A/N: Before I start this chapter, I need to give credit where credit is due. Thank you so much EpicDetour9 for letting me bounce ideas off of you! Without you, this fic would be stuck at Chapter 1. Also, a big thank you to Katherine, who took the time to make a fanart of this story! You can find it on deviantart at #/d5tsd6v (you know, after the site URL). That's it, so enjoy!
Thin, dark spindles wove their way through the night sky. They budged stiffly as they were buffeted by a weak air current. A low whistle followed, causing the taut branches to creak under the strain. No wildlife stirred as the wind passed through. Dead leaves skittered across the hardened soil of the forest, scratching and scraping against the unbreakable earth. Elongated shadows crisscrossed over the ground, set out of proportion due to the moon's light. Nothing swayed, laughed, or danced. Nothing reacted to the lively air. The forest was seen as a killjoy to the Wind. To others, it was simply a desolate winter's night.
But it wasn't a true winter's night, no, not to the Wind. Winter's nights were fun and beautiful. No stone was left uncovered by white fluffiness. Everything was pure and it sparkled against the moon light. Snowflakes danced happily and drifted on the breeze. They were funny beings, merely enjoying another's brief company while cheerfully ignoring their ultimate fate. Despite their short existences, snowflakes managed to live their lives to the fullest. Even as an archaic being, the Wind could never master this concept. It wasn't until the Spirit of Winter came along that it started to embrace simple existence.
In retrospect, that one fact was probably why the Wind kept Jack so close to its metaphorical heart. He was the flying child, the one that defied the laws of nature by using nature itself. He was the enigma because, even after 300 years of acquaintanceship, the Wind still couldn't figure the boy out. One minute, he'd laugh about something and the next he'd be moping about said subject and just didn't know why. He'd apologize (dear MiM, there were too many darting around in the adolescent's head) and shout and cry and mumble. He'd smile and laugh and play and whistle. In summary, he acted like a teenager. Despite centuries of learning to live with humans, mortal and immortal, the Wind (for the life of it) would never understand the teenage psyche. Ever.
But now, after caring (and carrying) its son for so long, the Wind understood everything. It knew the tragic fate of Jackson Overland, knew about the sister who had been left behind, and could piece together all of Jack's questionable actions. Without the memories, Jack Frost retained his instincts for just about everything. The Wind remembered watching the crooked staff weave across unlevel ice, reinforcing the translucent barrier between solid and liquid. No child had broken the shield that winter. It remembered seeing the boy upside-down, hanging from his legs bent over a tree branch. He offered a cheeky smile before the Wind knocked him down. It couldn't help but ruffle his hair as the youngling shot it an indignant pout.
The Wind ran thin streams of air through unkempt silvery hair. It tousled the mass of perpetually messy white locks, trying its best to provide the boy with some form of comfort. Back and head propped against a tall pine, Jack subconsciously leaned into the touch. His features scrunched as he pawed at something with his free hand, the other gripping his staff. The Wind gave an affectionate chuckle, disturbing the unyielding branches as it did so. The larger ones groaned in protest, complaining that it was winter and damn it wait for spring! Well, nobody told the Wind what to do. It shook the offending limb harder as a reminder that it was here first and it could do what it very well pleased. Also, nobody saw the pines trees whining about the treatment. Conifers were hardy spirits, always up for a good romp with the Wind. They loved the winter for it was quiet without those nagging temperate trees. Temperate trees were aesthetic, content with obsessing over new leaves and how autumn was going to treat their colors. The conifers put up with them simply because they occupied the same forest and what would the humans do if they saw trees fighting trees? So they endured months of "What does this color do to my bark?" and "OMMiM, there's, like, twenty caterpillars in my branches!" to achieve their yearly reward: a sanctuary in the snow.
Besides, everyone knows that conifers are the most beautiful trees to grace the planet. Thank you very much!
The Wind rustled the pine's needles in gratitude. The gentle giant would provide shelter for Jack during the night. Of course, the Wind would too, but something was off. Something felt severely out of place. No, it wasn't the whole "Jack got betrayed and the Wind is beyond pissed off" situation. It was something else that the Wind couldn't quite place. Being a proud spirit, it couldn't ask the young pine about a supposed disturbance in the Force. If the Wind didn't know something, it was a serious matter…or lack of perceptive skills. The Moon was out tonight and finally, after three long centuries, decided that tonight was the time to reach out to Jack.
