Luna: Hai thar! Please don't murder me. I am well aware that I made you all wait and I apologise most sincerely for the delay but I've been stupidly, dramatically ill (my immune system and I are gonna have a little chat when it stops being such a tremendous bag of dicks) and not only that but I was ill AWAY FROM HOME! Which means, bedridden and no laptop. Can I tell you how much that sucks? ...okay, I shall refrain.

Uh, to make it up to you, please enjoy the tasty treats I place in this chapter. I do hope you like them... *grins lasciviously*

Chapter is inspired by the song 'Burn' by In this Moment.

I feel the sense beginning.
The beginning through the end.
There's nothing left to fear now.
So watch me close
as once again you...

Burn me alive.
Set me on fire,
and watch me die.
Burn me alive.
Watch me resurrect right before your eyes.

III

NO LIGHT, NO LIGHT

III

It was everywhere, a dark miasma that shone from within, given light from the essence of his core. The frost that made him so very pale only made the darkness stand out so much more in comparison and Jack felt his chest heave, breath a series of short, sharp beats as he lost himself to panic. It was like an intermittent bruise, cascading black as oil-slick down from his chest and over his stomach, spread out in darkened blotches like the block islands of North's globe and Jack kicked at the floor, shaded hands holding him firm as he reached up to yank at the sleeve of his sweatshirt, his captured wrist tugging for freedom. It was EVERYWHERE! Jack stared horrified at his hands, the backs of his palms painted with thin strings of sand like dark spider-webs, almost artistic in their scatter but he had no time to contemplate pattern and form, drawing his sleeve down further to stare at his blemished arms.

"No, no, nonono," He didn't even realise he was speaking as he drove blunt nails into his own skin, dragging them deep to gouge out the abomination but assertive hands took a hold of his own and pulled them apart, a croon softer than a lullaby more mocking than actual mocking itself so close against his back he could feel the rumble of the Nightmare King's chest as he spoke, "Now, let's have none of that..."

"What did you DO?" The glitter of the sand began to fade as the arctic coil of power receded and at length, pale skin was as perfect as before, unmarked, unsullied and Jack fervently wished it to be a nightmare. Pitch was, after all, most uncannily adept at providing in that department, "What did you do to me?"

The winter spirit renewed his struggle after a second too long of silence and let out a startled curse as he was unexpectedly released, Pitch making no attempt to stop him as he toppled face-first into the nest of pillows. Jack turned piercing eyes, more jagged iciness than tranquil waters, upon the Shadowmancer, the lean imposing figure rising to his feet, as ominously tall as the very darkness they were surrounded by fed his strength, an expression on his face that practically sang 'I know something you don't know' and wasn't that just the most infuriating look in the world?

"You woke much earlier than expected, and just as we were getting along so well," The Nightmare King's smile was all teeth, gleaming like bleached bone in the dim light that filtered down through the high vaults of the cavern, "But it is no matter. The conclusion will be the same-"

Jack hunched his shoulders down low, tensing to stop the tremble of anger that rolled through them, and Pitch was looking at him as though he were something darling that needed shelter. Nothing in all his years had ever made him so overwrought as to be spoken down to like he were some empty-headed child, "Don't pull your cryptic mind-crap on me."

Pitch glanced away with an indulgent smile and wasn't that just twisting the knife?

Something soft hit him square in the face with relative force and the usually well-balanced Nightmare King stumbled backwards in surprise, more awkward than elegant, hands rising to catch the offending weapon. His fingers closed around the plush velvet of a bed-cushion and he stared at it for a moment before he looked to the perpetrator of the crime, more than a little bewildered. Had Jack Frost just initiated a pillow-fight with the Destroyer of Worlds?

Blue eyes were cut cold enough to burn as Pitch raised a brow at the insolent sprite, pale hands fisted warningly in the stuffing of yet another pillow, "Was that really necessary?"

He sidestepped the next throw, Jack's aim astonishingly accurate, no doubt accrued from 300 years of snowball fights and as he turned a gloating smile back to his captive, ready to lease a chastisement that would surely shame the wildling from anymore petulant behaviour, his eyes came to rest on an empty bed. A distraction.

