Pitch watched Jack toss and turn. He could do nothing more for the pain that swamped the boy. He had used the last of his red dreamsand to send Jack into a deep sleep and ward off nightmares, and now he had to wait and see if he was going to be okay.
The storm that Jack had released raged outside, shuddering and shaking the little cave. The howling winds were a comfort to Pitch. He needed noise to feel safe. Noise, any noise, reminded him of happier days on the moon with Lunar, playing tag and running around. The gravity only worked on the inside of the broken ship, so outside they jumped and played, laughing and joking and as oblivious as children could be.
Pitch's heart hurt, and he rubbed his chest. That wasn't entirely true, though, was it? Lunar had been oblivious. But he, Prism, was not oblivious to the cruelty of the universe. His parents had been vicious, abusive, and they had terrified him. As a young child, all he knew was darkness. The light, the color, the joy he showed at home, in the darkest corner of the galaxy, was shunned and rejected. The other shadow beings had mocked and beaten him, but no worse than that. By the time the Moon Clipper had arrived, bringing more light and beauty than he had ever known, he was so low that he thought his own prismatic effect was hideous and ugly, something to be ashamed of.
Pitch's lips twitched as he recalled the chubby boy following his father out of the ship. Tsar Lunar, Lunar's father, was tall and handsome, with rugged features, and a smile that was brighter than the stars. Lunar's mother, Tsarina, was beautiful as the night sky, and Pitch watched her admonish the little boy to stay close, to not wander, for this place was a dark place. Lunar nodded and looked around for children to play with.
Pitch Black hadn't been Pitch Black back then. He hadn't even been Prism. He had been Nihilo Minus, a little nothing. Names were so important to his people, and to have a name that denoted that you were nothing had brought little Nihilo great shame. By the time the little Lunanoff boy had arrived, he avoided everybody on their little planet, and he had taught himself to shut off his light and color. But he was fascinated by the little boy who looked around with great wonder.
Nihilo had followed the boy around, noting that there was a tall, thin boy that watched every movement of the small child. He was ethereal, made of a shimmering light, and Nihilo was drawn to him, but he didn't dare approach. The tall boy was called away for only a moment to give a report of something, and little Lunar, mischievous as any child, ran off. Nihilo followed on silent feet, watching the boy even through the increasing shadows.
The small shadow boy knew the land well, having explored it in the weak light of the stars, and he knew where the child was heading when he turned. Nihilo gasped, torn between shouting and staying silent. If he shouted, it would draw attention, and attention was bad. At the last moment, Nihilo spoke in a little used voice.
"Little boy! There is a drop!"
But he hadn't spoken soon enough. Startled by the new voice, the boy turned his head then tripped and tumbled down an embankment. The next thing that Nihilo knew, there was a sob that nearly shattered his heart. The boy was injured! With nimble ease, Nihilo slid down and knelt over the boy. The darkness was thick, but the shadow boy could still see. He smelled blood, and he frowned, touching the trembling head.
"Who's there?" the boy asked, his little voice wavering.
"I am," Nihilo said. "Where are you hurt, little boy?"
"My knees and my elbow."
"Is anything broken?"
"My skin."
Surprised by the quip, Nihilo let out a laugh, and his entire body lit up, refracting the starlight into a rainbow of colors. In that moment, the chubby little Lunar was illuminated, and his mouth fell open, his tearful eyes widening in delight. He sat up, his bloody knees forgotten, and clapped. Realizing what he was doing, Nihilo clamped his mouth shut and made the light go away.
"Sorry," he whispered.
"Sorry?" Lunar asked, joy bubbling up through his tone. "That was beautiful! Like the ring around stars when you see them through water! How did you do that?"
"I don't know. I just do. Don't hit me."
Lunar looked puzzled, and that was the first hint that Nihilo had that what he went through wasn't normal. But he was too embarrassed by his momentary lapse of control to notice at the time. Lunar squinted and tried to see where they were.
"I can't see."
Surprised, Nihilo leaned forward. "You can't?"
"No."
"I can. I know where we are. Do you want to go back to the ship?"
"Yes. Mommy will help me with hurts. Her kisses make everything better. Can you help me to get there?"
