CONTENT WARNING: Once upon a time, I decided that I would do a Jelsa fic, because it would just be a relief to write something that was super fluffy and fun, without plunging myself into deep, dark, philosophical commentary like I usually do. Apparently, I don't know how to do that. This one goes into the category of straight-up horror.

THIS IS AS DARK AS IT GETS IN ICE ALLIANCE… (DON'T WORRY! THIS ONE ENDS ON A sort-of UP NOTE!)

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32: HELLFIRE

Jack's heart started pounding. The man was coming towards him. It was—it was almost as if—!

Taking a hesitant step forward, around a tiny dresser that was sitting against the wall, he pulled in his breath. Maybe this was the answer to his two weeks of pleading with the Man in the Moon. After two entire weeks of NO ONE being able to see him, maybe this man—maybe—?

"C-Can you see anything?" one of the villagers shook.

Jack held his breath.

Watching intently, his heart started pounding as the man drew himself up, setting his jaw. This was it. The moment of truth. Perhaps a release from this horror, and explanation for—

"I—" the exorcist sharply sucked in his breath, looking straight into Jack's eyes. "—YES!"

The villagers gasped. Jack's heart leapt.

His eyes welling up with tears, he felt wave of desperate relief sweep over him as he collapsed, leaning into his staff. Letting out a nervous bark of laughter, Jack pulled himself up, his eyes stinging as he stumbled forward to the terrifying man.

"I have no idea where I am," Jack stammered, "But—I'm so grateful you can see me! You have no CLUE what I've—"

"It's… hideous."

Jack froze.

He stumbled back a step in shock, a wave of nausea sweeping through his body. After a few moments, he opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again, shaking his head with disbelief. The color drained from his face.

Jack tried again. "Wha—"

"—BLACK FEATHERS—long—FANGS! FANGS, DRIPPING WITH BLOOD!" the exorcist shrieked, spinning around, and the people collectively gasped, whimpering and grasping each other.

Jack hastily looked down at his hands. What was he talking about?

"BACK! Get thee BACK, thou DEMON!"

Jack looked up again and yelped, startling backwards and crashing into the dresser. The torch came down, barely missing his shoulder, and the dresser collapsed beneath him, falling over onto its side. As the drawers toppled out one by one onto the ground, Jack lost his footing again, several of the women screaming as the exorcist swung the torch for a second time.

Scrambling to get out of its path, Jack gasped, lunging to the side. As he frantically crawled towards a corner on his hands and knees to escape from the flame, still gripping the staff, the terrifying man leapt forward again, screaming and sweeping the torch lower to the ground. Scrambling across the dirt floor, Jack could feel the heat of the exorcist's torch swinging closer and closer to him as he—

Suddenly, Jack accidentally put his hand on top of his dragging cape.

Crying out in shock, he fell forward onto the ground, knocking over a broomstick as more screams and gasps from the villagers, filled his ears, nearly engulfing the cries of the exorcist. Righting himself, Jack was finally able to stumble shakily onto his feet, pushing himself up with the staff. As he straightened up to turn around, he suddenly felt a strange, hot pain on his back.

Jack gasped.

He was on fire.

He shrieked, ripping off the cape and throwing it away from his body, then desperately tearing off the burning vest. The exorcist startled backwards in shock as the ball of flame, seemingly attached to nothing, flew through the air towards him, the villagers screaming and backing away from the corner.

Gathering his senses, the terrifying man then drew himself up, shoving the torch to one of the men standing behind him and ripping off the cross that was swinging on a chain from around his neck. Glowering, he crept menacingly towards the corner where Jack was standing, thrusting the cross in front of him and beginning to yell a long, rambling something in Latin.

Falling back towards the floor again, Jack pressed himself as hard as he could into the corner as the man towered over him, cowering as the heavy cross swung threateningly in his face. His eyes beginning to brim with tears of desperation, he shakily pulled in a ragged breath.

"WHO ARE YOU?" Jack screamed, "WHERE AM I? WHERE IS THIS?"

The man, his face red from yelling and contorted into a horrible scowl, got louder, breaking from the Latin and shoving the cross forward again.

"DEMON!" the exorcist shrieked, "GET THEE HENCE! DEEEMON!"

Jack's mind was numb with horror, his legs shaking so hard that they were almost collapsing beneath him as he cowered into the corner, away from the screaming, the fire, from the terrifying man. He gasped for breath, fighting back the stinging in his eyes as he studied the man's expression.

The exorcist had said that he could see him. But he'd said—he'd said—!

Feeling the stinging pain of burns flowering across his back, Jack shakily drew himself up. Sucking in his breath, he then gripped the staff, stepping forward as the shrieking man lurched at him, the swinging cross plunging straight into his heart.

Jack watched in terror as the shadow of the exorcist's arm pulled out of his chest, his mind freezing into the blank haze of shock. Shaking his head with disbelief, his vision began to go blurry as the nausea swept over him.

"You—you said you could see me!" Jack choked. "You said—!"

The cross, in the exorcist's hand, plunged into his chest again, then coming out for a second time as the screaming, the crying, and all the sounds in the room faded together into one, leaving Jack hearing nothing but the violent booming of his own heart pounding in his ears.

Fighting back the tears, he shakily pulled in his breath. Then, drawing himself up, Jack walked slowly forward through the bodies of the terrified villages towards the door, leaving the exorcist screaming at the empty corner behind him.

