4. Birth of the Guardians
Note: Thanks for the virtual chocolate.
Jack sped through the halls, praying the Sandman hadn't left yet. The meeting had ended minutes earlier after deciding on a basic battle plan. His efforts to catch Sandy on the way out had been thwarted by an impromptu checkup from Phil. Resistance was futile when it came to yetis. Turning the corner, Jack saw a swirl of sand up ahead.
"Sandy! Wait up!" Jack made his way to the end of the hall and the waiting immortal. "Listen, I really need to talk to you. It's important." The smaller male looked uncharacteristically nervous, eyes darting about and sand swirling erratically. "Please." With a silent sigh, the dream maker nodded, gesturing for the other to follow.
HSHSHSHS
Every Guardian had a room at the North Pole, despite the fact that nobody needed one and they generally disliked being away from their own homes for more than a day. Still, Sandy's room turned out to be a pretty convenient place for a secret meeting. Jack took the offered seat, taking a moment to work out what he wanted to say.
"The others really hate Lady Midday, huh? And not just because she hurt me?" Sandy nodded, not looking directly at Jack. "But not you." The golden head snapped to face Jack, eyes wide. "It's ok, I don't hate her either." Sandy relaxed slightly, a look of sadness entering his eyes as his poker face slipped. "Who is she? Please," he said, as Sandy tensed again, "I need to know." The little male was still for several minutes, clearly torn, before nodding again. A gold sand arrow appeared above his head, pointing to the spacious (much too big for the Sandman) bed on the other side of the room. Jack walked over, laying on the bed as Sandy hovered nearby, forming an orb of sand in his hands. Jack's eyes widened as the sand began to glow, gold being replaced with white. The orb left his hands, moving above the bed before bursting apart, scattering the glittering white sand into the winter spirit's face.
HSHSHSHS
Blue eyes snapped open before widening in shock. He was floating in a white void. Alone. Just as panic began to set it, a familiar cloud of sand appeared. "Sandy?"
"Hello Jack," came an unfamiliar voice. Sandy's voice, the stunned spirit realized. Jack had imagined what Sandy's voice would sound like before, but he'd pictures something high pitched, maybe a little childish. The smooth baritone was pretty shocking. Recovering, Jack decided to look past that for now. "Where are we?"
"This is a dream," came that strange yet oddly calming voice again, "The best way to explain Lady Midday is through my first memory of her. The origin of the Guardians."
"What! What do you mean the or-
Jack felt his voice cut off as the world faded to black.
HSHSHSHS
1456 AD
France
A glowing gold figure directed streams of golden sand through the air, face screwed up in concentration. This was the Sandman, creator of dreams, and this was the day his life would change completely.
The little man looked up, eyes widening in alarm as a twisting ling of fire and darkness shot through the sky before crashing into a nearby valley. The Sandman, ignoring his own fear, crept closer, settling on an overlooking hill. As the air cleared two figures appeared. The first he knew well. Pitch Black. Again, only willpower kept him from fleeing. The Boogeyman had grown so powerful in the last few centuries, no spirit dared approach him. Until now. Sandy didn't recognize the other figure, but he knew, even then, that he could never forget her.
It was a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, a beautiful girl who glowed like the sun, a stark contrast to the dark male in front of her. Red-to-yellow hair fell in two glossy braids as yellow-orange eyes glared fiercely into gold. She was dressed simply in a long yellow-orange dress with a red sash wrapped simply around her waist, matching red slippers on her feet. Sandy had never subscribed to the sexist beliefs of Earth culture, but even if he had, there was no way he could see this young woman as anything other than a warrior. "I won't let you kill them, Pitch!"
The shadowy male laughed, shadows collecting around his feet. "Now now, dear Lady, surely your mistress can't object? A nice little plague to get rid of the filth dirtying up her planet, nothing serious. A favor, really, and just a pinch of fear for me." The girl advanced, the light radiating through her skin driving away the shadows closest to her. "I don't do this because Mother objects, I act of my own free will." Pitch backed away slightly, clearly repelled by the light. "You killed so many innocents with your last plague and I was too late to stop you. Not this time!" In a flash, the girl launched herself across the field, a trail of fire in her wake.
