FLASHBACKS will be signaled.

Also, I'm changing Nicholas/North saying "v" sounds in the place of "w" sounds. I thought that was what he sounded like in the movie, but it's not.

THIS INCLUDES MATERIAL FROM WILLIAM JOYCE'S THE GUARDIANS OF CHILDHOOD SERIES. HE OWNS THE CHARACTERS AND SERIES, NOT ME!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." Bunnymund held up his paws, pushing them forward on each word for emphasis. His green eyes were narrowed in something akin to disbelief. "Whoa. What do you mean, only four of us will be able to go?!"

"There will only be enough magic to take five people," explained Ombric. He held up one of his hands with all five nimble, botched fingers spread. As he spoke his next sentence, his thumb curled into his pale palm. "And Tsar Lunar wants one of those people to be Jamie Bennett."

"Jamie?" North's voice echoed off the wooden walls. His adrenaline was pumping too hard to remain tranquil.

"Jamie was the only child who believed in the Guardians when no other child on earth did."

For a moment, North remembered with a heavy heart the sight of the Globe a year prior. He had watched as the hundreds of lights shone, flickered, and died until whole countries of children had ceased to stay alit. He had flown around the earth to relight them, to bring Sandy back and his friends strong, but he'd failed. He had felt himself become weaker and overcome with fatigue, watched as Toothiana constantly fell to the ground on weak legs, and stood useless as Bunnymund shrunk into a tiny former shell. He remembered feeling the squeeze of his heart as he saw the last light on the Globe—the one child that, if he stopped believing, could erase them from existence.

"Tsar Lunar sees a burning will inside Jamie. Something that you will need. And…he also has another contender in mind." Ombric's wizened eyes were downcast to the floor as he elaborated, slowly, "Pitch Black."

"ALRIGHT, NOW THIS IS JUST BULL DUST!"

"I WOULD SOONER JUMP OFF GLACIER THAN REPLACE FRIEND WITH PITCH BLACK!"

Sandy sped past Bunnymund to stand before everyone. He gestured to himself, then to Bunnymund and North. Two golden figures, depicting the winged Tooth and the spindly Jack, appeared in golden Dreamsand. They were replaced by the looming figure of Pitch, and Sandy's round face became twisted with disgust. There are still five of us! And you want one of us to be replaced with PITCH?!

"I understand, Sanderson, that there are still five Guardians. And I made my distaste in this plan clear, but Tsar Lunar strongly insists on Pitch's presence. Something—Zeus knows what—must render him as useful as Jamie Bennett." When the Guardians continued to object and shout, he held up a hand to silence them. "At the very least, Tsar Lunar knows that Pitch may very well not agree to accompany you. So he may not go regardless. And, for that note, he requests that Toothiana be the person to speak with him, on account of her and Pitch's previous 'personal conversation'."

North's hand tugged at his beard as he gave a rumbling groan. Sandy's round eyes were staring straight ahead as his small hands twisted each others' fingers. Bunnymund ran a paw over his flat ears before they sprung back up.

He glared down the wizard with anger not directed at him. North noticed the sudden stiffness in Ombric's posture. Bunnymund was the only person who could make Ombric Shalazar uncomfortable with just his gaze—likely because Ombric held such high respect for the six-foot-tall rabbit. "Listen. If Manny wants Toothy to talk to Pitch by herself, then I won't be stoked, but fine. But if she does convince him…does he honestly expect me to save that ratbag over a friend?! After what he's done?!"

North heard Bunnymund's voice break on the last word. Bunnymund was the only one of them with a personal hatred for the Bogeyman. And if he didn't want to save him, North wasn't going to blame him for a second.

"Aster…I understand that you cannot possibly be asked to calmly agree to Tsar's request. But you may have to. If Tsar Lunar thinks that Pitch will need to come with us, then who is to say he is wrong?"

Bunnymund shook his head and grit his teeth in fury. He shoved past North and headed for the front door. "I'm going to get whatever's on this map. I'll see you two at the Pole."

When the door opened for him, North stepped forward to stop him. Ombric's bony hand took hold of his coat the exact moment that the door slammed shut. "No, Nicholas. Let him go." He stepped back a bit as Sandy hovered to North's side. "Sanderson, Nicholas, you should prepare. And, when Aster returns, you should speak with the others about..." He paused. "…about who will be going."

Big Root's door opened for the two of them. Sandy silently passed through with his tiny feet dragging on the floor. North stopped before the wizard, who turned to him as if he knew he would.

