Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians. I wish though, really. I also write slash, so we'll see where this goes.

A/N: Ah, the issue with Pitch's name (Pitt, haha) will be addressed in the next chapter.

A Rising Darkness

Darkness, warm as fire, licked at his frame like a friendly pack of wolves.

He entertained the idea of opening his eyes, even if it was just for a while, to check if what he felt was real. The lapping was not wet, more soft than familiar, but he knew he didn't have to be bothered with checking; since there was no way that was happening to him. He should be dead, for hours or days or months, or years even. There was no telling how long he had closed his eyes for.

However, that Earth-bound feeling that surrounded him right now was too real to be true, Pitt thought. In his slumber he had been sinking, continuously; but now that he was so close to opening his eyes, the free-falling feeling was gone. What replaced it what was undoubtedly snow against his back, cold but soft.

Snow. That was comforting. It hinted that it was still Wintertime. Perhaps time has not flown by as quickly as he had thought it would have, Pitt mused, feeling his lips pull up into a smile. Perhaps it was still not long after he had died.

He could smile. The thought shot through his mind suddenly, freezing the smile on his face into an awkward sort of grimace. He could smile. He knew he had felt his lips being pulled back into a smile. The control he felt over his body surprised him - shouldn't he be dead? How can he control his body as though he was.. Alive? What had happened to him upon his death? Had he.. Really, died, at all?

Inhaling deeply through his nose, feeling the powdery mist running a calming feeling through his frame, Pitt mentally prepared himself, and opened his eyes.

The world was suddenly brought right into his view, and Pitt couldn't help but exclaiming out loud.

He was lying right where he had been left, in the mountains blanketed by snow. However, there was something different about everything around him - The trees, once still and emotionless, were now swaying side by side, as though they were welcoming him back. The stars, once cold and jeering, were now sparkling with delight as he tried to raise himself up from the snow. The lapping that he had felt was a strange veil of darkness that surrounded him, like the pool of his own blood that he had fallen asleep in - except his blood had dried into the snow, and the pool that he had been lying in was replaced by this flowing piece of dark fabric that seemed to be shielding him from the cold of winter.

And the moon.. Ah, yes, the moon.. His only company, his only friend for so many years now, was closer to him than ever, smiling down at him as a gentle gust of winter air brushed against his face.

Pitt Black reached out an uncertain hand, and felt a soft surface landing in his palm. When he pulled it closer for a better look, he found himself staring into a beautifully formed snow crystal, and he was mesmerized by the beauty in the details he was never able to see before.

The breeze around him seemed to chuckle as though the moon had read his mind, and Pitt turned his attention back to his old friend while trying to raise his frame from the ground.

"Why, moony?" Pitt asked, hesitantly, shrugging his shoulders free from the snow. "Why am I alive?"

At the sound of his words, the trees around him slowed into a dance of hesitant circles; the winds blew what sounded like gentle weeping in his ears.

"I'm.. not Alive?" the words that came out from his lips were slow, like a whisper. He understood what they were trying to tell him, but he could not comprehend. "But this.." Pitt raised his right arm from the cloth of darkness, marveling at its pale, perfect texture, unstained by the blood he was drowned in as he was dying. "This," he repeated, looking down at his chest and seeing not the wounds after wounds left on his frame as the bears dug claws into him. "This.." he repeated brokenly, looking back up at the moon for answers. "Doesn't mean.. I'm.. Alive?"

The breeze that had been surrounded him danced away suddenly, heading straight for the path that would lead him off the mountain. A trail of sparkling, pale lights hung in its path, and Pitt understood almost immediately that he was to follow it, let it lead him to answers.

Go see for yourself, the moon seemed to say.

"Alright.." Pitt sighed, and raised himself completely. Unwilling to leave the comfort of the dark fabric behind, Pitt lifted the light material up, and wrapped it around himself. As it rested against his bare skin, the fabric started to shape itself around his frame. In a quick blink of an eye, all that was left of the fabric was a dark robe that fitted warm and snuggly on his tall figure.

"That's nice," Putt mused in a quiet chuckle, and hurried towards the dimming trail of lights.

Without a doubt, the flickering lights were leading him back to his village, Pitt realized and followed on with an unenthusiastic sigh. He was never really welcomed nor accepted here - not when his father died on a hunting trip for the family, not when his mother skipped town in search of better prospects elsewhere. Abandoned at a young age, he had to learn to support himself, to keep himself alive. His fellow villagers took pity on him from time to time, but no one could really afford to add another mouth to feed to their own families.

The faithful day of his death had been no different. He had been up in the mountains searching for edible plants to last through winter, knowing no one would bother him in such cold, harsh weather. He would hunt if he could, but he was unlucky to not have inherited any skills from his father.. Perhaps, if he had known an extra thing or two, he could have somehow changed the situations with the bears..

But for now, these were not his main concerns. All he needed to do was to continue, and these lights would lead him back to his little hut, he knew.

As he paced slowly down the center of his village, Pitt noticed how the place was lit ablaze by many bon fires and torches, and the winter night seemed so far away in this well-lit village. What day was it today? Was there a celebration that he didn't know of? Questions after questions surfaced in his mind, but Pitt knew no one would be able to answer him. His villagers were often reluctant to talk to him, and they only acknowledged his presence with pitying eyes.

