Ahaha, I return. But I'm not leaving the bunker. I've moved furniture in here now. It's pretty comfortable in here, and I don't think I'm going to come out until I'm sure that I'm not going to get sniped or something. Yeah, it's going to be a while until I come back out of this bunker...
Anywho...Yeah. The Man in the Moon makes an appearance! I was rather pleased with how he ended up, though I wasn't so much by my crappy descriptions. Ah well. I'm a little flattered that a couple of you reviewers think that this riddle is so wonderful. My love goes out to each of you.
I'll be dropping a few hints here and there so that you readers might have the chance to figure out the riddle yourselves. But I'll say this: you already have the answer, which I find a little amusing.
You'll all have your daily dose of Jack in this chapter...and maybe some suggestions of something else if you're lucky. (insert grin here) I will mention now that this is a piece of fiction. I have taken liberties with the monastery and its details. Therefore, nothing I write about the Tiger's Nest will actually be real. And if there is something about it that isn't, it's a weird coincidence.
I really don't like how this chapter turned out, to be perfectly honest. In fact, I want to destroy it with a fiery passion, but I didn't. So you're lucky.
Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.
Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?
o-o-o-o
When Jack woke, the words of the Man in the Moon continued to ring through his ears. What bothered the Winter Spirit was that no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember the Guardians appearance. Everything in his memory seemed to blur into a fog at that point.
He pulled himself to his feet, stretching cautiously, very conscious of the fact that his ribs still throbbed vaguely if he moved the wrong way.
However, that didn't seem to be the case this time. In fact, there didn't appear to be any pain radiating out from his chest.
Jack's brows furrowed, and he pulled up the thin fabric of his sweater to examine his torso, expecting to see the dark mottled blues and purples splayed out across his skin. To his shock, there was nothing. None of the raised flesh, no bruises, nothing. It was as if there had never been an injury.
He felt his jaw drop, and tentatively, the Winter Spirit traced the places where the pain had been radiating from before pressing lightly against his ribs. Again, to his surprise, there was no pain. It was all normal.
"What..?" he whispered in disbelief, even as his subconscious was putting the pieces of a puzzle together.
It had to have something to do with the Man in the Moon. What, exactly, he wasn't entirely sure, but he knew that there was no other way that he would magically have no injuries. Gingerly, still a little hesitant about straining himself, Jack went through some of the acrobatics that he'd picked up over the years, starting off with the more basic moves before continuing seamlessly into the more difficult, his body automatically responding to the rougher terrain.
Breathing lightly, he allowed a small smile to cross his face, the other pains and aches forgotten for the moment as he relished the temporary freedom that he had been given.
o-o-o-o
He was perched on the edge of one of the roofs, coincidentally one of the only ones that hung out over the edge of the cliff face that the monastery was perched precariously upon. If he fell, there would be no way to stop himself from doing so. It would be a one way trip to nowhere.
But the Winter Spirit was simply thinking, deep in thought as the riddle that he had been given continued to echo in his mind. The words had something to do with regaining his abilities. He knew that much from what the Man in the Moon had told him.
What is two must become one? One must become two?
Wincing, Jack rubbed at his chest, just over his heart, as another sharp flash of pain struck. It reminded him of the tides. How they swept up the sands before ebbing, and then continuing again. Or the wind, gentle at times, others fierce.
His mind wandered, and Jack found himself remembering Pitch breaking his staff and almost killing both he and Baby Tooth. It seemed so long ago now, as if it had been some other lifetime that he'd lived it. Sighing softly, he tilted his head to one side, eyes glazing over as he lost himself in the memories.
o-o-o-o
"But first.." Pitch sneered, the staff clenched in his slender fingers. Bringing the staff down across one leg, he felt the pain that erupted in his chest suddenly, barely felt the dark sand as it blasted him into the rocks, didn't feel the impact as he collided with the snowy ground in the crevice below.