In the Wind's personal opinion, he was a little late. Replace "a little late" with "Where the hell have you been?!" and you've got a royally annoyed force of nature. It crossed two drafts together, both going in opposite directions, and put in a strong zephyr for good measure. Sure, pouting may be childish, but it was the best way to portray emotions. It probably picked up the body language from Jack despite not having a true body to replicate the stance with. After a moment of frustration, the boughs ceased their moaning as the Wind released the currents. Better late than never and right now, Jack could use all the comfort he could get. Carefully spinning one strand of hair on a miniscule air current, the Wind released a long smooth gust over the forest. The teen was handling his predicament quite well, displaying a level of maturity beyond that of a child's. Instances like these were when the Wind panicked. What if Jack acted like this for the rest of his immortal existence? The Wind wasn't naïve; it knew Jack would never be the same, but what if he was truly shattered? It would be the same as losing the youthful spirit and the Wind knew it would never be able to cope with such a loss. Jack had given meaning to the Wind's existence, restored a playful demeanor it once believed was lost to the cosmos. If Jack, the personification of fun, became so withdrawn and depressed, so would the Wind. Their connection was an abyss, their loyalty managing to crawl deeper than that. To lose that connection would devastate both beings and the Wind refused to consider it an option.
So with a resolved mind, the Wind turned its attention away from its charge, its son, and turned to the Moon. Perhaps that one beam of moonlight would make everything better. The Man in the Moon had jurisdiction over the Guardians, so maybe He could remove the dark blemish marring Jack's hand. Maybe He could make everything right again and then Jack would have a family. Everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be and Jack's mental trauma would heal and North would give him sugar that Tooth would disapprove of and Bunny would be a good older brother and get the child even more sugar high to the point where Sandy would knock them all out and the Wind would laugh and laugh until Jack joined in and they would fly across the planet as two best friends should! The Moon would fix everything and, if he didn't, then the Wind would because, if you valued your continued existence, nobody defied a pissed off force of nature.
A shadow suddenly fell over the moonbeam, causing the Wind to launch itself beyond the austere treetops. Tufts of condensed vapors wafted across the once visible cosmos. With renewed vigor, the Wind chased them away. In graceful swoops and spins, the airstream picked up and the flimsy clouds rolled over the forest. The Moon watched in amusement as one of the most elderly spirits shooed the darkness away from its child. He truly never thought he would see the day when the Wind cared for another being like it was their own. Jack Frost proved to be challenging all of his expectations.
The Man in the Moon frowned. It was a week to Christmas and Santoff Claussen was encountering its busiest production schedule in the year. Why wasn't Jack there, becoming enraptured with the activity? The boy had always loved the workshop and watching the yetis go about their daily routine, so why was he absent for something so incredible? Where was his sense of wonder?
No, this didn't seem right. Jack was alone on a night perfect for telling stories around North's fireplace. Instead of being surrounded by his new family, he was curled up in a fetal position smack in the middle of a forest. This couldn't be right. Maybe the boy had gone out to spread his frost and change the season. He tired himself out before he could return to any of the Guardians' homes. Despite being in their care since Easter, the boy still enjoyed sleeping in the crook of a tree branch or buried within a snow drift. But he hardly ever took residence on the cold hard ground. Perhaps something happened to the young spirit or maybe the Guardians overestimated their emotional boundaries with the boy. Whatever the reason, Manny still didn't know the answer to his question.
The night before, thick gray clouds had hung over Burgess. It was impenetrable, adamant about keeping the moonlight from reaching the town below. He had been blind until the clouds lifted, revealing sleeping children and no Guardian in the area. The sun had chased him away not too long after the condensation dissipated. Manny frowned. Maybe he missed something when he had surveyed the settlement. Everything had appeared to be in order. Then again, the gloom of the night tended to obscure the valuable little details. So he sent out his beacon after covering his winter child in a moonbeam.
Under the same night sky, the Man in the Moon searched for his old friend among the shifting tresses and glimmering stars. The magnificent splendor of the Sandman's aircraft represented everything the little Guardian stood for. It was imagination amidst a gloomy sea of oppression. It was a sanctuary where lost dreams could find refuge and a place in the world. The Sandman's dreams never died, even when the children awoke from their slumber. Every night after the passage of the sun, all the dreams were rejuvenated and returned to the ever-inventive young minds. The crafting and rebirth of every creation was probably Sandy's favorite part. He loved sharing his gift of good dreams and he'd always be around to grant them.
