Chapter 25: The threat

1695

Water.

Suffocating, yet oddly tranquil.

It filled his lungs, stopped the air from entering his body as he sank down into its depths. He felt peaceful, knowing he'd been able to save his sister, and didn't fight the flowing current as he fell down, down, down.

He was drifting, down through the bed of the gently swaying water weeds, tickling his face as he passed. He exhaled, his final breath rising in a fascinating stream of bubbles, breaking with a quiet pop once they reached the layer of ice.

Though he couldn't see much besides the dim beam of moonlight entering through the splintered cracks, he could feel the cool liquid sloshing around him and in an odd way he felt connected to it, like this was where he was meant to be.

He watched as the world around him grew darker and the pressure on his chest became heavier, yet his conscience felt light as a feather. Short as it was, he had lived his life, and he knew that his death wasn't in vain.

As the white spots began to impair his vision, he surrendered himself to the light, his eyes softly closing one last time.

...

Bright blue eyes snapped open with a gasp as Jack Frost was pulled from the water's grasp, its translucent droplets rolling off his freezing body like crystals shattering on a marble floor. Moonlight streamed down, lighting up his face in a soft, ethereal glow. It spoke to the boy calmly, soothingly, yet Jack did not feel calm.

He felt afraid.

The world was starless. Though the moon's presence graced the sky above, the vast curtain contained no other light and the world below was smothered in darkness. Jack landed on the ice, looking out into the new world around him. Menacing trees littered the clearing, wolves howling threateningly from within.

Eyes wide with panic, he picked up the first thing he saw: an old Shepard's staff. He clung to it like a lifeline and intricate frost patterns immediately encased it giving off a delicate blue glow. Jack stared in awe at the beauty before him, his fear suddenly forgotten as he discovered his beautiful gift.

In the depths of the shadows, a tall man watched in fascination at the pure, innocent being, his golden eyed glittering with the ghosts of his own past. The man knew what Moon would do to this spirit - the same as what he had done to him. Banish him to the sidelines, abandon him in times of need. Just one look at the boy and he had made up his mind: he would not let that happen, not on his life would he let the boy feel the pain he had felt.

Such innocence, such hope. Such happiness. He didn't deserve for it to be crushed in such a ruthless world. As the tall man stepped out of the shadows, his tormented golden eyes met sanguine blue ones, full of expectancy.

"Hello." The man said.

"Hello." The boy said back.

And from one simple word, a lifetime friendship had formed.

1792

Jack awoke to the smell of wet earth, the air around him damp and musty. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead and made his vision blurry as they came into contact with his eyes. His limbs ached, the hard stone floor beneath him providing little comfort, and his head throbbed; pain radiating through his skull like ripples in a pond. His vision swayed as he attempted to move, not even able to lift his arm to smooth his head before the dizziness knocked him back down again.

He shut his eyes - he could barely see anything anyway. A noise echoed from somewhere in the distance, a soft voice calling out his name as he lay unmoving on the floor.

"Jack," The silky voice swayed near his ears, coming closer as he heard feet approaching next to him. The owner of the voice kneeled down, worried for the frost boy. A tingling sensation ran across his shoulder as the man shook him trying to get a reaction. "You with me?" Jack half heartedly groaned, cracking his eyes open slightly to let his comrade know he was okay.

"I thought," Jack croaked as he weakly managed to lift his arm to his cover his forehead "a fist fight meant no powers."

"I don't remember agreeing on that." The voice taunted, sounding smug now that he knew the kid was okay.

"Nope, I quite clearly remember you saying I wasn't allowed to use my magic."

"And I don't have 'your' magic, so that doesn't apply to me."

"Cheat." Jack coughed under his breath. Grabbing the arm extended towards him and pulling himself up, Jack staggered slightly as the pressure of his headache hit him full force.

"Looks like you've got a bit of a bruise forming there." The king of shadows perceived, staring at the boy's head with interest as it began to turn to a deep shade of purple.

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed." Jack quipped. The cold wall provided support as he shuffled his way towards the fire, the only source of light besides the dying rays of sun in the distance. "You know if you keep smacking me with your shadows that hard, one day I might not get back up."

