Light. This blinding, white light is everywhere I look. It doesn't hurt my eyes as much as I thought it would. It's warm glow is like that of the Guardians and their believers. How repulsive. Everything is forced to be revealed in a light like this. There's nowhere for my shadows to hide. I don't even have a shadow. This place is so empty.

Is this it? There's nothing in my subconscious mind about my past, instead just white empty space? That's very encouraging. I'm sure Jack will be just thrilled to find out that his last hope for saving the children rides on a revelation that doesn't exist. As I thought, I had simply been imagining things when I thought that girl's face looked familiar.

"That's not true. You never thought that you were imagining things. You knew it was important, but you were just afraid." Who does she think she is? Of course I'm afraid. I'm always afraid. Who would I be without fear? Certainly not Pitch Black. Whomever it was that spoke doesn't seem to have a body. She sounded young and...familiar. Just to make sure, I glace around myself to check that there isn't anyone there. Just white. Useless. "I assume you're the girl I keep in my locket?" I speak up.

No response.

I begin to walk in whichever direction I'm facing, not caring very much about my destination. "We both know why I'm here. Show me the memories and get it over with, now." I look up and around me, hoping that the sand will recognize my commands. Nothing really changes very much, but there's a blurry image in the distance. A...body. ...Is that Jack? I thought I saved him from those disgusting men, did I not? I'm sure I did. He should be alright... what is he doing lying around in my subconscious?

Well, I suppose enough time spent with him would do it. I shouldn't be so surprised at that. I also shouldn't be surprised that the particular image my mind chooses to show me is his bloody corpse lying on the ground. Getting closer to the form, It's certainly a lot more disturbing than I would have imagined. Jack is someone whom I can relate to on some level somewhere, but mostly he just makes me want to strangle him, so it's odd that I feel so distraught. Then again, dreams, especially nightmares, intensify every emotion you feel. That would better explain why I feel like I can't move. That has to explain why I suddenly feel so terrified at the prospect of losing his presence. There's not other explanation. I kneel down to get a better look. I know I could make him disappear if I disregarded him and mentally threw him away or something, but something is preventing me from doing that.

His bloody face is pissing me off. Jack's body was a corpse even before it had blood all over it and he was just fine then, so he should be just fine now. He's already dead, he shouldn't even be bleeding in the first place.

Jack's snow white hair is turning not-so-snow-white. Its regaining color, turning brown, and his cheeks are turning pink like he's been in the cold for too long. He's human. He's so vulnerable and weak. If he would just open his eyes, it would be so easy to scare him out of his wits, but he won't open them. He's gone. Jack isn't even in there anymore. Why do I care so much? I shouldn't be caring about this. Jack Frost is a brat that I do not care about. I could betray him any second and I wouldn't even feel guilty about it. I don't care about him.

He looks so defenseless, it's pathetic. Jack should be more careful around his enemies. Are we enemies, though? Jack obviously doesn't seem to think so. Maybe we're not. It doesn't matter.

"Focus, papa."

Papa? Jack's body disappears. I'm glad I don't need to look at it anymore, but then it becomes immediately replaced by someone else. I don't know who this is. I've never seen them before. I take a step back and turn around only to find another body that I don't recognize. Soon enough, they're surrounding me. People and spirits of all sorts are laying dead before me. I don't know any of them, but I know I did this. It was my fault. What happened? I don't know. This used to happen a lot, didn't it? Back when I was filled with more fear than actual consciousness, my memory would blank out from time to time and I would find myself somewhere that I hadn't ever been before.

All these people...what's the point? Why do this? What could I have had to gain from it? I can't scare these people when they're dead. I don't even understand my own actions.

Throughout my time as the bogeyman, those who feared me have compared me to a lot of other villainous characters. The Devil, for example, was a common one. There is a difference between me and them, though. I will threaten you with everything I have, show you absolute terror, take over the world and make everybody live like frightened little lambs, but there are some things that even I find too repulsive to do. I would never tell anyone, of course, that would ruin the fun, but I'm more bark than actual bite. I've nipped and even tried to bite once or twice, but all of the worst things I've done are things I can't even so much as recall doing.

It doesn't make sense. I consume the fears of everyone else to prevent myself from focusing on my own fear, so why would I snuff out those people's fears by killing them?

I wouldn't. I have, but I wouldn't. I have. I...?

"That wasn't you."

The bodies have faded away. There's a spot of darkness floating in the air. Like a doorway. I can feel the tendrils of darkness reaching out to my mind, so familiar. It isn't just darkness, though. Its fear, hatred, wrath, and a calculating presence. It's watching me, feeling me, probing me to find weakness. It has always been there. It isn't me. I am fear, but not that one. That corrupted fear is someone else. That fear has been in me, using me as a puppet, pretending to be me, but it's not me. I am separate.

