Alright! This is a chapter I have been waiting to write for... literally since I started this story. It's heavy on the exposition, but hopefully the information is enough to keep you entertained.

Warning: angst, yes, I know. I been doing this a lot. Hey! Jack has issues! People in this story have issues! You try writing a conversation with Death that doesn't have angst! :P

Disclaimer: This story is funded by your Reviews. Thank you for contributing.

Chapter 15

If Jack thought the exterior of the Hearth was impressive, then it was nothing compared to what he found on the inside. The rooms were massive, carved out of stone and bored out of the earth. Massive, curling roots that supported ceilings like columns were covered in glowing mosaics painted with luminescent lichen. There were statues of spirits and pictorials representing mythological or geographical scenes. Jack saw images depicting the creation of the world, how the continents had shifted over the centuries, how trees and animals had changed. There were even murals that showed intricate portrayals of famous spirits and their births.

There was a glittery, wall sized diorama that showed a woman rising up from the earth, completely made of water. From this woman poured streams and rivers which then turned into the seas and oceans. Jack assumed he was viewing the birth of Oceana. Someone had intricately grown sapphires and turquoise veins into the stone, because the picture looked practically alive, the image nearly leaping from the stone.

Further down the corridor was an image created from veins of silver and diamond. It showed a thunderbolt striking the tip of a mountain. From the explosion there were clouds and birds, eagles soared among the electric bolts that radiated out from the original. In the center of everything stood a large, imposing man with a long white beard. He seemed to be grasping the lightning bolt, trying to contain it and form it to his will. There were beads of sweat upon his brow, and the muscles on his arms were rippling from the effort.

"Zeus," Jack reached up a hand to brush the glittering gems that formed the portrait. He could practically feel the electrifying energy that pulsed within them.

"Old age should burn and rave at close of day…"

Jack turned as he heard a strange voice echoing through the hall; it was soft like a whisper but the sound traveled through the passage crisp and clear, almost alluring. The words were something Jack had never heard before, but he thought that it could be a song or a poem considering the musical quality in the words. Turning from the artwork he had been admiring, the Winter spirit followed the voice deeper into the Hearth.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light!"

The voice grew in volume, punctuating each word with clarity and grace; Jack couldn't believe that words could hold such power or dignity. Whoever was speaking had powerful command of the language and the emotion, their words resounding through the corridor. Jack could tell he was getting closer because the words were louder than the whisper he had heard before.

"Though wise men at their end know dark is right…"

He came to the end of the corridor and found a massive pair of silver doors, wrought out of pure chunks of the metal. Emblazoned upon their front was the image of a woman with a blindfold, in one hand she held an open book and in the other she held a sword. Jack didn't know who she was but he understood her purpose: she was a Guard, protecting what lay beyond the doors. Reaching up a tentative hand, Jack pushed the doors open and discovered what lay beyond.

It was the library of Mother Earth.

There were books upon books, piled on shelves and tables and cabinets. The room was a giant rotunda, several stories high with multiple tiers. Balconies with glistening rails of polished brass revealed that there were more books above him, reaching up beyond where he could see.

Above Jack was a high arched dome that glistened as if made of starlight, and the white haired boy couldn't suppress a cry of excitement when he realized that the ceiling was actually the largest geode he had ever seen. It had to be several hundred yards in diameter, and it had rubies and sapphires and diamonds and amethysts; gemstones of all colors and hues enshrouded the ceiling casting different colored beams of light all around the room. The largest beam, one of pure white, fell upon the center of the room, highlighting a large silver podium which could be used to hold whatever book a person desired to read.

Jack froze in his tracks when he saw the individual who was standing there.

Large black wings unfurled, spanning wide across the central platform to reveal Thanatos, his mercurial eyes riveted to the black bound book in his hands. The Spirit of Death had yet to notice Jack's presence as he continued to read, "For their words had forked no lightning…"

Jack backed up, trying to leave the library before he had to lock eyes upon the Grim Reaper. The Winter spirit could feel his heart pounding in his chest, anxiety flaring as memories threatened to creep up out of the box that Jack tried so desperately to keep a lid on. He unwittingly back up into a table of books, knocking one to the floor. The resulting fall echoed through the chamber, the clamor ringing off the walls much louder than Jack could have thought possible.