Small sand-clad arms rose and fell with waves of golden particles. Each grain held an idea, a fantastical wish, and glowed with its energy. Pulsing and swelling, the Sandman gracefully sent his dreamsand wisps off into the night. Every strand of imagination would find their creator no matter how long it took and, in the rare event that a tendril could not find its child, it was Sandy's job to guide them. In fluid motions, delicate golden fibers wafted through the air.
On a normal night, Sandy's smile would never die. The Guardian of Dreams thoroughly enjoyed his exhausting task. What one man would see as a burden was his pleasure. Without a hint of sarcasm or fatigue, Sandy could truly say that he loved his job. But tonight, his movements were sluggish and his smile was faint. Instead of adding his usual flare to each reverie, he cast them off without a second glance. Leaning on a dreamsand railing, Sandy sighed and ran a hand through his untamed hair. There were too many thoughts bouncing through his head, too many memories he wished would simply not exist. No matter what he did, nothing could keep his mind away from Jack Frost.
Sandy wanted to cry for his lost child. They had been too quick to judge. Even after the Easter fiasco, they still hadn't learned when to take a minute and use their brains. Cupping his face with his hands, Sandy gazed wistfully at the churning cloud layer. The sky was his sea and the clouds were the waves he rode on. An ocean in the sky was the best dream he had ever received as a mortal and it came true. Why couldn't Jack's dreams come true?
A thin patch of silvery light ghosted over the ethereal deck of the dreamsand ship. It stopped in the center of the surface, landing on the circular emblem of the sand vessel. Sensing the benign intrusion, Sandy left his perch and floated towards the center of the insignia. He allowed himself to bask in the moonlight, extending his arms in an inviting manner. The Man in the Moon wanted him to do something, help a child. No, it wasn't just any child, it was Jack. Jack was in the area? Sandy was puzzled. He'd assumed that Jack headed to the South Pole or somewhere in the middle of Russia. When the boy was upset, he liked to be alone. Well, upset was the understatement of the century.
The light disappeared as quickly as it came, the request ringing through the Sandman's ears. Somehow, it soothed Sandy's frantic mind to know that Jack was so close by. His treatment had been brutal, even if it was in response to an incredibly heinous act. It hadn't entirely been Jack's fault, but the Oath of the Guardians came before everything else and the Moon hadn't stepped in. Was Manny really that cruel?
Regardless, Sandy crafted his beloved dreamsand airplane and aviator goggles. Without sparing another second for mundane actions, he set his course for the forest near Quechee, Vermont. Within minutes, the sand dissipated and wove its way through the treetops. Golden irises caught a flash of blue and Sandy was instantly at the boy's side. Jack's hands were held close to his chest, curled around the base of his staff. His head rested against the trunk of a pine, hair getting caught in the small grooves of the bark.
From his rumpled appearance, Sandy could deduce that he had been asleep for a few hours. During that time period, he'd shifted onto his side. He hadn't dreamed at all. No wonder MiM sent him here. With a soft smile, Sandy skillfully fashioned the best dream he could for the child. After everything he'd been through, Jack deserved a bit of good. Some would see it as a cruel distraction from reality, a temporary solution until it all fell away to dust. Sandy saw it as a chance to forget for a little while and believe that everything was ok. So he sent a gratuitous amount of dreamsand to Jack, granting an egress from the merciless nature of the waking world. Reluctantly, Sandy stroked the teen's pure white hair before the Wind quickly batted him away. He was hurt by the action, but understood the spirit's intentions. The Wind was angry with the Guardians for harming its charge. Sandy couldn't blame it.
In a pacifying manner, Sandy backed away from Jack. Before he constructed his loyal aircraft, his eyes twinkled in regret and relief. The golden images over the boy's head displayed two figures playing a game of chase. Jack's features had relaxed, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. In the smallest way possible, Sandy felt he had made a difference. But the truth returned and he knew that nothing could fix what had been done. Turning his back on the scene, Sandy left with a heavy heart. Murder was not something to be taken lightly, especially when it involved a child, but maybe some miracle would prove Jack guiltless. But even so, the damage had been done and there was no going back. As much as it pained him to do so, Sandy had to keep telling himself that Tooth was right and Jack had killed Jamie.
It made the abandonment slightly more justified, but did nothing to ease the mounting guilt in his heart.