Everything blurred after that. Vaguely, he could see the memories that he had seen flickering light shadows across a wall, their shapes jagged. Baby Tooth and her pitiful cries as she tried to wake him from the nightmares that he had been suffering as he lay unconscious, and her relief when the Winter Spirit finally woke.
The teeth that she had pushed into his hands, eyes trusting him completely even though he knew he didn't deserve it. He wasn't a hero, he was simply a coward, a trouble-making brat who only continued to cause nothing but misery to the Guardians. He couldn't even understand why he had been chosen as a Guardian. Why had he been chosen for what seemed to be an impossible task?
There was no hope for him any longer. Why had he become a Guardian when there were so many other well-known Guardians out there that would have been just as good for the job, if not better.
But for some reason, it had been Baby Tooth to show him that small light at the end of the dark tunnel that he had found himself trapped in. He had pulled himself together, and watched his memories, memories that had been lost to him for countless years. His young sister, who he had saved from falling through the ice on the small lake. The cold as it embraced him with open arms, and after that...nothing.
He hadn't known what had compelled him to try and seal the two halves of his staff back together, but he had, somehow.
The staff.
o-o-o-o
Jack started, nearly losing the grib his toes had on the edge of the roof as he did so.
The pieces of his staff.
"What is two must become one." he said softly. But that still left several other pieces of the verbal puzzle unanswered. If what was two had to become one, then what had to become two?
Groaning, his head beginning to throb with so much musing, he fell back onto the roof, looking up at the sky, still hidden by the thick cloud cover that seemed to be refusing to leave. Jack was beginning to understand what North had said about the Man in the Moon being so 'blasted cryptic'. This riddle wasn't helping him at all.
Neither was the fact that the Winter Spirit had no way of getting out of wherever he was, or getting to Pitch, or even finding out what had happened to Bunnymund. This was all just building up into something that would only end in misery.
Frowning, the teen stood, wincing again as another flash of pain shot through him. By the looks of things, he only had so long before he would fade away.
There was a shiver that ran through him at the thought. Once, he knew that the simple thought of fading would have him welcoming it, wishing that it would hurry up and happen so that he wouldn't have to suffer in his isolation any longer.
But now...he had friends, people he cared about. People he wanted to protect more than ever now that Pitch had returned. Jack refused to allow himself to fade away now, not while he had something worth doing. The Winter Spirit would make things right, and this time there was nothing that could stand in his way.
o-o-o-o
He was sitting in a circle of runes, his face calm as he seemingly meditated. His breathing was calm, and his mind was slowly beginning to whisper the names of the runes he knew instinctively.
It would be a lengthly incantation, one that would last several hours, but thankfully would not take much of his energy in return. No, he had gathered his Nightmares instead, the lower ranked mares that had been created specially for this event. They knew it was their duty, their honour, to do this for their master. However, though the Nightmares knew that this was their fate, the instincts that they had been born with rebelled loudly.
The Nightmares had been standing in their own designated places when they suddenly disappeared, the runes their hooves had been touching glowing bright amber. Pitch sighed as the energy filled the air, the snap of electricity clear in the air. He breathed it in gratefully, the scent familiar and comforting, one that he had not tasted since before he had been sealed away in the dark underground city.
He longed to touch the earth again, to see the sky, to be able to savor each moment of the freedom that he would have eternity to enjoy.
All it would take was one more spell, and everything would fall into place.
There was only one more obstacle standing in his way.
o-o-o-o
Jack sneezed, almost knocking himself out against the rock he was leaning against. The pain that accompanied said sneeze was also almost enough to knock the poor Winter Spirit out, but that was besides the point.
His chest was beginning to ache with more severity than the previous rounds, and he was leaning against the rocks to try to catch his breath. He was finding it harder and harder to breath as the hours dragged on.
The only piece of the riddle he had managed to figure out was that he had to put his staff back together before he faded. It sounded a lot easier than it actually was, of course.
