Hello! I'm sorry for the wait, writer's block had taken a hold of me and chained me. Also for those he have read Watching the Big Four Movie, I apologize for the lack of update, I have no idea how to continue it. I will do my best to continue. Thank you for your cooperation.

Jack Frost was watching the Reapers from afar, knowing that many of them didn't like him. "You're the winter spirit, aren't you?" The voice was abrupt and so sudden that he jumped into a defensive position as he pointed at the one who sneaked up on him. He recognized him as one of the leaders of a smaller group that never really got too much attention and were seen as the lowest ranked. He dropped his tensed shoulders, though he was still tensed, but his guard was always up and watched him with a cautious eye. He introduced himself as Mortimer and sat down right beside him, it took some prompting from the older spirit before he sat down as well. The two stayed in a comfortable silence as they watched the others. It was saddening, he had said. That Reapers were feared and hated for the deaths they brought but they would do the same thing to others and even some of their own.

With those few words, Jack was thrown back to the night he was taken by Thanatos to the realm. His first impression was that he would die, be taken away to the Fields of the Lost. He was always...different from the other spirits but without his memories, he had no idea how or why. Maybe it was the fact he was a whole lot younger than them. He had noticed how they all looked older, more adults than a teen that he was. Why was he so much different than everyone else? With the thought in mind he was plunged into a few memories.

"You're a curse!" yelled Cupid—Eros to most—glaring at the boy who was gripping his staff with both hands to his chest.

"No one wants death or cold around! No one wants you around!" shouted a summer sprite—Amber Cinders—as she glowered down his weakened form.

The voices, the memories, they were too much to handle. It was taking a toll on his young and innocent mind. The demons were born a few scores later, gripping him and chaining him, yelling or whispering lies to him when he slept before getting stronger and stronger by each passing week feeding him lies when he was awake, at every step and turn he would take. They got fiercer and more abusive; soon sucking the life out of him and gaining more and more strength, unknown to the ones at fault.

All you bring is death and destruction, they would whisper, their claws gripping his shoulders so tight that cold, white blood would trickle out. Their voices were husky and low, suave and persuasive. No one ever wants that, not even the Death Bringers, themselves.

"Jack?" the voice cut through his musings but it sounded off, almost as if they were under water. He felt hands on his shoulders and panic crossed him as he tried to fight them. "Jack, you're safe! I'm not going to hurt you." His icy blue, sunken and darkened eyes met the dark obsidian irises of the Reaper. He slowly calmed down, tensed like taut woven rope. Mortimer sighed in relief upon seeing the boy back to normal and not clawing at his forearms. He held him in an embrace to keep him from hurting himself further. Persephone—the spirit of springtime—came over and asked what had happen. Mortimer explained the best he could, not knowing himself while the cold boy sat in silence and leaned against his chest.

The Reapers had been quite silent lately. They had been told about the boy. The one with the dull eyes, the one who lost his mind. Death was distraught, the winter spirit that he had taken in was now a puppet for the Seven Lords. The marionette doll doing as it was told and once given the order, chaos shall reign.

"Those cursed Moon Spirits!" exclaimed La Muerte. She was livid, screaming out curses in Spanish directed to those disgusting creatures. They were the blame for the boy's menta health to be askew, especially Tsar Lunar for ripping the boy from his deserved peaceful afterlife. Persephone came over and hugged the Latina Death Bringer, comforting her the best she could as her orbs flicked over to Thanatos who was in a deep thought.

He gaped with wide eyes as he stared at the boy. Agony filled screams ripping from his throat and into the thick tension filled air. How could he have let such an innocent young spirit receive this brutal fate? Ice and snow covered the boy in small storm, circling and keeping anyone from touching him.

"We must not engage the Moon Spirits, it is not in our right to do so unless it's crucial." Thanatos' flames were a blue color, showing his sadness and guilt for not getting to Jack sooner before the wretched Moon grasped him. It would take so long before he could take Jack into his own skeletal arms and release him to his family. Something stopped him, a hole in his chest, as if the thought of returning him to where he was needed and wanted hurt him. Could he do it when the time came?

Pestilence knew what her brother was thinking, knowing for a fact that it was what most Death Bringers thought. They had grown close to the young child of winter and hoped to return him to his normal state, helping him with his demons. Not to mention the nagging thought of losing him and having to formally take him to the afterlife. None of them could ever imagine that day, they hoped it would never come. "Death is right. We must not even make our presence known, War has done that once to find information on our brother. That will be the only reason to ever speak with them. Famine had been tracking Jack—"

"Jokul," cut in a small whisper. They turned to Famine, her sunken eyes held everyone's gaze. "He goes by Jokul and I do not want to associate that thing with our Snow Prince. He may look like him, and sound like him at times but that monster is not him! Jokul is unforgiving and will kill when he gets the chance. At least one of the Seven Sins is always with him. Do not underestimate Jokul, he taps into power that Jack would not dare to use."

It was surprising to say the least. Famine barely ever spoke and when she did, shut up and listen. She was a fierce fighter, never once taking an argument lightly. They all did their best to pitch in plans, they were going to bring back the Snow Prince and they were going to show the Seven Demon Lords that they made a wrong move. Never touch the broken one for the battle has already won. Not by the both sides, but the one with the demons inside.