Jack ran, the Wind of little aid to him so far beneath the ground, dodging the sudden appearances of blackened walls, skipping stone bridges and twisted stairwells without waiting to chart a map. Every shadow moved from the corner of his eye as he left that unlit room behind, brimstone eyes ablaze in the obscure corners of the narrow passages as they watched him, making no move to screen his vision or block his path, content to watch him try.

Pitch made no sound in his pursuit, and he was pursuing, of that there was no doubt, but then being a Master of Shadows had its perks. Blending seamlessly into the dark being one, using the walls of the Lair to echo noises that drove him away from certain directions for another. Jack knew these were all mind games, tricks used to lure him down a particular route but try as he might, his instincts were triggered by each and every hint and no matter how he tried to stay them, he flinched, he tensed and he changed course, berating himself the entire way. These were feeble, underhanded tactics and he hated that such subtle horrors could spook him like that, he who laughed in the face of danger, threw caution to the Wind as a chew toy and outright said 'No' to the Boogeyman.

A familiar shape broached the dark on his right with outstretched hands and Jack vaulted, escaping the snatching clutches just barely with only a sharp drop before him. He swallowed every ill feeling inside him that told him to turn around and threw himself from the parapet beneath his feet, a black void verging the gap between ledges and with no way to stop, speed too great and nothing to grab onto to halt his whip thin body as sheer momentum carried him onwards, all he could do was let himself go.

He was just close enough to hope when the sensation of ropes wound around his limbs mid leap, just close enough to think he was there and the fact he had been caught after he'd even dared to try and pull that stunt was enough to make him grit his teeth in frustration. He knew it was too much to ask for to flee the Lair when Pitch was at his strongest and to make matters worse, he was still short one very old, very crooked weapon.

"A wasted effort, Frost." The soft tut to accompany the statement sounded far more amused than Jack would have liked, and he didn't bother to hide it, curling his lip as he dangled over the depthless precipice by his ensnared wrists, darkness looped around his flailing ankles as he tried to worm his way free, "Took your smoky Octopi long enough to catch on. If they were any lazier, I'd be long gone!"

Pitch laughed, deep and genuinely entertained and though Jack couldn't see him, couldn't even hazard a guess at which gloomy corner he might be prowling in, he could imagine the serrated smile on the others face, picture the wicked gleam of viciousness in mercurial eyes, gold and silver bled together like melded ingots in firelight. The winter sprite gave one hard tug to the grip of the shadows on his wrist, not nearly enough strength to force them from himself by sheer will alone and he would never admit it aloud but he was too unsettled by the most recent revelation of the poison under his skin to try and force them away with his frost unless the situation spiralled into something ridiculously dire, "Gonna let your pet tentacles have all the fun while you lurk in corners like a big, bad villain?"

Okay, so he wasn't aiming for dire, but he'd never been good at locating lines before he'd crossed them. Another laugh filled the Lair, seemingly calling from every tunnel and open pit to tangle harmoniously in the still air. Pitch was always a bit dramatic.

"Insult the shadows at your own peril, foolish boy." Something slick and altogether uncomfortable slithered across his cheek and Jack jerked away from it with a disgusted noise, not quick enough to pick it out in the growing dark, "I might save what's left of you once they have dealt their punishment, should you ask me nicely."

"You know," Jack started sweetly, eyes flickering about in the dark to locate the elder spirit, cold and sharp and in complete contrast to the saccharine note in his voice, "I'd rather ask you, nicely of course, to go screw yourse-" The frost sprite leased a slew of profanity as all but one ankle was released without warning and he dropped just far enough to make his heart leap into his throat, swinging over the abyss with a singular shadow for support and no Wind to catch his fall.

"Perfect." He muttered, throwing his hands over his head in a display of childish frustration, hastily pulling them back to keep his hoodie from slipping over the narrow jut of his hipbones and gripping the blue fabric tight to keep it where it usually lay when he wasn't being strung up like a Christmas bauble, "Absolutely perfect. Go on then, Pitch, I dare you!"

"You dare me, Jack?" The honeyed tone was syrup thick and laced with something decidedly dark that was near indecipherable without the angles of Pitch's expressions to make it plain. A shift in the open space to the right made Jack turn towards it but everything stilled before he could discern anything more than the restless stirring of living shadow, "What do you dare me?"

