Jack flew on at a moderate speed; no longer just to allow the Old Hag to catch up, but also because he actually couldn't go any faster. It was a bit disquieting, watching her marching steadily, ceaselessly behind him, while he was unable to get away any more. Before, he had been restraining his flight by choice; now he didn't have that choice any more. His mind was still set onto it, but it was increasingly unpleasant to watch her always linger right at his heel, no matter where he went.
The landscape rushed by beneath his feet, without Jack really noticing. It was always changing. He could dimly tell that it was crops giving way to cities, valleys to forests, mountains to rivers… But his brain refused to function beyond that. He could not think of what part of the land he could use to defeat the Old Hag. Everything seemed useless, offering no options. He didn't know what to do.
Jack could only fly on, looking for… he didn't know what, putting all of his strength in at least keeping a steady pace and a proper altitude. He tried desperately to take his mind off the Old Hag, who was always right there.
It seemed that her constant presence had woven through his thoughts and wedged itself deep into his brain. He was always painfully aware of it, even when not actively thinking. Jack was reminded of his hunter with every shallow breath that caught in his chest, and whenever he'd turn his head just the slightest bit to glance behind, he'd see her —sometimes blurred, sometimes more clearly, but not far away.
Never far away at all.
Her face was always focused right on him.
Jack got the feeling he was being stalked by a vulture; that she was waiting patiently for the moment when he would finally, really drop down from exhaustion.
The more time passed, the more Jack could actually see it happening.
He found himself daydreaming about naps; his mind wandering from the task at hand and leading him to thoughts of laying down and sleeping. He remembered every fluffy, soft snow bed be had ever slept in. Tucked away, safe in his element without a care in the world.
He reminisced about all the naps he had on tree branches: uncomfortable at first but soon soothing in the sense of freedom, of lack of boundaries they offered. The wind was always there, always with him, rocking the tree gently.
Sometimes he would sleep straight on the frozen surface of his lake. Spread-eagled and exposed, but he could see the stars then. The whole sky stretched above him, every little bit of it shining with a unique splendor. The moon would often shine its light on him… Its bright, silent presence at times filling Jack with reassurance and hope; at others, with bitterness and frustration. Even during those times though when he wished it would drop the act and truly leave him alone, a part of him was always relieved that it was there. And he would sleep so soundly…
And there were countless other places, in different countries, on high places, at the tip of precipices, on the top of human landmarks, surrounded with penguins, in an alley listening to a musician playing the piano; each new sleeping spot offering a different kind of delight right before exhaustion overtook him. Each one would make him feel bliss and relief and a kind of contentment, and Jack could remember exactly how it felt to relax, to let himself go… To drift away, to rest…
Jack forced his eyes back open with a strangled sound. It had been too close. He had almost fallen asleep flying, and he knew the wind would be useless then. He needed to focus. He needed to finish the game. To win.
However, now that he had trouble keeping his eyes open, Jack was finally forced to admit it:
"…I really didn't think this thing through," he chuckled, amused by his own lack of foresight. There was no way he could go on forever. Sooner or later, he would have to land and sleep, even if only for half an hour.
Scratch that, he only needed five minutes.
One minute.
Just a few moments to rest his eyes.
A soft, plaintive exhale of breath, and Jack was shaking his head fervently. It was impossible to rest safely while the Old Hag was still after him. He just had to win, quickly.
It was tempting, though. It was tempting to finally stop.
No, he… he had to go on. He couldn't risk this, he couldn't rest yet.
Although, and the idea formed in his head seemingly without his consent, if the Old Hag caught him then he'd be able to sleep. Sure, sleep interrupted by her feeding… but that would be muted, he'd barely feel anything, it'd be just a nightmare…
Jack nearly howled in frustration. Don't think of that! Don't think of that! You're so close! This is a game, and you've yet to meet a person who plays better than you! SHE'll be the one who gives up!
"I can do this," Jack repeated with fervor. "It will be all right. I just have to think… think… think…"
They were crossing a large mountain range and to his dismay, Jack felt the air progressively getting warmer. The sun began to glow overhead with the fierceness of a blazing fire, and the sky turned a brilliant blue as the remains of Jack's clouds started to dispel.
He was flying towards the equator.
He could feel the sunlight sizzling him mercilessly, a headache pounding steadily behind his temple. The light was blinding him, and it was so tempting to squeeze his eyes close against the glare, but he knew he'd have trouble opening them again.
He could no longer make it snow at all, not here, he knew; oh, the snowflakes would form alright, but they would melt away in the air long before they could go anywhere near the ground. Jack could only maintain a protective layer of frost on his own body, as it was in constant contact with the staff, its source.
The Old Hag didn't appear to be affected by the heat at all, and Jack rose with difficulty a few metres in the air, aiming to catch colder winds. This was too taxing, he had to try another trap soon. Something she wouldn't suspect. Now.
Yet as the sea stretched in front of his eyes once more, bright blue and shimmering, Jack found himself struggling to think. What here could be adequate for taking the Old Hag down? There was only sun and sea. Should he try leading her to water again? Should he try and look for another monster?
