hey guys! please leave a review, even if its just to let me know this is terrible. i want to make sure that if i continue the story people are actually enjoying it. and if you want me to continue give me a heads up as to what genre youre looking for if you have a preference. i honestly dont even know if people still read rotg ff so just let me know if anybody exists. have a nice day!

Tiny hands gripped the dark curved staff like it was an anchor to reality. How long had Pitch been walking through the caverns? He was tempted to turn around and go back to the large comforting globe, but something inside him propelled him further. It wasn't the cold, for he had already grown numb from his nervousness, and it wasn't intrigue because he was more afraid of his surroundings than he was curious about them. Maybe that was it, it was the fear that kept him moving. The anxiety that bubbled inside of him was what kept his little feet trudging along in the darkness.

What is he doing? Pitch heard a voice moan out as if in agony. I think he's trying to find a way out. Another answered, almost intrigued by the small boy's actions. Pitch pressed on, ignoring the voices that surrounded him. He wouldn't let them get inside his head again, he needed to focus on getting free.

The voices mumbled stray thoughts until one rang clear in Pitch's ear: Shall we just kill him? This made Pitch's blood run cold and his feet stopped dead in their tracks. Kill him? They couldn't really... could they? Now there's a thought... The voices seemed to agree with the first voice, concluding that the boy had lost his intriguing factor and was now useless to them, better off dead. "W-wait..." Pitch mumbled, fear choking his throat making it difficult to breath. He felt a rock in his chest, signaling just how terrified he was. He formed a defensive stance with his feet placed firmly at his sides and his staff positioned across his body. "You can't be serious..." Chuckles rang out from the voices, surrounding him. "Just leave me alone..." Pitch mumbled some more, unable to form any sort of strong verbal defense against these mysterious voices.

Ew, he's so weak, nothing like the captain was.

It's true, he's so scared, captain was never scared.

It'd be a real shame if we allowed him to continue living. He's a disgrace of a Boogieman.

He's even picked up the staff, tsk tsk.

"S-shut up!" Pitch said, unsure of what they were talking about. Was the captain the taller man who he had seen before? At that moment he heard a deep cackle that seemed to blot out the other voices.

"Now, now..." the voice cooed as if he were punishing children. "Let's not be hasty... he is still young. Maybe instead of keeping him confined down here, we should let him go, see what he does. It's bound to be more interesting than whatever he'd do trapped down here."

Pitch slowly let out a breath, not realizing that he had been holding it in this whole time. Let him go? Many voices murmured amongst themselves, unsure of it being the correct choice. Then, up ahead a light shone through the dark cavern. Pitch stared, awestruck. Should he trust it? He didn't have much of a choice in the matter, he could feel his body being pushed towards the light. His feet stumbled from the force, and he almost sprained his ankle. He held up his hand to the light and squinted, it was so bright. Was it always so bright?

As his feet stepped out from the cave he realized the snow did not feel as cold as it had, and the wind did not scrape against his nose and lips as it had before. He felt warm inside, pure. He no longer looked at the landscape with disgust, but rather admiration. He also noticed something else. His hair, which had once lightly caressed his forehead was now poking into his eyes. His toes, which had been the size of pennies had grown longer, so had his fingers, and his legs and arms. A puzzled expression danced across Pitch's face, who appeared to no longer be a mere child, but perhaps a young teenager. His hands grazed against his jaw line which had become more solid, his chest firmer, and even his cloak draped his body in a more form-fitting way. He brought his arm up to slick back his long bangs and looked around aimlessly. What was he to do now? He let a faint chuckle escape from his pale lips. The whole world was suddenly at his disposal. He took one last look at the cavern behind him as it slowly sunk back into the snowy ground. It was in the past now. His future lay ahead, and he would take control of it even if it killed him. Pitch no longer wanted to be a small, frail child. Rather, what was it the voices had called him? A Boogieman? He liked the sound of it. A Boogieman that would never be afraid again, never be cold, never be hurt. There was power behind the word, and Pitch craved that power. He gripped his staff with a new purpose, his only companion in the winter wonderland, and marched onward, his lanky figure soon only a speck in the distance as he set off to make his own mark on the world.

"So much for being Guardians..." Jack spat as he flew depressed through the clouds. As he passed through them he became wet from the moisture. He flicked his snowy sopping hair out of his eyes, clearly irritated and ready to fight anything that moved. He knew that kid had something to do with Pitch, he just didn't know what. Jack was still such a young spirit in comparison to everyone else. He could bring it up to Sandy, who Jack was pretty sure was the oldest of the Guardians, but what if Sandy didn't believe him? Jack didn't want to be rejected twice.

Jack sighed, there was no way he was going to be so petty as to let his emotions get the better of him. His head was telling him to let it go and listen to Tooth, but his gut was sending out warnings about Pitch. After a moments thought, Jack nodded his head, determined to fix things. He had to find North, he was practically the leader of the Guardians and would definitely know what to do.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" North said under his breath, the thick Russian accent very evident in his speech. Jack had once again snuck through the yeti guards (which is actually much easier to do than it should be. It's a good thing they don't get attacked often), only to have North laugh in his face after his very intricate and worrisome story about a new, child Pitch Black. "I say, if Pitch IS child, there's nothing to worry about." North let out another booming laugh, "Afterall, what can child do?"

"You don't believe me..." Jack grumbled as North patted him on the back with his gigantic calloused hands.

"Look, Jack," North said, his big eyes looking kindly into Jack's. "You have big heart, but you especially have big mind. What you are saying, it is impossible." North tapped the side of his head. "It is completely unheard of amongst spirits. A defeated spirit becoming a child? Makes no sense!" North had become jolly, holding his stomach and chuckling as he spoke. "You probably just saw child playing in woods and created a story about it in your mind."

"But the bed-"

"A story, Jack," North recited. North knew that Jack had a very big imagination. He would often come to the Guardians worried about the going ons of the world. He once came up with a story about a little green man sneaking into homes and stealing jewelry. North had to slowly explain to the boy that it was only the leprechaun, and he wasn't stealing anything he just carried around a ton of gold naturally. Each time Jack would mope about it for a few hours, before eventually finding out first hand that his story was indeed completely made up. North knew that this was the same thing. Although, Jack normally didn't make up stories about something as serious as Pitch Black, perhaps it was just a new twist in his imagination, after all, it had been over two years since the incident. North supposed that was long enough to get over something.

"I'm telling you, this isn't like the other times," Jack pleaded with North. North just grunted and folded his arms. "This time it's very serious, Pitch could have some twisted new plan." Jack let out a gasp in realization and stared at the wall. "Maybe Pitch has a son!"

"Alright, that is enough, now shoo" North scooted Jack out towards the exit of Santoff Clausen. Jack resisted, but deep down he knew North had made up his mind. "I've had enough of this story, out you go." North waved his hand as Jack flew solemnly away.

"I'll prove it!" Jack shouted back.

"Okay, Jack," North shouted, rolling his eyes in the process. After staring at Jack's diminishing figure for a moment he glanced around at his yetis who were now garbling in their yeti language at each other, meandering about as if it were social hour. "Get back to work! We still have a quota to meet for next year!" Groans came from all of the yetis as they slowly resumed building the toys for next year's Christmas. North shook his head. What was he going to do about Jack's overactive imagination?