[Early Spring, 1726]

6 months after Jack had died, Pitch returned to the village to check up on things. To his shock and delight, the spell that was protecting the town was gone. He was unsure at first, only spreading fear a few people at a time...but once he confirmed the spell was truly gone, he went full out on the fear and terror! He had been watching these people for a while; he had gathered 3 years worth of peoples phobias and he had a lot of work to catch up on.

By the end of the month, Pitch unleashed such a storm of horror and fear on the people of Burgessön that the people were in a constant state of frenzied fear and paranoia. Watching them, Pitch found himself lost in the nostalgia of the Dark Ages. They were scared of every little thing! They thought the terrible dreams and visions Pitch sent them were a sign that the heavens were angry at them; some were evening going to church every single morning and night!

Sure, by the end of the night, Sanderson's dreamsand had found its way to the village and the good dreams overlapped the bad. Still, people remembered bad dreams more than they did the good ones...by the time his nightmares were nullified, the damage had been done; and there wasn't a damned thing the sandman could do about it!

Even though it was just one tiny village, he was having a blast! In all that time, Pitch didn't think to bother with Jack's mother. He figured she was keeping herself away from the villagers in hopes they don't direct their fears on her. She was a witch after all...when people were afraid, they did terrible things to witches…

The poor dear must've been locking herself and her daughter up in the house all day everyday! Every now and then, she did venture out to get supplies or food. Other than that, the people rarely saw her. From time to time, she would notice Pitch, hiding in the shadows, perpetuating the feeling of fear in the people of Burgessön.

She would rant and curse at him...sometimes right in public! She, as Pitch assumed, even blamed him for Jack's death. She'd even tried to chase him through his shadows. Pitch would just laugh at her and go about his merry way, avoiding her at every turn.

8 years after Jack's death, his sister Mary was all grown up and had found a husband; she married the son of a bookshop owner and had long moved out of her mother's home in the woods. Pitch was rather surprised that Mary had managed to find a decent husband. Considering that, 2 years prior...Pitch had placed the fear in peoples minds that Jack's mother was a witch…

They began to give Jack's mother suspicious looks and whisper behind her back. Some even threw things at her as she left the town. She took all in stride; ever proud and seemingly uncaring toward the abuse. Still, as time went by, the abuse started to grate at her nerves.

Then one day, much to Pitch delight, she lashed out at another woman's son. The boy had pulled off her cloak, revealing her now greying and thinning hair. Jack's mother was so cross with him that she struck him right across the face! After that incident, he ran off back to his home...and Pitch followed him. He filled his head with the fear of being blamed for the incident. Obviously, he was to blame...but Pitch found that children were more to self-preservation than adults were when it came to be scolded and blamed.

It was so easy to manipulate the boys fears so that he would lie and blame Jack's mother. And such a lie a spun! He spoke of her having snakes for hair, larges fangs and carrying a small bundles of reeds that he claimed she struck him with, causing the now bright red mark on his face.

The boys like was a like a domino effect on the other children. They heard his lie, then started making lies of their own for the attention.

It was just like during Salem when he got into the heads of the Parris [1] girls. He didn't know what was wrong with those girls but out of all the children in Salem, the Parris girls heard his voice louder and clearer than most...they believed every subliminal idea and thought he put into their heads. He had a lot of fun with those girls.

Pitch was contemplating on repeating the incident with Burgessön. He didn't have the same mental pull with the village children as he did in Salem...but if he put enough fear and paranoia into the minds of their parents, along with the lies that the children were telling, who knows…

Ugh, but this WAS the Age of Enlightenment after all...right when the people were at the point of running her out of town, the mayor and other officials quells their anger and paranoia. Seems as though reason was becoming a trend in this day and age...and fear was going out of style. What was the world coming to?

Ah well. At least he caused Jack's mother quite a bit of misery and strife. Now that he thought about it, perhaps it was time he stop playing around. Jack's mother still held the book that Pitch so wanted for himself. He only managed to get a glimpse on the books pages...but from what he saw, he knew it was filled cover to cover with power magic spells. Most of it was White Magic, that much he could sense...but, if you were clever and knew what you were doing (like Pitch)...any spells can be polarized to have the opposite effects of their intentions…

In his hands, he'd have greater power than he did in the Middle Ages. He could destroy the guardians and rule this world like a king…all he had to do...was get that book…

There she was. The Witch of Burgessön. She looked dreadful…

In the 10 years since Jack's death, his mother had been steadily aging faster and faster. Now alone, no children or husband to call her own and a town pariah, the stress of the years showed clearly on her person. Her hair was thin and white. Her clothes were old and worn; patchy repairs could be seen in many places, though most were covered by her long dark brown cloak. Though her face still looked relatively young, there were very clear dark bags under her eyes, she was developing crows feet around her eyes and other wrinkles were slowly starting to appear.