Metal clanged as Pitch's infamous Dread Sword met her weapon, a scythe. Sandy gulped. This was no Reaper Scythe, it resembled the gardening tool, though clearly of spirit design. It had a gold blade, dark wood handle and a spherical ruby on the bottom. It was lovely, and glowed with the same inner light as its user, but it was comically small against the ink black broadsword. The two fought, weapon to weapon, as darkness and light fought around them. For hours the battle raged, decimating the valley and nearby hills, tearing through a mile of uninhabited land. And the sunlight girl was winning!
The two paused again, on opposite sides of an new field. The Lady was breathing hard, glowing gold blood coloring her dress. On the other side, the Boogeyman allowed a shadow to bind his wounds, eyes never leaving his opponent. With his keen, inhuman eyes, Sandy could see the look on his face perfectly and shivered in disgust. Pitch Black looked at her the way a thief looked at the Crown Jewels. Hungry. Obsessed. With a thud, the Dread Sword hit the ground as he strode forward, eyes never leaving hers. The Lady looked suspicious, hands never leaving her shockingly effective weapon. "Stay where you are," she ordered. The Boogeyman obeyed, stopping about twenty feet away. "Do you yield?"
The male chuckled, "Such a fierce little thing." The 'thing' in question wasn't amused. "Dear Lady, look around you. Doesn't your fire look so beautiful against the darkness?" As the unnamed Lady refused to move her gaze, Sandy did so. Beautiful wasn't the word he'd use, though it was an impressive contrast. The land around them teemed with swirling shadows and roaring fires, painting a portrait of what the people in this continent called Hell. "Just because our abilities clash doesn't mean we cannot reach a common ground." The girl grit her teeth, refusing to be distracted. "Do. You. Yield?" Annoyance flashed quickly across Pitch's face, quickly replaced with a look of compassion.
"Oh, is this about the humans? Sweet Lady, you shouldn't cry for them. Look around you, these people kill themselves and others daily. Witches and heretics and foreigners, oh my! You on the other hand," he moved closer, disregarding her clear dislike, "you are so much more. You are courage, and strength, and passion itself!" The girl finally began to back up, refusing to let the other within touching distance. "You are the light as much as I am the darkness," Pitch mused, "together, we could do so much. Think about it: no war, no injustice, no winter famine or summer drought. The world could be ours!"
At that, the girl sprang back, scythe held up in front of her, eyes blazing. "How dare you," came the crackling whisper that carried through the air, a clear sign of rage. "Ours? This planet is Mother's dominion and I would rather die than betray her!" Distracted by her fury, the Lady didn't see the creeping shadows until it was too late. Pitch ran forward as his shadows knocked the scythe from her hands, another binding her wrists as the Boogeyman towered over her, long-fingered hands reaching out to cradle the sides of her face in a sick parody of affection.
"Your Mother's time is ending," his spoken words carried as well as her whisper, "and you will be there to see it." The shadows writhed around the struggling girl, draining the light from her skin. "You will join me, dear Lady, as my right hand. Wether you like it or not." The two vanished in a swirl of darkness, leaving a dead field in their wake. Coming out of his hiding place, the Sandman shuddered. What had he done! Why hadn't he helped? The girl had nearly won, maybe with his help she would have! Sandy fell to his knees, sobbing silently as guilt shredded his heart and mind. He'd let fear rule him for too long. How many more would be lost to his cowardice? Tiny fists clenched. Never again, he promised himself, I will never stand back again!
The Sandman looked up as a pale light began to illuminate the ground around him. The moon stared down at him. Yes, it whispered, the darkness will fall. You will not be alone, Sanderson, the time approaches.
HSHSHSHS
Jack's eyes opened again, staring blankly at the ceiling. Lady Midday had been a protector, the inspiration for the Guardians. Jack felt sick as he remembered Pitch's disgusting hands obscuring her light. Sitting up, he looked around. "Sandy?"
The Sandman sat on the ground on the other side of the room, curled in on himself, body shaking with silent sobs. The winter spirit hurried over, wrapping his arms around his friend. "It wasn't your fault," he murmured, "Pitch was too strong back then, he would've killed you. It's not your fault." The two stayed like that until morning. As the sun rose, Jack made a promise: he would save her, no matter what.