Thanatos looked up from his book, but he didn't stop speaking, as if he knew the poem by heart, "Do not go gently into that good night."

Ice blue eyes stared directly into the shimmering silver orbs of Death, and Jack was immediately swept away under a torrent of dark reflections.

He felt like he was drowning, again. Jack's breath caught in his throat, and he staggered back against the table, clutching his chest. Throwing out his other arm to steady himself, Jack heard his staff clatter to the floor but it sounded so far away, like hearing the noise underwater, and, for all intents and purposes, Jack was. He was right back in the frozen lake, unable to breath or move. The water bit into his skin like icy needles, chilling him to the core. He shouldn't have been affected by the cold; he was Jack Frost for crying out loud!

Still the water pressed in, smothering him and filling his lungs!

"Death is not something to be feared, little one..."

Jack felt a pair of strong hands upon his shoulders, and his mind suddenly snapped back to reality. He took in air in ragged gulps, thankful to be able to breathe once again. Jack became acutely aware of how close Thanatos was to him. The spirit of Death was inches from his face, staring at him with those dangerous eyes.

He diverted his gaze, not willing to go back to that dark lake again.

"Jack Frost, isn't it?" Thanatos asked quietly. His voice was soft and rhythmic, somehow capable of creating a sense of serenity.

"Yes," he replied, still not willing to look the other spirit in the face.

"Are you alright to stand on your own?" Thanatos still had Jack by the shoulders, and the Winter spirit could feel the strength in those hands. Jack was amazed at how gentle such a creature as Death could be.

"Uh," Jack faltered looking around to gain his bearings. "Yeah, I… I should be fine."

The dark winged man nodded. His hands dropped from Jack's shoulders, and he took a step away, bending down to grab the Winter spirit's staff from where it had landed on the floor. "I believe this is yours."

"Thank you," Jack eagerly took back his possession, grateful for the smooth, familiar feeling of the wood. Holding onto it helped him to feel grounded, and Jack was able to calm down.

"You do not need to continue averting your gaze," Thanatos said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I can control my powers with others present."

"Sorry," Jack said sheepishly. "That's just… the second time it's happened."

"Forgive me," Death gave a small bow. "It's just that your presence has managed to catch me off guard the same number of times."

"Really?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid so," Thanatos chuckled, walking back to the silver podium. With each step his took, his massive black wings swayed behind him in an almost alluring manner.

"Why?"

"I… cannot say."

"Why not!?" Jack asked in exasperation. So many people were telling him that they couldn't explain things, and he was tired of it.

"It is not that I am unwilling, Jack Frost," Thanatos smiled. "I just cannot explain why you have managed to get the drop on me twice now. Lightning is more predictable than you are."

"Oh," Jack scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed of his outburst.

"Nothing to apologize for," Death dismissed. He placed the book back upon a shelf near the podium and then turned to look at Jack with a scrutinizing gaze. "I would assume that you have many questions."

"I do!" Jack sighed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "It's like all I have are questions these days!"

"Then ask."

"Excuse me?" Jack froze, looking at Thanatos like he had grown a second head.

"Ask your questions, Jack Frost," Death regarded him with a nod. "I will answer."

"Um…" for the first time that evening Jack was at a loss for words. "What were you reading?"

Thanatos raised his eyebrows in surprise, obviously not expecting that to have been the first question. After a few moments of thought, the spirit picked up the black leather book again. "Dylan Thomas," pale lips quirked up into a nostalgic smile, "A visionary, even if his muse left something to be desired."

"I don't understand," Jack confessed.

"So many people fear Death," Thanatos sighed. "They cling to what is comforting, what they have always known… but there is no mystery in the commonplace."

"You mentioned his muse?"

"Lyght," Thanatos said with a look of distaste, "Or Solara as she calls herself these days. It is funny… normally my mistress is the source of inspiration for art and literature."

"Really?" Jack's eyes widened. "I never would have guessed that Nyght would be a muse." He leaned forward on his staff to hear more.

"And why not?" Dark eyebrows raised; Thanatos looked at Jack with perplexity, obviously confused as to why the boy couldn't see what was obvious. "The darkness holds everything that is unknown. The questions, the mystery, the uncertainty? They do not come from what you can see in the light, but what lies unseen before you, enshadowed and obscured. The future is shrouded in darkness. To cling desperately to a dying light is the act of an individual afraid of change."

