Hey guys! Chapter 11's set and ready to go!

I should probably give a slight heads-up about the last half of this chapter as a just-in-case. It shouldn't be too heavy, but for anyone who is uncomfortable with anything surgery-related, just a slight heads up. I think I toned it back, but I also love biology soooo my definition of "toned back" might be a little skewed in this case lol

Ahem, well anywho, back to the story! Thanks to all my awesome readers out there and as always, I do not own ROTG, just my OCs.

Amberlynn flew through the quiet streets of Burgess with the soft glow of the sunrise overhead. Despite how much she wanted to rectify how cold the town was for the end of August, she wasn't quite ready to do that. After learning that Jack was the one who not only helped save her life at Santoff Claussen, but also chewed out North in the process for nearly killing her, she owed too much to the winter spirit to mess with him just this moment. Besides, she wasn't there for Jack, anyway.

I mean, honestly! Who tries to kiss someone and then just disappears on them for weeks? she wondered. It might have been a bit forward of her to go looking for him in order to confront him about the situation, but she couldn't care less. To be fair if she's being honest with herself, she might as well just be sightseeing. While she knows one of the entrances to Pitch's lair is somewhere here in Burgess, it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Or the right shadow out of all that have been cast today…I don't know what I'm looking for, do I? The only certainty she knew was that with the coming sunrise, she was sure to be nearing his lair if not already there, right? That is, if he wasn't on the other side of the world.

Amberlynn couldn't help but laugh at herself in this situation. Serves ye right, eh Sommers? Ye can't keep making impulsive decisions. They hardly worked for ye as a human and they rarely work for ye now as a spirit.

From behind, a large force rushed passed her with no intent of slowing down. Once again reacting on impulse, she chased the thing as fast as she could to see what was running. Had she not looked down in time, she would have almost missed the Nightmare barreling down a tunnel which lay beneath an old, rickety bed.

"Subtle, Pitch," she muttered. "Although to be fair, I've lived here nearly 200 years and this is my first time seeing it, so maybe there's something to it! Okay, Sommers, in you go."

Without any further thinking, she dove to the bottom of the pitch-black tunnel. While she couldn't see down the endless hallway much past the ball of fire in the palm of her hand, she admired the structure Pitch put into the carvings along the wall. She noticed many of the pillars were modeled quite similarly to that of Tuscan Roman columns, almost too similar to the originals. How long has Pitch been on this earth?

Though Amberlynn couldn't find the source of the light, she finally came across an area that she could see without additional aid of her small fire. After dousing the light in her hand, she gazed upon and just began to fully appreciate the immenseness of this labyrinth of the Nightmare King's. Much like the Warren, tunnels and stairs were leading every which way to this centralized location, which she noted had a large, black globe sitting in the middle of the room.

Unlike the Warren, though, every stair and hall led straight into sheer darkness. This cavern was very intentionally designed for both offensive and defensive purposes. Anyone foolish enough to come here without the slightest sense of night vision wouldn't make it far without a long-lasting torch. Those who do make it far enough into this lit room wouldn't be able to tell one hall from another, making it the perfect opportunity for Pitch or one of his Nightmares to attack any enemies. Amberlynn even struggled to remember exactly which of the many halls in the labyrinth she came from, and she was only a few meters away from hers!

"Pitch?" she called out as loudly as she could. "It—it's me, Amberlynn. Listen, I—I—I'm sorry for comin' into yer home unannounced and uninvited…although I guess as many times as you've paid a visit to Death Valley, I guess you could say we're almost even. But anyway, I was just wonderin' if we could talk…you know, spirit to spirit. Look, I don't know if what I thought almost happened actually did almost happen or not. But I was hoping we could talk about it?"

Silence. Slightly annoyed, Amberlynn retorted, "Well, I didn't think the King of Nightmares would be such a coward over a little—"

One of Pitch's Nightmares came barreling toward Amberlynn, stopping mere inches away than her face. Not expecting a reply, she asked it, "What, are you supposed to intimidate me? Need I remind ye I took out ten of you lot and destroyed yer master's scythe in the process? Where's Pitch Black?"

The Nightmare whinnied and galloped away. After a moment of realizing Amberlynn was still standing where it found her, it came back and huffed impatiently. Realization dawned on Amberlynn's face at what she was supposed to do.

"Oh! I mean, I guess I'm coming," she said, shocked that it could understand her. Following the rather quick pace of the Nightmare, the two made a couple quick turns down a hall to find another lit room, though it was nowhere close to as well-lit as the globe room. The room had an eerie but somehow simultaneously elegant look about it. Black curtain draped the wall and what little furniture there was appeared to be made of some sort of black marble. There was a high-backed, black marble chair (this must be some throne room, Amberlynn thought) with some oddly shaped lump in the seat of it.

Upon closer inspection, she realized that "lump" was none other than a mutilated Pitch Black. The King of Nightmares was curled up in so much agony he neither realized nor cared to notice he was no longer the only spirit here.

"Oh sweet, celestial heavens, Pitch!" Amberlynn cried in shock as she ran over to him. "What happened to ye?!" Holding his face in both her hands, she could see he was profusely sweating as well as feverish. His hair, damp from sweat, clung to parts of his face while others stuck out every which way. Aside from the occasional groans in pain, he didn't seem to register that she was here, which was also quite alarming for her.

"Don't worry, Pitch. We'll get ye taken care of." Turning to the Nightmare who stood dutifully by the door, she asked, "Do you mind? I can't very well mend him if he's stuck in a fetal position all night! Let's set him down so I can see what we're working with here." The Nightmare approached his other side and lowered its neck for Pitch's arm to be slung around.