Then Jack's eyes widened as he realized that he was flying over highly populated places: wherever he looked there were villages and people and boats and not here not here not here!
Jack steeled himself, mentally preparing to fly across the sea once more; there was no other choice. He had to get her as far away as possible, as soon as possible. He'd worry afterwards about what…
…There was the Sahara desert down south, his mind sluggishly recalled. There were all sorts of dangerous spirits there, and most of all there was a lot of sand.
A sandstorm could bury a person. A sandstorm could flay the skin right off a person; he knew that as well.
He pushed the drowsiness consuming him to the back of his mind, pushed himself to fly over, over the sea, wishing he could go faster just so he'd get this over with, and be free of this oppressive heat, and sleep. Dimly, the idea that maybe he wasn't thinking clearly crossed his mind; maybe he was affected by the heat, maybe he should turn back to a colder climate… But turning around seemed like too much work and Jack hated himself for being unable to do it. Flying straight was so much easier.
Besides, he was so close now. He was flying above an island, and after that the water stretched to every direction. He only had to cross the sea to arrive to the desert, he knew.
So close. So close.
A smell of rotting eggs abruptly filled his nostrils.
Jack gasped and gagged, surprised at the sudden assault on his senses. He flew faster, eager to get away and into clean air once more; he inhaled a deep breath–
A deep breath of reeking air entered his lungs instead; it made his throat burn. The world around him started to spin.
It was growing darker inside his head. A sense of blissed weightlessness stole over Jack, and he struggled against the pull of darkness. He gripped his staff more tightly, anchoring himself with its presence, and for a moment that was all that he could feel.
Then he got smacked on the face with something thin and hard, and he opened his eyes just in time to notice that he was tumbling through a forest canopy.
Calling for the wind did not do much to slow his descent at this point: it was moments later when he tore through the branches and landed face first on the forest floor.
Jack jumped upright on shaking legs as fast as he could, spitting out leaves and struggling to get his bearings. His surroundings continued to spin after he had stood, leaving him to stagger around uncontrollably.
He grasped a nearby branch to steady himself. "What happened…?" he whispered with an uncertain voice, eyeing the forest warily. The trees swam before his eyes as he tried to peer among them for incoming danger —it was too long before his head began to clear.
…It was so sudden! Did he pass out for a moment? He hadn't realized the Old Hag had already done so much damage!
Jack's breath hitched. This was bad. It was getting too much. The Old Hag must have seen him dropping from the air, and it was just a matter of time before she burst through the trees.
Jack looked around desperately. He just needed to rest for a short while; he had been flying for so long… He just needed a nap, a very short nap, a few moments of respite, and then he could resume the game.
He heard distant branches snapping. Panic gripped his heart in a vice grip. Jack whirled around in a dizzying speed, searching for, for, he didn't know, but he could not do this, he could not fly away fast enough, he had to–
His gaze fell on a dark gap among the boulders of the slope; a black hole, peaking at him invitingly.
Jack darted towards it, stooping low as he approached. It looked deep. It smelled faintly of rotten eggs. Could this cover his scent?
More branches snapped behind him, and Jack no longer had the presence of mind to ponder over his options. In a mad dash of panic, the winter spirit ducked into the hole and started running, half-crouched, down the winding, rough tunnel.
The soles of his feet tore against the sharp stones as he ran but Jack didn't dare fly, didn't dare the whistle of the wind giving his hiding hole away. He picked up the pace when he thought he heard some kind of noise from far behind him, his head knocking against the ceiling a couple of times as the tunnel turned darker.
It went on for a long way.
Jack paused in the darkness after several minutes, struggling to quiet his breathing. Gripping his staff hard, he folded down in a tight crouch, and he strained to listen past the drumming of his heart.
The long tunnels were silent.
Then he heard it.
"Oooh, it is warm in here but I can feel it getting colder," echoed a much hated voice from far behind him, barely recognizable in the altered acoustics of the shaft.
Jack shot up and resumed running blindly downwards as fast as he could.
It was stupid to come here, he thought, dismayed. He was going to get trapped. She was faster than him, and she could track him down.
But then, Jack realized with a sparkle of relief, he could navigate in the absolute darkness with the wind: the breezes would naturally follow along the curves of the passageways, allowing him to effortlessly glide through them if he was carried by the currents.
The thought lifted his spirits, a new lightness blooming in his tight chest.
The Old Hag might be able to run faster than him, she might even be able to smell him, but if she had no way to see in the dark her process would be much slower. She would trip over every obstacle and fall in every pit. The fact that she hadn't already caught up with him was encouraging.
Jack took a shaking deep breath. Could it be that he had the upper hand here, in the unlikeliest of places?
"Burning hot!" came a distorted, sing-song voice from very far away.
Jack smirked. How nice of the Old Hag to warn him of her proximity.
He had the upper hand. She had used his own snow against him at first, then the field had been evened out in the ocean, and now he had the upper hand.
