CHAPTER 11: LIFE & DEATH
When the beam passed, and everyone dared to look again, they were surprised to see Elsa – unharmed, if not unaffected. She looked as bewildered as they felt, but otherwise, there wasn't a hair out of place. There was no sign that she'd taken a massive blast of power into her back and out her chest, not even a scratch. Her four present loved ones had fully expected at least a big hole, if not her entire upper body blown away. Instead, she was still standing.
And behind her, so was Pitch.
Then, he wasn't. With a final smile to them all, he seemed to sink into the ground, becoming a shadow once more. Jack might have been tempted to chase the shadow as it flitted past him with a low laugh, on its way to Arendelle. But his whole attention was elsewhere.
Without the Boogeyman to hold her, Elsa's body went limp, and she crumpled to the snowy ground.
"ELSA!" Anna shrieked, scrambling toward her with tears in her eyes.
With an incredible leap, the speechless Jack beat the others to Elsa's side. He knelt down and, casting his staff aside, turned the Queen onto her back and cradled her in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world. To his dismay, she didn't react to this at all, remaining slack.
"Elsa!" he almost shouted, giving her a shake and fighting an uphill battle not to lose his head. "Elsa, come on! Open your eyes!"
Anna practically threw herself to the ground at Elsa's other side, taking her head in her hands and turning it to face her.
"Elsa?!" she cried, patting her cheek in a desperate attempt to wake her. "Wake up! Elsa, please wake up! Please!"
But no amount of being jostled or slapped caused Elsa to awaken. Her fear only increasing, Anna brought her ear to her sister's lips, listening intently. What she heard – or rather, didn't hear – brought her to edge of a panic attack.
"She's not breathing!" she barely managed to whimper.
Already sure he knew what he would find, Jack lowered his head to press his ear to Elsa's chest. As he listened, he noticed Kristoff take her hand in his and put a thumb to her wrist. Their shared suspicions were confirmed by the lack of what they heard and felt; Elsa's heart wasn't beating.
Jack and Anna's breaths died in their throats as sheer terror screamed to life from deep inside, spreading through them like wildfire and-
"She, uh... she needs mouth to mouth!" Kristoff, able to think at least partly straight, broke through to them urgently. "We have to get her heart beating again!"
Not waiting for a response from his dumbfounded girlfriend and friend, he took charge of the situation just as he had more than once in the past. In his line of work, at least one person a year was brought to this verge of death when the ice gave way beneath them, causing them to drown. Once they were brought back to the surface, getting their hearts and lungs working again was always the first priority, and "mouth to mouth" was the most available method to do that.
So Kristoff, seeing enough similarity between those incidents and this one, got Elsa ready for that method, lying her down in the snow. None too delicately, he took Anna's hands and guided them to her sister's chest.
"Okay, push up and down, like this!" he ordered, pressing down on Anna's hands at a rhythmic pace. "One! Two! Three! Keep it going, 'kay?" Receiving a shaky nod from her, Kristoff turned to Jack. "Okay, when I say, you're gonna put your mouth on hers and breathe-"
"I can't!" the Guardian protested.
"Jac-"
"I don't have any breath to give!"
Kristoff paused, perplexed by Jack's words, and from the look he exchanged with Anna as she kept the compressions going, she was just as lost. But with Elsa's life at stake, he didn't dwell on this poorly-timed revelation. If Jack couldn't breathe for Elsa, then...
Despite the circumstances, Kristoff found it in himself to grow uncomfortable.
"Uh... okay. I'll, um-"
"I'll do it!"
Both young men looked at the frantic Anna, surprised. A second passed with only her continued pushes on her sister's heart to break the silence, but no other response followed.
"I said I'll do it!" she snapped. "Grow up and tell me when!"
"Okay, okay!" Kristoff replied, snapping back to work. "Jack, take over the compressions, keep the rhythm going!"