She stood by the pond, staring out at the slowly moving waters. It was the pond where her son died; where her precious Jack had left her. Even though they never did find his body, everyone believed the boy to be dead. It tore her apart to this day. The last conversation she had with her son replayed over and over again in her head. If she had only just listened to her instinct, no matter how small it might've been...maybe Jack would still be alive. Maybe...she wouldn't be so alone...and afraid…

Yes. She was afraid. Pitch could smell her fear. What she was afraid of, he wasn't quite sure. He hadn't been around her long enough to sense her fears directly yet. Still, it brought a cruel smile to his face. The woman who had bested him and ridiculed him for 2 years was now nothing more than a broken shell of a woman. After 10 years of such sadness and strife, she looked read to finally give up…

"...so...you haf returned…"

Jack's mother spoke up first, looking over her shoulder at Pitch who was a good 15 feet away from her. He wasn't surprised that she was able to sense his presence. What he wasn't expecting, however, was what he saw being held in her arms.

The Book. She had the book with her? Why did she have it? What was she planning to do with? He had a few ideas, all of them quite amusing to him. He smirked and continued to step forward. She turned her back to him. It seemed as though she didn't want to be bothered with him at the moment. She'd rather be lost in her thoughts again.

"...Hello, my dear. You're looking...quite dreadful…"

She didn't say anything. Jack's mother just continued to stare out toward the waters, her eyes distance and glossy. Cautiously, Pitch took a few more steps forward until he was just standing beside her. He gave her a quick glanced. He could see her hands; they were thin and he could see her veins clearly through her wrinkling skin.

"Tsk, tsk...as much as I despised you...I always did like your hands. They were so pretty...such long fingers, unscarred and smooth...now look at them. Like a raisin in the sun, as they say..heh heh heh…"

Once again, she didn't say anything. She didn't even look at him. Jack's mother clutched the book tighter to her chest as she continued to stoically stare out toward the pond. Alright, now Pitch was starting to get annoyed. It was no fun teasing someone if you didn't get a rise out of them.

He glanced out at the pond. Hm. Maybe he wasn't pushing the right buttons. He placed his arm nonchalantly behind his back as he paced behind Jack's mother.

"Such a shame about what happened to young Jack...such a handsome boy...cut down in the prime of his youth...terrible to have such a fate fall upon him, wasn't it?"

"You should know…" Ah. Finally, she started to speak. But even in her tired state, her voice remained ever so proud yet slightly monotonous.

"...you are zee von who made him fall…"

Of course she would blame him. Even since she realized that Jack had been following him around, she constantly reminded Pitch that she would blame him for anything bad that had befallen Jack. Though it seems as though her anger had fizzled out since the last time he had seen her. She wasn't ranting and raving at him, nor was she trying to throw any sort of weapon at his person. So at least that was a plus…

Pitch chuckled, bringing his arms to the front to cross them. "...I made him fall, you say? Witch, I had nothing to do with his death...I wasn't even around when he fell through so what makes you think I had anything to do with it…"

"Because you are efil!" She snapped her head toward him, that familiar hated look appearing her eyes.

"You knew so long as I lived, I vould nefer gife you zhis book! So long as I had mein kinder, I vould keep it from you so you vould nefer use it spells for yourself! Und vhat do you do? You take avay mein son! You stole his life, made him suffer! After eferysing he's done, all of zee times he defended you and gafe you such sveet looks, you cut him down just like that! You are a dämon! Und you should burn in hell!"

Through her rant, Pitch didn't say anything. He let her vent all she wanted until she was done and went back to watching the pond. For a moment, they were both silent. A warm spring breeze began to waft through the air, the trees rustling in it's gently push and pull.

Finally, Pitch chuckled again and began to pace around her.

"...I suppose I don't blame you for thinking that way. Though, it is a bit funny being told to go to hell by a witch. Still, I'm curious about something...why are you still keeping the book for yourself?"