Provided that he didn't get trapped in a dead end, he was going to be fine. He was.
He just had to go far away enough, to put enough distance between them. Then he could close his eyes for a few seconds, and then he could resume the game. Maybe he could even trap her in here, make a tunnel collapse or something. He would improvise. It was going to be fine.
His spirits perked up, Jack half-flew, half-ran down a new unseen opening with ease.
OK, this actually wasn't scary at all. It was more like hide-and-seek–
"Boiling hot!" the Old Hag's shout reached him through the darkness.
…Apparently, the Old Hag had the same thought, although she had gotten the rules of the game a bit mixed-up.
Eh, Jack could work with that. He was great with spontaneity.
He flew blindly up a vertical shaft that would have taken a professional climber hours to scale, and he darted down a new passageway.
Man, this mountain was like a gigantic anthill. Or maybe like Swiss cheese. Would he encounter any giant ants? Could he direct them to the Old Hag? Or were they just regular tunnels created by water? They were getting pretty spacious now and they stretched forever; at times they were punctuated with rough stone pillars and stalactites that Jack brushed as he flew by.
So, it was water. He hadn't actually found any yet, it was all dried out, but Jack thought his chances were better the deeper he went. And then it'd be much easier to both cool himself down, and fight the Old Hag. Maybe he could use it to freeze her in these tunnels, that was exactly the sort of thing he needed!
Jack grinned despite his exhaustion. He could do it, he could do it!
He'd still have to keep his eyes (er, ears in this case) open in case he encountered some type of monster he could pit against her. But things were looking (figure of speech) good!
"It's midday in the desert and the sun is burning my skin off!" the Old Hag shouted cheerfully from very far away.
"Yeah, yeah, aren't you enjoying this a bit too much," Jack muttered to himself as he leapt over a chasm that would have swallowed anyone unsuspecting, thanks to the telling whistle of the wind down the hole.
She was enjoying all this a bit too much. Would a snowball to the head work on someone who liked eating children?
Did Jack even want to know the answer to that?
Definitely not, Jack thought as he accidentally bumped his head on a stalactite protruding from the ceiling. He span on the spot for a few moments, eyes watering a bit with the pain, before resuming his mad dash through the darkness.
He had a few moments of pure panic when he realized he couldn't tell if he was going the right way or back the way he came, until he heard a voice calling from far behind him:
"Fresh hot blo–aaargh!"
The shout was followed by sounds of falling rubble.
Jack smirked. The Old Hag had fallen in that chasm, hadn't she! He kicked off the wall to dart around a corner and raised a hand to wipe the condensation on his brow away from his eyes.
Hey, he should put those chasms in good use! The next one he came across, he'd have its brim iced all over. Then she'd definitely drop and wouldn't be able to do anything about it. And maybe break a few bones in the process? In the meantime, Jack should really find a way to make these tunnels collapse. If he came across a chasm that had a pillar next to it or something…
Jack shot down the tunnels as fast as he could now, getting deeper and deeper, listening to the whistles of the wind, searching for any sound that would indicate water or a hole or anything he could use. His heart beat weakly but steadily, his breaths were rapid but deep, and he could do it, he would do it!
"Burning hot again," shouted the Old Hag from a great distance once more, the voice echoing strangely in the tunnels. She sounded annoyed at getting hindered, however briefly.
Okay, so she had climbed back up. He really needed that chasm–
THERE was one!
Jack zoomed towards it excitedly, relief blooming in his chest. It was exactly what he needed, a clear drop that went in forever and disappeared in complete darkness. He didn't see how he could make it collapse, but he was perfectly willing to stuff it with ice until the whole thing froze solid. It would probably take the last of his reserves, but he'd give it his all. He would make this work.
Impatient, Jack froze over the lip of the precipice with a frenzied grin on his face.
The grin dissolved as he watched the ice melt in front of his eyes, and drip away uselessly into the hole.
…Wait.
He could see?
"Boiling hot!"
Breath catching in his chest, Jack looked up. The tunnel was no longer drenched in absolute darkness; the shift was tiny, almost indiscernible, but he could just barely make out the shape of the walls, the texture of the stones, his melted ice flowing away and slowly evaporating into nothing…
Jack frowned. He stared down at himself: his feet left tiny puddles of water on the rough stone. Even as he watched, they faded away.
Jack stared, open-mouthed and uncomprehending.
It was… it was warm? Well, sure it was warm, he wasn't in the north anymore… But he hadn't realized it was that bad… he was almost melting!
Jack peered around again. There was no discernible light source; just, just the faintest light sipping from… from somewhere, far at the bottom end of the tunnel.
"Midday in the desert!"
The winter spirit flinched and turned to look behind him. That end of the tunnel was completely submerged in darkness. He couldn't tell– he couldn't see anything, anyone coming.
