'I believe that this is the one chance given to me, to live a full life as a human. I'm not sure if the price I paid was worth it, but it is done. I've lost my ability to see my special friends, my pixies, and my favorite, Jack Frost. He was always my Frost Pixie.

But I recently had a strange dream. I was going about my business with the company, and I see this young man, a child still, but on the cusp of being a young lad. And he had on the strangest of clothes. Instead of the usual attire of the age, the child was dressed differently. He had pants, and shirt on but clothes not seen before, and out of his back, was like four pairs of misty wings. And around him, I thought I saw frost, snow, wind, leaves and beside him was fire. Yet the fire didn't hurt him, even though it sometimes touched him.

Now this is all interpretation, but if he is me in the future, I would want to impart to him the importance of the relationship of belief. My ability to no longer see my pixies has saddened me, but I know they are still around. I leave gifts for them, to the best of my heart and mind. I no longer have my magic either, so the gifts are material. But to my delight, they are never seen again and it helps me to hold onto the belief that one day, after this journey is over, I will once more dance with them.

As long as there are stories to tell, whether they be horror, fantasy or mystery, I believe that I will continue to exist. And no matter the hardship, the sweeter the reward. In the end, things will always work out for the best. This is what I want my protege to know, and those who have came from me. Life always has an answer, may it be immediate or in time, we just have to find it.'

-Exerpt from the written journal of Marcus Bennett.

Sophia Bennett stared up at a old painting of a young man, and she admired the resemblance to herself. She took notice of the blonde hair, and the green eyes that seemed to smile. She figured that it might be that it looked like he was trying to not smile, as he stood beside his wife.

Marcus Bennett and Mary Bennett, a small plaque under the painting stated.

Sophie, as she had been called for most of her life, was only twelve years old, and a very creative child.

James, her brother, might have been the driving inspiration for her imagination. As for years, he would always put her to sleep with tales and stories that he had once heard, and one he claimed to have had.

And that was the the day, she had been told, that he helped the Guardians defeat the Boogeyman. And she never forgot the encounter she had, on the eve of Easter, when she helped the Easter Bunny with making the eggs. Both had many nights of fun and adventurous stories.

But about two years ago, Jamie had seemed to change, dismissing the stories as kid stuff, and he became moody. Their mother waved it off as him being a teenager, and Sophie had to agree. But she vowed to never let go of her imagination.

And unlike Jamie, she found that she could see things which most could not. At first, she would tell her mom, but she eventually stopped as she found that her mother thought it was just made up. She told Jamie for a while, and she remembered him telling her, that he once had a friend who said almost the same thing. When she asked about his friend, she found he always moved the topic to something else, like telling about it hurt. But then he just stopped doing that stuff with her.

Sophie Bennett saw spirits and fairie creatures, namely Pixies. And she dared tell her Grandma. Who believed her!

And that was where she was now, at her grandparents house, as they were invited to visit. And the Bennett's took a trip to see them. But they weren't the only ones, as their grandparents invited the huge family. And Sophie had left the family to wander and admire the old house, and soon stumbled across the painting.

"I see you admiring the painting of my father," Sophie heard a elderly voice say from behind her. "He was a very splendid man, always coming up with some story to fight the boredom during the winters. He made my mother a very happy woman."

"What were his stories about?" Sophie asked curiously, as she looked up to see the aged woman.

Her grandmother was a thin woman, aged by time, yet still held herself and acted like a lady. Her hair, short, and once dark in color, had silvered with time, portraying the wisdom she had earned.

"They were about pixies and grand adventures," The woman told Sophie, as a wistful look crossed her face. "My mother always loved his tales, and he would always tell the fables of his childhood. He especially would brag, if I could say, of a Pixie of Winter he called Jack Frost."

"I heard about that from Jamie," The girl said. "Jack Frost became a Guardian."

"That's wonderful," Sophie heard the old woman say. "I think that's what my father wanted to always add to his stories... "

The girl noticed that her grandmother trailed off near the end, and she glanced at the painting.

"What happened?" Sophie asked, suspecting something bad.

"Nothing darling," Her grandmother said kindly, patting the girl on her head. "He just never got to see the end, as Jack had just simply vanished for him. And his pixies too. He was sad that he couldn't see them any longer, but he always kept a positive attitude about it."

"I want to be like him," Sophie stated, spotting a pixie landing lightly on the top of the painting. She smiled as she looked up at it, taking notice that it looked like it was shining slightly. She saw that the snow white pixie was dressed in what looked like a blue jumper made something from a Christmas tree's leaves. And the creature looked like he was holding and walking with a book. "I'd like to know his stories."

"Well lucky you!" Her grandmother exclaimed, as she started to walk away. "My father wrote all of his tales into a few books and I had them stored up in a room. I'm sure he'd love if you had them."

Sophie grinned as the foot tall pixie did a quick flip in the air and followed the elderly lady into a room, zipping past her. The girl followed after and soon saw her grandmother pull something out from a closet.

"My Father had made this," Her grandmother informed the girl, glancing at her. "He stored all of his treasures up in her, he'd claim. I've looked through this before, and I've kept everything that he had in here. These things are priceless."

It was made out of wood and it looked like a little chest. Sophie watched as the lady opened it, and hearing her mother laughing from the living room of the house. The girl could swear that she saw what looked like a mist disappearing into the air and she blinked as she stepped forward to get a better look.

Inside, the girl saw a few books in the chest and other things. She saw a wooden figure that looked like it had a staff, another of a large bunny, something that looked like a green cloth, a snow globe and a few other items. The wooden bunny caught her eye, and she got onto her knees, as her grandmother took out three books.

"Grandma?" She asked, as she picked up the bunny figure. "Can I keep this?"

"Yes you can sweetie," Her grandmother answered, with a smile. "I think that he called that one Aster. Strange name, but it was wonderful."

"And here are the books dear," Sophie heard her grandmother say, offering the three books. The girl pocketed the wooden bunny and took the books. She then took one and opened it. Sophie noticed that they seemed to be a little aged, the ends yellowed by time, but the ink written script was still clear and crisp as it had been written yesterday.

"Thank you so much," Sophie said as she looked at her grandmother. "I will treasure it."

"I know sweetie."

For the rest of the visit, Sophie spent reading the first book, and occasionally looking at her new figure. Her family let her be, enjoying the events too much to bother her or be bothered. Then all too fast, it was over and she found herself back home.

She placed the books carefully in her small book case and intended to read more as she could, and when she could. And that night she read more of the first book, and while she did, she saw on a page a little history of the family line.

Mary Bennett, was once Mary Overland, who was the sister of Marcus's best friend. The friend was a boy, who had died at the age of seventeen, Jackson Overland. And off to the side of the note, was a drawn ink picture of a male teen who looked like he had white hair and a happy grin. And under the name was Jack Frost.

Sophie blinked as she remembered the descriptions about Jack, that Jamie had once told her. And it seemed to match with what she saw.

The girl decided to not tell anyone about this revelation, and it was at that moment that her mother came to her door.

"It's time for bed sweetie," Sophie heard her mother tell her. "It's been a long day and you need the rest."

"Okay," Sophie said as she put the book on her nightstand. She saw her mother walk up as the girl snuggled under the covers.

"Good night," Sophie's mother said after giving her a kiss on her forehead. "Sweet dreams."

"Night momma," Sophie murmured, smiling.

Soon Sophie was asleep and the girl dreamed about pixies and fire spirits in an adventure for a lost spirit, who was calling out to her for help.

And from the window, a small pixie watched for a while, before he shot off to do whatever a pixie did.