The Guardian of Fun obeyed, placing his hands over Anna's and, at Kristoff's instruction, picking up the pattern of brief pushes down on Elsa's heart when she left off. As this continued, the iceman guided Anna through the other side of the process, showing her how to hold Elsa's head back, her mouth open, and her nostrils shut, counting the beats in his head.
"Okay, when I say, Jack you stop, and Anna, you..." he trailed off, becoming unsure enough again to ask. "You sure you don't want me t-"
"It's fine, just say when!"
"Okay... now!"
Right on cue, Jack withdrew his hands, and Anna brought her lips to Elsa's to exhale hard. (If anyone had any unhelpful thoughts about this, they wisely chose not to voice them.) Kristoff watched the brief rise and fall of the Queen's chest – the only response to their efforts so far.
"Again, breathe!"
Anna repeated the action. To everyone's dismay, Elsa did not awaken, but Kristoff wasn't entirely surprised.
"Jack, now!"
With a "'kay", the Guardian resumed his part of the job, pumping on Elsa's chest at the same steady rate as before. Her contribution done for now, Anna withdrew from her sister, allowing herself only to hold her hand until she was needed again.
"Please, Elsa... please..." she prayed, unable to stop her tears from rolling down her cheeks. Her prayer went unanswered, and she looked to Kristoff desperately. "Why isn't she waking u-"
"Just give it a minute, okay?" the ice harvester insisted. "It usually takes a couple of rounds. She just needs to pick up the rhythm, give her a chance. Okay? You're doing great. Both of you, you're doing so great..."
Kristoff continued to fill the near-silence of saving Elsa with assurances of how fine, how normal this all was, and how amazing they were at this, and it was the only thing keeping them from falling completely apart in the face of potentially another death in their family tonight, and Anna and Jack were grateful for it to an infinite degree.
The only relevant assurance Kristoff didn't give was that this would work. And this was not an oversight on his part; it was deliberate. The truth was that, even with this method of resuscitation, some made it... and others didn't.
"Okay..." he announced, still counting. "Breathe!"
Again, Anna blew one, then another lungful of air down Elsa's throat before Jack resumed his job. He only made a few compressions before the temperature around them abruptly began to drop – and they all saw Elsa's mouth open wider as she took a breath on her own!
"Wait, wait, stop!" Kristoff exclaimed, smacking Jack's forearms aside.
Guardian, Princess, ice harvester and reindeer all watched with motionless shock and the beginnings of relief as the Queen exhaled, and her eyelids miraculously started to flutter open.
And then they widened in alarm as her second breath halted partway to her lungs! Her eyes rolled back as she passed out again! All three of her resuscitators immediately checked for vital signs, but were horrified to find none!
"Again! Let's go again!" Kristoff commanded before either of his friends could panic, no longer as calm as before.
"Come on, come on...!" Jack muttered to no one in particular as he began the compression process again. "Elsa...!"
"Wake up, Elsa..." Anna began to sob as she stroked her sister's hand and waited for the signal. "Please wake up... Please don't leave me... I'm begging you... I need you... I need you to wake up..."
Those words were almost enough to make Jack lose the rhythm of his efforts as recent memories were jangled. Despite everything Elsa had said the other night about the horror of leaving her sister again, how that sister would be affected hadn't really occurred to the Guardian. All he'd really seen was that he didn't want to live in a world without his Snow Angel, and his Snow Angel didn't want to live in a world without him and her sister – a world that existed now, but would break in half one day. What Anna wanted had escaped his notice.
But now, it was on full display to him; it looked like Anna couldn't afford to lose Elsa any more than he could. But she would be forced to if the Queen chose to live an eternal life with him. Jack didn't know how Elsa would deal with losing either of them, but Anna's suffering – not unlike what she was experiencing now – was something he couldn't allow, much less cause, anymore than hers.
He wasn't trying to save Elsa for himself now. He was trying to save her for herself and for Anna – no matter the cost to himself.
"And breathe!" Kristoff ordered.
Anna immediately complied, not even needing to be told when to deliver the second breath. This time, Jack only got one compression in before the cold doubled and Elsa woke up again. Relief flooded through the group, but it was tainted by hesitation.
