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She had not come into being with only one eye. Though she had no memory of ever being mortal, she could clearly remember a time when she had possessed binocular vision. She had no doubt that the missing organ was in part responsible for her defeat at Jack's hands. Granted that she intended to make certain his victory was certainly a short-lived one, her irritation at his having managed one at all showed in every fiber of her being. Not prone to fits of destructive temper, she had simply resigned herself to the loss of the meal once she had risen from the crushing blow the ice wielder had managed to deliver.

As Pitch had said, using a wall to flatten her was 'a bit much' in her estimation. Since he had not seen fit to reveal himself and come to her aid, she returned the favor. A mildly demented smile had alighted her lips once the youngest guardian had unleashed a literal wave of ice and snow on the unsuspecting older spirit. Having witnessed his departure, she had prepared to call the wind so that she could also effectively flee. The white-haired spirit's words had been carried to her on the breeze, causing her to pause in her actions. For a moment, she had reveled in his misery.

Deciding to depart before the group realized she was no longer lying unconscious in a snowdrift, she had summoned the wind to her aid. Taking one last look at Jack she had found him staring in her direction. Whether he was incapable of seeing her at all or he was merely having trouble determining her identity given the shadows in which she was hiding she had been unable to ascertain. The issue was moot once she had taken her leave of the scene, riding the gust of wind from the town entirely.

It had set her down on a white-capped hillside. Two hours before dawn, she still wandered on that same snow-covered ridge, entirely uncertain whether she could salvage any of her previous plans.

She had known that Pitch was an unreliable ally. From the beginning of their time together it was clear that he intended to use her just as much as she expected to exploit him. Unfortunately, her hand had been somewhat forced. The child's untimely revelation of her identity had not escaped the guardian. No longer able to twist his self-doubt to her whim, action had been required. Because of that necessity, she had lost her greatest advantage and was forced into an unenviable position as a result.

Since his arrival in England, Annis had intended to use the nightmare king as a pawn. She had waited for this very opportunity for hundreds of years. It had taken more than a century for the accumulated magic of the observed ancient rituals to dissipate enough to allow her current freedom. Were she an impetuous witch, she would surely have attempted to extend the winter in an earlier year. Her growing strength had often given rise to flights of fanciful thought. She resisted the temptation to simply abandon her goals, though, focusing her energies instead on testing her newly found powers in small ways.

Winter coming two weeks earlier than usual – its arrival being heralded not by sudden arctic blasts and inexplicable blizzards, but rather by cooler temperatures settling in earlier in the year – would easily be explained away by the mortals. They would attribute the event to a cataclysmic environmental catastrophe, the authorship of which they would claim themselves. Arrogance had been their downfall throughout their history, and it was the one human trait that could be exploited repeatedly without fail. Annis had every intention of using their self-importance as a weapon.

She had been successful. For a decade, she had extended winter quietly. Fall and spring were shorter with summer seeming inexplicably hotter in comparison to the months on either side of it. Only the witch – and several mortals who fell prey to accidents – could claim to know the truth of the situation. Summers were only as hot as they had ever been, but spring and fall were much cooler owing to her efforts. Frost as late as Easter became a commonplace phenomenon. Snow falling well into May slowly developed into a regular occurrence. Ice covering the roads as early as October ceased being an oddity.

When Bunnymund had made his appearance in the town closest to her cave and she had seen the forlorn looking creature by his side, she had immediately become curious. The hare often arrived in the nighttime hours to hide the eggs holding various surprises for the children. Though it was rare for the holiday, she could sometimes catch a child wandering about after the rabbit departed in the predawn hours. Tragic for the mortals, but a delicious meal for her oft starved palate.

As she had watched the pair tuck the treats away, she had noticed the younger spirit breathing on the eggs, covering them in frost. He had smiled at the outraged shout from his friend once he had been caught at it. Seeing it, though, had given her the final impetus to set her plan into motion. Whether he could be corrupted remained to be determined. Annis did know, though, that she would be able to counter any effort he made to thwart her. Her own affinity for the ice, snow, and wind gave her a unique defense.

It had taken much more effort to revive the legends that had once been told about the horrors she visited upon the people of her glen. Great pains had gone into making certain that while the evil she was capable of resurfaced, the weaknesses which had once imprisoned her did not. By the time Pitch had descended on her hamlet, the ancient spirit had managed to regain some of her former glory. The growing terror of England's children had an unexpected and welcome side effect in the diminishing belief in the benevolent spirits. Adolescents as young as ten years of age had full faith in her ability to devour them whole but doubted the existence of Santa Claus and were assured that the Tooth Fairy was no more than a fantasy.

With news spreading of her nightly feasts, the nightmare king arrived to exploit the bad dreams the populace was sure to be having. His defeat at the hands of the Guardians rankled even then. Annis had capitalized on his deeply held conviction that their continued existence was reliant on the positive influences in a child's life. Explaining to him that he did not need to limit himself to corrupting the dreams of the youth, she had used the horrors he introduced into the slumber of the British populace to spread word of her own evil.