His brief high that had come with learning that his injuries had healed was long faded: the hopelessness was beginning to return with deadly focus. The motivation that had previously driven Jack was now gone, and the chill was creeping back up on him, hoping to ensnare him in its dangerous grasp before dragging him back under the darkness he'd been trying to shake off for countless months.
Growling softly, he shifted, moving away from the wall before stalking lightly down one of the halls of the monastery. Even though it was isolated and abandoned, Jack found himself appreciating the simplicity of what the monks before him had lived in for years. The halls were simple, and there were windows lining almost every wall that didn't involve cliff-facing rooms. Everything was so...open. It was foreign to him.
As the thought crossed his mind, he found himself simply drifting along, no set destination in mind.
Perhaps that was what led him to a room that was set up in a manner similar to that of a library. Scrolls of all kinds lined the walls, each tucked into its own specified cubby. The scent of ink and paper was familiar, and the Winter Spirit found himself subconsciously relaxing as he allowed himself to be immersed into the historical literature.
Quietly, he explored the walls, pulling the occasional scroll from its place before replacing it where it belonged. It wasn't until he found a scroll that had been written in English that he actually bothered to look more closely at the content that it held.
o-o-o-o
-It has been thought that the human species as a whole has what has become less than affectionately been called their 'dark side'.
However, many believe that there is no 'dark side', but two pieces of a whole, the ying and yang of our souls, so to speak. They balance one another out, and with it we may find our inner selves. However, these inner selves that we futilely seek may not be as dark as we seem. They may simply be alien in nature to our own beliefs and opinions, nothing more.
Meditation has been concluded to be the best way in discovering our inner selves. To do so, much thought is needed. One must discover what their other half, their 'dark side' is, on their own. From this, one's inner self will be revealed, and harmony will be achieved.
o-o-o-o
It couldn't really be this simple, could it?
Jack barely even glanced at the other half of the scroll, his eyes honed in on several lines that leapt to attention. It was as if everything had been planned out for him, as if he were to simply follow a trail of breadcrumbs out of the dark forest he had found himself in.
His thoughts flew back to the dream that he had had with the Man in the Moon. Maybe it had been like that. Maybe, there was someone else out there watching over him after all.
"Is this what I was supposed to find?" he asked quietly, blue eyes curious as he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, as if it might answer his questions. "Am I supposed to wait for the next clue?"
The Winter Spirit could have sworn that he heard soft laughter from somewhere nearby, surrounding him in gentle warm before disappearing. It was slightly unnerving to say the least, considering that before now the only contact that he had had with the Man in the Moon had been him staring up at the sky. The thought that the Man in the Moon was actually real, actually had a solid human form, was confusing to say the least.
Rolling the scroll back up, he thought about placing it back in the cubby before he changed his mind and tucked it into his sweater pocket instead. Now that he thought about it, it would probably be a thought to tuck away in the back of his mind to get a new change of clothing. His current state of attire was beginning to show how much abuse it had been put through in the last several weeks.
But for now, it was due time that he went back into the main cavern and test out this meditation theory.
After all, he was running on borrowed time, and soon enough, that time would run out.
o-o-o-o
Finally, it was complete.
All of the runes now glowed with eerie gold hues, ranging from the softest yellow to the boldest amber, they were the only light that illuminated the gigantic space that surrounded the Nightmare King and his remaining Nightmares.
He could feel the power surrounding, gathering around him eagerly, awaiting the opportune moment before it would release itself.
Pitch sighed, leaning his head back, weary from the lack of motion. It required a great deal of energy on his part not to move from the position he was in and to finish the incantation.
"And now..." he murmured, eyes half lidded as he blinked lazily, "The finale has arrived. The curtain has been drawn."
Darkness engulfed the underground city, and when it finally cleared, there was no sign of the Nightmare King or the Nightmares. It was as if they had never even been there in the first place, save for the snapped halves of the staff that lay pitifully below the metal globe that dominated one area of the cavern.
He was free at last.