Gulping, he started flying in a brisk pace down the length of the tunnel again, looking around with caution. Curiosity mixed with dread as he took in the dark grey stone walls, at times smooth and almost polished; but there were other places where part of the tunnel had clearly collapsed, and those were the ugliest, roughest rocks Jack had ever seen. He didn't even know rocks could be ugly before now! He'd swear there was something almost cruel about them. It was almost as if they tried to resemble… to resemble bones.
Face pinched with worry, Jack looked around for any side-tunnels branching away and up as he flew on. He didn't want to keep going downwards. And he definitely couldn't go back. He'd have to find another exit. One would surely come up eventually.
His breathing had grown haggard now. This place was definitely warmer than normal. His reserves were getting tapped out just by being in here.
Jack sped on his path down the tunnel; the sooner he got out of this place, the better. There had been other shafts forking away before, where were they now?!
"Fresh, hot blood!"
Jack had to swallow down a yelp. He pushed himself to go faster, but it was not possible. He was at his limit.
This whole thing was a bad idea. He had just wanted to sleep!
…He had messed up again.
Jack had no choice but to keep going forward, growing more desperate all the while. The walls had taken a red tint now, coloured by the weak light diffusing into the tunnel. It put Jack in mind of pain and fires and blood, and it was with short, rapid breaths that he advanced towards the distant glow that shone from the end of the passageway.
He could feel the heat burning oppressively against his face now, despite the staff in his hand, despite his own layer of frost. It was getting difficult to breathe. The terrible stench of rotten eggs was everywhere, stinging at his throat and nose.
He let the wind die out and landed, to conserve energy. As his eyes adjusted to the constantly strengthening red light, he saw that there was a large opening at the end of the tunnel. Its outline was shimmering in a mad haze, as if underwater. Light and heat radiated out of it like Jack had the sun itself shoved in his face.
Jack gulped. He knew what that meant. He had seen one of those before, in a different place. Only then he hadn't gone through any tunnels, and he hadn't explored. He had just floated through the entrance at the cavern's roof, out of curiosity. And then he had fled straight out again.
He still forced himself to march towards the opening; he had to see if there was anything salvageable in this situation.
"Corpse-cold!" yelled the Old Hag; she still sounded pretty far away.
Jack spared only the slightest of glances backwards; in comparison with the bright red glow of the opening, the tunnel behind him was nothing but a black hole. It was impossible to discern anything.
His attention back to the giant opening, he walked slowly, cautiously towards it, taking stock of the heat, and of how much he could take, reluctant of getting too close. There wasn't anything he could hide behind as he approached.
Then he got close enough to see and his eyes got used to the light and Jack felt like the world was falling away from him.
Beyond the tunnel was a great cavern, easily as large as a big hill.
And it wasn't empty.
There were things moving in the hollow space.
They were red and grey and many, many, and Jack was confused and horrified because last time there had been only one, and he could only stare as the shapes slithered around each other, coiled and hissed and roared. They were vaguely snake-like, although each snake was the size of a small river, and each head the size of a mighty oak. Bright, white lava dripped from their fangs as they shuddered and rammed against each other with maniacal energy. Their eyes burnt bright red, flashing fire when they stared at something for too long, and there was such malice and cruelty reflected in them that Jack felt, had they the chance, they'd destroy every living thing.
He wanted to back away, he wanted to become small and hide, but he was frozen in place. He watched as the snakes hissed and gnawed at each other and at themselves, seemingly in a furious urge to destroy destroy destroy. They spit fire with every bite, snorted black smoke out of their nostrils with every hiss. The lava was pooling beneath the slithering mass, gnawing and melting away the cavern walls, while the black smoke congealed at the roof of the cavern, suffocating, reeking horribly.
The heads slammed against the cavern walls, their spiked scales tearing and melting the stone to pieces. Each angry toss of the heads caused a roar and a mighty wind that sounded like it could snap trees and houses in two and blast people to pieces.
Jack slammed his eyes shut, covering his face with both hands and curling into a tight ball as he tried to suppress a cry.
He couldn't stand this. He wanted to get away. He wanted to leave. This was too much. They were too powerful. Too cruel. There was such hatred… such malice radiating from them… Jack was paralyzed in the face of the writhing mass.
…They would kill him.
They would burn him into nothingness with a single touch. His last moments would be being engulfed in fire and hate, and then he would be gone without a trace here in the depths of the earth, away from the sky and people and all things beautiful.
And no one would ever know.
No one would ever, ever notice he was gone.
Jack let out a strangled cry, curling tighter.
He couldn't go any further.
He couldn't do this.
He wanted to leave. He wanted to go home. He wanted this to be over.
He knew that the child in the fairy tale is supposed to throw the evil witch into her oven, but he could not do this. He could not do it. He could not get any closer. He could not do it.
He wanted to get out. HE WANTED TO GET OUT!
Jack was agonizingly overcome with the urge to just TURN AND RUN, run and fly away away away AWAY–
–but he couldn't bring himself to uncurl and stand up. The desire to run was so great he wanted to scream and he still couldn't lift himself from the floor. There was that fissure some way back, he knew he could fly back and hide in it, only he didn't dare get any closer to–
"Cold mountain stream!"