North blew air from his nose audibly. He scratched at the hair on his neck and tugged at his cap before saying, "Maybe…maybe if I can convince the others, and we figure out how, we can—"

"Nicholas. You know as well as I do that I will not be able to leave Santoff Claussen. And no amount of believing or hoping will change that." Ombric gestured through the door to the awaiting sleigh. "Now, go. Be a leader."

Mr. Kozmotis carefully adjusted the placement of the magnifying glass. The image of the pendant faded a moment before returning to sharp clarity. He could see every scratch on the glass, every stroke of paint.

He reached out to the set of precision tools on the desk. He chose a thin hook, the metal glinting in the light of the lamp. He squinted as he set the tip of the hook within one of the four crevices of the pyramid. With great caution, he pressed it as far inside the sealing gold paint as he could. He'd spread thinner within the crevices earlier, and as he slowly pulled the hook through, the paint curled up and fell from the pyramid. He repeated this process on the other three crevices before working on whatever remained of the sealing paint in the middle point.

Just as he swept the gold curls and flakes away from the tray, a small green light on the desk lit and buzzed. He sighed and quickly tucked away the precision tool inside the pouch. He stood from his desk and reached for the oil painting on the wall. He removed it, revealing a sheet of metal with a small handle on one end. He pulled the handle and the sheet opened to a storage compartment hidden within the wall. The light buzzed again. He rolled up the precision tools and placed them inside the compartment. He slid in the tray as well, slid the door back, and hung the painting once more.

He briskly walked to the lobby of the bank. Two police officers were waiting outside the door with impatient faces. Mr. Kozmotis recognized them as Officer Herman, the fastest member of the police department, and Officer Hester, who was known to be quite a motherly figure. Officer Herman was lean and fit, with curls of golden hair that were bright against his tan skin. Officer Hester was a rather rounded woman, with soft lines and curves, but lovely nonetheless.

When he unlocked and opened the door, he offered them a plastered smile that appeared apologetic. "Good evening, Officers."

Instead of a greeting, Officer Herman crossed his wiry arms over his chest. Mr. Kozmotis wondered whether he willingly wore a shirt that was tighter than his own skin or whether he couldn't get a new one. "What kind of bank has a doorbell?"

Honestly, Mr. Kozmotis wanted to reply with, 'Why did you use it, then?' but instead bit his tongue and replied, "I'm afraid I can't hear someone knocking from in my office. The doorbell sends a signal there. Is there any way that I could help you?"

Hester held her soft hands together as she said, "We need to ask you a few questions."

Mr. Kozmotis paused, his dark eyes turning to each officer, but replied, "Very well."

"According to an anonymous eye witness, you were seen exiting your vehicle and heading into the forest in the direction of Ana Punjam's household last night. I take it you know what happened to her?"

Mr. Kozmotis gritted his teeth. "Yes."

"What do you have to say about this report?" asked Officer Herman.

Mr. Kozmotis had to very quickly think of a lie or an excuse. That in and of itself was ironic, considering that the "report" was almost a lie as well. The issue was that he didn't know if they had already or could eventually find physical evidence in the future. Although, given that he had a pretty fair idea of who had reported him, then there probably wasn't any solid evidence other than a 'witness account.' It wasn't like he'd get himself into just as much trouble.

"If you propose that I attacked Ana Punjam," demurred Mr. Kozmotis in a slow voice, "then I assure you that I did not."

"Then what were you doing in the forest?"

"I believe I have the Fifth Amendment right to remain silent."

He knew that refusing to answer the question would only raise suspicion of him, but he honestly had no other explanation that could possibly work. Officers Hester and Herman shared a narrowed look with one another before Herman rumbled, "If we were to search your house and this bank, would we find the item stolen from Ana?"

"If you were to search my house and this bank, you would require a warrant." Mr. Kozmotis mentally chastised himself for his bitter tone, and judging by the Officers' faces, they didn't appreciate it, either. He stood straighter, a cool look on his features, and asked, "Is there anything more that I can do for you?"

"No, sir. Thank you for your cooperation."

The officers and Mr. Kozmotis both turned away. Holding the door open just a fragment, Mr. Kozmotis could hear Officer Herman complaining gruffly of his attitude. He shut the door before he became too angered.

He needed to be quick. He returned to his office and pulled everything back from the compartment until it was just as it had originally been. He readjusted the glare of the lamp and now reached for two small rods, almost like knitting needles. He placed the rods inside the visible cracks of the pendant and began to push them in opposing directions.