Bright blue eyes fluttered open, becoming squinted as the sun hit them. Pupils contracted in response to the stimulus and Jack Frost managed to survey his blurry surroundings. A nightstand stood to the right of his head, supporting an analog clock and a tall glass of water. Sunlight hit the rim of the glass, creating a rainbow about as wide as a pinprick when he looked at it the right way. The light pattern ran in a diagonal line and Jack tilted his head to change its angle to the rim. With a smile, he looked through the water and gazed at the distorted shapes that filled his vision. Sometimes, he'd wander around Santoff Claussen with an iridescent ice cube and closed eyes. He'd spin around four times, chose a direction, and hold the cube in front of his eyes. He'd try to guess exactly where in the complex he was using nothing more than his scattered brain and warped images.
He could make out a dresser and a door from the elongated images in the cylinder. If they were on the far right side of the room, then Jack deduced that he was in his room at Santoff Claussen. If you asked him, the bed and cozy flannel sheets did not give away his location at all. Looking around the room, he saw his shelf on the far wall, the large hexagonal window to his left, and his staff leaning against the left wall perpendicular to his bed. Everything seemed to be in order and nothing suggested that this was a dream. At least, not yet…
Jack frowned and focused on the ceiling. The last thing he remembered was a forest somewhere in the Appalachians. Well, he thought it was the Appalachians. It could have easily been somewhere on the Canadian border. Regardless of where he truly had been, it had definitely not been his room. In fact, he barely used this room!
"Jack, you're still in bed?" Jamie asked with a smirk. "I thought you'd be up by now seeing as you always wake me before sunrise on a snow day."
"Snow day?" Jack questioned. Since when were kids allowed here?
"Yeah, you gave one to us this morning and then North came to drag you back here with a snow globe. He said you were sick or something, but you kept insisting that your fever broke last night," Jamie explained to the confused winter spirit.
"I was sick? But I never get sick!" Jack exclaimed. What was going on?
"Sandy told me about it a few nights ago," Jamie said as he shuffled his feet. He leaned against the doorframe before continuing. "He said it got really bad and you were delirious. He also mentioned something about fever dreams and night terrors." So, everything had just been a bad dream? Jamie's murder had been nothing but a nightmare?
That…that was the best news he'd received all day!
With a laugh, Jack ran a hand through his hair. Relief flooded through his body as he whooped with joy. He knew he was smiling like an idiot, but it just felt right. Jamie was here, alive, at Santoff Claussen. He couldn't ask for anything better than that.
"You're alive!" he shouted happily, launching out of bed and tackling the unfortunate nine year old. Jamie barely had time to gasp as Jack rammed into him, causing both of them to topple over onto the hardwood floor.
"Um…yeah, I am," Jamie replied slowly, returning the awkward hug. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I thought…" Jack faltered before shaking his head. "It doesn't matter, it wasn't real." Picking himself up off the floor, he extended a hand to Jamie. The boy accepted the hand with a smile and hugged Jack's waist. Surprised, the teen raised an eyebrow at the behavior.
"You were in trouble for a little while," the boy explained, burying his face in the frost-coated blue hoodie. "We-well, the Guardians-didn't think you'd pull through." Looking up into clear blue eyes, Jamie said, "But I knew you could. I knew you wouldn't leave us."
"No, I'd never do that," Jack whispered. With a devilish grin, he ruffled Jamie's auburn hair and pulled away from the boy's loose grasp. He collapsed on the bed, back on the covers, and reached for his staff with his right arm. Clutching the staff, he vaulted himself past Jamie and through the doorway. "Well, now that I'm fine, let's have some fun."
Jamie broke out in a wide smile before following and running past Jack. Turning around, he shouted, "C'mon Jack, I've got a surprise!" He swiveled again, running down the empty corridor. Sunlight hit his back from the multiple windows adorning the wall. Giving the boy another ten second head start, Jack gave the chase.
"What is it?" the teen shouted down the hall, unable to see Jamie now. He squinted as he ran through patches of sunlight.
"You've gotta catch me first!" the childish giggle replied.
Jack followed the voice as it led him through various corridors and rooms. He didn't notice as he was led away from the sunny side of the complex only to be replaced by hanging lamps and candlesticks. Shadows began creeping along the walls as Jack's gait began to falter.
"Jamie?" he asked, slowing down into a brisk walk. A mounting feeling of dread was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. Briefly, an image of North holding his belly flashed through his mind. Shaking the fairly amusing image away, he directed his attention back to finding Jamie.