Jack suppressed a sob.
He struggled to control the shaking that had completely overcome his limbs. He tried to get his breathing under control, to pry his hands from his face–
He didn't succeed in any of the above; his body just refused to obey. Jack was close to screaming; he just couldn't take it any more.
He half-rocked back and forth, half-slammed his hands against his head, desperate for a way out. Think, think!
…Could he lure the Old Hag in? He couldn't get any closer to the pit of snakes, he wouldn't do it– and she wouldn't even follow, not when she saw what was inside. His wind was a weak thing now, it couldn't throw her there. He couldn't keep the floor iced long enough for her to slip all the way in, either, it would melt instantly–
–and any flash of cold could attract the things' attention towards him.
The thought sent Jack scuttling away from the opening like an animal.
"Falling snowflakes!"
He flinched violently, hunching further into himself. The Old Hag sounded very close now. With a colossal effort, he forced himself to look, to search for other exits, for other solutions, yet his eyes only met stone and red glow and pure darkness, and his ears met the gurgling and hissing of lava, and his own frantic breathing. And the heat, the heat!
He found his hands covering his eyes again, he didn't want this, he couldn't take it anymore, he just wanted it TO STOP–
"Winter wind!"
His breaths were nothing short of terrified hitches now.
He–
There was nowhere to go–
There was a sudden commotion in the darkness and–
"FREEZING COLD!" came a shriek, and hands.
Jack felt arms closing in around him, sharp nails digging into his skin.
He screamed.
He screamed and kicked and pushed against the unmoving, merciless force grabbing him. He could feel hot breath against his cheek, and then he was slammed on his back against the ground, one hand pressing down on his chest, and a weight like a glacier pinning him down. Jack was sure his ribs would crack with the force, but the Old Hag still pushed harder, pressing him against the burning floor, squeezing the breath out of him.
Jack fought back, somehow managing to put his staff across his chest like a barrier, trying desperately to push her back, the wind billowing madly around them.
Still pinning him down with one hand, she grabbed his staff with the other one and pulled.
Jack's vision went white for a moment with the pressure against his chest, but still his frozen fingers refused to let go of his only weapon. Struggling to concentrate, he shot frost up her arm, frost that turned into weak slush and melted almost instantly before his eyes. The Old Hag chuckled at the sight and leaned closer, putting more of her weight on him.
"You know what my darling, delicious goose?" she whispered as he gasped for air, her hot breath somehow even more scorching than the sweltering air of the tunnel. "I was going to eat all of the children from one pathetic village. After you, I was very hungry, I knew I wouldn't be sated with measly meals anymore; so I bid my time, setting a trap to catch them all together. I was interrupted when you arrived. Gave them all up to go after you. And you wasted all my time until now, herding me to various annoying places. I think that's very unfair." She sounded angry.
Jack ceased struggling, something other than misery and pain and guilt blossoming in his chest. Could he dare hope that–
The Old Hag hadn't finished speaking. "Do you know what we're gonna do, Jackie boy? We'll go to a big city, you and me. The biggest we can find. One where no one will ever know us," she added tenderly, as if describing an intimate dream. "I'm going to rent a room just for you to stay."
Yes, Jack thought. That's fine. I don't mind.
His grip on the staff started to slacken. He was so tired–
"And since you like kids so much, I'm going to let you wake periodically; I'll invite poor, lonely children who don't have anyone in the world, just so they can experience something nice for once: keeping company to the poor, sick boy who doesn't have the strength to leave his bed nor even speak," she hissed, a cruel grin forming on her face. "And after they read you stories and play with you for a while and you have had your fun, I'm going to invite them to stay for dinner, and then you can watch. How does that sound?"
Jack's hesitant relief at the inkling that his plan had worked, that the Old Hag hadn't harmed any children because of him, burnt to cinders.
Surviving to be used by her was no longer an option.
The Old Hag started cackling and it was only then that Jack realized he was thrashing madly. Fists, legs, knees, his staff, all connected with her face and limbs in a frenzy of futile effort, every blow bouncing harmlessly off the fat folds of her skin.
He could see her laughing, but he couldn't hear it. All he could hear was a desperate, ear-piercing scream.
No. Concentrate.
He raised his staff, aiming at her eyes.
He had tried this with burning cinders before, now he'd do it with ice. He had failed then, but he wasn't going to hesitate now. Jack knew his frost would melt almost immediately in the sweltering heat, but all he needed to deal serious damage was a single moment of hard, sharp ice.
Just. One. Moment.
Jack fired at the same time she twisted the staff violently, bending his wrist backwards. Jack hardly had the time to scream at the pain, to watch the shot of ice miss her wildly, before she tugged at the staff again.
This time his hurt hand was unable to hold on to the aged wood, and it slipped from his fingers.
The world was swallowed by blinding heat.