But if this isn't me, then who am I? This tainted fear coming from the dark spot has always been my strongest fear to use. Who am I without that?

"This is you."

The dark spot has transformed itself into me. It's like staring into a fun house mirror. His eyes are golden like mine, his hair is like mine, his face, his body, everything is just like mine, but there's something very different. His skin isn't the color of ash, but that's not what is so odd about him. It's that he doesn't look fearful or even fear-inducing. He looks...bright, somehow. Is that really me?

He smiles gently, a facial expression I never thought I would be able to make.

"Papa!"

Again with the 'papa' thing. I turn around just fast enough to see a little girl run through me and into the arms of the other me. He leans down to hug her better, his eyes shining with joy. "Em, where have you been? We can't let your mother catch you out sailing near the asteroids again, you know how she gets..."
"I know, but there were so many star fish..-"

The image fades. The spot of darkness is back, but there's nothing in it anymore. That girl. Em. Emily Jane. My daughter. I know her, I know her so well. My wild, joyful daughter. Always trying to go on adventures, sailing out to the stellar seas like her father, even with her mother's scoldings to stay close. She's a rebellious little beast, that girl. I love it. It makes her strong.

No, stop! It hurts!

Who...who am I?

So many memories are flooding into the dream before me, everything is flashing by so quickly I can hardly understand it. It hurts so much. Images of war, pirates, space... a family. I've lived a life and I forgot. How could I forget about this? I know who I am! I'm Kozmotis Pitchiner! I am not Pitch Black, I am not the bogeyman, I am a father. I am the Lord High General of the Galaxies. I'm not afraid.

I look down at my hands. My skin isn't shadow anymore.

I look up to the dark doorway. I feel someone there, but I'm not concerned. They're not important. I look away and it's like the doorway isn't there. The white of the world around me has transformed itself into a prison. I know this place. I've been here for so long. Ten years? Feels like thirty.

I miss Emily Jane. I miss her so much. I just want to go home, but I can't. I have to stay here and make sure the fearlings are kept in check. I have to guard them, prevent them from escaping. How is my little girl doing? I'll bet she's pretty angry with me. I take out the locket to look at her face. She should be sixteen this year. I wasn't there to see her growing up. Will I ever even see her again?

"Papa, help!"

Why am I still here? I look around the darkness for a sign and find a glowing white doorway that must have appeared behind me at some point. It's not like there's anywhere else for me to go.

What I saw on the other side was really not something I expected.

It's a prison. Pitch is here. I've never even been here before, and I've never seen Pitch like this. How did my mind come up with this? He's like Pitch, but he's also...not really Pitch. He's weird. His skin is normal, which is very much not normal for Pitch. What's going on? I try to walk closer, but I can't get past the doorway. It's like there's an invisible force field stopping be from entering. I can only watch. Is this...Pitch's dream?

Pitch takes out his locket and stares at it for some time. For the potentially life-changing dream of the Nightmare King, this is pretty boring. Maybe it's more interesting on his side.

"Papa, help!" Who is that? I look to the cage to see that the fearlings have manifested themselves to look like the girl in Pitch's locket. Oh no. Pitch is panicking, running to the cage. I have to do something. "Pitch, no, stop!" I shout and bang on the barrier, but it gets no reaction out of him. Can he even hear me? He's crazed, like he's been hypnotized or something. "My little girl, I'll get you out of there!"

I can't do anything. He's absolutely lost to the illusion. He's fumbling shakily for the keys to the cage.

He's opened it. I flinch away as Pitch is taken over by the invading fearlings.

I'm jolted awake.

My whole body is trembling. It won't stop. My chest hurts. Jack is here, he's awake too. I- my little girl is gone. It's been so long and I never went home. I abandoned her. I can feel tears running down my face and for once, I don't care. Who am I now?

"...Pitch? You alright?" Jack is looking at me like he knows I'm not alright. I don't need to answer his question. Am I even Pitch? I lift my hand in front of my face to find that my skin is once again shadowed. I don't know who I am, but I know who Jack is. Of that, I am sure.

I reach over slowly, giving him time to back away. He hesitates, obviously unsure of what I'm trying to do, but ultimately allows me to pull him close. We end up laying back down, and he eventually returns the embrace. "Uh...Pitch?" Jack whispers in question.

"Kozmotis."

"...Huh?"

"My name. My name is Kozmotis."