroy it." I exploded with rage internally. I'd been doing this for 250 years, and he only shows up now to tell me to stop!? To suddenly barge in and tell me that it's basically his place to tell me that I have to show my feeling now?! Who left me alone in the first place! Where were they during all that time? Where were they when I was bullied by other spirits? Where were they when I needed help? When I needed someone to talk to? When I just needed someone I could hold onto? When I needed a friend in a time of need? When the only thing keeping me sane was talking to inanimate objects, and occasionally Sandy? When I started keeping my steps elevated and flighty to make sure I never had to feel the white-hot burning feeling of somebody walking through me and telling me that I would never have anyone there for me? When I started playing pranks to attract their attention, but all I did was make enemies? Where were the Guardians of Childhood when what remained of my childhood was slowly crushed, grinded, liquefied, and shoved back down my throat? Where were they when I longed for some sort of contact with another living thing who could understand that I felt something? That my heart wasn't made of ice? That I wasn't just a one-liner in a song, or a method parents used to make sure their children dressed warmly? That I wasn't an embodiment of death?

They weren't there, that was for fucking sure.

I started thrashing in Bunny's arms, even going as far to end up freezing some of his fur in clumps and provoke him to move away with an ice dagger on the end of my staff, until I stood defensively a few feet away from the Guardians, all of them staring at me in shock. I tensed a few times, shifting between my feet carefully, glancing between each of them momentarily. The statue was shattered moments later in a cloud of dust-like snow, and I vanished with the Wind while they were fanning away the snow. Sandy threw a few balls of dreamsand around, but I managed to evade all of them and escape before it all settled.

Once I settled down in a cave - of whom I had dubbed the 'cave of sorrows' many years earlier -, far, far away, much further south, the weight of everything I had just done settled down and I really understood what I had done now. The next several hours were spend wailing in agony behind a wall of thick ice, hitting the walls with my bare fists, a never-ending stream of tears running down my face, covering the cave floor in pearl-like pieces of ice, piling on top of older ones, in such a pile that made the cave almost look like a treasure chest, until you realized it was just frozen water and not actual pearls. After a long period of time like that, I finally wore myself out, having ended up with my own personal storm in the cave, nearly filling it entirely with snow and burying the pearls, and fell unconscious like that into a nightmare-filled sleep.

The Guardian of Fun, and by extension happiness, has no more fun or happiness left inside of him.

They are what makes his core, though. They are who he is at his center.

Without his core, who is Jack Frost? Perhaps a nobody, just ghosting through his day from now on?

Or something vengeful and full of hatred and sorrow, never desiring to make contact?

"The shit's hit the fan." Bunny shook his head, trying to pull the ice off his fur without ripping it out, proving unsuccessful and leaving little pink patches dotted on his arms and chest. Tooth was practically in tears, mumbling about her poor Sweet Tooth. Sandy was signing something furiously above his head, but too quickly for anyone to make any sense of it, though his expression showed he was clearly upset. North was staring blankly around, as if that would tell him where exactly Jack had flown off to, though obviously that did not work by any means whatsoever. For now, all they could do was go back to Santoff Claussen and think through a plan that would actually work, rather than just charge in without anything to actually convince Jack to come back, or gain his passive attention long enough to talk - or be hit by Sandy's dreamsand. They were off in the sleigh in under an hour, and back at the Pole in under two. Nobody was able to say anything; Sandy wasn't even able to sign anything. Instead, they simply sat still or paced around the room, trying to think of something; anything.

Nothing at all came to mind.

Three, four, five hours passed since they had gotten back. Still nothing.

Then, the Moon Clipper started gleaming. Sandy called the other three's attention to it, though in a mind manner, and the observatory was opened. They all slowly came up, unsure of what the Man in the Moon would say at a time like this, unless it was serious - and perhaps concerning Jack as well.

The moonbeam glimmered, shifting around in wispy movements before finally telling a story - thankfully, Ombric had taught North enough of the language to understand exactly what the moonbeam was saying, and carefully relayed each sentence to the other Guardians, each filling his heart with more and more grief.

Jack may have lost his center, and perhaps even become a danger to the lives of children. He has hidden himself away where my moonbeams cannot find him, and this greatly worries me. He is losing what makes up childhood; he is losing his hope, wonder, memories, and dreams... and now has even lost his own center. He no longer feels to have fun or to be happy. They grimaced at that, but North kept going, even as his voice started to croak and strain. Please, try and find him and reignite these in him, or else Jack Frost will forever be lost to Jokul Frosti, and become a threat to not only the mortals, but to the other spirits as well. Please. The moonbeam quietly bid them farewell and danced somberly back up to the ship that the humans had come to call the moon.

"Whose... whose Jokul Frosti?" Tooth whispered after several long, silent moments.

"He is a murderous winter spirit from folklore." North strained out, eyes having blanked out. "They say he is worse than Yuki-onna, and has the ability to freeze someone's heart, mortal or spirit, so their bodies turn into unbreakable statues of ice and stores them in a fortress made up of the same type, like trophies on display." His voice had quieted to a whisper, but that was enough to hush the others, and compel them to listen. "He only appeared around 250 years ago, but it is unknown whether or not he actually is that young, or is ancient and simply remained hidden until then. Other tales depict him to be kind to certain humans who are kind and far more undeserving of the fate, one of them likely being a contributing factor to the story of Cinderella. Some say his castle is heavily guarded with large, chunky beings made of ice. Their faces are holes punched into a head marked with snow, frozen to its body. They are without consciousness and will kill all and anything that defy its creator's orders; even each other, though it had never been known that there had ever been any disobedience."

North paused and took a deep breath. The others had various emotions flashing across their faces, unsure of what to make of this. "There are many assumptions on his appearance, but it is unknown if any are true. Some say he has black hair and sharp navy eyes, and walks around wearing jeans and a torn asylum jacket, always with a maniac grin and wide eyes full of insanity. Other thing he has a more mild appearance, blending in better with the crowd around him, dressed casually and even charming, luring unsuspecting people to their deaths as a seemingly kind and helpful person."

Bunny finally released a deep and heavy sigh. "The shit has definitely hit the fan." There was no amusement in his voice. This was by, no means, a joke.

Whenever I look up Jokul Frosti, there is literally no information anywhere about him, so I came up with some of the information, which is why it might sound odd. Welp, I was supposed to go to sleep half an hour ago, and I probably should go before I get in trouble. G'night everybody.