"Elsa!" Anna exclaimed with a tearful smile, cradling her sister's head in her hands. "It's okay!"
Before Elsa could make it back to full consciousness, she breathed out again, and didn't breathe back in. Anna was forced to witness her big sister grow agitated, struggle to inhale again, then pass back out. It was more than her traumatized mind could take, and any hint of calm was utterly smashed.
"Why isn't it working?!" she demanded hysterically as she tried to gently lay Elsa's head back down.
"I-I... I don't...!" Kristoff attempted, words failing him.
"We keep going!" Jack all but roared, putting his hands back into position.
The pattern of pumping on Elsa's heart so many times and breathing down her throat at regular intervals began again, but it took on a new desperation. Despair lingered over the group, not needing to be spoken. It had asserted itself twice, and there was no reason to believe it wasn't here to stay. Jack and Anna only continued out of the slim hope that kept being dangled in front of them, regardless of the facts.
Elsa's heart simply refused to work on its own. Everything else inside her seemed to be in perfect working order. She could breathe and at least open her eyes as long as someone was doing the compressions on her chest. But the minute this was abandoned, her heart gave out, not having the strength to continue even with the helping hand it had been given.
This was only confirmed when the winter chill returned, and her eyes opened up again, somehow bringing them all some semblance of hope once more. She exhaled the breath Anna had given her and took in one of her own – as much as she could with Jack back to pushing down on her chest again and again.
"Wha... what's happening..." she struggled to whisper.
"It's okay, I've got you!" Anna promised, holding Elsa's hand tightly and staying in her line of sight.
"Jack!" Kristoff called. "You've gotta stop."
"If I stop, we're just gonna lose her again!" Jack insisted, not slowing down in the least.
Kristoff looked for a moment like he was going to try to reason with Jack, but found he had no logic to offer. That logic would mean losing Elsa, which none of them could accept.
He didn't need to reason, though. Even as he continued the compressions, the Guardian of Fun knew that he was right. If it was true that Elsa's heart couldn't function without outside help, what were they going to do? Have someone pump on her chest indefinitely? She could barely breathe in these conditions; how was she supposed to live her life in them?
Daring to look away from his hands, Jack saw that Elsa was barely even conscious, not responding to even one reassuring word out of her little sister's mouth. From the barely-perceptible wince on her face, it was clear that she was in pain – from the attack or from the compressions, no one could know. But when her eyes travelled to her chest, then to the one pushing down on it, the anguish Jack felt only made it all the clearer that they couldn't go on this way. He was torn.
"Jack..." Elsa wheezed, struggling to take another breath.
"Please don't leave..." he murmured mournfully, not having it in him to finish with "me". "Just hold on..."
The Queen gave something resembling a nod, not having the strength to say anything more. Jack, Anna and Kristoff all exchanged looks of despair, knowing, and fear. Whether Elsa was or not, they were all aware of what had to be done. The compressions were doing no good now. They had to stop. And whatever result they'd produced had to be accepted.
There was a chance, however slim, that the compressions had worked; that they'd gotten Elsa's heart beating again, and it was ready to work on its own. The three friends just couldn't tell because the compressions were still going, potentially masking their accomplishment.
But if that wasn't the case, then the compressions were keeping her alive, but only in the loosest sense of the term. Elsa couldn't possibly have wanted to live like this for another minute, let alone a lifetime. The alternative would be preferable for her – no matter how devastating it would be for the rest of them.
"I love you." Jack breathed, offering a failure of a hopeful smile.
"I love you, too." Anna choked out, trying to look reassuring for her sister.
"Love... you..." Elsa murmured in return, too tired to open her eyes.
Still pushing again and again, Jack looked up at Anna, and she returned his gaze. So much love, terror, and hope, all for one person who had changed both their lives so incredibly, passed between them. Together, they prayed that all this had worked. They turned this look on Kristoff and Sven, who nodded solemnly.
And with one last look at his reason for being, Jack stopped the compressions.
