Chapter Two
The planet Pitch found was surprisingly insignificant. The ripples of fear he had detected were the result of a mass extinction - billions of life forms crying out against the inevitable. Such strange creatures too, large and reptilian - now lost to time. By the time Pitch had arrived, it was over, just an echo of pain across the stars. Nonetheless, that power still remained on earth, he could feel it driving change. Change was a force to be feared - such delicious uncertainty - Pitch relished it.
While it was clear that force was on Earth somewhere, it was not obvious where. Pitch would have to search. He wasn't too concerned. He was immortal; he had time. Whatever it was that had done this couldn't hide forever. As eager as he was to start looking, Pitch had to take a few things into consideration. Mainly he needed to find a food source.
This planet was astonishingly primitive unlike the complex civilizations found among the constellations. None of the life forms were even sentient. The basic fears that instincts gave - that of death, the unknown, pain - could sustain him but they weren't enjoyable- watery flavourless gruel when compared to the subtle nuances of fine wines or dark chocolate.
Those fears required a fully sentient and intelligent mind to produce - a mind that understood rationally that there was nothing in the darkness but feared it anyway. The minds needed to produce it didn't exist on this planet but perhaps they could be created with Pitch's innate ability to manipulate and influence emotions. It would take time, but Pitch had no need to hurry.
There was one group that Pitch found with enough potential to satisfy his needs. In the beginning they were little more than apes - animals, but Pitch found that they responded well to his influence. He used his fear to warn then - predators lurking, poisonous plants, dangerous weather. Those that ignored him perished but those that survived, passed his warnings one to others. It was a slow and painful process but eventually that had advanced to such a state where Pitch could fill their unconscious minds with irrational terrors. Finally, after uncountable years, they were sufficiently self aware to provide the sustenance he preferred.
Their rough society knew him. They could see him - in the glittering golden eyes of predators that lurked just beyond the edges of their fires. They had no name for him and they did not worship him as a god, but Pitch had no reason for them to do so. He was now so deeply entwined in the darkness of their collective unconscious minds, that even if his physical body were to be destroyed, he would still live. This would be an unexpected benefit should anyone from the constellations come hunting him. He could not die until every one of these humans had done so first.
His continued survival assured, Pitch began to search in earnest for that mysterious force of destruction.
After all that time, and all the distance, what Pitch found in the end surprised him.
Lying comatose on the bottom of a crater was an ice sprite.
Pitch had never had much use for ice sprites finding them frivolous and annoying, their only concern the freedom of flight. It was uncommon for them to be drawn down onto planets and even less common for them to survive.
For this one to survive, spoke of an unusual power. Pitch had noticed the planet's steady pattern of cooling since his arrival, ages ago and now he could see it was the result of this sprite; his icy power soaking into the earth around him, shifting the currents and the continents, cooling the breeze.
Pitch carefully approached the sprite on the ground of his earthly prison. He had never seen one before without their layers of icy armour. Naked and injured, the sprite appeared as a young man. He was small in stature, slender and his hair and skin as white as the snow.
In the light of the stars, Pitch found him to be beautiful - a reminder of life beyond this pitiful world. He carefully took the boy in him arms, mindful of his injuries. The boy's skin was cold but Pitch didn't mind. He was accustomed to the chill of space and he was too distracted by the contrast of the boy's pale white skin against his grey and the shadows of this clothes.
It would take time for the boy to recover from him shock, and Pitch found himself eager for the day. He would help tend the sprite's injuries and when he was well they could discuss a partnership of great potential.
Despite his cold ambitions and his focus on power, as Pitch lifted the boy's nearly weightless form and disappeared into the shadows he found himself wondering what colour his eyes were.