The moment Death awoke again, they knew something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. And then, then it came to mind. Sandman. And it all splayed out in the forefront of Death's mind. Pitch was about to kill the Sandman. The Guardian of Dreams. And Death couldn't do anything about that. Nonetheless, the spirit closed their eyes, and let themselves be pulled to the impending end of dreams.
Death. The end. A horrible, terrible thing, and the spirit wanted nothing more than to never collect the soul. So, as the events played out, they mourned the coming end. The island of golden sand was surrounded by the push and pull of nightmares. And, Death couldn't help but admire the beauty of the situation. It was horrible, devastating, and depressing. But it was beautiful, something to be in awe over. The good dreams trying to chase away the bad. The last guard against fear. This was inspiring, and before it could turn for the worse, Death raised the camera.
"Behind you." It was nothing more than a whisper. As Pitch pulled back on the bow string, aiming, Death let themselves float closer, balancing on the wind.
Jack Frost wouldn't be able to save this one. He could only sacrifice himself so many times. Then, the dam broke. True, pure fear took over Sandman's face, shot in the back. The aim of a coward. Standing no further than ten feet from the star, Death took out a vial.
No way. This wouldn't be the end. It couldn't be. It wasn't allowed to end. Carefully coaxing a tablespoon of golden sand into the glass bottle, Death made up their mind.
Under the glow of the silver moon, Sandman felt a surge of courage take over his body. It was like nothing he had ever felt. Pure courage, something he didn't think he could ever feel at a moment like this. But there it was, battling the fear, and while it was one of his last moments. In that case, Sandman straightened his posture, and accepted the end.
Raising their hand as the nightmares over took Sandy, Death absorbed the golden soul, which settled deep in Death's heart. At the feeling, the spirit breathed in deeply, and pure white wings exploded from their back.
"Hm. I suppose I forgot about you." Sandman was gone, and, the dreams went with him. Although... Death watched wearily as the other Guardians reacted to Sandy's violent end. Jack in particular was upset, and in a strange, unexpected power play, Jack fought off Pitch. "Nicely done Jack." Death whispered, and turned away from the Guardians. There was something that needed to be done.
**ROTG**
Finding themselves in the den, Death took the chance to hang up the newest pictures, and, already, the Spirit could feel belief fading because of the loss of Sandman. Silver eyes traced over the pictures, and with a small grin Death let their power extend.
The truth was… Death had given that power away long ago. Sandman had received Death's powers over dreams, but now to have them back, the spirit hoped to keep belief up long enough to stand a chance. For the Guardians to gain power again. Easter was approaching, and that would be the perfect opportunity.
Until then, however, all of their power would be put into dream control and controlling the fine line of death to life. Not enough time to wander the earth, or even help the Guardians spread hope in Easter… no matter. They could manage it. Frost was now even more powerful, and would be fine against Pitch, right?
**ROTG**
Somewhere, deep in the heart of the North Pole, the remaining Guardians were mourning over the loss of the golden Guardian. None were aware of the silver streams of dreams passing over the earth. They may not have been as concentrated of dreams as Sandman's, but Death's? They were beautiful, images of the world filled children's dreams. The different levels of Santa's workshop, portraits of children happy, the marvelous artwork of the Tooth palace. They kept the nightmares at bay.
The winged spirit felt it when Easter went awry. A pain bloomed in Death's chest, awakening them from the partial sleep, so they could continuously keep souls moving, and dreamers dreaming. So much disappointment, so much sadness, and just, disbelief. It was much different than when a few children at a time grew out of belief.
It was so strong, that they fell over, out of the meditative pose, coughing. The earth was loosing the purest form of energy, and fast. Children's innocence and beliefs, they were drying up. And, there was nothing Death could do about that, because while yes, dreams were made, they weren't nearly as vivid or wonderful as Sandy's.
It was a little while later, that Death could stand again. It was perhaps a few hours later, and, there were only seven believers. Seven. All in one location. Recalling what was there, Death smiled. This was where Jack Frost's home was, and all seven of those children, had a new spirit they believed in.
"Oh Jack. You have believers." It was a little hope in the darkness, and, not going to lie, Death was slightly impressed. The children had enough dreams between them, that Sandy's soul was pulsing.
A millisecond later, Death was in Burgess. Golden sand had begun to form, floating around the children, and very quickly, dreams began filling the world. The kind that took hundreds of years to perfect. Each child looked so happy, interacting with the Guardians of Childhood.
Death stood atop a hill, cradling the golden soul. Surrounded by the believers, they called the black sand and changed it back to good. Making the golden sand to surround them, the image of the Guardian filled Death's mind, and carefully crafted him. This was the second time, but, no change to Sandy occurred. Why change something already good? Far away, Pitch was readying a swipe at Jack.
"Hmm. Protect Jack." Whispering, planting the idea into Sandy's head, Death hoped it would take. And, just like that, a golden lasso easily clasped over the boogeyman's arm, stopping him from killing another Guardian.
Pitch's arm would have been pulled out of its socket it (if it were possible) as Sandy yanked him away, and the other Guardians followed, mouths agape in amazement. The winged spirit stood back, smiling. Watching Pitch get beat up by the protector of Dreams. Serves him right, after all, he had stolen the sand. Wait… Pitch wore a dress, is Pitch a girl? Hm…
The Sandman began spreading sand around the globe, and Death sat back and smiled. And just like that, belief began flickering on once more. Dreams of all sized were conjured, floating and spreading hope, wonder, dreams, and joy once more.
Jack Frost had a grin of mischief take over his face, and carefully aimed a snowball at Jaime Bennet. The group was quickly immersed in the snowball fight, chasing each other and laughing. So much so, that when North was hit with a snowball, Death was swept up in the fun and knelt down, forming a snowball of their own.
Jack Frost had it coming. He weaved in and out of the children, easily missing every throw, so, Death took a step back, and let it fly. Hitting their mark, Death giggled. Not so bad for a first snowball fight, huh?
"Woot! Got ya." Cheering, Death picked up the camera hanging from their neck, and snapped a picture. Only, when the camera was once again lowered, crystal blue eyes were staring right back.