It took force, and a few minutes of painful pushing of the wrists, but eventually he could hear a splintering sound. Suddenly, one of the sides of the pyramids flew open, and his hand smacked onto the tray as a result. Mr. Kozmotis breathed a sigh of relief while at the same time taking in a deep breath of air.

Turning the pendant to face him, his breath caught in his throat.

Inside the small walls of the pendant was a small tooth. Pearly and round, it gave off a luminescent glow like moonlight. When he oh-so-very tenderly took it in his palm, the glow did not falter or flicker.

And now he was one step closer.

Jackson's deep brown eyes watched the police vehicle as it turned the corner of the road in the direction of the police station. On the other side of the table, Nicholas was reading a leather-bound book as he awaited their orders, a pair of reading glasses across his eyes. Sanderson was writing who-knows-what in his journal and seemed rather intent on it.

Jackson tapped a finger on the table and inquired, slowly, "Maybe we should have waited for more evidence."

"Rhys may not talk much," Nicholas replied as he licked a fingertip and turned a page of his book, "but he's not a liar. Even in chances that he did lie, then we cannot be blamed for that."

"What about Mr. Kozmotis?" asked Jackson. "If he didn't do it, won't he get pretty upset? He might get mad at Rhys, or us."

Sandy jotted something into his notebook and held it up to Jackson. He can't hurt us. Then the police will really be after him.

"Touché." His fingers drummed against the tabletop once again as he awkwardly sought out a segue into a conversation. "So who is Rhys, anyway?"

"I would say that you have already met him," replied Nicholas, "Unless you're referring to his real identity."

Jackson's lips curled into a smirk at the Russian. "Ha-ha-ha, ho-ho-ho. I mean what does he do around town?"

"As far as I know, Rhys works at library. He is not a very good conversationalist. He's already graduated college…" Nicholas's icy blue eyes pulled up from the words of his book, instead narrowing at nothing in particular. "Now that I consider, I know very little about him."

He shrugged at the same time that his phone went off. He shut his book, folding the corner of a page (something that secretly annoyed Jackson) and dug into a pocket of his bear fur coat. He flicked his wrist to flip it open and set it to his ear. "здравствуйте, Nicholas St. North speaking." There was a pause as the other person on the line responded. "Oh, Tooth! Good to hear from you…yes…I'm at The Clover with Sanderson and Jackson." Nicholas held his phone out to the two men. "Say hello to Tooth."

Sanderson glared between the phone and Nicholas before rolling his eyes and going back to his notebook. Jackson awkwardly cleared his throat and softly said, "Hi, I guess."

Nicholas returned the phone to his ear. "Yes…Tooth says hello…No, we're done…I can't say for sure, but I think we have a good idea…We reported him…Tooth, Tooth…alright…calm down! I'll tell you when I know for sure…alright…good. Is Aster with you?...Good…Alright…No, you don't have to drink eggnog if you don't want to…See you soon."

He shut his phone and tucked in back into his pocket. He gave Jackson and Sanderson a sort a relieved grin as he announced, "Tooth is home now. Bug as a…Snug as a rug in a..."

" 'Snug as a bug in a rug?'"

"Yes, I think so. Now all we have to do is wait for police to handle things."

Jackson sat back in his seat and reached his hands into the pockets of his coat for his cellphone. At the same time that Finn came with their orders, Jackson felt something else in his pocket. He paused to thank Finn before pulling it out.

It was a piece of folded paper, and when he pulled it open, he made something between an amused chuckle and a tired sigh. It was a drawn picture of three items: the wooden staff, a blue hoodie with a frost like pattern around the neck, and what looked like a bear claw donut. Both images had respective captions in familiar handwriting: "Keep this!", "Could you find something like this?", and "Get one of these from Ambrosia. REALLY GOOD!"

Nicholas glances up from his roast beef and gives a laugh at the paper. "Stealthy boy, eh?"

"I can't believe I didn't find it sooner. I swear that kid is a ninja."

"He has a gift," replied Nicholas. He reached into a pocket of his massive coat and pulled out a pocket watch, a pocketbook, a fountain pen, a handful of candies, a set of keys, a bundle of clean tissues, an eraser, a few rubber bands, a plastic bag, the wheel of a toy car, and a small Russian babushka before he finally took out a note similar to Jackson's. It depicted an odd sort of toy design, and—for some reason or another—a recipe for peppermint chip cookies. "Sanderson! SANDY!"

Sanderson sprung awake from snoozing silently. He looked at Nicholas as he pulled the toothpick from his club sandwich.