With nothing to impede the act, Elsa took a full, deep lungful of air, and from the smile that played at the corners of her mouth, she seemed to enjoy it. It came back out in a sigh that was almost satisfied, and was quickly followed by a second breath. Kneeling either side of her, Jack and Anna both smiled down at her, their hopes daring to shine.
Elsa exhaled... and didn't inhale again.
Her eyes drifted shut, while Anna's, Jack's, Kristoff's and Sven's widened with terrified disbelief.
"No..." the Princess voiced all their thoughts in a squeak, fresh tears finding their way out of her eyes.
Though she moved her ear to her sister's chest, Jack didn't, too petrified to hear it for himself. Slowly, he sat partway up, but was otherwise unable to move, unable to stop staring at the worst thing he'd ever seen. The image burnt itself into his retinas... and its flames spread throughout his entire mind, turning every part of it to ash.
"No!" Anna repeated a little louder when she heard nothing going on inside.
Even with nothing left to destroy, the fires inside Jack continued to rage, licking at his nerves in ways that made his insides howl. If he hadn't been so paralyzed, he would have been writhing and screaming on the ground in agony. Instead, he was forced to watch as the truth in turn dawned on the sister of his love. Anna grabbed Elsa's shoulders and gave her an insistent shake, but received no answer. The horror on her features grew to a level that somehow frightened Jack, and she recoiled from her sister like she was a stranger. For a long moment, the Princess was like him, incapable of not staring at the nightmarish sight before her – until it was finally, brutally committed to memory.
And when it was, she doubled over until her forehead was in the snow... and gave a long, piercing scream!
It dissolved into horrified wails when Kristoff, struggling to restrain his own tears, comfortingly took Anna into his arms, but it was too late. There was no taking it back. And from it, Jack, now surely just a charred, suffering husk of the Guardian of Fun, knew that the moment he'd been dreading had arrived. And all he could do was sit there, stare at the ruin of his life, and be confronted with the terrible truth for all eternity.
Elsa, the reason for him to exist... was dead.
Elsewhere in the mountains, the shadow that was Pitch Black zoomed across the moonlit ground like a madman. It wound around trees, snaked over boulders, and slid down slopes at breakneck speeds, leaving a trail of frost crackling in its wake. Finally approaching his destination, it disappeared behind an old shed, and emerged on the other side as a full being again.
Instead of continuing on, Pitch halted in his tracks with a stumble and, as if afraid that he might faint, laid a hand on a nearby tree trunk. He stared into space with a mixed expression for a long moment, hardly daring to believe the last few minutes of his life had been real. It had all been so perfect – maybe too perfect. A part of him feared that it had just been a construct of his damaged mind; his planning going into overdrive, playing his scheme out in his head so vividly that he believed it was really happening, when it hadn't even really begun.
But slowly, the reality of it began to sink in. All the memories he'd just made were too clear and defined to be one of his hallucinations. He could still feel his dark powers replenishing after the blast he'd unleashed. And at the same time, he could feel another power inside him, feeling as real as the texture of the bark beneath his palm.
It wasn't a hallucination. It was true. He'd done it. He'd taken the magic of winter, and... he was ready!
A grin shakily spreading across his face, Pitch leaned his head back, brought a hand to his eyes... and laughed. He laughed long and loud and with no care of how crazy he sounded. He had every reason to be overjoyed. The quest for his new power was finally over. His war on all of the Man in the Moon's works had begun. And it had begun in the most fitting way possible.
"Long live the Queen!" he cried out into the night with another cackle.
He'd made his first kill since Sandy last year, and he'd carried it out flawlessly, like a work of art. First, there was the identity, and so the importance, of his victim. Not only was she the Queen of a kingdom – which would now be leaderless in the chaos to come – but she was the love of Jack Frost. If the new Guardian didn't lose his mind or take his own life out of grief, he would pursue Pitch to the ends of the Earth to avenge her. So blinded by rage, he would certainly be a mighty foe to battle, but a sloppy one. The Boogeyman was going to enjoy defeating him dearly.
