By the end of three weeks, Jack Frost was so physically tired that he could barely stand. He had passed the course with a speed that surprised every single Icentuvan, especially the chieftain. After accepting the honors that the chief commanded to be bestowed upon him, Jack limped slowly to the ship, hoping that Pitch hadn't used all of the dreamsand that they'd snagged from Sandy's castle on Nightlight. He was desperate for rest.

When Freizena found out that Jack didn't sleep, she'd set a full day course for him, so all around the clock for weeks he'd trained until his body protested. He hadn't even seen Pitch since he'd helped bathe Nightlight, save once when Pitch had come to watch him train. In a brief respite, the Nightmare King had said that Nightlight was now walking around, but that was over a week ago. Jack was eager to properly meet and speak with this boy who had touched both MiM and Pitch when they were boys.

Pitch must have seen him coming because he was at the gangplank to help him up onto the ship. Jack shoved a medallion at him once they were on the ship. Pitch took it into his hands and studied it intently while Jack stumbled over and sat in the only chair on the upper deck. He could barely lift his arms enough to cradle his own head on the wood of the star map table.

"She has honored you," Pitch said. "Un-melting ice with the symbol of warrior on it. Not a bad prize, Frost."

Jack grunted, but he didn't move. "I'll appreciate it when I can feel my body again."

Pitch snorted. "Tired?"

"Exhausted."

"Would you like to sleep?"

"Very much."

"Come on then. Nightlight's sleeping in the hold. I'll string up a hammock for you."

Jack groaned, but he forced his half-numb, sore body to obey. By the time he'd dragged himself down the stairs, he was ready to cry. He was overwhelmed with fatigue, and he leaned against the wall, blinking back tears.

"I never want to do that again," he croaked.

"You won't have to. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity," Pitch said, tying another expert knot to keep the hammock in place. He tested its hold then helped Jack into it.

Jack gave a weary smile. "I'm glad I learned all that stuff. I can conjure snow without a source now. It's like that explosion I did with you, only bigger, better, and more powerful. I can even do it in heat. That's new."

"I can't wait to see it in action," Pitch said. He picked up a bag and peered into it. "Not much left. When we leave here, I'll have to make more as soon as possible."

He grabbed some sand and blew it into Jack's face, taking the boy's staff to lean it against the wall beside the hammock. Jack yawned immediately, relaxing into the hammock.

"Thanks, Pitch. I appreciate it," he murmured.

"You're quite welcome, Frost. Sweet dreams," Pitch said, then climbed up and shut the door.

Though there was no lantern, Jack found that it wasn't completely dark in the hold. There was a nice soft glow radiating from across the room. Before he could consider what that meant, he was asleep, dancing with dolphins in the water back on Earth. He wasn't sure how long he slept, but when he began to be conscious again, something was glowing in front of his face, bright enough to be seen without opening his eyes. It was soft and comforting, and Jack reached up to catch whatever it was. His fingers brushed a nose and mouth, which curled upward at his touch.

The Winter Spirit's eyes popped open and he found himself staring at a thin, bright face, which was grinning at him. The silvery eyes gleamed like the full moon, and light radiated from every inch of the boy's body. Jack stared at the strange creature, which was perched on top of a long, thin spear, the sharp point buried in the hold's floor.

"Nightlight?" Jack asked in wonder; he looked nothing like the dark, unmoving shape that he'd seen the last time he was there.

"Yes," Nightlight said, his eyes flashing like a faraway star. "You are Jack Frost."

Jack nodded, sitting up. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," the boy of light said, his body still as a starry night on Earth.

They stared at each other for several moments then Jack leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. "What are you?"

"A boy."

Jack laughed, his teeth sparkling in the glow that came off the boy. "No, no! I mean, what planet are you from? What's your race? I thought you were starving, but Pitch told me that you're race looks like you."

Nightlight's lips quirked again. "My race is a dark-dwelling people. They are known as Shades. They are a relative of Prism's race, which are Darklings. My race split from his many ages ago, and we developed into thin, wraith-like beings, while they continued to be solidly built and substantial."

"Do you all glow?"

The smile faded. "No, Jack Frost. They do not. I am the only one."

"Why?"

Nightlight didn't answer, studying Jack intently. "You mentioned pitch," Nightlight said. "What are you working on that requires pitch?"

Jack blinked. "What?"

"Pitch. It may burn for a long time, but it is not useful in many recipes from the Golden Age."

The Winter Spirit laughed for a moment before he realized that Nightlight was being serious. "No," Jack said, sobering at once. "Um, no, not that kind of pitch."

"There is more than one kind?"

Jack stared at the boy, shaking his head. "No. Pitch. Pitch Black."

"Pitch is black, yes."

"No!" Jack said, waving his hand. He watched Nightlight's serene face, and he suddenly realized how long it had been since Pitch and Nightlight had seen each other. His shoulders slumped. "It's a person. You call him Prism still. His name isn't Prism anymore. It's Pitch Black."

Nightlight took in that news without moving. "Why did he change his name?"

"He's…he's not a prism anymore. He's…" Jack gritted his teeth. "He's known as the Nightmare King on Earth. He's not what you remember."

The light boy finally shifted, hopping off of his spear to stand beside Jack. He jerked the spear out of the boards and spun it around the right way. Tilting his head, he held out a hand. Jack took it, and strength that he hadn't expected pulled him right out of the hammock and onto his feet. He grimaced as his sore body complained, but he managed to stay upright.

