Chapter 8: A Debt Must Be Repaid
Pitch Black lay gasping for breath on the cold stone floor of his lair after returning from his latest disaster of a battle. There was only one thing he could do now. He had to call on one of the few spirits he could still call his ally…which he would do as soon as his head stopped pounding, and the walls of the lair stopped spinning.
Pitch shook his head, dizzy with exhaustion and the desperate to be rid of the emotional residue of his own fear his Nightmares sometimes still sought. After lying there for some time Pitch slowly dragged himself up the steps leading to his crude replica of the Guardians' Globe of Belief. The stones' coolness washed over him, granting a slight relief from his bodily pains from Jack's startling final blow..
and now the vertigo and nausea of all-consuming fear had returned. It had really remained long after the mares left him, following his defeat in 2012.
"At least there is someone who still owes me a debt." The Nightmare King muttered aloud. He managed a small grin as a small Nightmare drifted out of a shadow beside him, but did not move to attack.
"Ah, Onyx…Go fetch me the spirit of hellfire and brimstone. Tell him it's time to pay up." Pitch's voice was demoted to barely a whisper as he ordered his alpha nightmare away.
He felt his cold heart start to soften at the thought of people who suffered through this much pain every day. "NO, NO, NO! You are Pitch Black; you don't HAVE a heart, remember!" Pitch hissed to himself, slouching over with his head in his hands. His teeth gleamed in the pale moonlight as he finally thought of something that could, if he played his card right, turn the tide of the war in his favor. "If I cannot move their heaven," He began, a smirk slowly spreading across his face, "Then I will raise them a hell."
A few minutes later, Onyx returned. On her back was a hooded rider, dressed all in black. As soon as Onyx reached Pitch, the rider slid off her back, bowed slightly to the spirit of fear and snapped his fingers. The sharp sound spooked Onyx and she reared up. The cloaked spirit wasn't fazed by the mare's reaction however, and with a wave of his hand she spontaneously combusted into a small pile of ashes on the ground. Pitch was heading too far into a whole new world of pain to find the energy to be angry that his last fully-formed nightmare had just been incinerated. The figure pulled the hood of his black cloak back, revealing black hair, glowing amber eyes, and an overall pale complexion. Dark gray armor glinted faintly underneath his cloak.
"Hello Hell. It's been far too long." Pitch said, sizing up the other immortal.
Hell looked around Pitch's lair, and then at Pitch himself. "What happened to you, Pitch?" he asked, "Actually, who happened to you?"
"The Guardians." Pitch spat with gritted teeth and his jaw clenched in pain and anger.
"Those fools? I had no idea they were that powerful together. So which one of them did this to you? I would been glad to send a few of the Guardians down to hell for you personally. You saved me from my brother's fate, so I am indebted to you."
Pitch's eyes took on a renewed gleam, despite the dull light in the lair. "I'd like Jack Frost, Mother Nature, and the Man in the Moon wiped off of the face of the Earth, but if I have to pick one, I dare say Jack Frost would do nicely."
Hell grinned. He and Pitch Black were very alike when it came to some things, mainly in their extreme dislike of the Man in the Moon and his precious Guardians who protected children's wonder and light. Pitch had also saved him from a fate worse than death many centuries earlier. Immortality did not necessarily guarantee never dying, it just meant it took an excruciatingly long time to fade out of existence, or required something extremely catastrophic (like the end of the world.)
"While you're at it, try and rid the world of the rest of the Guardians. I know you can manage that. Unfortunately, I don't have much power at the moment, but that will change shortly." Pitch went on talking, absentmindedly watching some stray nightmare-sand gather into appallingly tiny horse-shaped nightmares. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hell nod.
"Very well," Hell agreed, "You have my continued allegiance, and my army."
Pitch couldn't have been happier with the way the exchange was going. Still, there was one more thing Pitch needed to know before he went gallivanting off with Hell to defeat the Guardians. "Tell me, what's in it for you? I know there must be something you seek to gain from this."
Hell's grin faded, his eyes shifting to the floor. "You know what I want. " He answered. A flame flicked into existence in the palm of his left hand, which he raised out in front of him with his palm facing up. The flame grew larger, and coiled like a snake around his arm.
"I see." Pitch replied, tone thoughtful. He now knew what Hell was referring to. "You still need a life to exchange for your brother's."
"Yes."
Silence stretched between them for what felt to Pitch like a long time. Eventually, he stood up and walked over to Hell so that they were standing face to face. "Prepare your army. Meet me back here when you are ready. The Guardians will not expect you, or even know of you, and we can use that against them." The Nightmare King ordered, but there was an underlying tone of something akin to understanding in his voice.
Hell nodded once. "I'll be back soon." He said. The fire that had wrapped around his arm dissipating as soon as he let his arm fall to his side.
"Jack Frost is just the spirit you need to trade for your brother, as I'm sure you'll see." Pitch added.
"We'll see. At least I don't spread a stupid season, I cause suffering on Earth." With that, Hell disappeared in a vortex of sparks. He had an army to prepare for war.
Pitch smirked to himself in the darkness after Hell disappeared. His new plan would work this time. He was sure of it.