And then there had been the presentation. He'd carefully manipulated the group into lowering their guards, snuck up perfectly, and even waited until they were all aware of his presence to seal Elsa's fate. The looks of utter horror on their faces had been the very thing he lived for.
But the way in which he'd done it... oh, Pitch would be laughing over that for centuries. He'd considered a variety of ways of assassinating Elsa (stabbing her with a blade of ice would certainly have been viciously ironic), but in the end, he'd settled on the most appropriate way for her to die. There had been no dream sand or ice in his killing blow; just a large dose of pure, concentrated fear. It was the very same thing he used to corrupt dream sand, but on a much vaster scale.
So much terror had caused her levels of adrenaline and other bodily chemicals to shoot up to the stars – levels too toxic for her heart to handle all at once, sending her into cardiac arrest. No doubt Jack, Anna and Kristoff were trying to save her right now. Sooner or later, though, they would realize their efforts were for nought. The damage wasn't visible, but Elsa's heart was now poisoned, and would never beat unaided again.
What made his murder method so perfect was Elsa's history. His investigation into her had revealed that she'd been told years ago, in no uncertain terms, that fear would be her enemy. Now, that enemy had triumphed over her once and for all, and taken her powers for itself.
At the certainty of that claim, the slightest shred of doubt wormed its way into his mind, and Pitch immediately moved to root it out. He called upon the winter inside him... and it answered. Shards of ice formed and came to orbit around his hand when he raised it. Sometime during this endeavour, it had occurred to him that the magic he'd stolen from Elsa might die with her, leaving his plot in shambles. But as he'd gambled upon, that turned out not to be the case. It survived in him.
Now. he reminded himself. I just need the other half of the puzzle.
Knowing where it was, he dispelled the ice in his grasp and set off on foot. Before long, he spotted a small clearing in the woods ahead, and that it was predictably already occupied. Obeying his command to withdraw from the strife to the north, all of the nightmares had come to wait at this rendezvous point. The way they pawed at the ground and huffed even harder than usual gave away that they were impatient. Some even cast longing looks back at the North Mountain.
"Now, now, darlings..." he greeted them as he stepped into their midst. "A watched sun never sets."
He didn't mean that literally, of course; the sun had gone down some time ago, with only the last of its rays visible now. But the time of the Guardians and the continued rise of mankind was not yet over. The Boogeyman and his forces would be the ones to bring about the sunset of that day, and they were eager for it. So when they heard his voice, the nightmares all turned dutifully to him. Pitch's expression of smugness wobbled when he saw just how few yellow eyes there were to meet his.
"Is this everyone?" he queried, not quite believing it.
The low grunts he received were all the answer he needed. There were less than forty of them here – and none anywhere else in the world. Aside from any reserves of black sand Pitch had with him, they were the last of their kind.
"So few of you left..." he remarked thoughtfully before shrugging. "Well, we'll fix that."
One of the nightmares drew closer, snarling something no one but those present could ever have understood. Pitch tilted his head curiously.
"Why must you change?" he repeated. "Because even when you have forever, you can still be left behind. Look at yourselves." Walking deeper into the quizzical herd, he gestured around at them. "You're practically an endangered species. Oh, I can make more of you over time, that's true. But what's the point when you're so easy to defeat?! How many of you did you lose to a human up there?!"
Pitch's voice had risen nearly to a shout, his good mood beginning to crumble into indignation as he pointed out their failures – failures which were only byproducts of his own. Receiving no answers from his audience but stunned silences, he exhaled a calming breath, not wanting to lose the feeling of euphoria he'd just been revelling in.
"Everyone has to change to keep up with the times." he resumed patiently. "I did. That's how you were all born. And now, so will you. So... who's first?"
He smiled around them all expectantly, waiting for a response. But it seemed that his rousing speech had done nothing to convince them that this change was a necessary evil, as none of them volunteered.
That's all right. the Boogeyman told himself. They're not volunteers.