"Of course," Nihilo agreed.
He took Lunar's hand and guided him up the embankment. When they were on level ground, they walked toward the village. Lunar's hand was clutching Nihilo's tightly, but it was a steady grip with no fear. Nihilo marveled at the brave boy who trusted so easily. There was a light moving ahead, and when it spotted them, it hurried over. It was the light boy, who looked disapprovingly at Lunar.
"What happened, little Lunanoff?" he asked.
"I fell down and this boy helped me to see my way back."
"You shouldn't have run off to begin with," the light creature said then turned to look at Nihilo. "Thank you for helping him."
Nihilo nodded once, releasing Lunar's hand. Lunar giggled as the light boy stuck out his tongue. He appraised the little boy then shook his head.
"You fell down again."
"Yes."
"Come, we will get your mother to tend to you."
Nihilo stood there, watching them go, when Lunar turned. "Come on! I want to show Mommy and Daddy your pretty colors!"
Stunned, Nihilo obediently followed them back into the glaring lights that surrounded the new arrivals. Tsarina gasped when she saw the blood on the chubby knees.
"Lunar! You're hurt!" she said, lifting her skirts to hurry over.
"I fell down!"
"You shouldn't have left Nightlight! Especially not here."
"This boy helped him get back," Nightlight said with a nod at Nihilo.
Tsar Lunar came forward and smiled. "Thank you. What is your name?"
Hanging his head, Nihilo answered. "Nihilo Minus, sir."
He looked up through his eyelashes to see shock cross the faces of the Tsar, Tsarina, and Nightlight. Lunar looked at him curiously.
"Surely, you're joking," Tsar Lunar said, unsure.
"No, sir."
"Do the rainbow!" Lunar demanded.
"Rainbow?" Nightlight asked. "You mentioned pretty colors. What did you mean?"
"Nihilo can make pretty colors!"
Clamping his lips together, Nihilo nudged a pebble with his bare foot, saying nothing. He found out later that the Tsar and Tsarina saw that he was embarrassed, and that started them on the path they had chosen. But for the moment, Lunar jumped over and tugged on his arm.
"The colors! The colors! Show them the colors!" he begged.
Nihilo, humiliated and angry, jerked his arm away. "No!"
A look of brokenhearted sadness flashed over Lunar's face, and his bottom lip trembled as he stepped back. Nihilo couldn't stand the sadness, so he glanced around, seeing the glaring eyes of the grownups of his village, and he resigned himself to a vicious beating. He poked Lunar's nose then allowed the starlight to filter through him. The colors lit up the world, and the shadow people hissed and drew back. Tsar Lunar and his wife gaped, their faces alight with wonder, and even Nightlight grinned at the display. Lunar clapped again.
"See Mommy! See Daddy! He's all pretty! So many colors!" he laughed.
A shadow being dashed forward and boxed Nihilo's ear with such force that the boy fell over. The light went out, leaving them in semi-darkness. He hissed a threat to Nihilo and dragged him off. Lunar wasn't laughing anymore, and the last thing Nihilo saw before being thrown into a house was Lunar gaping at him, rubbing his own ear as if he were the one who had been struck. What followed had been one of the worst beatings he'd received as a child.
Jack shifted and groaned, his face flushed a dark blue, and Pitch came out of the memory with a start. It took him a moment to realize that he was no longer Nihilo Minus, but Pitch Black. He was in the middle of a snowstorm, courtesy of Jack Frost, who was lying beside him in his makeshift bed, trying to regain his strength.
Pitch swallowed, running a hand through his hair. He was disconcerted by the strength of the memories. He had honestly tried to repress them, but it clearly hadn't worked. Tears stung his eyes as he thought of who he used to be. He would give anything to be able to light up like he used to. But Shadow Man had taken away most of his light, most of his power, and now he was a shadow, much like the people he grew up with. It hurt.
A jingling sound outside his cave made him freeze. He felt a person's fear. It was North. Pitch usually didn't care about the Guardians' fears, but this one was important. He felt physically ill as it beat a tattoo across his mind, and his own worst fear came true.
MiM isn't answering, and the moon is dark.