"Some people find being able to see comforting," Jack offered.

"Comforting, yes," Thanatos conceded, "But not inspiring." He set the book down and went to lean against a nearby table, continuing to observe Jack with that unblinking gaze.

Shifting uncomfortably, Jack searched for another question. "You're not what I expected…"

"And what were you expecting?" Thanatos mused. "A dark hood and a long scythe?" His large black wings moved to shroud his face in darkness, and out of nowhere appeared a large, black crescent blade that twinkled in the light from the gems above. With a soft, fluttery laugh, Thanatos tucked his wings behind him again and the weapon vanished, "Things of legend, I'm afraid. No, I prefer to make death as peaceful and painless as I can. It is not something to be feared, but embraced."

The spirit of Death looked down at the ground forlornly, "All things come to an end."

"How long?" Jack asked quietly.

"Pardon?"

"Have you been…" Jack struggled for the right words, waving his hand anxiously as he searched for them. "Been doing… this?"

Thanatos pondered the question, "Since the need for endings became recognized. Without an end, life has little meaning or purpose."

"Who recognized the need?" Jack frowned, wondering who would have a mind that would think up a concept as macabre as death.

"Nyght," Thanatos said simply.

Jack didn't know what to say. He was reminded of the conversation in North's Workshop, when Bunny had told him that all Twilight spirits eventually went bad. Death was apparently a Twilight spirit, and he didn't seem like such a terrible person. Frightening and unsettling, yes, but bad? Jack didn't get that impression.

"You were created by Nyght?"

Thanatos nodded. "I was the first spirit she ever created, and I have served her faithfully ever since."

"I was told," Jack paused, afraid that his question might anger the spirit of Death, but his desire for answers proved to be stronger than his fear. "I was told that her spirits had a tendency to… go wrong."

"I see…" Death let out a long sigh, and for a long time he said nothing; rather, Thanatos just kept staring, as if he were trying to find something in Jack that couldn't be seen easily.

"That is not an easy question to answer, Jack Frost."

"Just… Jack," the Winter spirit responded, getting tired of the formality.

"Jack," The way Thanatos said the word, it sounded almost as if he were playing with it, experimenting with how it sounded. "Your question does not have a simple answer."

Death placed both of his hands on the table and leaned even further back, for the first time taking his eyes off of Jack. He stared up at the ceiling as he spoke, "The creation of a spirit requires… sacrifice."

"I know," Jack frowned. "Someone has to die."

"Yes," Thanatos nodded. "Death is a part of creation."

Sudden realization hit Jack. If a person had to die to create a spirit, and Thanatos was created in order to bring about death…

"You were the first spirit," Jack breathed, "You were the first person to die."

"Indeed," Thanatos smirked, impressed with Jack's insight. "Unlike myself and the other spirits, the Primearchs came into being simply because there was magic in the universe, and a need for them existed. They are the source of everything, but one cannot create something from nothing."

"My lady approached me while I slept," the pale man's eyes glazed over as he remembered, turning into a smoky color of milky grey. "She explained to me her belief that life without end was no life at all."

"But," Jack frowned, "She has lived for thousands of years…"

"Longer even than that," Thanatos' eyes looked sad. "Who better to understand? I was created out of a specific need, Jack. Every spirit since has been created to fulfill a need. That is the key. Great sacrifice… great need."

"I don't understand how that explains the Twilight spirits," Jack pressed.

"Some needs are greater than others," Thanatos continued. "Rain, wind, hope, wisdom… all of these things are important, but they are also enjoyed. Death? Fear? Tragedy? These are not emotions or events that people desire. Still, they are a sad, but necessary, part of life. Nyght recognizes these needs better than any other Primearch.

"The spirits she created were ones to fill the needs that the others seemed fit to ignore," Thanatos looked at Jack, wanting to make certain that he was paying attention. "Spirits who dealt with dark and dangerous emotions, spirits who were supposed to help ease suffering and pain. Being that kind of spirit is not an easy task. It treads deep, unrewarding territory where there is little recognition, only fear."

Thanatos ran a hand through his hair, tucking strands of it behind his ear. "It is difficult for spirits like that to do their jobs without fading away. They get consumed with resentment, anger… fear. In turn they resort to creating those feelings in the ones they are supposed to protect."