The scorching air entering his lungs was roasting him from the inside out, he was laid out on something searing hot, he was being burnt alive–
Jack was standing on the edge of a roof in some city in the tropics; the night sky was dark with the new moon, but it was covered with millions of stars, their unparalleled beauty leaving him breathless. Despite the late hour, the air was so warm that his powers didn't have much of an effect. He couldn't make it snow even if he tried; it would melt immediately and only leave him drained. The thin layer of frost on his skin couldn't do much to negate the insufferable heat burning against his face, his arms, his poor blistered feet —yet he wouldn't change it for the world:
There was a carnival going on, the likes of which Jack had never seen. People dancing and laughing, there were drums and flutes playing a lively tune. There were colourful flags waving in the warm wind; there were flowers decorating every pole and every surface; their sweet fragrance filled the air to a dizzying extent. There were dancers with torches drenched in sweat, performing incredible feats of grace and coordination, leaving spectators open-mouthed with awe.
It was all a bit too much on his senses, so much colour, music, light; combined with the heat it almost sent Jack reeling. Yet there was such a sense of being alive and carefree, of celebrating life, of enjoying the moment, that Jack couldn't help but linger and watch. He wanted to stay throughout the whole night, listen to every song, follow along every dance, filch bites from every plate of food offered, watch every reason-defying stunt with the torches. Jack felt like he belonged among these bright, noisy people, people who would never see him and lived so far away from the place he called home, yet shared his passion for fun, in their own way.
Maybe they'd see him, if he could only make it snow here.
A blessedly cold breeze caressed his back and Jack took a deep, blissful breath–
His feet were being dragged against the ground.
Jack blinked, sight and mind both hazy. He could see the ground moving away from him, warm stone scratching the blistered heels of his feet. There was something squeezing tight around his chest, making it hard to breathe, but his weary head was resting on warm, sweaty flesh–
—He was leaning on the Old Hag's shoulder as she dragged him up the dark, searing hot corridor.
Jack jerked to life. He weakly pushed away from her, pulled at the arms coiled around his chest with hands that shook too much to function, kicked futilely with sluggish legs at the ground moving mercilessly away from him—
The Old Hag chuckled and squeezed his chest just a bit tighter, leaving him to struggle for breath. "Are you alright, my goose?" she said sweetly, her voice deceptively gentle. "You almost melted right in front of my eyes when I took your staff, but I've found a workaround for that."
Jack belatedly realized that the blessed coolness against his back was his staff digging in the flesh between his shoulder blades, which the Old Hag kept firmly in place by squeezing them both against her own body.
Jack's arm twitched and with colossal effort he grabbed it blindly and tried to pull it away, at not avail; the Old Hag's grip was so strong that the aged wood remained unmoving and firmly lodged into his back.
He could now only shoot momentary ice at the ground between his own two feet, on his own back, or in the scorching air above both of their heads.
"No," Jack whispered, renewing his weak struggles. The Old Hag didn't seem to pay him any attention; she looked very excited as she climbed vigorously up the slope, looking this way and that.
Was she looking for an exit? Was the heat getting too much for her, too?
When Jack got outside, maybe he could—
"…This looks like a good spot," she said suddenly, breathless and giddy with impatience, and Jack had a moment of complete disorientation as he was suddenly moved around. He couldn't tell what was up or down for a long moment, and then the overwhelming dizziness was punctuated by a sharp blow on the back of his head.
He gasped. Jack's sluggish movements ceased altogether for a while until the ringing in his head began to die down. He could tell he was looking at a rocky surface right next to his face, extending far away until it blurred into a red light…
…He was lying on his back against the burning stone floor in a dark corner, the staff digging painfully into his spine as the Old Hag pinned down his collarbone with a clawed hand and his legs with a knee.
Jack's eyes widened in terror as the horrifying realization dawned on him.
Now? Like this?
Wasn't she going to drain him to unconsciousness first?
The Old Hag must have noticed the desperation in the way he stared at her because she chuckled and leaned a bit closer to his face, clearly savoring his expression as she spoke.
"Oh my goose, last time you were in a bad way, so I had to be gentle," she whispered softly, "I had to make sure I wouldn't lose you… Now however, since you've been leading me into avalanches and whirlpools and volcanoes, I'd say you have the strength to deal with the whole thing." She turned away from his face and leaned slightly towards his stomach. "Do you know, my favorite part is the liver," the monstrous woman said, eyes glinting in the weak red light. "I hear it regenerates faster than any other organ, but I've never had the chance to observe that myself. I am looking forward to discovering it with you."
Jack tried to push himself up; to roll away; to no avail.
The Old Hag pulled up the bottom half of his shirt. With agonizingly slow movements, she lowered a clawed, dirty hand against his bared stomach, ignoring his increasing squirming. The nails dug just slightly in his skin, and Jack convulsed pathetically at the touch. The Old Hag stared down at him for several long moments and her mouth stretched, wider and wider to a long smile full of sharp teeth. The grip on his collarbone tightened, almost choking him.
The Old Hag started to lower her face towards his abdomen.