If Jack were cautious, he wouldn't answer that question. If he were careful, attentive and perceptive, he would find the peaked curiosity in the question, he would study it, he would dissect it and find nothing but trouble. If Jack were anything other than the headstrong, will-ridden, boisterous show-pony Bunny so often used to accuse him of being, he would have stepped back and refused to light that particular fuse. As it was, the latter categories were his most accurate descriptions and most if not all of them were detrimental to the development of self-preservation so often found in those of the reluctant disposition. Jack had never struggled with reluctance.

"Do your worst."

At first nothing happened, the words hanging heavy in the air like condensed moisture on a humid day, the ring of them echoing off the rock walls and out from the cavern below. There was a beat of silence, a single second where nothing moved and Jack felt for that one brief moment that he had been left alone.

Then he felt it, a subtle heat against his back where he dangled, not close enough to touch but there, a solid presence over his shoulder that he could not turn to see and a whisper of breath that made his neck prickle with awareness, "Very well."

He could feel as Pitch moved away but he was quickly distracted from tracking the Nightmare King's movements by a slow tickling sensation beneath his skin, persistent enough to catch his attention but nothing more, akin to being brushed by one of Tooth's tail-feathers as she flit past, a minute sense of strange that made him shift ever so slightly with a frown. The shadow that held him did not so much as move as he craned his neck up to peer at it, and it felt like he was dangling from a fixture rather than a sentient creatures grasp.

The light tickle became more insistent, like a rash over every inch of his body though there was no physical evidence that he could see so far. Jack fidgeted, fighting the urge to scratch at it as he swayed a little from his aborted movements, searching the darkest patches of black in the Lair for the familiar glow of silver-gold eyes, more of a distraction than anything else to keep from voicing the fractious noises he so wanted to lease.

"What is this?" He huffed when nothing further came, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like North, urging him to hold his tongue, "Is this Tickle-time? Grow up, Pitch!"

Nothing happened. The soft itch racing under his skin caused more irritation than fear and after a few minutes, he could almost completely ignore it. Of course, that was when it chose to amp itself up, the minor itch turning to the quick sting of needles over his skin, clothed and exposed alike and it was only as the sting increased to a recognizable level that Jack realised with dawning horror what it felt like. Slower, more assured by creeping over him like a steady wave, the heat began to rise and as he became aware of it, it became the one thing he couldn't ignore. It seemed that instead of overpowering him from the outside as it had done before so long ago when it had drawn him down to sleep, the black sand was working to overthrow him from within. It obeyed its Masters call and as before, there seemed no way to stop it.

The air grew thicker as everything gradually warmed and Jack hung there uselessly, wide awake as it was clear Pitch had wanted him to be, fingers clenched around the hem of his hoodie as he braced himself against the high temperature, stifled as the hot air clamoured to surround him. He could feel his damp hair plastered to his forehead and curling around his ears, melted frost wetting his clothes in almost no time at all with how much had decorated them and they clung to him like a second skin. Any frost he tried to summon to dispel the heat melted over him in warm rivulets that only seemed to worsen the situation and he could feel it taxing the little reserves he could access, exhausting the outside of his core he could reach without the pollution of the Nightmare sand. Every time he tried to push deeper, to dig for more his grasp came away empty, chest heaving in harsh pants of effort as he tried to force his magic through the enforced block.

Jack felt feverish, a haze descending over him and painting everything a light pink. Even his hands as he lifted them to rub excess moisture from his face wore a flush of rose as alike to human skin as he had ever seen it and he let out a tortured moan as the heat only increased not used to the sensation that was the blood-rush in his head from hanging upside down so long. His own blood had never defrosted long enough to circulate in such a problematic way and it made it so very hard to concentrate, to even think.

"You look so very beautiful right now..." The familiar voice was a hairs breadth from the shell of his ear, deeper than he'd ever heard it and the mocking purr of the elder spirits accent was a scorching brand all of its own, "So very vulnerable. Where is your challenge now, Frost?"

Jack twisted, swinging his arm out to hit nothing but empty air. There was no cool breeze for a short respite as momentum took him, only warm air ruffling the damp locks of his hair and brushing against him in a way that made him wish he hadn't moved at all, "Eat snow, you evil bean-pole!"

A soft laugh danced around him from everywhere at once, just quiet enough and of a chord to make him shiver despite the heat, "How is it, Jack? You wear humanity so very well..."

