Disclaimer: Do not own Rise of the Guardians.

After what seemed to be some time the strain in Pitch's muscles came to a rest and his shaking present but lessened. He let out a huff of air, face tendons slackening. His back was still stiff and his arms tense. It was definitely a long struggle to calm himself, compose his mind back to normal - the foul voices still faintly knocking against his skull. He let himself fall against the door, clinking it fully shut. He just needed silence and closure. Time to empty his mind from the tainting proclamations. Assistance to rid the freshly rooted memory...

A deep breathe in. The air was thick and stale; being thrust down Pitch's throat with complication. Harsh coughs was the only solvent in ridding the humidity from his lungs. A deep breathe out, ridding the final specks of foul air from his organs. His eyelids circled open, a faint glimmer outlining his pupils in black then expanding outwards... An automatic reaction.

Once the haze drifted apart his vision, his humble room was laid affront of him. Everything same and ordinary as every other time he walks in. His books placed where they always were, his parchments outlaid in the same disposition, and his sword placed atop without a single disturbance. Everything same as usual. A familiar sight in a familiar room. Though, there seemed to be a single difference. Not the furniture placement nor the papers layment. It was the lighting. The shadiness seeming to be denser and livelier.

Pitch pondered over to the sofa, plopping down and slouching back. His knees were closely brought to his chest and his arms spread besides. A few feathers drifted from the rips, circling in the air then landing upon covers of novels. Pitch's eyes followed the feather to it's landing spot, then finding another piece out of arrangement.

In the fireplace ashes were packed in a bundle and coals burnt. Rounded atop an orange glow hued off, faint and weak. Was it just a strange coincidence? Pitch could have sworn the fire was strong and blazing before he left.

All light was swept from the room, no secondary candle nor match to strike a flame upon. Pitch didn't mind the darkness though. The darkness was practically what he was. In the darkest of caves, in the dimmest corners his vision always contrasted to see through the black sheet placed ahead of him. That's why he favorites hiding in his shadows. Using his ability to the fullest. He never saw other spirits using their power to their advantages; Pitch seeming to be one of the few. Pitch only knew a handful of others that seemed to have the right mind in using what they had to their complete use. One being his guest.
Jack might have known he was capable for more but even Pitch was aware the damage Jack could bring if he were to discover his full extent, he was sure it would be out of his hands from then on. Though, Jack seemed to have a clever method of using his gifts. In the past, exclusive visits Pitch saw Jack attemptions to free himself from that cold isolation. He saw Jack's cleverness come out in use. Pitch saw there was more to the foolish, troublemaking winter sprite. He still saw that in Jack...

Telling by the dingy color tinge to his sight, Pitch could tell the room was completely enveloped in darkness. His vision accustoming itself customarily...

It became a bit of nuisance though, the darkness being his companion. But the darkness was something Pitch became accustomed to... had to become accustomed too.

He reached forward snatching a dusted, leather journal from the stand. A pen was neatly pocketed in center, it's ink spotted along the line of pages. It was a worn down, centuries old booklet. He flipped it open, scrolling past the flaps of voluminous, yellowed papers, deterring to the single, last few.

The paper glissaded among the others, allowing Pitch to form the developing picture. He snatched the pen from the crevice and began his continuation.

He had a firm grip on the pen, his eyes reverted to the sketch. Even the faint rustle behind him was shrugged away. His mind, however, was distant, obscured from reality...

"Liar!"

His vision was taken with a black swipe followed with pain dawning upon his cheek.

"Jack! Just listen!" It took a lot more will-power than expected to hold back such hatred and frustration, Pitch's fists forcibly held to his side. His teeth were audibly heard as they grated against one another, his cheek bones stiffening. He knew he didn't have enough understandment nor acceptance to be so patient.

"No! Why should I?" Another back-hand across the face.

Pitch tumbled back, dismayed. His right fist was brought up, Jack's eyes widening and his pupils dilating. The fear that moment was overbearing. It was intoxicating. Pitch's eyes shined with a ravenous lust in them. The fear was pleasing to his senses.

Jack backed a few steps, legs slightly trembling in doing so. Pitch regained that space instantly. However, in the moment he took a clear enough look to the child before him, his eyes flashing with grief. A silent breathe and Pitch lowered his hand, the fear in Jack's eyes present but lessened, along with Pitch's hankering need.

"Because Jack.. It's the truth," he approached with a light tone, an effort to erase his sudden outburst from both of their minds. "Just think about it for a moment."