Triggering his control over darkness with a growl, he reached out to every grain of black dream sand around him... then tore them from where they stood. The nightmares all screeched as their bodies were ripped apart, their individualities were quashed, and they were reminded who was in charge. It made Pitch smile as, with a gesture, he redirected all their substance over his head, combining it into a pool of black sand that whirled like a storm. With that done, he called back down a small portion of that reserve – not nearly enough to make a nightmare – to float around one hand. Raising his other one, he summoned his new power, generating ice crystals to swirl in the air above his palm. Now that all his materials were gathered together, Pitch was ready to build.
The old nightmares had been entirely comprised of dream sand, something he'd always had a limited supply of (especially now). But with his new power, he could spread that supply thinner, using less grains per troop and filling the gaps in between them with ice. With that design in mind, he brought the two together and went to work reshaping them. The way in which he manipulated the ice just as expertly as the sand was as if he'd had it for years.
Well, not years. he granted with something akin to humility. But it's amazing what you can do with a few days.
Contrary to what the Guardians had probably surmised, his declaration to approach Elsa this past Sunday had been no bluff. After tricking Frost out of both the lair and his way, Pitch had made good on his promise and gone straight to Arendelle, emerging from under one of its children's beds and slipping easily into the kingdom's dominant structure. Knowing his time was limited, he'd headed straight up to the bed chambers' wing, ready to use any method necessary to subjugate the young Queen and force her to surrender a share of her magic.
But before he'd even searched many of the rooms, he'd spotted something extraordinary in the hall with him; walking around on stubby legs, with a flurry over his head and not a care in the world, was a snowman.
Even the legendary Boogeyman's hairless eyebrows had risen in disbelief at the discovery. The nightmares he'd assigned to observation duty on the two bringers of winter had not reported anything like this (perhaps neither had really crossed paths with this being lately), but he supposed it wasn't surprising that Elsa would use her incredible ability to create life out of ice more than once. Though he looked nothing like the abomination – apparently named Marshmallow – that had inhabited the palace on the North Mountain, it was clear that this snowman had been made by the same maker. The power radiating inside him had the same feel as that in his deceased fellow.
And it was that which had given Pitch cause to hesitate. Physically, this little, oblivious oaf – whom he later found out to be named Olaf – may have been only a shadow of the last snowman he'd encountered, but it was nevertheless the same magic that gave him life. It had made Pitch wonder... could he make do with this instead? Because if he could... an irresistibly cruel plan had begun to form in his twisted mind.
With no time to waste, he'd put it to action; he'd grabbed some black sand from his pocket, crafted a nightmare out of it, and sent it galloping down the hall toward the snowman. Like Marshmallow had a week earlier, Olaf had stopped and looked around as if sensing the approaching presence. But he'd been unable to see it – let alone stop it from leaping right at him, vanishing into his snowy body, and taking control of him.
Pitch was grateful that all the resistance Olaf presented had collapsed in mere seconds. There had been no time for screams or roars to fly from his mouth and alert the whole castle to the intruder. The snowman had gone rigidly still in his last moment as a free being. In the next, he was seemingly nothing more than a pawn.
Not wanting just a pawn, though, Pitch had immediately proceeded. Placing his hands on either side of the snowman's head, he'd reached out to the nightmare festering inside, and initiated full control. If this new addition to his plot was going to work, he needed Olaf to behave ordinarily (and the Boogeyman had guessed that his ordinary behaviour was friendly and upbeat), something he couldn't depend on even his cleverest pet to do. It only took a few seconds, but when it was done, every move Olaf made, down to the blinking of his eyes, had come straight from Pitch's mind.
And the first thing he'd made Olaf do was continue on to bed while he himself made his neat exit. When the Guardians had arrived full-force more than an hour later, he'd been long gone – and yet, still very much there, if completely undetectable. Some of Tooth's little fairies had even flown right up to Olaf's sleeping form to check that he was all right, and given his soundness their seal of approval before moving on. The deception had been truly delicious.