"...I already told you, dämon...so long as I hafe mien kinder-"

"Ah...but you don't...do you? You don't have anyone anymore…" The Nightmare King walked around to face Jack's mother, his arms now relaxing to hang by his sides. She didn't look away but she didn't look at him. Her eyes remained cast to the ground at their feet. She wouldn't face him. She was getting tired...mentally and physically. Pitch could see it in her eyes and the way she held herself. After a decade of misery and sadness, the human mind could only take but so much…

"You're mother is dead...you husband left you...one child is dead...the other married and abandoned you...the village shuns you like the plague...noone will come near you...and, I suspect...as a witch, you are quite alone as well...dark or benign...there aren't that many witches left in the world-"

"All because of you…"

"Me? Hahahahah! My dear, you misunderstand me...I cannot force humans to do things. No...I simply feed off of the fear they emit...it's how I survive, it's how I live. The humans, THEY are the ones who burned those witches, not me. THEY succumbed to their fears and murdered those men and women; I had nothing to do with it...but...you know how humans are….what they don't understand…they kill…it's been like that with them since the beginning of history."

Her grip on the book grew tighter. Was he right? Was he lying to him? She didn't know...his voice...she knew he was evil...but his voice was just so convincing...and she was so very, very tired…

"...and look at you. Here you are, a White Witch, who had sacrificed so much and gone out of your way to protect your children and these people from dark spirits and beings...and this is how they repay you? Rumors...evil glares...their children attacking you...a forced exile...is that anyway for a White Witch to live?"

She shook her head. She supposed it wasn't. In the olden days, White Witches were praised as great ladies of purity and power; people would flock to them looking for advice, to heal wounds, to bless them on journeys. Now? They were forced to live well below their means and killed even if they had done no wrong…

Pitch took a few steps closer. She was weakening...soon he'd have what he wanted…

"My dear...you continue to fight? To fight the world? To fight me? You're too tired for such nonsense...human lives can be short...they can disappear in the blink of an eye. My dear...wouldn't you rather live out your remaining days in peace? Tending to your gardens, sewing and reading…"

Pitch extended his hands out, his devious and faux sympathetic smile never leaving his face. She glanced up at him. Despite her wrinkling appearance, Pitch couldn't help but note how small and weak she looked; nothing like how she was 10 years ago.

"Give me the book...you don't need it anymore. These people are obviously not worth protecting...they deserve misery and strife...they deserve every terror that might befall them. I can give them such horrors. I can avenge you...avenge your son...avenge all those who died before you...give me the book...and you can finally rest…"

His eyes widened slightly. Her tight grip on the book began to loosen, slacking away from her chest just slightly. She looked down at it's cover; deep in thought.

Was she considering his offer? Was she contemplating what could happen if she relinquished her prized possession to the Fear Lord? After all...everything he said was right...humans were detestable creatures. So quick to stab each other in the back for the sake of survival, forcing their views on other and ruining all that was good in the world. Why should she care? Why should she care at all….

Pitch watched intently as she slowly began to hold the book out to him. He had done it. He had finally convinced her to release the book willingly! Oh such things he could do with the spell inside, such horrors he could unleash. Finally, he'd be back on top! He'd consume so much fear this world won't know what hit it!

Pitch tried to stay completely calm but he was already running over ideas and plans in his head. Just a little closer, the book was almost in his hands. So close to his final goals...but then...heat...a lot of heat. It came from nowhere and began to burn at his fingers!

FFFWAAASSH!

Pitch quickly pulled his hands before his skin was blistered off! In horror, he watched as a flame started at the very center of the leather bound book then quickly spread, engulfing it in it's entirety!

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" He yelled at her. But she didn't say anything. She let the book burn away into ashes right in her hands and fall to the ground.

He stared at the ground, the burning pages of the book singeing the dirt. Pitch was absolutely livid!

"YOU! DAMNED WENCH! WHY DID YOU BURN IT?!"

Jack's mother looked up at Pitch, a smile growing on her face. "Hehehehe...you are absolutely right...hehahahah...humans are detestable creatures...they are so fain und greedy...shallow und hateful...heheheheh...even sough I tried so hard to make a decent life for myself...vhat is zee point of going on trying to protect sem? They vill just try to burn me anyvay...efen mien own daughter has abandoned me...such a farce, yes? Hehehahahaeheh…"

She smiled down at the burning book, watching the last of it's pages and covers fall to the ground in a burnt mess. He didn't understand. She said she agreed with him, that humans were terrible! He could read her emotions and she was telling the truth. She had no more desire to protect the people of the village...but still she burned it?!

"Then...Are you telling me that...even after realizing all of this...you...you stupid woman! You burned the book out of spite, didn't you?!"

She lifted a singed hand to her mouth, giggling and chuckling away.

"ANSWER ME!"