"Okay on the count of three, we'll lift him up. One, two, three!" The second he was lifted out of his throne, Pitch wailed in pain. Still holding his waist steady, Amberlynn grimaced. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this to get a better look at you." Once he was lying down in a supine position, Amberlynn's left hand came up covered in blood.

"I need more of you!" she barked at the Nightmare. "You and your friends get me a pocket knife, possibly a needle and thread, a ton of disinfectant, and as much fabric as you can find. And one of you stay on standby." She lit large enough of a fire in one hand in an attempt to see to trace down the length of Pitch's body to find the original source of the bleeding.

"Damn. The good news, Pitch, is I found where you're bleeding. The bad news is I've a feeling you won't like what I'll have to do." Without further delay or waiting for the Nightmares to retrieve everything she requested, she created a wall of fire above her head for hands-free light. Focusing her attention back to Pitch, she took the ends of his tunic and ripped it in half right down the torso.

The summer spirit would be lying if she said she wasn't caught off guard by the sight of Pitch. His long, lean torso was a lot more toned than she expected it to be. Now's not the time to lose focus, Sommers! Along the site of his injury, his grey skin was covered in various sticky shades of red. What did you get yourself into, Black?

Upon closer inspection of the wound on the right side of his waist, it appeared to not have hit any major arteries, which relieved her. The Nightmares came in one by one, dropping off their retrieved items as closely as they were comfortable with being around the solid wall of fire.

"Llwfr," she muttered as she rolled her eyes at the Nightmares. When she reached her hand toward his injury, she nearly yelped out as her hand pulled back in pain. The site of his wound was easily 10 degrees colder than what the rest of his body should have been, especially given his obvious fever. There is only one reason Amberlynn could think of that would be the reason behind it. Frost! After tonight, consider my debt to him null and void!

"Okay, think Sommers. You can't very well work on something you can't touch, but you can't warm the room up without risking his fever getting worse. What to do, what to do…"

She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. Suddenly, an idea struck her. It was risky, especially since she's never done something like it before, but just maybe…

Amberlynn took a small section of hair and wrapped it around her right harm. Before attempting her idea, she whispered to Pitch, "Os gwelwch yn dda aros gyda mi." Without further ado, she placed her right hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes in complete concentration. She focused on the exact location of Pitch's injury: the right side of his waist, mere centimeters above his hip bone but also low enough to have missed any veins and arteries near his kidneys toward the back.

If she were to take a guess, during whatever encounter Pitch had with Frost (for whatever reason), the winter spirit shot him with a solid blast of ice from his staff quite similar to when she fought him herself. However, unlike the fight she had with him, Jack clearly had intent to maim or worse.

Though she knew the process itself took mere minutes at worst, time appeared to slow down if for no other reason than to let Amberlynn dwell on the sheer fear and concentration for the eternity she put into raising just the small fragment of Pitch's body temperature. After a few more moments, just for good measure, she stopped and placed her free hand against his waist. The good news was she could touch it without being in pain from the cold. The bad news is, increasing his body temperature just increased the velocity of the bleeding.

Amberlynn grabbed the nearby knife and immediately put it over a blue flame she created. "Pitch," she said, "I don't know if you can hear me or not, but this is going to hurt like hell." Just before the knife was at a temperature she liked, she turned to a Nightmare and ordered, "I'll need two of ye to stand on either side of Pitch. What I'm about to do will be very painful for him, but I need ye to immobilize 'em so he doesn't further injure himself."

She was very confused by their lack of moving until she remembered the giant wall of fire she created overhead. She groaned, "Ugh, fine ye big babies! I'll condense the flames, but I still need some to be able to see what I'm doing! I promise I won't burn any of ye to a crisp."

Two Nightmares reluctantly approached the flame, but each placed their hooves on Pitch's limbs so that he wouldn't be able to move. As soon as the knife was at a temperature she thought would be sufficient, she extinguished the blue flame and brought it over to Pitch's injury. "Okay, Pitch. On the count of three. One, two…"

Before she said three, she placed the side of the hot knife on top of the vein that was causing the bleeding in short spurts, instantly cauterizing it. Unfortunately, though very expected, Pitch cried out in a deafening scream that Amberlynn was sure shook some of the stalactites in his lair.

"I know, I know," she cooed apologetically. "I promise the worst part is over. But I still have to stitch you up." Though he was immobile, Amberlynn could see Pitch shaking under the weight of the Nightmares' restraints. Trying to work as quickly as she could, she heated up the sewing needles (not exactly the kind of needles I had in mind, but these will do) enough to conform them to a more curved shape before threading it.

Despite her shaking hand, she took a deep breath and made the first stitch into Pitch's open wound. Though he yelled out, it was nowhere near the level or extent of pain from when Amberlynn cauterized his blood vessels, so she continued with a little bit more confidence.

Once she closed up the last bit of his wound, she shooed the Nightmares away in order to make her wall of fire large enough to visibly see Pitch Black in his entirety once again. Not the neatest mending, but then again, the last time I had to do this I had about the same amount of supplies available…and a much higher chance of infection. After deciding her work was sufficient for the time being, she ripped up the fabric provided to her to completely wrap around Pitch's torso like a large bandage, with plenty of extra to change the dressing later.

She ran her hand through Pitch's sticky, spiky, black hair and assured him, "I promise you'll get plenty of rest shortly, anwyl." After locking eyes with a Nightmare, she said, "Call me crazy, but this throne room of his isn't a suitable recovery room. I just need a few more things from a couple of ye and then you can be on your merry way. I need a stretcher to put Pitch on and directions to his bedchamber. Oh, and if any of ye know how to clean up such the bloody mess in this room while I take care of this bloody mess, that would be simply lovely!"

Llwfr-cowards

Os gwelwch yn dda aros gyda mi-Please stay with me

Anwyl-dear