Jack flinched bodily, limbs jerking in all directions as he watched her come closer, mouth opening–
"No, please, no," Jack's voice broke, "please please please please PLEASE!"
The Old Hag was cackling, and he was pushing at her, and she was making a mocking show of being hindered, of going slower, but she still leaned down, and he could feel warm breath against his skin–
Jack jerked his head to the side. He was not going to watch this.
There was a thin trickle of water from the ice melting out of him, flowing slowly away before it evaporated. Jack fixed his attention on that.
It was easy to image it to be a stream in some faraway land; it was a fresh, cool creek running among huge boulders in some rocky landscape. It would lead him to people and cities if he followed it, and right now it was flowing towards a magnificent red sunset–
Jack blinked. The rivulet was flowing downwards, towards the red light.
He jerked, grasping the staff behind his neck with one weak hand, and ice exploded beneath his back.
The Old Hag did not appear to notice anything —he could just feel her teeth sinking in but he wasn't going to think of it— even when the wind came.
It was a feeble breeze, almost unnoticeable, but combined with gravity and the sleet of ice Jack constantly maintained beneath them both, it started to push them smoothly down the tunnel. The ice kept melting almost immediately, but it only needed to cover the stone right beneath them both, and so Jack strained himself to keep forming it, draining what little remained of his strength.
He could see the stone walls above blurring as they moved, getting redder–
The Old Hag raised her head (her teeth tearing their way out but he wasn't going to think of that) and looked up, confused at the sudden sense of movement and the wind steadily batting against her, but there was nothing for her to do as they both reached the blurrily shimmering walls of the cavern's opening.
Jack raised his free hand, weakly pushing her away again; this time there was nothing for her to brace against because they were both flying over the edge and into the deadly cavern.
The burning air encompassed him like a smothering iron hug; he felt it as a physical blow. He couldn't even gasp; despite holding onto his staff, the heat inside the cave was much more than he could handle. It overwhelmed his senses, fogging his brain and turning his sight into a blur of red and dark shapes.
He could faintly discern Old Hag's face in front of him, shadowed with furious rage. There was something squeezing tight the wrist of his outstretched, pushing arm–
Jack raised the tip of his staff dully and tapped his own elbow.
A blissfully cold sensation encompassed his limb for a minuscule moment. He felt the grip slipping effortlessly off his wet hand.
Jack watched as the Old Hag dropped like a stone and fell straight into the withering mass of snakes.
She must have screamed, he thought, it was only that the hiss of the serpents and the drumming of his own heart were louder.
He stared, strangely detached as she clawed her way out of the molten lava. She swam in it as if it was water, yet Jack could see her skin blackening and burning.
The snakes didn't seem to notice her, like she was just another piece of fallen debris. She maneuvered around them, towards the cavern walls, where she started digging with her bare hands at the red-hot stone.
He could see her flesh melting.
Jack wanted to vomit.
He forced himself to tear his eyes away, dizzy and unstable. He grabbed the stuff tightly with both hands; it felt more like he was hanging from it not to fall rather than holding it fly. He couldn't fly anyway. Couldn't summon a cold enough wind. It was too warm here. Just a matter of time till he dropped.
His head was swimming badly, first giving him the sensation of floating upwards, then that the rest of the world was rising to meet him. Disoriented, Jack looked around uselessly for the tunnel he had flown out of.
His eyes met with dozens of giant serpents, all stretched to his own height and glaring at him.
Jack swallowed. The creatures hadn't been interested in the Old Hag. She wasn't the unnaturally cold one in the cavern.
"Uh," he tried, "I think you've just been tagged?"
The snake closest to him opened its mouth wide to reveal a white-hot throat and burning smoke and lunged.
Jack didn't dodge. He was in no condition to do anything.
He only saw the huge burning maw coming straight at him.
The next moment he was thrown away; he violently tumbled round and round as he was hurled through the scorching air.
He was completely unable to control his flight path; he nearly got smashed against the cavern ceiling before he came to a stop amidst heavy smoke, barely having the presence of mind to hold his breath.
Jack attempted to right himself, confused. He didn't understand what had happened; how come he wasn't swallowed by the monster, wasn't burnt to death? He hadn't even attempted to fly away, so how had he– across the whole cavern, too!
Then another one lunged at him, and long before it had reached him Jack found himself tumbling away to the side, spinning madly all the while. The roar of the wind deafened him, and Jack understood.
It was the snakes' wind. The serpents caused gales as they moved, and the resulting gusts threw him around like a ragdoll, but also surprisingly out of their reach.
This was weird. Like, weirdly good luck.
What could he do with it though? He was in no state to ride any currents, and he wouldn't be able to withstand the temperature for much longer.
One more serpent threw itself at him; Jack pursed his lips, thoughtful, before he was launched across the cavern once again.
This once his face got slammed against the burning stone wall, and Jack sighed softly in pain as he slowly fell backwards. The cavern seemed dimmer, darker somehow, and he could feel his staff slowly slipping from his fingers–
–Jack clenched it with all of his dwindling strength, willing every fiber of his being to hold. Onto. It. And NEVER. LET. GO.