The next few days had proven to be both tense and rewarding all at once. Through his strong connection to the nightmare that held it, Pitch had examined the power inside Olaf, studying all of its traits and learning how it could be used if it were torn out and put into the hands of someone versed in magic. To the Boogeyman's amazement, its potential had been practically limitless. If only his unstable mind had thought to look at Marshmallow's own power so closely, he would have jumped straight to where he was tonight than continue this charade!
It was this charade that had been the source of his tension over those few days. Pitch had required much concentration in exploring Olaf's magic; dedicating any to making him personable and adventurous had felt like a waste of resources. But it had been a necessary waste if he was going to keep the Guardians' attention away from the snowman. Of course, their attention might have been drawn anyway if his impersonation failed to convince his friends, something Pitch had continuously worried about. (True, he'd already had a death grip on Olaf, but it could still be broken, and the rest of his plan thwarted, if the act had failed.) But to his relief, everyone had been too occupied with both his looming threat and their own petty issues to notice Olaf's unusual quiet. They'd just thought he was still engrossed in whatever he'd been working on with those sheets of parchment on the floor.
Glad you got through so much of your bucket list, Olaf. Pitch thought sadistically.
Once he'd been sure that he fully understood the power of winter, all there had been left to do was absorb it into himself, and secure it there. Elsa had reclaimed the power she'd imparted into Marshmallow, after all, snatching it from his nightmare's hold. Who was to say she wouldn't be able to do the same to him? Not wanting to take that chance, he'd had no choice but to eliminate her. When he'd lured her and her loved ones out here tonight, it had been with the full intention of not letting her leave alive, no matter how much he offered otherwise.
Pitch furrowed his brow thoughtfully as he continued to forge his new warriors. Something else he'd offered Elsa and Jack in exchange for some magic (a new snow life form, which would have prompted him to release Olaf from his nightmare's possession) was immunity for Burgess, Arendelle, and even some other places from the terror he was about to let loose. Truthfully, he didn't know whether he would have honoured his part of such a deal, or turned around and laid siege to them like all other places. He couldn't predict the winds that swung his mind's sails like he used to, but it might have been interesting to have one or more safe havens in the world where his dark winter wouldn't reach, forcing him to work around them.
But that ship had sailed when first one, then the other bringer of winter had turned him down. Now, for their responding to his generosity by spitting in his face, neither Burgess nor Arendelle would be given any quarter from what he was bringing to the world. And since Arendelle was not so far away...
Might as well get it over with. Pitch thought with a shrug.
Perhaps out of keenness to do so, he paused in his crafting. Above him, over half of the dream sand he'd started out with remained there like a storm cloud. But on the ground around him, the amount of new troops – each a perfect hybrid of dream sand and ice perverted by his darkness – was already more than triple the number of nightmares he'd found here upon arrival. It would be more than enough to wipe out a kingdom.
At that, Pitch confidently stored the rest of his darkened dream sand away for later use. He'd waited and prepared long enough. Now, his time had come again, and was here to stay. With his new power and his new warriors – he decided to christen them "frightmares" (combining "nightmare" with "frost", "frozen", or any of a slew of other words associated with ice) – he would lay waste to Arendelle. This would be the seed he planted that would grow into fresh horror to harvest, and usher in a new dark age that no one would be able to stop.
His entire face giving a crazed grin at the fantasy, he looked up at his greatest foe. As always, the Man in the Moon did nothing, choosing to remain passive, a full, white disc in the dark sky. Here, under the light of the hated Moon, Pitch was off in search of screams. He was on the prowl for terror. On the hunt for fear.
"Tonight..." he murmured, slowly turning his maddened gaze on the kingdom below. "It's a hunter's moon..."
With that as his declaration of war, Pitch went to begin his attack in the only way fitting for the Boogeyman.
Looking at it, one would never have guessed that the Pole was prepared for battle. The yetis were back to their workstations, churning out toy after quality toy for children to unwrap on Christmas. The reindeer slept, ate, or socialized amongst themselves as always. The elves continued to run around doing... whatever it was that they did.