Pitt spun around slowly on the spot to observe his surroundings, and almost knocked into a pair of armed men running past him.

He stared at their disappearing backs for a moment, trying to comprehend the need for those spears they had been carrying. What sort of celebration was this? As he stood on the spot, more people rushed past him - the adults of the village, some armed, others with torches and nets, all of them heavily dressed as though they were about the venture into the cold, winter night.

Each of them had worry laced deep into the lines of their face. They ignored Pitt with a sort of unspoken unison, passing by him without so much as sparing him a side glance, or a rude, "Step away!" as they normally would've done.

"Erm, anyone.." Pitt muttered, looking around him, stepping aside to avoid people crashing into him. "Someone, please tell me-"

Pitt had reached out to tap a man passing by; however, instead of catching the soft fur on his jacket, Pitt felt his hand slip through the man's shoulder as though he was immaterial, and he jumped back with a shocked gasp.

"What-"

As he spun around, shock etched in his eyes, another guy ran right through him, and carried on unaffected by the encounter.

"- No.."

More people, this time the housewives running after their husbands, passed through his hollow frame.

"No.. No!"

Pitt sank into a curled up crouch in the middle of the path, shivering madly, his hands brought up to shield his head as he cowered in fear. He could not understand. Is this what it feels like, to be dead? To be in this immaterial form? Will he be stuck, like this, forever? What? Why..

The crowd had passed him, leaving nothing but footsteps in the snow. Pitt stayed cowering for another full minute, shivering not from the winter cold. Then, a soft breeze brushed against his face, prompting him to lift his head up to look at the moon.

That was when Pitt realized the abnormal moisture in his eyes, and that he was crying.

The tear tracks on his face felt chilly in the winter winds, so he reached up hesitantly to wipe them off. At the same time, the sparkling trail of lights relit themselves, leading him towards the village center - where the crowd had been heading towards.

"I should.. Follow?"

Against the rough, grey snow, the trail of lights flickered brighter than before, as though they were trying to say, "Yes."

"Will I.. Get answers..?"

A strong gust of wind rushed at him from behind all of a sudden. Pitt glanced up in surprise to look at the moon, who was never such an aggressive character - but he understood how he was asked to carry on.

And carry on he would.

As expected, the lights brought him to the village center, where an extra large bonfire was set in the middle of the crowd gathered in a tight circle. Pitt slipped in hesitantly, knowing that he was immaterial now, and found himself standing beside their village chief.

Chief Crey was an old man of ferocious tales; the village often shared stories of how he had braved the mountains for bears when he was a younger, stronger man. Now, even though age has robbed him of his vitality and strength, he was still a figure of wisdom and insight for the villagers.

And this moment, Chief Crey's eyes were dark as he studied the mountain in the distance - the mountain Pitt had lost his life on.

"We should hurry before a storm approaches!"

Cries erupted from the gathered circle of armed men; they seem to be discussing some sort of a search. A search party - of that girl he had saved, in the mountains! Pitt gasped as a few more people passed through his hollow frame. She had not made it back from the mountains..

Pitt found himself circling the crowd, listening out for a name. "Annie," someone had mentioned. Little Annie, separated from her parents who were out hunting for small animals on the mountain..

"I should never have let her out of my sights!" A shrill, grieving voice cried out, and Pitt realized that was the mother of little Annie.

More whispers, more urgent than ever, ran through the crowd. It seemed to be the general consensus that they would search the mountains regardless of the time; Hopefully, before the next storm approaches, rendering torches useless. Chief Crey, however, would not approve of the search - Pitt hears about the party that had gone earlier in the evening, and how they have yet to return.

"Could Pitt Black be behind this?"

A small, worried voice of a female sounded from somewhere in the crowd, and Pitt glanced in horror at the source of that accusation.

"Black?"

"That orphaned boy who lives in the corner of the village?"

"That boy is a misfortune!"

"His house is empty.."

"I saw him heading towards the mountains today!"

"What a horror.."

"How could he dare!"

With widened eyes, Pitt found himself slowly approaching the woman who had started this new murmur of anger. He could not understand why; sure, he was alienated and singled out as a misfortune, but why would they think he would do anything, anything at all to such a defenseless little girl he didn't even know? Why would they even dare suggest a thing like this?

To think - he had put his life in the middle of little Annie and the bears. He was not expect some form of repayment, some form of reward; but this is the kind of acknowledgement he gets from his peers?

The dark clouds from overhead rumbled, tumbling fiercely across the village's skies. Some of the villagers in the crowd jumped in fear, but Pitt could not care anymore for these heartless villagers. He reached out a shaking hand towards the nameless woman who had started this accusation, anger deep in his eyes. Where he reached forward, a darkness amassed itself; soon, it took the form of a dark dagger, and Pitt was enraged enough to want to drive this deep into everyone in the crowd.

A strong squall of chilly winds blew straight at the crowd, and people started screaming; the gust threatened to throw Pitt of his feet, but Pitt would not let himself be deterred by the moon this time.

The rage in his veins was overruling his thoughts.

There was nothing he could care more about at this point.

Raising the dagger high in the air, Pitt tensed his frame as he prepared to bring it down with all his might-

Then a cry sounded from the direction of the mountains, and the harsh winds around them stopped abruptly without warning.

Thank you for reading! Review please? ;)