Several agonizing moments passed before his sight began to clear.
...He was still there. He was still floating up there right in front of the wall. He struggled to look behind his shoulder–
–to the sight of three giant snakes rushing straight at him, white-hot mouths open wide.
This time, there was no open space for him to be safely flung into. He was cornered.
Jack closed his eyes.
He imagined that the rush of red behind his closed eyelids was the sunrise, and that soon kids would wake up and play in the snow–
He felt the impact before the heat came.
He was crushed against the burning stone wall, and suddenly there was such a cacophony of noise and pain that Jack just couldn't handle. He could only feel rocks moving and bludgeoning him from all directions, and there was such thunder–
Then the pressure abruptly lessened, and he was slammed against a hard surface.
…Stillness. It was darker behind his eyelids, and the heat wasn't quite as suffocating as before.
Jack wanted to relax into the stillness, but his limbs were moving of their own accord, twitching uncontrollably, muscles contracting painfully against each other with no coordination. His fingers clenched the staff with strength he didn't know he possessed; he felt like they'd break.
Jack struggled against himself.
Then the red behind his eyelids flared, and there was another great thunder, and burning wind hurled him into the darkness, repeatedly smashing him against hard stone until he finally came to a stop, breathless and hurting and still very much shaking.
He stared in a daze at the complete black he was submerged into. The blackness took a red tint to it, and suddenly a long passageway was illuminated, bathed in red light.
…Oh. The cavern wall behind him must have crumbled when the snakes attacked, and there must have been a tunnel winding right behind that particular spot, so he had ended up–
Jack didn't finish that line of thought. A deafening hiss combined with a burning gale overtook him, and he was thrown straight into the unknown tunnel like a toy, crashing against the stone walls all along the way until he collapsed, somewhere in complete darkness.
…They were still after him. They had followed him into the tunnels.
Jack couldn't do anything but stare at the black. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even unlock his fingers from around his staff to prevent another maniacal flight.
Then he saw a red glow in the distance, a light getting larger and brighter and Jack's eyes widened.
The furious gust of wind reached him long before the glow did, and he was hurled towards the unknown once more, smashing against invisible hard surfaces, and he was going to die from this, he wouldn't get burnt but he would die from this, and then he skidded to a halt amidst burning smoke. His eyes stung terribly, and then the ground rumbled again and the wind came and–
–it hurt–
Jack didn't know where he was or what was happening any more, and then he suddenly crashed against things that didn't feel as painfully hard as stone.
He was rolling down somewhere, smashing through the bones and skins and ash of previous victims–
The boy came to a stop half-buried in them. He strived to let go of his staff and escape the merciless wind but his fingers still refused to uncurl; then Jack belatedly realized that there were only leaves and branches beneath him, and he opened his eyes to stare at a grey sky and, and…
He had gotten out?
He lay at the bottom of a slope, surrounded by debris and plants. The mountain towering above him was smoking furiously, and the boy gaped, unbelieving, at the vast, endless sky. Its beauty was all-consuming; Jack gasped a breath of clean, proper air, drinking in the sight above him. He had gotten out–
He watched as two snake heads exploded like fire incarnate from out the side of the mountain, stretching their long necks and spitting smoke and melted stone, and whoa he had caused this; he wanted to giggle because this was a pretty big mess, even by his standards. The serpents roved madly into the air with an ear-splitting sniffing sound; another one popped out, and promptly started to slither down the slope, turning left and right and burning everything it touched.
They were looking for him, the boy knew. It wouldn't be long before they homed in his unnatural cold, but he didn't care.
He had gotten outside. He was beneath the sky. The aftereffects of the snakes' rampage would be seen by everyone. Someone would notice. Someone would realize, someone would be able to tell that Jack had been here.
…And he hadn't lost the game against the Old Hag.
Jack smiled, focusing not on the snakes, but on the beautiful landscape. The clouded sky; the green trees, their leaves shivering in the warm wind. The blue sea at the bottom of the slope; the cute little stone houses nestled near the shore–
–not far from the mountain at all.
Jack screamed soundlessly.
He unsteadily pushed himself back on his feet, now grateful for his unresponsive fingers still clinging onto the staff. He held it close to his chest with both hands and leapt back into the air towards the snakes; the wind lifted him up high above the treetops–
–he got submerged in dark water. It was the pond again, and it had flooded everything: the mountain, the sky, the snakes… Jack could only dimly see them past the murk.
He was sinking into it.
Sorry for the long wait. I wasn't satisfied with many of the scenes, and I had to try again and again. I hope you guys like it!
NinjaDemigod, aaah this is such an honor to hear! I am glad! Thank you for your comment!
WinterCrystal1009, oh WOW, I'm SO HAPPY to hear it made you feel so! I can't believe it! Thank youuuuuu! Your kind comment made my day!
OrangeWolf4, thank you for your super nice comment! I hope the rest of the fic won't disappoint!