Pitch guessed Jack was doing exactly what he suggested, due to the fear in Jack suddenly vanished, 'dropped down a well'.

Pitch stood, waiting for his response. Out of the silence a faint sob was heard. Pitch didn't believe what he heard at first but the boy crumpled along the floor told him otherwise.

Jack keeled over himself, hands cupping over his eyes. Pitch saw a few tears sneak their way out from underneath his palms and glissade down his cheek. He saw the tendons in Jack's hands tightening. He could hear rapid breathes and mumbled pleads.

"Jack," the first attemption to gain his trust was nothing but a failure.

"No. Just leave." Jack closed further in on himself, his sobbing coming orally louder. "Get out!"

Pitch wasn't one to do as ordered but his mind willed itself to obey Jack's un-negotiable demand. Not a moment sooner he fled the room, Jack's weeping throbbing against his ear drums.

Trifled gasps retched themselves from his throat, one after the other -repeated hastily. The weeping still drummed through his ears only making it worst, but not as traumatizing as what his vision caught, that was allayed on his lap...

His breathes came out faster and heavier. His throat seemed to swell, the air being prevented entrance. He brought his hand to his throat, skimming down, the other hand clutched onto the cushions. It didn't seem to be any help. His breathes were forced and rough. From pure shock the pen slipped from his grasp, an audible click resounding as it hit the floor. He tore his gaze away from the sheet, staring forward, towards the darkness, his breathes coming out labored and dragged.

His throat felt blistered, his ears felt inflated. His breathing lowered, the sobbing faded. But the darkness remained.

As though, the darkness seemed to settle him. The shadows wrapping him in their consoling tendrils, ridding the growing panic.

A sweat beaded down his forehead, his breathing evened. He took a deep gulp before he looked back down...

In his lap, the journal was allayed agape, the horrifying drawing inked along the sheet of paper. All his mind came to was the conclusion that he drew this depiction.

In fine black and gray a girl was sketched along the flimsy parchment. A loose braid put aside over her shoulder. Her knee-high dress ruffled, wrinkled, and torn. A fine wreck. Her hand was outstretched, cuts scraped along her fingers, nails ragged and chipped; reaching towards him. Her dress blossomed with a darkened ink spot to her side, her hand partly over it, muscles contrasting. The inky liquid caught onto her hand seeping in between the crevice of her fingers, shaded atop. Even though in black Pitch could see the crimison colour it portrayed.

Her eyes. Those dreadful eyes. Gray, blank, and filled with fear. Not alike where he took pleasure from such a sight this only brought bile to rise in his throat -soon to be sucked back down. Her eyelashes were parted, pupils flashing with true fright and anguish. Her peeled lips were circled open, depicting nothing but a silent scream.

The background was ruins. Flames burning down cottages, clouds replaced with a deathly smoke. Some villagers motionless along the dirt path, others scraped and limping there way from the scorching town. Embers drifted from the sky, tarnishing the girls draggled hair, coating it in a brunt ember gray.

Pitch flipped to another page.

It was her. Braid loose, hairs strayed, and soot littered throughout. Dress ruffled, torn, and cindered. The shaded spot splayed to a wider extent along her dress. She was kneeled on the ground in a wide ranged meadow, a faint smoke being lifted in the background. The grass was untrimmed, faint poppies peeking out from underneath. The trees outlining the meadows had leaves torn away from harsh breezes being toted through the bleak distance. Her hands were brought over her eyes, streams of water pouring from underneath. The grass beneath her was damp, droplets of water skating down their curved blades or dangling from it's overhanging fringes. It was soaked in her tears. Her own sadness.

The air was smeared with leaves caught in the air drifts, flitting across accompanied with shriveled embers. Some paired themselves among the ethereal tree petals, others being engulfed in the currents. A sight that looked unfitting. Destruction mixed with serenity. Leaflets merged with singed ashes.

The book clobbered shut, tossed aside. The images though still infested Pitch's mind, the seared ashes and crisp leaves drowned out underneath a pool of tears, immersing his thoughts.

His head shook back and forth, aching and pulsing. Suffocating and throbbing. His hands twined in his hair, as silenced breathes were discharged with low mutters.

A slight breeze glistened past his cheek, licking his skin with it's moist air. Ashes were lifted from the fireplace toted throughout the room. They each looped through the different air currents, being carried to separate sections of the room. Alone, they looked burnt, shriveled, and fragile. Rested on the stone floor forgotten.