The temperature spiked, the sudden jolt to a higher degree enough to startle an unmitigated whine from the strangle of his parched throat, "W-what-" Jack licked at his lips, even the cool flick of his own tongue not enough to chill him, the words he forced from his mouth more reedy and thin than he anticipated, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Can't you feel it?"

Blue eyes blinked open in the dark, unable to see anything other than blurred shapes in the pink haze, too tired to wipe the water, at least he hoped it was water, from his skin, "All thirty-eight toasty human degrees lighting you on fire?"

"Thirty-eight?" The number was a panicked yelp and Jack flailed against his better instinct, only serving to make himself dizzy as he shifted like a pendulum in the shadows grasp, too exhausted and lethargic to counter the movement.

"Oh yes," The hint of gloating in Pitch's voice was more insulting than if he'd outright brag, and it was close enough that Jack flinched in shock at the proximity, "Helpless as a damsel. You can't conjure anything in this state."

Pitch's fingers were not the gentle heat of shadow that they usually were to Jack's negative body temperature. Wrapped in this uncomfortable warmth, the fingertips that soothed over the damp skin of his face were the numbing cold of fear, of the overwhelming shock that raced icy trails down your spine and the chilling terror of being along in the dark. If he were in his right mind, he would marvel over the novelty of being able to feel cold at all when he was the physical embodiment of the feeling but thought was complicated and cold was bliss.

Jack nuzzled into those now frigid hands with a starved gasp of breath, trying to breath it and soak it into his skin like he could make it a part of himself, not even completely aware of what was happening as those hands curved around his jaw to tilt him up and he stiffened as thin lips sought his own, prying them open without hesitation.

Pitch pressed in close and quick, swallowing Jack's half-hearted protest, trailing his fingers down the pale column of the frost sprite's throat and over his chest to pry the heavy soaked fabric of his hoodie from clenched fingers. Jack put up a meagre fight, throwing his head back as far as he could manage to avoid those searching lips even as Pitch worked his hands up beneath the warm sweatshirt but his feeble struggles were less than a challenge, hands flung wide and not quite sure what he should do with them as he was pulled forward into the elder spirit.

"Shh..." Pitch followed the sprite as he tried to back away, held in place as he was and attached his mouth instead to the bare length of neck just begging to be marked. Jack mewled, completely unused to the mess of chaos that was inside his body. Never had he been touched so much, never had he been thrown so far from his comfort zone, never had he felt so delirious with heat and mindlessness, but oh it was glorious how the sweeping thrill of fear rode his veins like glacial ice and hands followed, smoothing up the bare flesh of his back as his hoodie hung down over his chest, far too heavy to hold up against Pitch's insistence. Everywhere the Shadowmancer touched was blessedly cool heaven and though he knew this was wrong, knew he shouldn't want it, the reprieve from the fire that seared him was something entirely decadent that he couldn't get quite enough of.

Cold winter kisses chased with terror lanced over his throat, cold stripes of wonderful dragged in circles over his back, even where he was pressed to the others chest gave him such a relief from the heat he was nearly catatonic with an overload of pleasure. That would be why, he would tell himself later, when Pitch mouthed up over his jaw, Jack turned his head to capture that mouth and hold it with his own. His arms laced around the ashen neck of the elder as he licked into his mouth like he was dying for it, chasing the chill of fear on his tongue and pressing into the much cooler length of Pitch's body with only thoughts of More! and Yes!

Long fingers spider-webbed over the length and breadth of his back, spreading the chill evenly over flushed skin, duelling into the ardent kisses from the thawed Frost sprite's willing mouth with silent enthusiasm. Jack moulded to him like fresh clay, pliant and yielding and the Nightmare King was all too pleased to give the boy what he yearned for.

This was everything he had wanted. This was the reason he had spared Jack the grief and horror of disbelief, the pain of losing his first true believer fragmented throughout nine years of sleep, long enough to turn a crippling agony to a constant pressure that felt like nothing more than a breeze. The sweet taste of the sprite in surrender was a triumph on his taste buds that sang in symphonies of crisp mint and cool waters and the desperation through every inch of his small wiry body was evident as Jack curled small pale hands into gripping fists in ebony hair.

The shadows seemed to revel in their Masters contentment, swaying along the walls with no apparent sinister intent, and as the grip around his ankle faltered, the winter spirit drew up all the courage he could summon in his weary state, encouraging fingers turning talons as Jack bit down viciously on the muscle inside his mouth, pressing his hands to Pitch's shoulders to give himself something solid to push off from.