"He is darker," Nightlight agreed. "I can see his shadows have grown. But he cannot simply stop being a prism. It is in his blood, just as my radiance is in mine. He will find his way again."

Jack smiled. "That's what I think. I can see a little of what he was, but things have changed. What Shadow Man did to him…" He trailed off, unsure if Nightlight knew what had happened.

"Yes," Nightlight said, unblinking. "Obscurus took much from him in the dark. But he is still my Prism-boy. He is just all grown up. And the big people have much that hangs on their hearts, Jack Frost. Prism is different in that he can see through the veil still. I just hope that the little Lunanoff can, too."

"He can," a voice said from across the room.

Both boys jumped, turning to see Pitch staring at them with slightly upturned lips.

"Hey, Pitch," Jack said. "Didn't realize you were there."

"I did not, either, Darkling," Nightlight said, inclining his head. "Your skill has increased."

Pitch nodded once. "The Chieftain has requested that we feast with her and her people before we leave."

"When are we leaving?" Jack asked, slipping his hands in his pockets.

"Nightlight is well enough now," Pitch replied. "You are done training. So tomorrow, I think we will hold counsel."

"What?"

Pitch gestured at Nightlight. "Nightlight has learned much about Shadow Man," he explained. "I have let him rest while you have been training, but now we must discuss what happened to leave him in such a state, and he said he can help us to track him." Pitch paused. "I know it will be painful, Nightlight."

"It will," the boy agreed. "But you have given me time, and I believe I can tell you such things tomorrow. But I have a question for you."

"Go on," Pitch said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"You did not tell me that you changed your name to Pitch Black."

The man grimaced. "I didn't," he said grimly. "That was the name the Guardians gave me."

"But you are still Prism," Nightlight said.

Pitch's jaw tensed, and he shook his head, but not a word passed his lips.

"We must bathe," he said after a few moments of silence. "It is impolite to not be presentable. Frost, you and Nightlight go and fetch the water. We will use rags this time, not submersion. Go on."

Jack scooped up his staff and was halfway up the steps when he noticed that Nightlight hadn't moved. His silvery eyes were troubled as he stared at Pitch, who was busying himself with lighting a black fire to heat the water. After almost half a minute, Nightlight turned away and followed Jack, his light slightly dimmer than before.

Jack leaped into the air, relishing the fact that he could fly even without the four Winds from Earth. Glancing at Nightlight, he arched an eyebrow.

"Can you fly?"

Nightlight laughed, the sound like twinkling starlight. "Can I fly, Jack Frost?" he asked, his glow brightening. "I can fly faster than anybody!"

Jack's blue eyes gleamed. "Race you," he challenged.

"You are on, Jack Frost."

And they launched into the air, dancing around each other for a moment before dashing away. Pitch watched from the top step, his feelings conflicted. He was glad that the two boys seemed to be getting along. But amongst the happy feelings were darker emotions that had been brewing for weeks. Ever since Nightlight had thanked him, thanked Prism, for bathing him, for easing his pain, Pitch's heart ached for the past, for what he had been.

Nightlight had continued to call him Prism for three weeks, and Pitch hadn't known how to tell him that he was no longer what he had been. So he'd pushed it back and back, and now Jack Frost had explained his new name to a boy that he hadn't seen in so many years. While Pitch had changed, Nightlight had not, and it tore Pitch's soul apart to see those eyes look at him with respect and love. Because deep down, he felt like he no longer deserved love. And that was one reason he didn't want to see Lunar again.

All of his memories with Lunar were a light in the darkness of his soul, but even that light wasn't strong enough to keep him out of Shadow Man's grip. Jack had never asked about what had happened when they'd first met, why he had been so different than he was now. The memories of that time were almost dreamlike, though it had been more of a nightmare. The grating sensation filled his head as he turned to walk down the steps into the hold, and he pitched forward, biting down on his hand to keep from screaming in fear and pain as an icy, prickling sensation rushed down his spine.

Though Shadow Man was lightyears away, tendrils of darkness tightened around Pitch's heart, and his sickly laugh echoed in his head. A sibilant hiss was followed by a whisper that caressed his entire body, reminding Pitch of dark, dirty things.

"You cannot escape me, Prism-boy."

Pitch pressed his hands against his head, terror gripping his heart, which thundered in his chest. The shadows seemed to caress him like a hand, and Pitch retched, spreading bile all over the boards. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't escape the darkness. He was spiraling down, down, down, into the mist that shrouded his vision and let the tainted darkness out of his soul to spread like pitch across as many lives as possible because he had to burn them, taint them, slander, hurt, DESTROY!

And then a laugh sounded out, joined quickly by another one. It was Jack and Nightlight, dancing in the sky, chasing each other around like the children they were. And the illusion was shattered. Pitch found himself curled up in a ball, covering his face and breathing hard. He sat up, wiping away tears that he didn't remember crying, and looked around. The blessed starlight that filtered down on him from the sky high above brought peace to his heart, and the shadows withdrew far away. He was himself again.

Quickly, he grabbed the mop and cleaned up his mess. He was trembling as he set it aside and moved toward the dark fire. In response to his need, it turned blue for him. Jack and Nightlight would see what they needed in the moment. For Jack it would be cool to the touch, for Nightlight, it would be bright as the moon and warm like a cozy blanket. But for him, right at that moment, it was blessed light to chase away the shadows. Because no matter how far he went, Shadow Man was always a thought away to remind him of his lost innocence.

And Pitch knew that though he had indeed lost his innocence, he wasn't sure what he'd gained in return.