Jack's mother now lifted her head, looking directly at the jilted Nightmare King. Her small giggles had no evolved into a full blown maddening cackle. She had gone mad. Completely mad with grief and anger. She had no cares in the world, no sympathies left. She just stood there laughing. The witch didn't even make any move to run as Pitch's scythe materialized in his hands and he lifted it up.

With a rage filled cry, he swung the scythe down, fully intending on cutting the woman right down the middle. In mid swing, he stopped and back away. Her body was now engulfed in flames as well, though there were no screams of pain and agony. All that was heard over the roam of the fire was the last insane cackles of the Witch of Burgessön.

As quickly as the flames came, they disappeared...leaving nothing but a black shadow in it's wake…

Damn her! Damn that woman! Damn her straight to hell!

Pitch was furious! All those years of planning, waiting, manipulating and torturing this woman: it was all for nothing! He had wasted his precious time and power and for what?! For her to just burn the book?! Why did she do it? Why! That books magic was probably what kept her young for so long and yet she burned it out of spite!? Was it his fault? Did he push her too far?

Pitch let a roar of fury escape his lips and swung his scythe out, cutting several trees right in half. The echo and resounding crash of their fall that followed caused little animals and birds to scatter in all directions…

If ever Pitch wanted to brutally kill someone...now was the time he felt it the most…

[Several Hours later…]

"AGAIN!"

He hated them.

"AGAIN!"

Humans. All of them. He wished they would all die…

"AGAIN!"

They were so ignorant...weak...vain...and foul…

"AGAIN!"

He wanted this world to burn…

"AGAIN!"

Pitch's voiced boomed through the halls of his great palace of darkness. Striking at the air, a mass of near-solid illusions shoot from the shadows, screeching and growling, claws extended, snarling with their long teeth. The first shade almost made it to it's target before being frozen solid in the air and shattering on the ground.

Another tried travelling up the walls and dive bombing it's target, but it too met the same fate. One by one, the mass of illusions were frozen, shattered then faded back into the darkness. Once they were all gone, everything was quiet...except for the light panting of the thing they were trying to attack…

"AGAIN!"

Pitch repeated his action. He struck the air and more shadows came out to attack Jack from all directions. Quickly catching his breath, Jack whipped his staff around, shooting and freezing any and all of the illusions that got too close.

The ice spirit was getting tired; Pitch could tell by how ragged the boys breathing had gotten and the sluggishness of his movements.

This little training session had become a daily thing for him and Jack. The first year he took Jack in, he quickly realized how difficult it was for the boy to fully control his powers. If he sneezed, something would get frozen. In his sleep, mini-blizzard would rage in his room. If he got scared or startled, the ground under his feet would freeze over. At one time, Jack had snuck out of the lair to explore the forests around the village. When Pitch found him, he found Jack curled up under a tree that had been frozen solid by his very touch...several small woodland creatures were also frozen solid. Thankfully, it was just a shell off ice around their bodies. They were still alive and were also breaking themselves out of their mini frigid prisons. Still, if Jack went around freezing everything he touched, no doubt the Guardians or other Witches and Spirits would catch wind of him.

Ever since that day, Pitch has kept Jack locked up in his Shadow Palace. He spells all of the exits to keep the boy trapped inside no matter how much he tried to sneak around or bypass them. Along with that, he made sure Jack trained and practiced with his powers at least 2 hours a day starting at noon time.

Today, however, Pitch was angry. Very angry. He needed something to vent his frustrations on. Jack was perfect. The son of the woman who humiliated and enraged him. Pitch would prove that he could be just as spiteful as that woman. The very moment he got back to the lair, he pulled Jack out of his room and began their daily training session.

That was 6 hours ago…

As the last illusion fell victim to Jack's ice, Pitch growled.

"AGAIN!"

This time, Pitch struck the air toward the ground...and 5 mammoth illusionary werewolves appeared from the ground. Pitch could feel fear jolting out of Jack's body as he back away as much as he could. One of the wolves roared and swiped at Jack with his massive claws, but Jack was nimble and managed to quickly dodge the attack. However, he had no time to attack as another werewolf began swiping at him as well.

Panting Jack jumped from wall to wall, dodging the just as quick creatures. He swung himself around a black pillar and turned himself in mid air flight to blast one of the werewolves with ice.

'One down...' Jack looked back at the group that was following him. Jack didn't know how much more of this he could handle; his heart was racing like mad, his body ached and his lungs were burning. 6 hours straight of training: both he and Pitch were surprised he made it this far.

Three of the beasts were hot on Jack's trail as he dodged and dipped under arches and around pillars. Wait, three? Where was the fourth one?

