Chapter 52: Macabre Memories Part 1

The last of the fairies squeaked in agony as the sable ice consumed them, snuffing out their words, breath, and lives. Tooth's mini helpers remained there for a minute, suspended between life and death. Then, with a low chuckle followed by snapping fingers, the ice crumbled away like ancient ruins. The thousands of hummingbird-like fairies collapsed on the ground, dead frozen statues.

Black Ice withdrew himself from the shadows, a smile almost as dark as his armor dancing on his lips. He eyed the dead fairies like they were scattered pennies rather than tiny corpses.

"I do hate fairies." He stated, his voice echoing through Tooth Palace.

"Yes, it was agony keeping them in my home during my initial battle with the guardians." Pitch stepped out, his hands folded in the small of his back.

He now looked almost as youthful as he had in his days as a newly-risen: all of the gray had disappeared from his thick, spiky hair, and he was able to stand to his full height without the assistance of a cane. While his face had a few lines that'd been absent before, he looked infinitely better than the old man he'd been not too long ago.

"So," Black Ice began, his black hair falling into his gold eyes, "Are we really gonna do it?"

"Yes." Pitch nodded, "For a few years, I had followed a relative peace treaty with the guardians, but now I see that it is impossible." A smile appeared on his pale gray face, "They ruined everything for me yet again. It's only fair that I punish them accordingly, isn't it?"
Without waiting for an answer, Pitch smiled, displaying his razor-like teeth. "If we weaken - but not kill - each and every one of them, they will never bother us again."

Black Ice grinned, "Well, consider Tooth out of the game." He hopped from one foot to another like an antsy child, "Can I go after my other half? Please?"

Pitch's smile disappeared. He arched an invisible brow and examined his dark nails, uninterested. "Hmm, I don't know, Black Ice. Jack Frost's pain belongs to Melinda."

"Aww, come on, Master!" Black Ice tugged at the Boogeyman's robes, "Only I can cause him true suffering! I'm his dark side! I'm his every malevolent thought, every mistake, every sadistic act, every cruelty, every loathing! Please!"

Pitch thought about the proposition for a long moment. He'd promised himself that Melinda would be the one to eliminate Frost. He was, after all, the cause of all of her torment. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, like he always said.
But Black Ice, emotionally-driven as he was, had made a valuable point. He knew Jack Frost's wounds better than anyone else because, in a sense, they were his as well. He could make Jack suffer more than Melinda ever could.

Besides, Melinda had allowed Jack to slip away unscathed twice. Pitch was starting to seriously doubt his daughter's ability to kill the boy.

Did she...still have feelings for him?

Pitch turned back to the Fearling. "Very well, Black Ice. You may do what you wish with your counterpart."

Black Ice whooped and punched the air, "Hell yeah!" Just for a second, he looked like his other half. It made Pitch's stomach turn.

Then, the moment faded. Black Ice pulled his hood over his head, "First things first: I'll need to stock up on Nightmare Sand." With a wild cackle, he flew off into the indigo sky. The full moon, now at its zenith, glared down at the Nightmare King like a dead eye.

"Now, don't give me that look." Pitch lectured, a humourous hint in his voice. "You must have foreseen this occuring."

'No, I didn't.' Tsar said with a sigh. It sounded like the wind blowing through a dead tree. 'I saw Jack Frost's mistake in unintentionally freezing the roads, thus leading to Rivera becoming an orphan. But I never would have imagined that it would lead to this.'

Pitch stopped. It was like someone had frozen him just like the dead helpers crumpled at his feet. For a few minutes he did not answer, and his face was blank with shock. Then, it contorted with rage. With a snarl, he spun to fully face the moon, "You mean you knew that Frost would kill Melinda's parents, and you did nothing to prevent it?!"

'No.' Came the weary reply.

With another snarl, louder this time, Pitch summoned a ball of glowing Nightmare Sand and flung it at MiM. Of course, it had no effect; after a few thousand feet, the orb of flickering dark matter exploded into black and violet fireworks. Naturally, the moon never budged from its place in the starry sky, but a shadow flickered across it. Was it remorse, or guilt?
Pitch couldn't see it. His anger clouded his sight like mist.

"You monster! You devil!" Pitch shouted, though his yells were broken. "Do you have any idea how many nights I had to listen to Melinda cry herself to sleep? How many times I felt her never-ending self-loathing? How many times I heard her blame herself for her parents' death?"

'No.' The moon replied sadly, 'I can't even pretend to understand that. But you must understand, I can only influence our world. When it comes to human life and death, I'm not permitted to undo that which has been fated.'

"Oh, really?" Pitch laughed bitterly, "Then why did you erase my daughter's memories when she was the only one in my family who rose up? Why did you pull Jack Frost out of that frozen lake and give him eternal life?"

'In order,' Tsar Lunar answered in a mournful voice, 'I erased your daughter's memories for two reasons: one, because you did not deserve to have anyone in your family resurrect. You killed them all. You did not deserve to have any of them with you on this side. And two, because I wanted to spare your daughter from knowing that her father was a killer. Do you really think she would have been happy to live forever knowing that the rest of her family was dead because of you?'

