Thank you to ilovethemstories for the review, I hope you have a lovely day too :) don't worry, Jack will regain his powers soon! I feel like I've made this a tad too dark so I'll try to make sure his comeback is soon.

Warm rays of the sun beat down over the small town of Burgess, signifying the start of Spring. A gentle breeze swept through the clearing, causing the few leaves that had begun to grow on the large oak trees to rustle in response. Morning dew on the damp grass reflected the bright light from the sun giving the impression of thousands of tiny crystals.

Jack, however, was not aware of any of this: all he could sense was cold and dark. A small, eery glow cast throughout his cell, making a shiver run down his bare spine. Shadows clung to the walls around him, mocking him. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it but they looked like they had faces. They looked like the things from his nightmares - barely definable, but most definitely sinister. Right now, they were snarling with hatred and looking down at him with pure disgust.

He was disgusted at himself, too. How weak he was. It was no wonder the Guardians has shunned him really, he doubted they had even noticed his absence and if they had, they probably didn't care. Nobody cared about him - Jack Frost, the troublemaker, the nuisance, the mistake. 'Good riddance!', they were probably thinking. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

They didn't want him, they didn't care about him. They had sought him out because Man in Moon told them they had to do so. If they really wanted to befriend him, why now? Why not three hundred years ago? Heck, why not even fifty years ago! No, they needed him to help defeat Pitch and once he had helped, they were just going to discard him again like the trash they knew he was. It didn't matter though, he was useless now, without his staff or his powers, and they probably hadn't given him a second thought once he was taken by Pitch.

He didn't need them anyway. Every muscle, bone and fibre of his body ached but he was determined he would get out of here, out of this filthy cell. If Pitch really thought he could hold him, he was wrong. He had taken the earlier beating even when he knew he should have fought back because it was like a part of him was telling him he deserved it. He would listen to that voice no longer. With every will of his being he clutched the cold iron floor and pushed himself to his knees.

Blood seeped from the wound in his shoulder and he had to bite back a cry at the pain the jostle had brought. I can do this. He just had to keep telling himself that - he knew he could do it with the right mindset. He drew in a large breath and in one motion pushed himself into a standing position, albeit shakily. The dark cell was now deadly silent, the only noise the faint pounding of the Winter Spirits heart. He was adamant, he could get out of this on his own - he hadn't needed anyone else before and surely didn't need them now.

Stupidly, the King of Nightmares had left the latch on the iron bars undone, thinking the broken spirit would be too weak to escape. It certainly looked that way when he had left. Well, Jack thought, that was a mistake. The ancient iron door creaked loudly as Jack used all the force he could muster to push it open. Step one: complete. Now all he had to do was find a way out of Pitch's maze without getting caught.

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He was honestly surprised that he hadn't been spotted by now, by a nightmare at least, but the halls of the fortress were deadly silent, making Jack suspect foul play. Surely it shouldn't be this easy? He was lost as heck and had been wondering around aimlessly for Manny knows how long, but he had not encountered a single soul on the way and that was making him a little suspicious.

Stop it, you're overthinking. The less company, the better. The winter spirit was an avid over thinker (he had had over three hundred years of simply him and his thoughts, he was bound to get carried away at some point). A nagging in his chest kept telling him something was wrong but he didn't care, all he wanted to do was to get out of this hell hole. Where would he go? He had no idea, but for now the prospect of getting out was enough.

Consumed by his own thoughts, Jack hadn't even noticed that the details on the walls had begun to appear more distinctive the further he travelled down the hall. Creepy etchings depicted tapestry-like story boards on the walls of the Dark ages. Angry looking slashes cut through the glorious momentos, destroyed in a fit of rage at a memory of what once was.

Thud.

Whoops. Jack lay sprawled on the cold floor, a mess of limbs caused by a broken wood beam on the floor. He huffed loudly as he pushed himself up again, splots of blood landing on the floor, gathering into a small puddle. What was a piece of wood doing - wait! At the entrance to Pitch's lair was... a broken wooden bed! The Winter Spirit couldn't help the huge joyful smile that crept onto his face. He had found the exit.

There was just one problem - how to get up the excessively long tunnel. Without his staff, he couldn't fly. There was only one thing he could do: climb.

And so he began to do just that, clutching at anything he could to propel himself upwards. The journey was slow. His shoulder was in immense pain, his back was sticky from the partly dried blood and all of his muscles felt like they were about to stop working, but Jack would not give up. He had hope that he would get out of here and that was enough to keep him pushing forward.

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Bright, obnoxious sunlight flooded Jack's senses as he reached the old crooked bed at the top of the tunnel. It took all of what little energy he had left to pull himself over the edge and crawl a short way from the opening (thinking there was no way he could climb back up again if he accidentally fell in).

Though it was quite warm, being the beginning of Spring, small patches of snow still remained on the ground from the cold of the night and Jack didn't think he could be any more thankful right now. He crawled over to the closest heap of snow and collapsed. Instantly all of his muscles relaxed; it was like a sudden switch from his previous exhausted agony to the soothing, relaxed state he was in now.

As it always had been, the snow was like his saviour. It never failed to heal him, to make him feel better, to forget about all of his troubles and worries. Like right now, though he couldn't register a single thought, he felt safe. The Wind rushed past, embracing her best friend whom she hadn't seen in what felt like forever, calming the injured Winter Spirit even more.

Right now, he didn't care about a single thing- his mind was blank and he felt detached from the rest of his body. His eyelids began to feel increasingly heavy and he had a feeling, like if he closed them all of his pain would disappear. A pacifying melody seemed to wash over him as he experienced a feeling of weightlessness, though not quite like the way he felt when he was riding with Wind. He knew what was happening, yet he didn't try to fight it.

And so, as he closed his eyes for the last time, he finally felt at peace.

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Dun dun dun... sorry for the wait, hope you like this chapter! Don't worry, there is more to come... but will Jack be part of it??

Have a lovely morning, afternoon or evening and I'll (hopefully) see you soon :)