"Is that what happened with Pitch?" Jack wondered.

"Pitch Black," Thanatos frowned, "The Boogeyman. Yes, I had heard he degenerated into terrorizing children. Sad really, his job was so important."

"Why?" Jack gripped his staff tightly, trying to understand why a spirit would turn out like that. "Why do they get jobs like that, if they can't handle it?"

With a small shrug, Thanatos offered up an explanation, "Perhaps it is a coping mechanism, or they simply weren't strong enough to perform the task they accepted… but they don't all go bad. Nyght recognizes strength in people just as well as she recognizes their needs."

"You said that the Primearchs have always existed," Jack's brow creased as he tried to puzzle through something, "but earlier I was told that Manny only became a Primearch recently."

"Manny…?" Thanatos looked confused for a moment, then his eyes widened in understanding and then he chuckled in amusement. "I see. You are referring to Erebus."

Jack nodded, "We call him Manny. I've never… met him before today. I didn't know his name."

Thanatos was quiet. He stood immobile, studying Jack for so long that the silence began to grow unnerving. Jack even wondered if he was supposed to say something, afraid he may not have been heard, but the Spirit of Death finally spoke. "You ask difficult questions," he sighed.

"I'm sorry?" Jack didn't know if he should apologize or not. Was it his fault that everything didn't make sense.

"You understand that it is not my place to speak of certain matters, yes?" Thanatos studied Jack for understanding, and, while the boy didn't get a chance to respond, Death seemed to find what he was looking for. "When I was created, several spirits already existed. Mother Earth, Father Time, Solara, Nyght… and Erebus."

"So, all of these spirits are the same age?"

"Hardly," Thanatos chuckled.

"Then… who-"

"Is the oldest?" Death completed the question for Jack, a knowing smile on his lips. "It is difficult to do anything but theorize, seeing as how I was not there. Legend and myth are often mistaken for truth these days, but I know that Mother Earth came into being when life first touched upon this rock that is now a planet. The same can be said for Solara and the star from which she was given life."

Moving smoothly and silently, Thanatos walked around the shelves until he found a book he was looking for. It was a large volume, old and aged from years of existence. The winged man brought the book over to the podium and opened it, slowly turning the pages until he found what he was looking for. "Come here," he motioned for Jack to walk around the podium and look at the book.

Following Death's instruction, Jack moved to stand beside Thanatos, looking down at the pages.

What he saw were old drawings, made from either pencil or charcoal or something of that medium. One page showed darkness, and in the center of the darkness was an hourglass. From the hourglass swirled stars and numbers and planets. On the other page there was a woman, who Jack felt resembled Nyght in her appearance. She had both of her hands held out to the sides. In one hand she held light and in the other hand she held what looked to be the shadow of a man, both of which merged together at her feet.

"I don't understand," Jack frowned. "What is this?"

"The only documented information about the beginning of Time," Thanatos explained, gently running his hand across the page with the hourglass. "Time began in darkness with an explosion of light and life. Everything that exists came from darkness, from Nyght, and her agreement with Time."

"What agreement?"

"That existence without someone to observe it… is no existence at all," Death ventured an explanation.

A/N -

Yeah, I don't know if this is the best place to split it, but the chapter is rather large and I didn't want to WALL O' TEXT you all. So, I'll be posting the second part tomorrow.

I really think everyone is going to enjoy Thanatos, especially since he happens to be the second most talkative spirit in my story (North is the first). I think of Death as a very mellow and realistic individual, and he probably has a firm grasp of who and what he is. I see him as being pragmatic, and he proabably also understands that people are offput by him. That being said, he's actually a decent person. I half wish that he was a real character so that I could create a SECOND fic, or a one-shot or something with him and Jack. I'd call their ship DeathlyFrost. Yep, I'm a fangirl through and through.

Speaking of ships! A reader gave me an awesome name from the Rustle x Jack relationship. They called it AprilFrost (because Rustle is the April Fool, get it?). Anyways, I loved it, so a special thank you to SouriMaxwellYuy068! You're amazing! If any of you have similar thoughts or things to share, please Review or PM me! I love to hear from you and I answer all questions.

Disclaimer: "Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night" is owned by Dylan Thomas, not me. I felt that it was a great poem to highlight this conversation though, and hopefully it set the tone for this chapter nicely.