Obscurus didn't actually come back in for two whole days. Jack was in constant communication with Nightlight, who was thoroughly searching each cavern for their weapons. The Guardians spent their time resting, eating, and regaining their strength. Out of all of them, Sandy and Lunar were the least affected by the starvation, and Sandy practiced with his sand, making different weapons to practice with. Jack showed off his newly acquired skills with ice and snow after digging his staff out of the pocket dimension, and he loved the attention. Everything was going well. Well, almost everything.

Pitch was in a mood that Jack had never encountered before. He was silent and still, so still that Jack sometimes wondered if he was dead. His eyes watched the Guardians with an intensity that was startling. And Jack had the feeling that Pitch spent most of his time watching him. It made the persistent thought pop up again and again, and Jack was sorely tempted to ask Lunar about it, but he didn't. There was something inside of him that told him to wait, that the time would come where the idea would be important and powerful. So he waited.

After two full days, Nightlight contacted Jack with the news that he had found their weapons. It was time to act. Jack agreed, but he said that the Guardians should eat one last time before they met up. Nightlight conceded, stating that he would start winding his way through the tunnels toward them. Jack set out a feast, pulling the fire out of his bag to heat the food. Lunar was staring at Pitch, and Pitch was staring at Jack, and the Guardians were talking when he called everybody over. Pitch didn't move.

"Pitch, we need to eat. Nightlight's found their weapons," Jack said. "Come and eat. You haven't eaten in days."

"I don't think it's wise," Pitch said; those were the first words he'd spoken since his argument with Jack and Lunar, and the sound of his soft, powerful voice made all of the Guardians look at him, the shadows filling their eyes.

Jack glanced around, saw the veiled gazes, and shuddered. He picked up enough for the two of them, then he walked over and sat beside Pitch. Pitch inclined his head and reached for a piece of meat. They ate in silence, the tension palpable. North, Bunnymund, Toothiana, and Sandy glaring at Pitch, watching carefully to make sure he didn't hurt Jack. Now that Jack was beside him, Pitch was more relaxed and had stopped staring. Jack slurped up some of the smooth, sweet drink that the chieftain had given them, smacking his lips.

"I wonder how long it will keep," he said, swirling the dregs of his drink.

"They use a peculiar preserving process," Pitch replied. "If stored correctly, it should last for months. We should probably finish what you have in the sack today or tomorrow. It's not cold enough."

"The stuff in the crates should last," Jack said. "Those crates are amazing. I can't make that kind of ice yet, but she said to practice."

"She?" Lunar asked from across the room.

"The Chieftain of Icentuva," Jack said, turning to look at the Man in the Moon. "We had to stop by there to get medicine for Nightlight."

"I thought you said at the Pole that Manny's nightlight had gone out," North said, a dark edge in his voice.

"He was," Jack said. "But we saved his life so we could come and get Lunar."

Lunar chuckled. "You know something, Jack? You're the only Spirit I've ever created that calls me by my given name. Everybody else calls me MiM or Manny. I was certainly surprised to hear that come from your lips."

"It's what Pitch calls you," Jack said with a shrug.

"True," Lunar said thoughtfully. He sipped the last of his drink then set aside the cup. "But Prism is a friend from my youth. I was not MiM or Manny then. He lived in the moon as much as I did. And it wasn't the moon back then. It was the Moon Clipper. One of the finest ships of the Golden Age. At least until it broke. Now it is simply the Earth's moon."

"How did it break?" Jack asked curiously.

Lunar paused for a moment then sat back. "Prism?"

"No," Pitch said tersely, an edge in his voice. "It is not the time for a story, Lunar. Drop it."

"I'm no longer a child. I can take the truth," Lunar insisted.

Pitch gritted his teeth then pushed away the rest of the food. There was pain etched into every line in his face, and he pushed himself up and strode to the door to look it over.

"How did you get in here, Frost?" he asked coldly.

"Sparking Paradox," Jack replied softly. He was afraid of the tension in the room, afraid the Guardians would do something rash in defense of Lunar.

"Bright and hot, I suppose."

"Made me go blind," Jack said.

"We need to make a fire for each of them," Pitch said. "Give me that rucksack."

Jack moved to stand up, but Lunar was walking past him with the bag before he could even turn to where he had been sitting. Lunar held out the bag, and there was more tension. The other Guardians had finished eating, and they stood up, watching carefully. Pitch didn't take the bag, so Lunar nudged his hand.

"It's not your fault, Prism," Lunar said softly.

And Pitch turned with fire in his eyes. "You don't know that, Lunar," he hissed.

North took a step forward, ready to fight, but Lunar shot him a look so intense that the great man cowered away and lowered his eyes. Lunar took Pitch's hand.

"After we get out of here, you will tell me the story," he said firmly. "I am not a child anymore. I want to know what happened. The honest truth."

"I wasn't the one who wanted to keep it from you," Pitch said after a moment.

"It was Nightlight's call," Lunar affirmed. "He was my guardian once my parents became constellations. I understand that you wanted to tell me. But I am my own man now. I want the truth. And I want you to tell it."

"Why me?" Pitch asked, his shoulders slumping.

Lunar smiled. "Because you were always better at telling stories. Even Mother and Father never told them like you, Prism."

Pitch hesitated, then he reached forward and took the bag. "If you insist."

"I do," Lunar replied. "Now show me how to make the fire."