"Do you have note?"

Sanderson, in response, pulled yet another piece of paper from his pants pocket. This one was a bit more cryptic, with several shades of yellow ink side by side and miscellaneous small items like carrots, teeth, and candy canes. Sanderson pulled out his notebook and pencil again to reply, He sends them whenever. I guess it's to "jog our memory."

"I take it you guys haven't heard from Jamie for a while."

Sanderson shakes his head as he reaches for his sandwich. Nicholas gives a surprisingly chipper "No" before stuffing a large bite of roast beef into his mouth.

"I also take it that this has happened before."

Sanderson nods. Nicholas swallows and replies an equally chipper, "Yes." However, a moment later he adds, "So don't feel like this is something you caused for the first time."

"I don't mean to invade or anything, but…How long has Jamie been having his ideas? When did it start?"

As Nicholas chewed on another bite of roast beef, he sat back in his seat and narrowed his eyes in thought. A few moments passed before he swallowed and replied, "Frankly, I cannot remember. Do you, Sanderson?"

Sanderson wiped his fingers on a napkin before reaching for his pencil. He's been having them for as long as I can remember.

Nicholas gestured to the innkeeper with his knife. "Jamie thinks Sanderson is the Sandman."

Jackson gave a short laugh as he reached for his tea. He turned to the man beside him with a smirk. "Is there a reason for—?" He decided not to finish his sentence when he saw that Sanderson had once again fallen asleep. Jackson quietly took one of his French fries before turning to his burger.

When Finn stopped by their table once again to see if they needed any refills on their beverages, they were all distracted from seeing the car pull out of the bank lot.

FLASHBACK

North rarely used the "meeting room" of the Workshop. Usually, when he summoned the others to the Pole for whatever needs—and that was not very often at all—they spoke before the Globe, or the fireplace. Maybe it was because the fireplace provided comforting warmth from the constant blizzards outside. Maybe it was because the yetis and elves could quickly deliver food and drinks sooner. Maybe it was because they liked to watch the glimmering lights of the Globe.

Maybe it was because it wasn't unbearably silent in there.

The meeting room completely silenced whatever sounds emitted from the work of the yetis and elves: whirs, clicks, buzzes, tinkles, chimes, rings, etc. The only noise in the room at all was emitting from the six-handed clock on the face of one wall. It was one of the only rooms in the Workshop that never had yetis or elves inside of it. It was the only room in the Workshop that didn't smell of nutmeg and ginger and smoky pinewood.

The five Guardians sat around the ovular pine table in tall seats capped with marvelous antlers. Sandy was wide awake, hardly blinking for that matter. Bunnymund was slouching in a brooding fashion and wouldn't look anyone in the eye. Toothiana was more hummingbird-like than ever, tiny in the large chair and turning her head at the others. Jack had his arms folded on the table with his staff in the crook of his right elbow. North was seated at the head of the table, his chair having two more sets of antlers than the others. He was staring at his interlocked fingers with hard blue eyes.

Finally, when no one else offered words to speak, he raised his voice and said, "No point in just sitting around doing nothing. We should decide."

It was a moment before Bunnymund raised his eyes to glower at him and harshly bit back, "Do you expect us to choose which one of us to die?"

"We don't know that." North's voice was sharp and clipped. "And yes, we need to choose. We have to decide who will go and who will stay. And once we make this decision, it cannot be changed. Let's start from scratch. Do we have volunteers to stay?"

Almost immediately, four hands and paw lifted into the air. A collective sigh went around the room as they were lowered back down and the Guardians leaned back in their seats. A few mirthless laughs were made.

North ran a callused hand down his face with a low groan. Of course everyone would volunteer for the others.

"Let's try that again. We need at least two people to volunteer. One will stay for sure; other may stay if Pitch doesn't agree."

Sandy's hand went to the air immediately still. Jack's pale hand began to move, but Toothiana's hand suddenly shot into the air before he could raise it. Jack gave a sigh that was half out of worry and half out of appreciation.

"Tooth and Sandy have volunteered to stay behind." Jack and Bunnymund both began to protest, but North raised a hand to silence them. "Before we object, I will ask them both why they think that we should leave."

Toothiana and Sandy both turned to each other. When Sandy waved his hand for her to speak first, Toothiana nodded and began, "I think that North should go because he is our leader and he knows how to fight."

To add to her statement, Sandy produced an image of a sphere that quickly burst into an ovular shape. He can also use his globes to get you out of danger if you need.