Children had clung desperately to the good dreams they did have. When Christmas came, they cheered. When they would find a quarter where they had left a tooth, they were certain their belief was justified. When the eggs were hidden and ready on Easter Sunday, they believed in the Easter Bunny.

But when Annis finally extended winter past the first few days of May and on into June, with their nightmares increasing in frequency, the children began to doubt. When the weather continued to get colder, they began to fear. When no one came to their aid, they stopped believing.

She had felt the moment that the Guardians arrived in England. Pitch had been in her cave, trying once again to convince her of the validity of some scheme. His blathering had ceased the instant he felt the change, an unholy grin spreading across his face. She was acutely aware of his departure. She was just as cognizant of the wind's motions across the moors. Using her affinity with the force of nature, she guided the wayward spirit into her realm of influence. If she could not turn him to her side, which she doubted would be possible once she had met him, then she would happily use him before discarding the white-haired mischief maker.

A reordering of her agenda was required.

Pitch had been very surprised when the blade of his scythe connected with Jack's hand. The result of the piercing blow had been incredible, and the dark spirit had enjoyed it thoroughly. Though it was unexpected, the energy flowing into him was not foreign to him. He had often wondered what it would be like to slay a Guardian. When the sand man had been absorbed by the nightmare horses he had unleashed, the victory had been hollow. After feeling the ice wielder's essence flow into him, he had finally understood why.

It was intoxicating, siphoning the gifts which had been bestowed on the young spirit. He had assumed that was what had been happening at the time. With the connection severed and the elements remaining wholly unresponsive to his efforts to manipulate them, he realized that something else had been drawn out from the angry warrior that had used a wall to crush an ancient spirit.

A wall. The idea of it still shocked him. It was a possibility that would not have occurred to him owing to the amount of overkill involved. He reconsidered the level of malevolence that must exist within the 'good guys' in order to allow them to think of such things. The younger spirit's stance had clearly exposed the fatigue Jack had been feeling after using his gift in such a manner, leading the nightmare king to consider the possibility that using their abilities in dark ways would result in punishment from his old friend in the moon.

Regardless, the heady feeling he had experienced when the tip of his scythe sliced cleanly through the youngest guardian's hand and into his staff had been incredible. He knew he had drawn something from the spirit, but had not been able to determine what precisely it was. His attempts to beckon the wind had fallen on deaf ears. Experiments in calling forth ice had no results. Any time he tried to form a snowball, his face scrunched up in concentration, he was greeted with a handful of air – and an uncanny feeling that a passerby might have mistaken his exertion as constipation.

Failing at every gift he knew had been bestowed upon the winter guardian, he was at a total loss as to what he could possibly have drawn out of the spirit. His feet had wandered as he contemplated. When he finally took stock of his surroundings, he found himself standing outside Annis' bower. Giving a contemptuous snort, he slipped into the shadows he knew so well, entering her abode just as the sun crested over the horizon.

Unsurprisingly, the deformed witch was within. As her eyes fixed on him, he was almost certain that she blamed his inaction for her defeat. When she stood and began to advance, he brandished his scythe.

"You caused that yourself, you know." Her derisive snort filled the cavern. "No, you really did. You played with him too long." Even with only one eye, the witch's glare caused shivers to spread up his spine. "If you had done something about the Bronwen girl..."

She had snarled then, the sound drowning his words. Taking a step towards him, she lashed out with her left arm, her talons slashing at him. He used the handle of his scythe to deflect her blow. Neither paid heed to the blade as he rotated his wrist in an attempt to keep her claws from connecting with his form. The force with which she resisted his defensive endeavor caused his grip on the handle to slip. The scythe's blade fell several inches, the tip connecting with her empty eye socket.

Her hiss of pain quickly turned into a wail of agony as white light spread from the point at which the nightmare king's chosen weapon connected with her form. Trying to throw her head back, uncaring of any scar the blade might etch on her already deformed face, the witch found she was effectively immobilized. With the light's intensity increasing, Pitch released his hold on the scythe entirely as he shielded his eyes with his forearm. When the connection was severed, the echoes of Annis' screams within the cavern died out, only to be replaced by her cackling laughter.

Uncovering his eyes, Pitch found the ancient witch standing with her arms upraised, her head thrown back as her shrill voice filled the air. When her face fell forward, his jaw became slack, dropping open in shock.

There, in the once void depression of her skull, a new eye had formed. Testing out her long-missed binocular vision, Annis called a wind to move rocks about her home. Seeing them on the periphery of her optic range, a malicious smile spread her lips thin, revealing her long teeth.

Her elation was evident when she finally spoke. "I thought I needed this."

Author's note:

I would like to thank you all for taking the time to read this story. Less than two weeks on the site and more than a thousand views – I'm truly honored that you chose to spend your time perusing my little tale when there are so many others available.

Having said that, I must let you all know that – regrettably – I may be unable to update on the sixteenth (tomorrow). I have a procedure scheduled that might prevent it. Everything should be able to resume without difficulties on the seventeenth.