A roar got Jack's attention. He looked up in time to see one of the werewolves pop up in front of him and, with his massive claws, caught Jack in midair. Jack was flying so fast, the force of the impact completely winded the poor boy; he lost his grip and his staff went falling to the ground. The creature had one of Jack's arms caught in it's vice like grip as it brought Jack higher and higher to his maw.

Pitch was almost bathing in the boys terror and fear. He had forgotten that these were all just illusion made by Pitch! Jack really believed he was about to be eaten and the terror he was feeling was truly potent.

"P-Pitch! Pitch help! I-It's gonna eat me! HELP!" Jack let out one more terrified yelp, he flinched and wrenched his eyes shut. He didn't want to see his death coming!

He could feel the breath of the monster washing over him as he opened his mouth and then…!

Nothing...nothing happened. The monsters went completely still; frozen in time almost. After a moment of nothing happening Jack slowly opened his eyes. The werewolf's form was...rippling and fading. Suddenly, Jack felt himself slip from it's grip and fall hard to the ground. Now on solid floor, Jack scrambled to grab his staff but it didn't matter...all of the werewolves soon faded back into the shadows from where they came..

"How many times have I told you, Jack…"

Pitch's voice suddenly spoke to him from behind, causing him to turn around; still panting heavily and trying to catch his breath.

"ALWAYS be aware of your surroundings! If that had been a real monster, you'd be DEAD by now, you stupid boy!"

Jack cast his head down, his chest heaving and gasping.

"I...ha….I know...huff...huff...I-I'm...sorry...Mr. Pitch...i-it's just...we..huff...we've been...huff...doing this for...huff...for hours! C-Can we...we please stop? I can't...huff...can't take anymore of this…"

Pitch sneered down at Jack who was kneeling at his feet, holding his burning chest. He was still angry. He wanted Jack to hurt and collapse with exhaustion...then fill his head with such horrors that it would drive him mad! He hated Jack's mother...he damn near almost hated Jack…

Almost. A small part of him, a very TINY part, felt bad for the boy. Pitch had to admit to himself, this little game was getting boring and exhausting.

"Fine. Get yourself some water then go to bed. We'll resume tomorrow afternoon…"

Finally. Jack could take a break! And water too! Happy days! Smiling, Jack, using his staff to brace himself, hoisted himself up from the ground and began to stumble away.

However, before he got too far, he took a moment to look back at Pitch. Even if the Nightmare King didn't say anything, Jack could tell something was obviously bothering his mentor and caretaker. He was angry enough to put Jack through a 6 hour training session to the point of exhaustion on Jack's end. He was used to seeing Pitch frown...but never THIS much. He looked ready to kill someone at a moment notice.

Even with that thought, Jack swallowed down more air before stepping toward Pitch.

"Uh...Mr. Pitch...I can something's bothering you...do you...maybe wanna...talk about-"

"It's none of your concern boy…" Pitch didn't even look at Jack. He just stood there, his hands gripping at each other from behind his back.

Deterred, Jack began to turn away from him...but took one more chance and looked at Pitch.

"Are you sure? Cause maybe if you told me, I can-"

This time, without warning, Pitch turned sharply toward Jack with the most terrifying death glare he could muster.

"I SAID IT WAS NONE OF YOUR CONCERN! NOW GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

Jack didn't have to be told twice. After backing up a step, Jack took the air and flew off toward the upper levels and toward his room…

There was such hatred and loathing emanating from Pitch right now. He really wanted to just...kill something! Jack was the first thing that came to his mind. He had thoughts of going up to Jack's room while he slept...putting his fingers right around his pale little neck and strangling him within an inch of his life! Then at his weakest, he'd turn him into a fearling in the most painful way he could think of...oh he wanted to hear that boy scream!

'Calm down, Pitch...don't let your anger control you...the boy is better alive as a weapon then a dead eyed fearling...'

Although Pitch was still seething with rage, he listened to his little voice in his head. He took a few deep breaths, flexing and gripping at the air until he was finally calm again. He couldn't go on raging at Jack or taking out his frustrations on the boy anymore. If it was going to indoctrinate Jack to his will and ideals, he'd have to get the boy to trust him more than he does now.

He had to make Jack trust him. His power was too valuable to lose it just because Pitch couldn't control his temper. He just had to be patient, cool and calm.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Okay, I was originally going to move ahead a little more but then I realized that I'd be leaving a few questions unanswered, specifically about Jack's mother. This chapter wasn't really planned, it was sort of a last minute clump together but thankfully it turned out decent enough. But this chapter will officially end the "Jack's Mother Mini-Arc" of the story.

Today's Letters are:

G = P

H = R