As the ship passed through the dark void of space, Pitch began to teach Jack the ins and outs of the art of sailing. And Jack was learning that sailing was indeed an artform. Each rope had a purpose, and the slightest movement of a sail meant something would change. The Winter Spirit found himself focusing on his lessons with a fervor that he hadn't felt in a long time. It took him a week to figure it out, but he wanted Pitch Black, once his feared enemy, to be proud of him. And he was.

Pitch never really showed his emotions outwardly, but a constant calm radiated from his core. Jack found that steady stream of confidence and peace to be more reassuring than the presence of any other Guardian. There was no pressure from Pitch when he made a mistake. Instead, the man would show Jack again and again until he got it right. And Jack absolutely loved Pitch's reaction when he got it right. It was only during those times of teaching that a small, proud smile graced his drawn, grey face. His eyes would sparkle, the colors shifting around in a mesmerizing way, and he would pat Jack's shoulder a couple of times before moving on to the next lesson.

Jack hadn't felt the thrill of learning a new skill in over a hundred years. He absorbed the knowledge like a sponge, sitting still and studying the star maps for hours as Pitch guided the ship. Every question was answered in a way he could understand, and Pitch never frowned at his curiosity. Unlike with the Guardians, who always demanded some level of seriousness, his former enemy took in the jokes and childlike energy with no sign of irritation. He allowed Jack to act his physical age nearly all the time. Because of this, Jack knew that when Pitch told him to be serious, there was a reason, and it was easier than with the other adult spirits.

The Winter Spirit also enjoyed sitting in the crow's nest, staring out at the myriads of stars. He'd often take out the crystal necklace and turn it this way and that, musing on the everlasting boy that he'd never gotten the chance to meet. The crystal would pulse with each touch, and he took to playing with it often. It was a comfort, but he stopped taking it out around Pitch very quickly. A pained look would enter his eyes, which dimmed each time they landed on the gorgeous rock, and he would focus on something else as the corners of his mouth turned down ever so slightly.

It was on one of those days, though there were no days or nights, especially since they didn't need to sleep, as he stood atop the crow's nest, watching Pitch study the star maps, that his chest warmed beneath the crystal. The heat startled him, but it didn't burn as most hot things did. It was gentle and pulsed every few seconds. Jack reached into his shirt and pulled out the crystal. The veins were glowing with a soft light, and it pulsed as he stroked it.

After a moment of hesitation, he cupped it in his palms and tapped it once. In a flash, an image appeared. It was a barren rocky field, and a dark shape lay huddled in a pile, a dark hand grasping a crystal that looked exactly like his. It lasted only an instant, then he was back in the crow's nest, sucking in the artificial air as if his life depended on it. With wide eyes, he stared at the crystal, his hands shaking like a leaf in a gale. His heart hammered in his chest, and he swallowed, tucking the crystal back into his shirt. He needed to ask Pitch about the crystal before the idea he had expanded any more.

Jumping down, he landed on the deck, his pale bare feet contrasting sharply with the black boards. Swallowing, he strode over to the maps and sat down, trying to seem casual. As usual, Pitch noticed it. His silvery-gold eyes scanned the boy, and his lips pursed slightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Did you see another ship?"

"Why do you think something's wrong?" Jack asked, waving his hand.

Pitch caught it, holding it up by the wrist. It trembled, and Jack flushed blue, pulling it back.

"I just…I just had some questions."

"About?" Pitch asked, turning back to the maps.

Jack hesitated for a moment, but, bolstered by the fact that Pitch had never refused to answer a question honestly, he spoke.

"Nightlight."

Pitch's expression pinched, but he didn't hide it. Sitting back in his chair, he turned to study Jack.

"What about Nightlight?"

Jack let out a breath and relaxed. "I just…You said I was like him, but you never tell me about him. Tell me a story."

Pitch tapped his chin. "Very well, Frost. I'll tell you how he and I became friends."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack's hesitation was partially explained by the topic he'd chosen, but there was more than he was telling. Still, Pitch knew he hadn't lied, so he figured that whatever information he gave would get him the answer to the riddle. Leaning forward, he placed his hands together and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers.

"Nightlight knows more than Lunar ever did about what the adults did to me in that house. It was far more than a boxing about the ears. Lunar was ushered to safety on the Moon Clipper, but once he was asleep and guarded from nightmares, Nightlight asked the Tsar and Tsarina if he could check on me. He was fond of me, for some reason that I still haven't figured out.

"He strode through the shadow people, unafraid of their jeers. When he couldn't find me, he asked them outright, refusing to let up with childish stubbornness until they pointed him in the direction of my hiding spot. He walked through the land until he found me. I was considerably more bloody than I had been, and I shied away from his light. He stopped a short ways away, watching me with eyes that I still cannot describe."

"Try," Jack said, fascinated.