Pitch's hands clenched into bitter fists. His nails pierced through his skin, making black blood drip to the floor.

'And I brought Jack Frost back to life because of his pure heart.'

Pitch snorted. "Many humans are good; why did this one deserve to live forever?"

'Because, for one thing, he sacrificed himself for his younger sister. And secondly, I knew that, if he had died, the world might not have been the one we know today. Jack caused some deaths via avalanches, hailstorms, snowstorms, and mudslides, yes. But he also made many children happy over the centuries. Because of his center - of the center he did not know he had - he made many childrens' lives better despite their hardships.'

Pitch looked away to hide his lost expression. Honestly, he did not know what to think of that. But, much to his disdain, he found himself not hating the winter sprite and the Man in the Moon as much as before.
The moon shone down on the Boogeyman. It did not burn him like the sun could, but he hissed like a cat and concealed himself in the shadows anyway.

Tsar Lunar soughed again. The milky glow softened, almost like a caress. 'Please, Kozmotis. I know that if things continue the way they are, both sides will suffer massive casualties. You and the guardians form a delicate balance. Don't shatter it. Please.'

'Please'? The Man in the Moon, the oldest spirit besides Pitch himself, was actually begging? This was almost too good to be true.

And why should Pitch listen to MiM? He'd known that Melinda would end up orphaned, and he hadn't done anything to stop it.

That alone rendered Pitch deaf to the oldest guardian's pleas. With a stony expression, he ignored MiM's words and walked into a shadow, allowing it to envelop him.

He had some unfinished business to attend to.


Black Ice exited his chambers with a pound of Nightmare Sand tied to his lean waist. He grinned, imagining at how the black sand would transform into a whole armada of Night Mares. The plan was so perfect it seemed almost surreal. Hunting down his other half would be a walk in the park, too; all he had to do was close his eyes, and he could feel a pure, bright energy, like a star.

As he adjusted some of his straps, though, he adverted something on the floor.

A black leather glove with claws at the end. It was lying in a small puddle of ebony blood, like liquified onyx. Black Ice also detected that a chunk of it had been ripped off.

The Fearling arched a brow. Momentarily forgetting about his vengeance, he walked towards the claw, bent down, and held it in his hand. Then, as he tried to figure out what it was doing here, he caught sight of something else: a torn bodysuit patterned with gray scales, also soaked in black blood.

Black Ice felt his stomach drop. Without hesitating, he stood up and swung open the door: the door to Melinda's room.

"Mistress, your clothes are all ripped." He stated, "What happened?"

There, sprawled on the bloodstained sheets, Melinda stared at him with half-closed eyes. She wore a sleeveless black dress instead of her usual bodysuit, thus exposing her scars for the first time.
Black Ice had to admit, it was appalling to say the least.

Even from the doorway, he could see horizontal stitchmarks on both the princess's legs: on the left leg there were two on the thigh and one across the knee. The right leg had two horizontal stitches on the lower leg and across the foot.
Even through the inky material of the dress, Black Ice saw that Melinda's torso had been sewn back together at least twice. Her arms were also crisscrossed with scars.

She looked at him coldly before finally answering his question:

"Jack Frost nipped at it."

Black Ice grimaced, "I see." As if on its own accord, his hand reached out and traced the scars on Melinda's arm. He was pleased at the touch: the skin was clammy, and even as he ran his fingers over the wrist's black vein, he didn't feel a pulse. This girl was like him, and like Pitch: neither living nor dead. As his hand rested on Melinda's arm, he noticed a crumpled, bloodied photograph sitting in front of the girl. He leaned forward to take a closer look. "What's that?"

Melinda pulled away as if she'd been burnt. At the same time, she covered the photo with her scarred hands. "I'm fine. Just go without me."

Black Ice recoiled, but he nodded and gave her a small bow. "Very well, Your Grace. I'll be back by the next twilight if all goes well."

Melinda nodded, but did not say anything in reply. With a sigh, Black Ice pulled his hood over his head and, with a wave of his rotting staff, flew off into the night sky.

The Nightmare Princess watched him go, never looking away until he disappeared from sight.

Then, when she was certain that she was alone, Melinda glanced back at the eight-year-old photo. It showed her from her former days, with both her friends. Two boys whom she'd shattered beyond repair.
Melinda covered her face with her hideous hands and began to sob.


"How is she, Bunny?" Jack Frost asked from his spot on the tree branch. Bunny glanced up at him and sighed, shaking his head. "Not good, mate." He replied gravely, "Wit'out 'er fairies to help 'er wit' the teeth, the lil' ankle-biters ain't believin' in 'er. And the fight from b'fore really drained 'er. So, she's..." His breath caught in his throat. He cleared his throat and stared at Jack. "She's dyin', mate."

The Pooka's words were whispered, but he might as well have screamed them at the top of his lungs.