"Jack, I'm over here!" his voice responded. Jogging towards the source, Jack found the lighting getting gradually worse. Old gas lamps lined the walls, cobwebs caught between the curved metal bases. The flames flickered from behind dust-covered glass. There was one door at the end of the hallway, almost completely hidden by the shadows. The only part Jack could make out was the gleaming brass doorknob.
As Jack was taking his next step, a blood curdling scream ripped through the air. The winter spirit could feel his heart jump and accelerate as he sprinted towards the door. Staff poised for an attack, Jack gripped and turned the knob and tore the door open. "JAMIE!" he screamed as panic laced his voice. Wide cobalt eyes took in their surroundings.
A single beam of light pierced the darkness, calling out to Jack as strongly as the North Pole during the winter. Cautiously, he stepped forward into the illuminated area. The door slammed shut as soon as he entered the center of the shaft of light. He swiveled with a jump, staff extended as frost circled around him. Everything around him was pitch black, eyes and glowing ice unable to penetrate the darkness.
"Jamie?" he asked hesitantly. He slowly paced the small lit area, slowly becoming more and more disoriented.
"Surprise!" Jamie screeched, suddenly jumping from the shadows. Jack let out a scream, stopping at the last second from sending out a strong blast of winter magic. "I told you I was dead!"
Jack panted, unable to form coherent words. He tried to regain his bearings as he stared at the giggling boy in front of him. "You...you what?" he managed to reply.
"I said that I told you I'd be here!" Jamie clarified. With a smug expression, he crossed his arms over his chest. "You have really bad hearing if you can't hear me screaming in pain."
"What?" This wasn't right. Jack figured that he must have misheard again.
"Scream when we play." Jamie's arms fell to his side as he adopted a concerned look. "Jack, are you ok?"
"Yeah," Jack said quietly. "Yeah Jamie, I'm fine." Shaking the feeling away, he cracked a smile. "You want to play a game?" Games, yes, games were good. Games reminded him of being a Guardian, of fun and friendship. Yes, a game would be a good distraction right about now.
"Sure!" Jamie exclaimed happily. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he continued his explanation. "Caleb taught me this campfire game. You have to describe the perfect murder. It's really creepy, but it's all for laughs. It's kind of like a ghost story."
"I don't know if I like this game..." No, this really didn't feel right. Was it just him, or was the light flickering? Part of Jamie's face was obscured by the shadows, brunette bangs falling into equally brown eyes.
"You know want to know what Cupcake said? She was thinking of you when she said it." Jack could hear something slithering along the invisible walls. He really, really didn't like where this was going. He knew he didn't want to know the answer, knew he wouldn't be able to take the answer…but curiosity always won out in the end.
"...What?" he asked in a small voice. A wicked smirk broke across Jamie's face coupled with a sickly dripping sound.
"She said that she would use an icicle." An unidentifiable liquid met Jack's foot. "You can stab someone with it and when you're done, the evidence melts away." As he spoke, Jamie was consumed by the shadows and seemingly pulled backwards into the swirling mass.
"Jamie, where are you?" Jack shouted, panicked for his friend. He took a step forward and his foot fell into a puddle. Eyes drifted to the floor and Jack immediately drew his foot back. Blood, he'd stepped in blood. This was Jamie's blood. Oh no, oh please MiM no…
"I'm right here Jack!" Jamie replied, still nowhere to be seen. "What, is your sight gone too?" The voice was no longer playful and light, now taking on a scathing, sarcastic tone.
"Jamie!" Jack swiped at the shadows with his staff, worry for his friend consuming his entire being. The shadows remained unyielding, ever-moving objects. He didn't dare leave his circle of light which was gradually shrinking with every advance he made. Something told him to stay with the light, that he would be lost if he exited the ring.
Suddenly, everything stopped. The room was flooded in a stark white. Blinded, Jack stumbled and was backed into a wall. Everything was too bright, far brighter than his snow in the sun. A small, broken voice entered his ears. "...Why Jack?"
Jack's head turned left and right. Jamie still wasn't in sight, so he asked, "Why what?" A shuffling came from behind him, the wall his back was previously against vanishing into thin air.
"Why did you kill me?" the boy whispered. Little by little, Jack turned to face him and gasped at what he found. Jamie lay in a pool of his own blood, multiple lacerations marring his body. "I thought we were friends." Tears formed in soft brown eyes.
"I didn't...we are!" was Jack's exasperated answer. Dropping his staff, he fell onto his knees and tried to reach out to the boy he killed. Jamie shrank away from the gesture with a look of disgust and betrayal.