One landed near the door, a faint light defining it's particles. Lighting the little expanse surrounding it. Pitch looked up, the door creaked open, a faint breeze lowering the temperature in the room. His eyes squinted with a questioning remark... Wasn't the door closed before?

The corridors sped past it's vision in a haze, the breeze swiveling between it's strained legs. Breathes of air were deeply exhaled. It's neck was tense and it's back arched. The Nightmare could feel the exertion put forth, it could feel the weakening extent pulling it's legs out from underneath it. It could feel the slight inquisitive wonder looming behind the elapsed halls, and that is why it pushed forth.

Weakness. Struggle. They were only tricks of the mind. A simple conformation for spirits to never have full knowledge of their capability.. The Nightmare could feel the pain needling it's limbs, it's breathes burning it's throat. It could feel as though the wind became whips against it. It could feel the weakness pushing it back. Yet, the set of eyes daring to find it's presence was still the alternative affirmation that led it to advance forth, down the halls, beyond Pitch's line of sight. Beyond it's instability.

The Nightmare raced as fast as it's heart was beating. It's hoofs plodding against the stone floor in a rymthic tone, echoing down the arched halls. It's eyes weren't wide with determination instead squinted with firmness and a meager of tenacity. It's nostrils would enlarge with each blaring breathe, it's lips twitching the slightest notion of it's teeth grinding underneath. It sped forth, further away from Pitch closer to it's destination.

The pain was like daggers prodding themselves in it's flesh, being too excruciating to bear at first then dissolving into a numbing constant. It unfocused it's mind, towards it's escape, evolving away from the pain to an all too recent event...

There he was. His leader. His once leader to sound more fit. There he was seated in the worn down couch, head bent down as though he seemed to be reading. Yet, there was that slight jolts to his right arm, an implication he must be inscribing something. It continued on for a bit, the Nightmare could tell. It seemed to be the perfect time to make it's leave. Pitch distracted, unfocused of it's unwary presence. It crawled it's way from the far corner, sneaking through the shadows towards the door. Then a gasp, and the Nightmare paused ,it's eyes shut in fear. No, scratch that. More in alarm. Every limb seemed to be jointed as one, even by command unwilling to move. It dared to look over, it's neck protesting against it, it's muscles straining in the process, prepared to see the two venomous orbs glaring towards it, clearly being caught in it's former master's web, the darkness it created earlier being no further veil for it. To it's relief, it wasn't snared in the web of interrogating questions and punishment. Pitch's head didn't even spur in the slightest of movements towards it. Though, he did seem tense. Frigid to say. He seemed shocked, told by the way his shoulders were brought up in panic and the audible click of a pen fallen from his hold. The Nightmare remained positioned, deepening itself further in the shadows, soon backed against the bookshelf. It's front leg was bent up, giving it more a innocent child's look. Aided with it's ears hunched back, it's head seeming to be a weight held up, and it's eyes with a wide array of emotions bubbling upon the surface. It looked to be a frightened filly. It certainly vanquished it's hardened exterior due from the dread of being caught in the Boogeyman's view. It shivered. The scar dented along it's thigh bringing a piercing ache. The rest of it's deformed leg bringing a scorching char to it's nerves, transcending the pain and memory of it's time being tormented by it's leader, it's higher status figure. Pitch. A rotting taste was brought upon it's taste buds, an unappetizing flavor to say somehow appearing upon it's tongue. It gagged, it's Adams apple jerking in a sudden motion. Even the thought of its tormentor's name brought it's stomach to broil. It's back leg was a repulsive sight. It turned it's head to see any progress to its damaged appendage. The same as its last analysis. The sand there was disoriented, some peeled back in fleshy strips, others missing in long strokes. The sand wasn't its fair black colour, it was all an ash gray. A dirtied, pulverized gray. A common lighting making the colour differ from the rest. The leg cringed, more like twitched. It no longer, fully had control over it. Just enough for it to comply.

The clobber of a book forcibly shut and the Nightmare was brought back to the matter. It's eyes followed as the book was thrown aside, soon followed skidding against the floor. Then labored breathes were heard. It looked over to see Pitch's head frantically shaking, his hands laced in his hair, in it's view ready to rips out strands at a time. But if Pitch was about to tare his hair out, the Nightmare would oblige by leaving. It bounced shadow to shadow, once to the door nuzzling it open. A quiet creak was heard ,not enough to drown out the heavy gasps. A breeze swept itself in the room, and the Nightmare didn't waste time in slinking it's way out from the suffocating closure.