Pitch's lips twitched upward for a moment, and he stared off into a memory. "They are lanterns that see into the darkest night. When I knew him, nothing could put out his light. It was like the full moon on a cloudless night. He saw the truth in things, and he never shied away from it. Even if it was terrible, he took it in calmly."

"What color were they?" Jack asked.

"Silver. Like the moonbeams. And they did not shy away from the truth of my predicament. He stood silently, staring at me, meeting my angry gaze with serenity. Then he looked up at the stars and sat down. Pointing up, he said, 'Caninus Prima,' and traced out the shape with his fingers."

"What is Caninus Prima?" Jack asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar term.

"A constellation," Pitch replied then continued. "His light, which radiated from every inch of his body, hurt my eyes, so long used to darkness, so I turned my face up to the gentle starlight and traced out another, replying, 'Titan Ova.' We played that game for an hour until I ran out of constellations. With the same tone, he traced out about five others before falling silent. My eyes were adjusting to his light, and I studied him.

"'What are you?'" I asked.

"He turned to me with a piercing gaze and shrugged one shoulder. 'I am an anomaly, as you are Nihilo Minus.'

"'What kind of anomaly?' I challenged.

"He smiled and said, 'A light in the dark. And when you are a light in the dark, those who live in the shadows despise you.'

"I could not argue with him, and his words hurt. He reached out and touched a cut on my cheek. He looked sad. 'My people used to do that to me. Then the Tsar and Tsarina took me in. Are you hurt badly?'

"I was humiliated but nodded bitterly. 'Yes. My shoulder hurts. I can't lift my left arm.'

"He pursed his lips. 'Come. Tsar and Tsarina will heal you.'

"'Will there be more of that cursed light?'"

"Nightlight frowned. 'I shall ask them to dim the lights. But never curse the light, Nihilo. For if all the light were gone, no world could survive. Chaos and anarchy reign in the dark. Beatings and other hurts happen in the dark. Be grateful for the light. Learn to love it, even if you cannot always be a part of it. Come. We shall heal your hurts.'"

Pitch paused, the hint of a smile on his face. "And they did. Many times over. But after that conversation, I trusted him very much. Is that story to your satisfaction?"

Jack chewed on his bottom lip then nodded. "What about the crystal you gave me. When did that happen?"

"Many years later. Why?"

"How does the crystal work?" Jack asked, reaching up to press his palm onto his collarbone.

"When you are in range of its twin, you can send coordinates."

"And images?"

Pitch stood up abruptly, his heart thundering in his chest. "What are you after Frost?"

Jack didn't look afraid, a fact that Pitch found wonderfully encouraging, but he couldn't pause to be pleased. The boy shouldn't have known about the ability to send images. Unless somebody had sent him an image.

"Is Shadow Man sending you images?" Pitch asked.

"I…I don't think it was Shadow Man," Jack said slowly.

"What did they look like?"

"Dark. But it wasn't like the thing that you fought on the moon."

"When did this happen?"

"When I was up there?"

"Let me see it, Jack," Pitch said tightly.

Jack pulled the necklace off and handed it over. Pitch was surprised to see the faint pulse of light traveling through the veins. He stopped breathing then pointed at the wheel.

"Do you think you can handle that if I give you instructions?"

Excitement and fear crossed the boy's face. But instead of jumping up and down with the chance, he took a deep breath and hopped the railing to gingerly grab the wheel. He had never been allowed to guide the ship, and Pitch could see that it meant a lot to Jack. Gripping the wheel tightly, he looked down to meet Pitch's eyes.

"If you think I'm ready."

Pitch nodded, then scrambled up to the crow's nest. Holding out the crystal, he spun around slowly, holding it out. The crystal flashed when he was facing the opposite direction from which they were going.

"Turn the wheel to the right. Keep the vertical axis steady," Pitch instructed.

Jack obeyed, his movements careful, and Pitch called for him to stop when the crystal lit up. Closing his eyes, he projected his surroundings out then waited. After a moment, another image came, strong and clear. There was a small form lying still, gripping the crystal. A head lifted up, and the light of the crystal reflected on two luminescent orbs. Desperation and fear filled the eyes that had lost all of their light

Fury filled Pitch to the brim, and he clutched the crystal, whispering softly against the rock. "We'll be there soon, Nightlight. I thought you were dead. But if you're not, if this is real, we will be there soon."

'Hurry, Prism,' came the response. 'Everything hurts.'

Pitch jumped to the deck, slowing himself with his powers just before he hit. He walked up the stairs to the wheel and placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. He handed the boy the crystal.

"You did well Jack. I know what you saw. If it is Nightlight, we will find him. I need you to go up to the crow's nest and lead us to him. Use the crystal, communicate with him, guide us to him. I'll steer."

Jack saluted then launched himself up to the crow's nest. Pitch grasped the wheel, his heart in his throat. Was it true? Could their Nightlight still be alive? If he was, Pitch knew one thing: If Shadow Man really couldn't put out Nightlight, then his light was deeper than Prism's had ever been.