"Then why Jack? Why did you make me like this?!" Flesh was falling off the boy in clumps, making sickening thuds as they fell to the whitewashed floors. Blood spread like wildfire across the clean tiles as soulless eyes haunted cobalt ones.
"I'm sorry Jamie! Please, I'm so sorry!" Jack begged. He collapsed before his former friend, hands clenched into fists. He pressed his forehead against the cold linoleum, shivering as he made contact. His frost didn't dare extend beyond its master's frame, making the room unusually warm in Jack's presence. In fact, it was too warm for Jack's presence. The teen's body began to shake uncontrollably as warmth and coldness battled for the right over his frame. He was hot and cold, vulnerable to any form of attack without his staff in immediate snatching distance.
"You're a monster!" Jamie shrieked, voice taking on a rough, scratchy quality. "All you do is murder! Plants, people, animals...they all die because of you!" It was true, winter was the season that killed. He was the spirit who murdered.
With his head down, Jack didn't notice the tall shadows falling over his body. He could only focus on the sticky fluid beginning to coat his hands. He had blood on his hands and nothing would wash it away. He could rub and scrape his hands, but nothing would get rid of the dark red stains on them. His left hand burned again, the pain consuming his limb. He didn't dare move. He didn't deserve any form of relief. He had to pay the consequences of his actions and he intended to endure every minute of it because he deserved it all.
"You're better off alone and without belief."
The statement burned his heart. He loved playing with the children and loved interacting with others, but perhaps he could have been stopped without the extra power belief gave him. Maybe he really was better off alone. He wouldn't hurt the people he cared about or the innocent ones caught in the fray. Maybe the world would be better if Jack Frost was locked away in some cave, unable to come in contact with those who needed the protection of a true Guardian. Maybe he wasn't meant to be a Guardian, too dangerous to be one. Fun and games, right? Well, fun tended to have its dark moments. A child could get hurt if they attempted some stupid, dangerous stunt all for the fun of it. Was that something to guard? Was that something to cherish? Fun could hurt people and so could he. Was he really cut out for this?
"Look at me and stand up!" Jack unsteadily complied, climbing to his feet and forcing himself to look into everyone's eyes. While he had been crouched on the floor, Tooth, Sandy, North, and Bunny managed to crowd around him. Their presence made him feel claustrophobic. The feeling was forgotten as soon as he looked at Tooth. Every Guardian held the same expression: disappointment and resentment. He shrank under their scrutinizing gazes, but they all turned a blind eye to his discomfort. Jamie's decomposed hand grabbed his chin, forcing Jack to look into the deceased child's eyes.
"I hate you Jack," he hissed, "and so do the Guardians."
Jack froze. Looking down, he saw the end of an icicle protruding from his chest. His head was slowly raised, scared eyes meeting murderous ones. He felt himself fall, falling into the darkness with Jamie and the Guardians' smirk burned into his irises.
Jack woke with a start, bolting into an upright position. He clutched his stomach as he dry heaved, tears running down his cheeks. Turning to the side, clear stomach acid was expelled from his mouth. The Wind tried to cuddle and sooth the youngling, but Jack could feel nothing but the overwhelming sadness and burning pain in the back of his throat.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Jack sobbed, repeating the mantra over and over again. Tears landed unfrozen on the ground as the sun began to peak over the horizon. Even as the night gave way to day, Jack remained in his position. Unmoving, he cried himself back into a restless slumber, unable to prevent the residual black sand from entering his mind. The Wind tried in vain to wake its child, nudging and prodding at the blue hoodie and bare feet. Nothing could disturb the boy's sleep.
As the corrupted sand swirled over Jack's head, the Wind was beside itself with panic. Air gusted through the sleeping forest, crying and shouting for its child. Jack never stirred, lost in his fears and drowning in his nightmares.
A/N: So sorry about making you guys wait so long! :3 Ugh, I don't really like how this chapter came out. I feel like the writing got wonky and ugh…
Dear MiM, thank you all for the favorites, follows, and reviews! I mean, wow! I'm impressed and humbled! Also, glad everyone (at least, I think everyone) enjoyed the bit about the snowflakes. As hard as it was to start the last chapter, that scene was really fun to write. Never done something like that before and I tried to do the same with this chapter. I tried to put in some comic relief and I don't know how well it went. :3 The only thing I can tell you is that the story gets more intense from here. If there's one thing I can promise you, it's this: the ending will break your heart.
Thanks so much for reading!