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Frantically rubbing the tears off of his face with his arm, Jack Frost stumbled blindly through the forest, the cold winter air rushing over his bare torso as he wandered deeper and deeper into the trees.

His tattered cape and vest were back in the little cottage with the exorcist, completely destroyed, and when he'd walked out through the crowd, he had initially thought that, somehow, his woolen shirt had been spared. Thankfully, the worn-out old wool had apparently been just thick enough to help protect his back from more of the burns. However, it hadn't been thick enough to stay in one piece.

The back had been covered with singe marks, the fabric falling apart in gaping holes and rips. And the wool had been agitating his burns, anyway. After realizing that there was nothing he could do to fix it, Jack had, in despair, discarded the shirt back somewhere behind him in the forest, leaving it on the ground in the moonlight. Maybe some animal or something could use it. Well… if they could see it, that was.

In the mean time, he wasn't going to steal a shirt from anyone in the village. They were clearly suffering enough already. There was a saying, he knew, that essentially described the ultimate state of ruin as having nothing more than the shirt on your back. And now, he didn't even have one of those. He didn't know who or where he was, but Jack was now certain that he'd now lost everything.

So this was Hell.

The burns on his back were worsening, the enflamed skin and seeming to burn deeper and deeper as he walked. Was he really a demon? Was that—was that Hellfire, the just burned him? But the man wielding it—that would make HIM—wait. No. That didn't make sense…

Nothing made sense.

Jack, feeling a new wave of nausea sweeping over him, stumbled to the side, throwing out his arm to catch himself before he fell onto a tree. Shakily turning around as his limbs went limp, he then helplessly lowered himself down against it, the harsh bark piercing into the burns on his back.

He didn't even care.

Weakly pulling his knees into his chest as he sat down in the wet leaves around the snowbank, more sharp sticks and twigs tearing at his skin, he collapsed against the tree, burying his face in his legs. Nothing made sense. No one could see him. And then they'd cast him out. How could they cast him out, if they couldn't see him? And now, here he was, in the middle of the forest, in the middle of the night, completely alone in the darkness.

It was dark. And it was cold.

And he was scared.

Hugging his knees to his chest, Jack rocked back, and then forward, and then back again, finally leaning helplessly back against the tree trunk and bursting into tears.

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Hours passed.

There was nothing to be done. Sometimes, the tears would slow, but then Jack would feel a twig or a branch catch on one of his burns, and he would remember. Then he would collapse again. He was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Hungry, but he couldn't eat. The pit in his stomach was not fading, but growing stronger, becoming more painful each and every time that reality hit him freshly again.

Demon.

He was a demon.

Jack swallowed hard, pulling in his breath and hugging his knees tighter to his chest again. He bowed his head forward. Was it really true? Shaking his head as the tears streamed down his face, Jack suddenly saw something in his peripheral vision.

Shinggg!

Looking up through the glassy film over his eyes, he jolted, gasping and scrambling backwards into the tree.

Shing! Shing shinggg! SHINGGG!

Glittering spirals and ribbons of shining dust were suddenly shooting through the trees, twisting and darting around him in the forest. The darkness was fleeing in all directions as the gold spun and raced through the air, dancing and leaping, rejoicing, rushing on the wind, creating its own. Sucking in his breath and looking up, Jack watched in awe as the gold began to condense into a fluid cloud before the realization hit.

It was closing in on him.

Jack shrieked and cowered into the tree, his eyes wide, shaking uncontrollably and gripping his knees to his chest. From behind, he felt something touch him, and he jolted, whipping his head around in terror and pulling in his breath to scream.

A tiny, pale hand was resting on his shoulder.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

1. Okay, first off, I just want to say: YASSSSSS, WE'RE THROUGH WITH THE DARKEST (Oh, boy. I think.) PART OF ICE ALLIANCE! This chapter, and the last, were very difficult to write, and I'm sure they were difficult to read. However, with that in mind, this chapter was necessary because it sets up the NEXT one coming up, which I think is one of my favorite chapters so far. The darkness is temporarily done—PHEW!

2. I'm still fairly new to the world of fanfic, and there have been some guest reviewers that have been using, uh, what I believe are fanfic slang terms and abbreviations? Basically: if you're using fanfic slang, I probably will have no idea what you're talking about. Please, please don't, because I value your opinions, and I want to know what you mean! (Think of yourself as explaining this to a donkey. A very, very stupid donkey.)

3. For the number of people that have requested my, um, making Jack and Elsa "go faster," if you get my drift… okay, first off, I'm glad you've told me that, because it means that you're emotionally involved (my goal! Ha ha!), but second, I just want to make one thing very clear. As I stated earlier, I'm very, VERY Christian, and I believe in abstinence before marriage, and then complete fidelity after marriage. Because I am writing this in accordance with my religious beliefs, I am just going to state here: There is no pre-marital sex in Ice Alliance. I repeat, THERE IS NO PRE-MARITAL SEX IN ICE ALLIANCE.

4. Actually, let's re-phrase that, just so I'm not misunderstood…

5. There is no PRE-MARITAL sex in Ice Alliance.

6. (*cackles maniacally*)

7. Anyhoo, this was a long, rambling note. I LOVE YOU ALL, thanks for being here, and see ya in the next chapter, which is one of my personal favorites ("Some Are Cursed")!