Pitch withdrew from the kiss as though burned, surprise charging the adrenaline racing through him as he backed away quickly to assess the damage with an angry snarl and Jack swung his body up with the last of his strength to wrap fingers tightly around the dark length that held him by his ankle, the entity black and slick beneath his grip. It didn't take the elder long to recover and as Pitch rose through the dark, the younger kicked down at him, not up to his usual aim by any standard but enough to strike the Boogeyman in the chest with enough force to jar. The shadows snapped in agitation, Jack biting off a panicked cry as his restraint withdrew, leaving him to dangle by the paltry grip of his own hand, that slipping slowly through his clutches with a particularly disgusting feeling of trying to hold onto a handful of elasticised damp earth.

"That was quite unpleasant, Jack."

Pitch was watching him, an unreachable step away but still close enough to see his face, schooled into a displeased scowl, hands clasped behind his back in a patient manner that was betrayed by the kindling anger in his molten eyes.

"You're telling me!" Jack shot back, trying to give himself enough momentum with his legs to wrap another hand around the stretch of shadow in his grasp, grimacing at the feel of it, "Lightly toasted is not a description I would like applied to myself ever again!"

"You put yourself in this position you impudent little wretch," Pitch was suddenly a scant inch from his nose, shocking him nearly enough to release the tenuous hold he had to support him, "And if it were not for my influence beneath your skin, that shadow you cling to would be nothing but smoke in your hands."

"You've ruined me!" Jack screamed back, flinging as much of his emotions into the words as he could stomach, the vaults of the cavern resonating with a force he could feel tearing itself free from his throat, "You've infected me! I'd rather face another 300 years unseen than see this plague inside me as any sort of blessing!"

Pitch reared back as though struck, eyes like burning candle-flames in the dark and for a split second, Jack could swear he saw pain in those firefly eyes. It wasn't there long enough to be sure.

The shadows slipped through his palms like silk and his cry of alarm was swallowed back down as a large long-fingered hand wrapped around the neck shaded lips had been all too eager to worship, tight and uncompromising, a snarl on the others face that exposed lines of wickedly sharp teeth, enough to make him stiffen in fear. Pitch drank it in like an especially well-seasoned wine, drawing the winter spirit closer and staring into wide cornflower eyes with a malicious grin as Jack hung limply in his grasp, fatigued and not really sure how to recover yet.

"Time changes many things."

Jack had no air to scream as Pitch flung him backwards, the air shifting unnaturally around his unsupported body, the Lair dissolving and manifesting as it had the first time he had thoughtlessly wandered into it. His back hit the rusted bars of one of the cages suspended from the main chamber ceiling and he was barely able to save his own face from a collision with the bottom of it when the clang of the cage door resounded in his ears with a note of finality.

"You need some time to think on your mistakes." Pitch circled the suspended prison, stepping the air as easily as if it were a smooth stone floor beneath his feet, proud as a stalking panther and Jack backed away from the bars before he could get too close, "I would have thought that the years in Antarctica would have been enough but clearly I was mistaken..."

"Not mistaken," Jack hissed, "Wrong. Everything about you is wrong."

A hand shot through the bars on his right as Pitch shifted through the dark air with the speed of a rattlesnake, and Jack noted that though the bars were barely an inch apart, Pitch seemed to possess the skill to phase through the metal as though it were a part of him. The hand snatched a fistful of his hair in a tight grip and Jack sank his teeth into his lip to muffle his gasp of pain.

"You will see, Jack." His hands came up to press at the bars as he was pulled across the metal floor, shadow stained metal biting into his cheek as Pitch's lips ghosted over the side of his face in a way that was extremely familiar and Jack could hear the grind of his own teeth as he tried to press back from the bars, "You'll see that all you've ever needed is me."

"You're deluded and insane."

The hands in his hair twisted, a few strands of moonlight ripping at the root as Pitch purred a chuckle in warm breath against his face through the cage.

"The clock is ticking, snowflake. You will see things differently." Fingers slid in a slow caress over the plump swell of a slightly bruised lower lip and Jack fought the urge to bite.

"And when that happens, I will welcome you with open arms."

III

Luna: Did that make up for my shortcomings?