It skidded past the corner, fumbling in doing so. It's breathes were heavy, it's movements forced. It's legs were numb to whatever feeling they were to have left and it's throat tightened with each breath. It seeked more than enough distance from Pitch yet in search for something else in the process...

It averted it's gaze straight ahead, down the lengthened hall. Torches were charred and flames dead upon them, shadows having the availability to climb up the walls-their living tendrils seeming to be vines grazing over the ceiling. The Nightmare pondered through, head lowered, eyes cemented to the floor. A faint glance to the side and living tendrils seemed to grow from the wall, their ghostly coils reaching towards it. The Nightmare fastened it's pace a bit, heading further down the dimmed corridor, soon disappearing from sight.

Something seemed to be lifted inside of it, along with it's lips curling into a corrupt malice. It's eyes squinted scanning the other Nightmare postured down the ally, just ahead of the dead end cloaked in darkness. It's posture straightened, it's eyes no longer displaying the exhaustion it endured through. It silenced it's breathes, approaching the other Nightmare with no hesitancy nor stutter in it's steps; heedless of the shadow cascading over it's prone form.

It could feel the blaring breathes shifting it's mane, the stone gaze scanning it's posture. It strained it's neck glancing up to it's fellow accomplice, not showing a hint of intimacy. It spaced a few steps back though, the shadow still outstretching over it. The other Nightmare's gaze didn't shift in the lightest, it's hardened eyes revealing superiority and toxic pleasure. The filly cowered a bit but fixated itself back into form, approaching the Nightmare with endurance and strength. In doing so, scanning it's leader to find it's draggled appearance a bit more improved than before. It's chest more toned, it's muscles broader, and it's height outweighing the colt's tender frame. It was the domineering over the two. The Nightmare made it's retreating posture regain it's boldness, leading down to details. It's straggly mane, unevenly cut tail, chipped hooves, it's form even having a bit of disorientation to it. Except those eyes, those hostile eyes. They were what topped of the threatening aura the Nightmare before it gave off. Those eyes, so full of anything but fear and cowardness. The perfect spectacles for a leader worth leading, except for the overbearing flashes of bloodlust seeping it's way to the coating.

A whinny scraped itself from the back-end of the Nightmare's throat, no reluctance issued in it. It's eyes dawned with pleasure and exotic excitement. It's smirk matching its leader's before it. The message was sent with complete control and submission. The leader before seeming to be awaiting this for a long time, as it lightened with gluttony and lust..

The mare reared it's legs up, a piercing cry grating past it's lips. Not a second wasted, a hoard of Nightmares emerged from the darkness beside the two, each clobbering over one another, each one eager, each one impatient, each one starving for their vengeance. Their eyes not saying otherwise. They all were persistent and prepared. They were all hungry.

The dean Nightmare jumped into the herd, leading the way to the front. It took a spare glance to the feeble Nightmare stepped aside, snorting in disgust then racing on. The swarm of sand filled the hall, staying as one, no strands straying off, no horses being discarded. Cries of a greed, snorts of a hankering need, and a poisonous mind reaching towards it's justification. The storm of black trailed down the hall, leaving the Nightmare's sight...

The lone Nightmare seemed dainty. A scrawny, timid thing left in the foyer. Nothing but a speck left behind. It wasn't bent in shame nor were it's ears arched back. It remained with a superior posture, it's eyes not displaying fear nor courage though. It's windows to the soul displaying nothing. Not even a glimpse of satisfaction or disappointment. It wasn't sure what to feel at the moment. Dumbstruck perhaps. Was it suppose to be delighted for it's doing or was it suppose to feel affliction towards where it's actions were leading too?