"Oh," Pitch purred "wouldn't that be a shame."

"You only used them because you knew I was winning." Jack smirked, which elicited a glare from the Nightmare King.

"You wish." He shoved Jack into the cushioned chair, falling into the seat opposite him. Chuckling as the winter spirits eyes began to droop, he found himself also under the influence of fatigue. He couldn't deny it: Jack was getting stronger every year. Pitch chuckled to himself as he looked at the scrawny kid, already snoring away. He was definitely worth more than he looked.

Soon, he thought as he stifled a wide yawn it'll be me on the floor. Less than five minutes later, the Nightmare King was snoring away too, no nightmares in sight.

1847

Pitch spluttered as a hard snowball smacked him right in the face and a manic chuckle reverberated through the trees. Wind swished past, carrying Jack as he aimed yet another missile at his opponent, whacking him this time in the back of his head.

Pitch growled, unable to locate the boy drifting so quickly and nimbly through the trees. He barely had time to dodge as another ball charged directly towards him, but he wasn't so lucky as to escape the second projectile that sped towards him at lightening speed.

"Come on old man, keep up!" Jack's laugh was contagious and though the Boogeyman was sodden and had faced an utter defeat, he couldn't help but laugh too. He kept his laugh hidden though and replaced his features with a look of mischief and revenge.

"Oh, you're going to regret that." He whispered, calling forth his shadows to his aid. Just a few moments later and a surprised yelp resounded to his left, he knew his minions had done their job.

"Hey!" Jack snickered as the shadows held him to the ground, unable to move. They didn't hurt, but they did tickle a bit.

"Well, you should learn to watch your tongue," Pitch retorted "don't want to be getting into.. awkward situations now, do we?". He tutted to himself as he used his magic to summon his nightmare horses, each carrying a mound of dirt on their backs. Jack's eyes widened as the taller man clicked his slender fingers and the horses simultaneously dropped their load onto him.

He spluttered under the soil and quickly burst up from under the wreckage, the shadows having let him free. "It's all down my jumper!" The Winter Spirit complained, not caring that his was face soiled with muck.

"Serves you right."

"I'm going to get you back for that." Jack promised.

"I'd like to see you try." Pitch smirked and took off running, practically begging the boy for another challenge.

About a month later, Pitch jumped awake, covered in a pound of golden glitter.

"JACK!"

2012

"No, no! No music!" Jack slammed the butt of his staff down hard onto the ground. Harsh, icy winds and fragments of snow whipped out from the point of impact, silencing the Guardians as they stared in shock. He couldn't believe it, over three hundred years of being ignored, and now they wanted to speak to him? For what, so they could use him for his powers because they weren't strong enough on their own? No thank you he thought, scowling (at Bunnymund in particular).

"Jack, I don't think you understand what it is we do. Look - each of these lights is a child, a child who believes. And good or bad, naughty or nice, we protect them." The Tooth Fairy flittered overhead, lowering herself to his eye level, her hand placed on Jack's shoulder as she showed him the Globe. "Right now, the children are in danger, a threat centuries old has risen again and we need your help Jack."

Bright lights flickered peacefully, like fireflies lighting up stars in the night sky. The globe, large and mesmerising as it was, towered in the middle of the room, the eye piece of the whole globe. Yetis and elves stood around him expectantly, their gaze boring into the back of his head and he turned away.

"And why should I help you. Now, after all these years?" He asked, not maliciously so much as doubtful. "Why me?" The tone of his voice practically broke Tooth's heart and she suddenly realised how they'd left him, and so many others, alone. Forgotten. Though he wasn't alone as she thought, he wasn't easily forgiving on the fact they had left him.

"Because we can't do it without you." The fairy whispered softly, her hand still resting on his thin frame. Her eyes, a deep entrancing purple, pleaded silently with him as she spoke, her voice strained as she held back tears.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. Call it what you will: anger, sadness, desperation - no matter how much dislike he had for the Guardians, he didn't want his actions to affect the children. So, he decided he had no choice but to help. Not for them, he confirmed to himself, but for the children.

Maybe, he thought to himself I can try and recruit Pitch to help. He sighed once more, then turned to face the rag tag team who were staring at him intently.

"So, what's the threat?"

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