Half an hour later, each Guardian had a small fire in their hands, and Jack stood in front of the door. He took a deep breath then cupped both hands around the fire.

"Close your eyes. This will be super bright," he warned.

A flash of light later, and they calmly walked right out of the door. Jack scooped up the fire and hurried up to walk between Pitch and Lunar. Pitch held the map, though he didn't need it, Jack grabbed the crystal, and they began to coordinate with Nightlight. As they wound their way deeper, the shadows cowered away from them, as if they were alive. They passed over a hundred wraiths, and Pitch slowed down each time, seeing the dead children as they were, but Lunar placed a hand on the slim man's back and urged him on.

After a particularly large group of wraiths, Pitch stopped, gritting his teeth. It was clearly bothering him in a way that the others didn't understand.

"Pitch?" Jack said, nudging him gently.

"He's destroyed so many lives. I can help them, but I'm not. I know I can't yet, but…"

Lunar nodded. "We will send them all on, my friend. But we must face the source of the problem first. Take heart. It will all be over soon."

Pitch nodded, then paused. A soft glow was coming toward them, and Jack grinned and raced forward. Nightlight met him and embraced him.

"I have been alone for so long," the boy of light sighed. "I missed my companions."

"Nice to see you, too," Jack laughed.

"Who are these people?" Nightlight asked.

"Make it quick, Frost," Pitch replied, crossing his arms. "We are in danger. The shadows are murmuring."

Jack pointed and talked fast. "North, Spirit of Wonder. Toothiana, but we call her Tooth, Spirit of Memories. Bunnymund, Spirit of Spring and Hope. Sandy, Spirit of Dreams. These are the Guardians of Childhood. And you know Lunar, of course."

Nightlight grinned, leaning on his spear. "Little Lunanoff!" He laughed softly, bending down. "Still little, but no longer a boy! You grew in the wrong direction!"

Jack burst into a merry laugh, doubling over and gripping his middle, while the other Guardians looked horrified. Lunar's face split into a wide grin, and he walked forward and embraced the thin boy. Nightlight fell to his knees and hugged him back, nuzzling him.

"It truly is good to see you again, little Lunanoff," Nightlight murmured.

"We need to catch up," Lunar said.

Nightlight stood up and grabbed his spear from Jack. "Later."

"Weapons?" Pitch asked, breaking in. His eyes were dashing from place to place, seeing the shadows that the others couldn't.

Nightlight turned, scanned Pitch's face, then grew somber. He pulled a rucksack off of his back like Jack's, and he tore it open. North's swords were yanked out by the hilts, and Jack passed them to their owner. Bunnymund's boomerangs followed, and the Pooka took them with great relish, twirling them easily in his paws. A spear followed, more Earthly than Nightlight's with ancient Indian symbols carved into the ivory tip. Toothiana grabbed it and smiled. Nightlight then pulled out a silver dagger. The others stared at it, unsure of where it came from. But to their surprise, Lunar plucked it up and stored it in a sheath at his hip.

"That was all I found. The Star Captain has no weapons?" Nightlight asked, closing the pocket dimension and slinging it onto his back again.

Sandy smirked and flicked his wrists. Two long, thin whips of dreamsand appeared, and he cracked one against the wall for emphasis. Nightlight appraised him then smirked and nodded. Pitch snapped his fingers. He was standing straight and looking behind them now. A rumble filled the tunnel, and he snarled.

"Run!" he barked, then turned and sprinted down the tunnel.

Jack and Nightlight broke into a run behind him without question, and Lunar followed an instant later, surprisingly nimble on his feet. The other Guardians fell into step behind their leader, and they ran as if their lives depended on it. Pitch was in the lead, taking corners with ease, winding them to the biggest cavern in the system. He knew that they were being herded, that they were found out, and he could sense fear. The main fear was fear of the dark, but as they ran, it morphed. They could sense the creatures after them, could sense them swarming in the shadows, and they were terrified. Pitch knew what they saw through the vibrations of their fear.

North saw bears with red eyes, ready to eat him. Sandy saw the void of a black hole racing up on his heels, ready to snuff out his shooting star. Toothiana saw the mob of angry villagers ready to kill her and her parents for her own oddity. And Bunnymund saw dogs running at his heels. Nightlight's fear was of his light being put out to be left in the darkness, and Jack heard Autumn's taunting voice that he would be caught and punished soon. But it was Lunar's fear that sang through Pitch's mind the loudest. It was the fear of being left alone, of being taken far away from his friends. One friend in particular he was afraid of losing more than anything. The loss of Pitch was his fear, and it made Pitch sad because, in a way, that was his own fault.

And then they were there, in the arena. For it was an arena. Battles had been fought there by Pitch's own people long ago, battles for honor, their skewed sense of it anyway, that would be won by a death blow. And Pitch knew. This would be his last stand with Obscurus. One of them would have to die. And Pitch was ready to go out in a blaze of glory. It wasn't for North, Toothiana, Sandy, or Bunnymund that he would fight. It would be for Jack Frost, Nightlight, and Lunar Lunanoff that he would die. For he knew in his heart that he would die. Obscurus would finally destroy him, and he was ready for it. But he would make sure another day dawned for each of them, those precious lights that continued to shine in his cold, dark, lonely world. And he stopped in the center and turned to face the darkness, purpose coursing through his veins, knowing only one thing.

He would die for them because he loved them.