A snort resolved it's turmoil and it plodded it's hoof against the ground- a few sparks being ignited- as a few more huffs were released. It turned on it's heel leaving nothing behind. It barged into the shadow, willing itself to be transported to the village of Armenia, Russia. The darkness enveloped it, carrying it through a portal that dropped it off in the skies above the heritage town. It was an eerie night. Foggy clouds spared throughout, trees overlapping the town in it's excessive branches, a light rainfall being delivered upon. The ghost town was silent and bare, no one roaming the dirt paths nor a single candle light flickering in the cabins. The Nightmare hovered in the air for quiet a time, waiting. The rustle of leaves caught it's ears diligence, along with a faint howl in the distance. It could smell smoke from previous burnt out fires and a pinch of pine from the trees lengths way.
Then the quietness was replaced with an enchanting scream. It rang throughout the village, seeping through the glass panes of windows, winding down pathways, slithering in between cracks and gaps into other villagers dwellings. It pierced the night sky, followed with another one followed on the opposite end of town. Then another and another formed. Screams were resounded from all the children. It drowned the night time in terror and fright. The Nightmare brightened with nourishment, it's gaunt structure expanding with time. It's eyes peeked open to find others of it's kind materializing from the blackened rooms. They glanced to one another, pure satisfaction and greed poised through their expressions. Some with skeletal structures rounded gradually, some with sucked in stomachs bloated out. Tonight was a feast for them. And they all were grabbing what they could get their grubby hold on.

The Nightmare didn't waste a moment in diving down towards the village of entrancing wails. The fear already catering it's needs, now only strengthening it's self-seeking wants..

A/N: So this is now updated, fixed, better quality... However you would like to call it. I can't believe it over 4,000 words long! This is one of the longest chapters I've ever written!
Next chapter, will be updated sometime Friday. Sorry I can't do it earlier, have other things I need to do at the moment:p And the next chapter is going to be longer than what I usually write so that is another reason I need more time:p Anyway, hope this chapter is more to your liking.. Review and tell me what you think:)

Also next chapter... I think this title might work well for it but does it hook your attention? The True Meaning of Fear... So that might be the heading for the next chappe;)Tell me what you think of it:) But I'm not sure if it totally fits that chapter, but I like it for now:) Just tell if you guys do...

Reviews:

DragonSiren7: Aww, thank you:) You made me feel like I'm actually not failing you guys with this story:)

moonshroom420: Thanks a ton! That was the nicest compliment someone has given me on my writing style:) And I really didn't explain the reason Jack is hurt because in the movie when Pitch broke his staff it was obvious there was a physical connection between Jack and the staff, and after he fixed it right away, he was fine afterwards. So I'm carrying that out and how he's still in pain from it being broken still.

chibissima: Hmmm, I wonder what will happen next;) Sadly, you'll have to wait for about a week until you find out.. And I'll will make sure the next chapter is well-written to satisfy all my lovely readers (mostly referring to you;) no pressure though) And yes all the fairy's were someone before they became a fairy. But I do not elaborate on that really, just an idea I liked for them. Cause Tooth had to get all those helpers somehow, and they couldn't have magically poofed before her. Something I just came up with and liked the idea of. Maybe I'll make a one-shot story for this idea... But it might be a while until I start that.

WritersElemental: Someone that understands! I know I'm trying my hardest to update every week but it's just so time consuming cause I always read it over and make sure everything is flowing smoothly. But anyway, for the fairy named Elsa.. No, there is no Frozen reference to it. I just liked the name for her and licked and sticked it to the story and wall-ah the fairy's name is Elsa. But the movie Frozen is Amazing! *Fangirl squeal* Also, I would love to collaborate with you or help you write a story or if you need any help if you'd want too:) A friendly suggestion I hope you'll be open for.. Also, I would love to have the link!

Ash-Bookworm113: Of course Jack is going to hate Pitch once he figures out what truly is happening! If I was in Jack's spot I would beat the shit (Please excuse my language) out of Pitch for such a lie. Also, you were watching a movie while reading?! I just can't see how people do that.. I need total silence when I'm reading. Even when my cat comes in my room I get distracted from reading even if it's a really intense part I'm at (has happened before, multiple times). But at least you were watching something related to this..

Taranodongirl1: First question. Have you read the Guardians of Childhood books or the wiki for them? If you haven't I would suggest you read the wiki for Pitch/ Kozmotis Pitchiner. But to answer your question... No, Pitch doesn't think Jack is his son. He just feels some connection between him and... (read the wiki and you should know who I'm referring too). If not, just ask me to PM you to explain it, cause I don't want to spoil anything for other readers that might be reading this too.

Well I'm back from vaca. And may I suggest for any of you when your parents ask you where you would like to go on a trip... I would highly recommend Las Vegas! It's actually really fun there.. It's not always what people say it is. There are bunch activities there to do, even out in the desert (not just speaking of the Grand Canyon)... Anyway, a friendly suggestion for all of you:)

Also, hope you all started your New Years epically! Can't believe 2014 is already here! O_O Hope every1 had a rockin night...

Until next time,

-Silversparkleout