"Bunnymund could use tunnels to help us escape, too."

He's also good at long distance combat.

"Jack should be there for Jamie. You know, so he'd be more comfortable and not as scared."

If it's possible, he can use the attack he made against Pitch last year.

North nodded slowly as a low hum sounded in his throat. His eyes were downcast as he contemplated what they had both said. He took a deep breath that was let out slowly. "Now would you both say why you think the other should go and why you should stay?"

"I believe Sandy should go because he can do anything with his Dreamsand," stated Toothiana. Toothiana's small hands, previously concealed under the table, raised to her chest level to make gestures. "And he's the oldest of us, so he's wiser. I don't have any real powers that can be used in combat. I don't have the physical strength as the rest of you."

Tooth should go because she's intelligent. She can speak every language. She remembers everything she hears, sees, or reads. Sandy tossed his hands into the air with wide eyes. She translated the Rosetta Stone by memory! Even if I have physical strength, so do the rest of you. You'll need intelligence just as much as force.

When he was done, Jack and Bunnymund turned to North expectantly. His eyes were shifting from the Guardian of Memories to the Guardian of Dreams to his clasped hands. Finally, he leaned back in his seat.

"Judging on positives and negatives of either case, I believe that it is in our best interests that Sandy be the one to remain and Tooth the one to possibly come as an alternative to Pitch. That has been decided."

A heavy silence was set upon the room then. Sandy reclined back into his seat with a nod. Bunnymund glared down at his paws bitterly. Toothiana's stature went limp, though she offered a small smile to Jack when he patted her on her shoulder.

Jack's eyes rose from her to the Cossack at the head of the table. "Hey, North. Maybe we should...I mean, Tooth should go tell her fairies, and Bunnymund should tell his Eggs. You, too, with the yetis and the elves."

North clapped his hands together with a booming smack, but did not smile. "Yes, that would be best." He stood from his seat, the legs sliding against the stone of the floor. "Meeting dismissed. Take care of anything needed to prepare yourselves."

One by one, they each stood and exited the room. Bunnymund bounded out of sight on all fours, obviously still furious. Sandy waved goodbye to everyone before conjuring a large bird of Dreamsand and soaring out of the Workshop. Toothiana and Jack left side-by-side, Toothiana hovering above the floor and Jack with his staff leaning against his shoulder, lowly talking to one another. Toothiana still seemed shaken about talking to Pitch, judging by the amount of times her azure feet skimmed the floor. Not that North could blame her.

North found himself alone once again. He should have went ahead to speak to the yetis and elves. To tell them that there would be no need for the toys that they'd spent so much time on. That they could go to their quarters. That he'd be gone for an unknown amount of time.

But instead he sat there in the silence of the meeting room.

Tooth and B.T. had decided that, with nothing else to really do, they had might as well retire for the evening. They'd both changed into their pajamas, and had popped a bowl of popcorn for them to snack on. The movie they'd settled on—an odd animated film about a porcelain doll brought to life by her wizard creator—was biting a two-hour chunk out of their three-hour weekly limit, but neither Tooth nor B.T. minded in the least. Aster still refused to return home and was still seated in the recliner. Despite his attempt to appear disinterested, he wouldn't take his eyes off of the screen when he reached for the popcorn.

The doorbell rang at the same moment that the timer on the oven began to bleat. Tooth tossed back the blanket around her legs, nearly covering B.T. entirely. She pulled on her slippers and turned to Aster to say, "Could you get the cookies out of the oven?"

"Sure thing," Aster replied before begrudgingly rising from his seat.

Tooth pulled open the door without a single second thought of consideration. A police officer—she'd seen too many of them lately!—was on her front step with his hands behind his back. His tag read Thalass. He was as tall as Aster, and just as built, but clearly older. He had a silver beard and aqua eyes, and smelled vaguely of sea salt or something akin to it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but paused when he looked Tooth up and down. Tooth paused before slowly staring down at herself. She immediately felt a blush consume her cheeks. She had forgotten her pajamas at the hospital, so she'd resorted to her secondary option for sleepwear: a tank top with an astronaut's body on the front (designed in such a way that it looked as if her own head was atop it) and shorts with cupcakes designed on them. Oh, and not only that, but she was wearing the same green, fuzzy slippers with antennae-stemmed eyeballs that shot up whenever she took a step. She also remembered with a cringe that she'd let B.T. braid her hair…into two Princess Leia-style braided buns.

The officer simply shook his head—clearly thinking, 'I'm not pair nearly enough'—and inquired, "Are you Ana Punjam?"

