Hey, guys! Welcome back to Becoming a Guardian! We're in for a fun arc this time...but before that, let's take care of reviews!
Thank you so much, sparklehannah (I'm glad there was so much you loved, thank you!), RoronoaLily (Aw, thank you!), and gilleanfryingpan (...do...do I want to know what led up to you touching Cody's butt? XD Either way, glad you liked the chapter!) for reviewing!
With that, on with the new arc!
~ The Winter King, Part One ~
Being the Spirit of Winter is literally anything but easy. First, of course, there's the fact that no other kind of spirit actually respects my season, seeing as it's widely known as the season of death. Then, my position of power comes into play, making me the figurehead that the others all take their anger out on. Not only that, but I've even had several other, lower-ranking winter spirits try to assassinate me so they could ascend to my lofty position.
...it's a hard-knock life, I guess.
Aside from the constant physical danger I tend to be in, there's actually another factor that makes my job all the more irritating. Once every ten years, every spirit in existence is required to attend a mass gathering—a meeting, if you will. The Guardians have usually been excused, due to them being endlessly busy, but the rest of us all have to go in order to listen to a progress report from each of the four seasons.
Unless you're me, in which case you're one of the four "lucky" souls set with the task of actually giving said progress report.
The spirit world has a certain hierarchy to it that's nearly impossible to break. The Man in the Moon has the top spot on the ladder, but since he never bothers to come down and actually interact with people (totally not still bitter...), Mother Nature is the boss down here. The Guardians are in their own category that's a bit separate from the rest, so I won't go too much into that right now. Them aside, the next-highest rank after Mother Nature herself is that of the four Head Seasonals.
Aka me, Cerelia, Eliana, and Silas.
The four of us are made to dress up like kings and queens (they even have us wear crowns) and sit in balconies overlooking the rest of the members of our seasons, those in the lower ranks. For the other three, I bet it's enjoyable; after all, they're the ones who are actually respected. For me, on the other hand...it's complete and utter torture. No respect ever comes my way. They dress me up like a king and tell me I have power, when in reality, they think of me as less than dirt.
It's incredibly humbling, I assure you.
As you may have guessed from the long-winded explanation that I only give for things relevant to the story I'm about to tell, today is the day of the first spirit gathering since I became a Guardian. Already infuriating, I know, but to make matters even worse, the other Guardians have promised to take time out of their busy schedules to finally attend the meeting for once.
I'm thrilled.
The four of them had stopped going long before even my human self was born, so they've never seen me in my "kingly garb." On anyone else, the clothing would look noble and majestic, but when scrawny stick-boy Jack wears it, it looks like someone decided to dress a child as royalty for Halloween. D'awww, just look at the little boy pretending to be such a powerful grown-up! ...not the most flattering effect, that's for sure.
This is exactly what runs through my mind as I don the getup and stare into the mirror. It might look different to someone else, I don't know, but all I see in my reflection is an imposter. A peasant trying to be a king. A boy trying to be a man.
Something poetic like that, anyway.
I reach to the side and pick up the crown that I haven't worn in ten years. Objectively speaking, the pure blue, never-melting-ice that forms the headwear is beautiful, but the shameful position that it stands for distorts it's visual appeal. When I lift the crown and place it on my head, I feel its weight, but nothing else. No magical transformation into true royalty, no rush of power, no sudden confidence or pride.
Just Jack playing dress-up.
Pushing these thoughts aside, I grab my staff and leap from the window, letting the Wind catch me and carry me to a remote Russian forest. I land lightly in the snow right in front of a gnarled tree with an indentation just big enough to fit a hand in its trunk. This is Winter's entrance to the meeting place.
Once I touch the indentation, the tree begins to shine with cerulean light, and I step back, covering my eyes with my arm to avoid being blinded. Once the glow fades, I can see that the tree's trunk has split in two and has bent outwardly to create an oval between the two halves. The air within the oval ripples with magic—it's a portal.
Steeling myself, I step through. As the forest fades behind me, I step into a dimly lit corridor furnished with nothing but the occasional blue, snowflake-patterned sconce. There's a light at the end of the hall, which I know is coming from the gathering chamber. I can faintly see a mass of colors moving around, representing each spirit moving to sit with all the others of their respective season.
I can't help but sigh as I think about the Guardians' presence. Bunny, having a springtime holiday, will sit amongst the spring spirits, while North joins the winter spirits beneath my balcony. Tooth and Sandy, since their jobs aren't season-specific, will merely go to the autumn section, where the undefined spirits are told to go. In the past, they might have had their own special balcony, but they haven't attended for so long that it was taken down and never rebuilt. For now, they're just part of the crowd.
After I wait alone for a few more minutes, the sconces on the walls begin to glow a brighter shade of blue. This is my signal to start moving.
One short walk later, I find myself entering the gathering chamber, the eyes of every spirit present on me. I'm the last Seasonal to be called in, so the other three are already seated in their balconies. I imagine that they all got a fairly warm reception from everyone, but my entrance is met with only silence.
Don't worry, I'm used to it.
Going out of my way to avoid looking for the Guardians, I proceed to the center of the chamber, where Mother Nature and a few of her guards stand. As is customary, I give a short bow in respect, then, when she nods, I lift my head, turn on my heel, and take to the air, flying all the way up to my seat. Once I'm seated, sitting as straight as I can manage, Mother Nature begins to speak, and the meeting officially begins.
For my part, I just immediately zone out, absently looking around the circular room. Not to worry, though, I wouldn't bore you with the details of speeches even if I had actually paid attention to them myself. You're not here for the boring stuff, after all; you're here for the action.
I mentioned before that the Seasonals all give progress reports, and this proceeds as normal. Spring starts, then Summer, then Autumn, then Winter, me. However, just as I'm standing up and opening my mouth to speak...something not-so-normal happens.
A loud crashing noise suddenly sounds, and a shining blue vortex forms in the middle of the room, just steps away from where Mother Nature stands. A strong wind rushes through the room, and out of shimmering azure light steps...oh no.
The man that appears in the room is one that I've never seen in person before, but is also one whom I'm quite familiar with. His skin is just as pale as mine, if slightly tinted blue, his white hair is wild and ice-tipped, and his frosted beard is close-cropped. He's dressed in white furs and has a battle-axe strapped to his back, and his eyes are an intimidating steely gray.
Who is this guy? Well, he's got quite a few names: Old Man Winter, Father Frost, Jokul Frosti...but one thing always stays consistent: he wants my job, and is more than willing to kill me for it. He's sent plenty of assassins after me in the past, but has never come for me himself...until now.
He looks directly at me and smirks coldly. I shudder. This is one winter spirit that definitely lives up to the "demon" stereotypes.
"Jack Frost!" he bellows, voice echoing through the chamber. "I hereby challenge you for the title of Spirit of Winter! And to do so..." His somewhat pointed teeth form an unnerving grin. "I invoke the ancient terms!"
My heart stops. My eyes go wide as the gathering chamber erupts with alarmed exclamations. It seems as though I'm not the only one in disbelief...
There's a reason that "the ancient terms" are referred to as ancient. They fell out of favor millennia ago, and haven't been used since. Since they were never formally revoked, they're still technically a valid method of challenging a spirit for their position, but neither I nor anyone else ever dreamed that they'd somehow be invoked once again, let alone in such modern times.
Because who in their right mind would willingly initiate a battle to the death!?
...see you guys next week. ;)
For now, Sapphire316, out.