Jack's face went seashell-white. His non-beating heart chured with something colder than ice. In the blink of an eye, the boy hopped down and pushed past the giant Pooka. He rushed into the large tent that the guardians had put up, hoping that Bunny had made a mistake.

...No.

Jack felt his heart fall off a flight of stairs and crash to the ground.

Tooth, the beautiful Tooth Fairy, was lying in a makeshift bed of blankets and pillows. Her once-brilliant plumage had dulled to gunmetal-gray, and her tanned skin had become almost as bloodless as Jack's. North was knelt by her side and holding her hand in both of his, but his own eyes were swimming with tears.

Jack's heart was stomped on by a high-heeled boot.

"No..." He dropped his staff and kneeled before her, "No, no, no, Tooth." He could barely find the words that he desperately wanted to say. All he could do was watch, powerless, as one of his best friends flickered like a flame at the end of a long night. He wanted so badly to keep her alive, but his element was ice. If he so much as tried, he might end up freezing her.
He was truly and utterly helpless.

Angry tears streamed down his face and plopped on the sheets. "Tooth...I...I'm so sorry. I couldn't do anything to help you." He bowed his head as his ashen hands clutched at his deerskin pants. "I was chosen, dammit! So what good are these powers if I can't even save my friends?!" His head bent further, "The Sweet Serpent..."

A weak hand covered his.

Jack looked up, blinking through his tears. His icy-blue eyes locked with Tooth's violet ones. He couldn't decide if it was reassuring or heartbreaking: Tooth was still in there, fighting for a few more seconds in this world.

"Jack..." Her voice was faint, barely above a whisper, "Don't...hate Lucy...She's...trapped in a cage...of hatred...She's been...through so much pain...Just, please...try..." Her eyelids flickered.

"What?" Jack clutched Tooth's hand, trying not to think about how limp it felt. "What should I try, Tooth?"

"Try..." Tooth's eyes opened, and they held onto Jack's gaze like it was the only thing keeping her alive. It probably was.

"Try...to understand her...first..."

Then, her grip slackened, and her eyes closed. North covered his eyes with his large hand, trying to contain himself.

Jack stared at the fairy, his eyes wide with disbelief. He knelt down helplessly, "Tooth? Hey, Tooth!"

Of course, there was no reply.

Tears poured down the boy's cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut and unleashed a scream drenched in pain. It echoed through the snowy hilltops, making trees shiver and the animals tunnel deeper into their burrows.

As it still stretched within the winter wonderland, its owner scrambled through the snowy fields.

Jack ran as quickly as his gangly legs could carry him, not caring where he went or who he encountered along the way. All he knew was, he needed to be alone. Urgently. Just one thought played over and over in his brain:

Tooth is dead. Tooth is dead. Tooth is dead.

I let her die.

Jack collapsed in a heap in the snow-covered field, sobs wracking his skinny body. It was his fault Tooth was dead. If only he'd managed to kill the Sweet Serpent...if he'd kept a closer eye on Baby Tooth and all the others...maybe, just maybe...

"Guilt is a horrible thing, isn't it?" A voice nearly identical to his own, perhaps a note or two lower, cracked through the silent air like a whip. Jack stiffened. Then, his breathing grew more rapid as the voice continued. "I know someone who experiences that same sort of guilt every single day. She blames herself - and you, of course - for her parents' deaths. You ruined her life, and then, you forgot about her."

Black Ice shook his head sadly, "In ways I don't think you're realizing."

Jack screamed in frustration and waved his staff. An ocean of crisp, white frost made a beeline for the black-clad figure, but Black Ice grinned in reply and hopped out of the way. The ice crashed against the ground with an ear-splitting boom.

"What do you want?!" Jack hollered as he sent another wave of ice towards his counterpart, "You here to fight?! 'Cuz I'll sure as hell give you one!"

Black Ice blinked, then laughed, "Ha!" He pointed his black staff of decomposing wood at the ground. Black veins curled through the snow, threading towards the white-haired immortal. Jack's eyes widened at the sight; he barely had time to take off when the pencil-thin tendrils of ebony ice shot out and wrapped around him. He shrieked and tugged at them uselessly. He might as well have tried to pull a ship.

Black Ice, smirking the whole time, casually strolled towards the struggling guardian. "While you're just hanging there, hear me out." He grinned at his own pun, "I didn't come here alone, Jackie boy. I got a whole army of Night Mares with me right now. All I gotta do is raise my voice and your friends are as good as dead."
Jack cackled hollowly, "Yeah, right! How dumb do you think I am?"

Black Ice raised his eyebrows. Wordlessly, he pointed behind them. Jack's laughter died in his throat; slowly, hesitantly, he turned around.

He felt himself go cold for the first time in centuries.

There, in the middle of all that white, was the bright red tent North had brought along. Surrounding it was an entire herd of the snarling black mares with glowing eyes. They were standing outside the tent, making no move to attack.

But that could change.

Jack whirled around and met Black Ice's golden gaze. His dark side grinned, "So, are you gonna behave?"