"Yes, sir, I am."

B.T. decided to trot up to the door then, and Tooth took a deep breath as she forced her eyes away from her younger sister. Of all the nights for B.T. to wear the onesie designed like a cow…complete with a hood that doubled as a mask. A moment of pure horror crossed Officer Thalass's face for a moment. He must not have processed immediately that it was a child in a cow's costume and not a small cow on its hind legs.

B.T. stared up at Tooth through the holes in the cow's eyes and said, in a muffled voice, "Maybe we should offer him a cookie."

Officer Thalass took in a deep breath and turned back to the eldest Punjam girl. "I have—"

And wouldn't you know it, the six-foot-tall, broad-muscled, tattooed Aster walked up just right then, in a frilly pink apron and matching oven mitts. The pink apron had a heart on the chest that read Kiss the Cook!, with a heart for the dot under the exclamation point. He'd even gone as far as to tie the strings behind him, so the tiny apron was stretched across his torso. If Tooth wasn't ready to die of humiliation right then and there, she would have laughed.

Aster gestured to the tray of freshly baked (sugar free) peanut butter cookies that he was holding with his oven mitts. "Do you want me to put these on a plate or what?"

Aster finally took notice of Officer Thalass ogling at him, and for a solid sixty seconds, the four of them stared at each other. Aster, Tooth, and B.T. staring at the police officer. Officer Thalass staring at Princess Leia, a talking cow, and Lucy Ricardo. Crickets chirped somewhere beyond the front door. Eventually, Aster tiptoed backwards from the doorway and out of sight.

Officer Thalass closed his eyes as he finally held out his hand with his palm facing upwards.

Tooth let out something between a gasp and a shriek. Her pendant! It looked exactly like it had been the day before. Though it lacked the chain now, that could easily be replaced. She snatched it from Officer Thalass's hand and held it practically to her nose. There wasn't a single thing wrong with its image.

When she'd finally stopped blubbering ineligibly, she asked in a high octave, "Where was it?!"

When Jackson finally returned home for the evening, he was exhausted. It was early, but after a day of running to and fro all over town, he didn't care. He tossed his keys onto the bar and made a beeline for the bed. He kicked off his shoes and discarded his jacket before collapsing down onto the blankets. Pajamas be darned.

He closed his eyes, letting fatigue wash over him, drifting into sleep…

RIIIIING! RIIIIING!

Jackson almost felt a physical pain absorb him. Of course. He reasoned with himself, thinking, maybe it's just my alarm ringing because it's morning.

But no, it was his cellphone, and he had been half-awake, half-asleep for five minutes. He clawed for his phone and pushed up from the mattress to answer it. Part of his face was already red and imprinted with a wrinkle.

"Hello?"

"JACK WE WERE WRONG."

He flinched at the sudden screeching in his ear. He forced himself into an upright position and tried to speak, saying, "Wait—"

"WE WERE VERY, VERY WRONG."

"Who—?"

"IT WASN'T KOZMOTIS, JACK. IT WASN'T KOZMOTIS!"

"…Then who was it?"

"IT WAS RHYS. IT WAS RHYS!"

Jackson wasn't exactly shocked beyond words, but his eyes narrowed in confusion. "Rhys? But—"

"RHYS STOLE THE PENDANT. I DON'T KNOW HOW OR WHY, BUT HE DID! AND HE TRIED TO BLAME KOZMOTIS!"

"Well, North I'm really sorry, I know he was your friend and all…But why are you calling me?"

"BECAUSE THEY ARE ARRESTING HIM RIGHT NOW, JACK! HE'S BEING ARRESTED! I KNOW HE DIDN'T DO IT, AND WE HAVE TO PROVE THAT!"

"…Right now?"

"WELL…NO, NOT RIGHT NOW."

"Can it wait until morning? I'm pretty exhausted."

"…YES, I TOO AM VERY TIRED. I'LL SPEAK TO YOU TOMORROW."

The line went dead, and Jackson tossed it to the side before collapsing once more.

List of mythological beings already listed:

Baby New Year

The Bogeyman

Cupid

Easter Bunny

Fae (Faries)

The Fates

Father Time

The Groundhog

Jack Frost

The Leprechaun

Mother Goose

Mother Nature

Oberon

Puck

Sandman

Santa Claus

Stingy Jack/The Pumpkin King/The Great Pumpkin

Tooth Fairy

Titania

Wild Hunt

If you would like to expand the list, please do so.