Even North seemed to be back to his usual hobby of inventing, something he did only when there was nothing more pressing for him to tend to. He sat quietly in his study, working carefully to join a number of small mechanical parts into something that would, with luck, hop around like an acrobatic kangaroo when he was done. On his desk, a stein of hot chocolate sat to his left, and a few letters from children were spread out in front of him, making him beam fondly. With all that, and the music that played gently from the phonograph to his right, he seemed completely at ease, a far cry from his mood this past Sunday night. The only things to suggest that it was any other day for him were the twin swords tucked into his belt, ready to be drawn at a-
The near-silence of the study was only lightly disturbed by a lone tap at the window.
It might as well have been an explosion for all the surprise it produced. North instantly burst into action, jumping to his feet and drawing his swords!
"LET THEM COME!" he challenged in a roar.
Then his face fell as he quickly realized he'd been set off by the muffled bang of a small bird flying headfirst into his window – which was odd, since birds were scarce in this part of the world.
Then the bird – the tiny fairy Jack had nicknamed Baby Tooth, if North wasn't mistaken – levitated back into sight, shaking her sore head before turning intangible and fluttering in through the windowpane. The Guardian of Wonder might have asked how she didn't have her ghostliness ability down to an instinct by now when entering homes was such a habitual part of her job... if he hadn't known why she was here. His eyes went wide with horror. His fears were only confirmed when, the instant she was through the glass, Baby Tooth began to babble frantically in her kind's twittering language. Though he couldn't understand the words, their spirit was clear, and it sent him bolting out of his study.
"Emergency!" he shouted, moving at a speed surprising for a being of his size. "Enemy contact in Arendelle! All hands to battle stations!"
North continued to yell orders, but they weren't needed. The entire Pole went on high alert, abandoning its everyday routine in a split second. An alarm blared throughout the structure. Yetis and elves practically dove to their posts. Many would remain in case the Boogeyman decided to show up here again, while the stronger and more experienced fighters would accompany their leader into the fray.
As much as he appreciated that, North needed his fellow Guardians more, and so he went about alerting them to the situation. Hoping he didn't squash any elves underfoot, he ran up the halls and stairs (forsaking the slow elevators) all the way to the main floor of the atrium until he finally arrived at a certain control board. Without a second's hesitation, he flicked the switch he'd just installed this afternoon, turned the big dial in the corner, and hoped against hope. He was a master at building and rebuilding, but even he could make mistakes.
To his relief, it appeared that he hadn't today. Light shone to life from the Globe of Belief's continents, but it was different than usual. Instead of the greens and pinks of a usual aurora, it radiated white with faint shades of blue – appropriate to the place that it was made for. North watched with pride as the pale glow rose up into the sky, then spread across it like a spider's web. Humans who saw it would be welcome to come up with whatever explanations for this unique phenomenon they liked, but Tooth, Bunny and Sandy would know what it truly meant; a meeting, and probably a clash, in Arendelle.
This task done, North turned to be faced with his right-hand yeti, Tomas (and Baby Tooth, who'd followed him).
"Is the sleigh ready?" he demanded seriously as he took his hat and coat.
With a nod, Tomas gave an affirmative in his people's language – then shielded his eyes as a glow of pale blue light shone down upon him. So tensed up for the imminent battle, North very nearly exploded into frustration.
"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed, turning to the Globe as if it would answer. "You were just working, what's wrong with you now?!"
But he stopped short when he saw that nothing was wrong. The Northern Signal was still functioning as he'd intended. The glow wasn't coming from the Globe's direction, but from the skylight's. For a moment, North wondered if the new colour was reflecting off the glass wrong for some reason. But just as he was realizing that the new Signal and this mysterious glow didn't match, he spotted something else in the sky, much higher than the false aurora.
"Man in Moon?!" he blurted out in a hush.
Hoping that the others had seen the Signal, the Christmas icon reached down and turned the dial back without even looking. The aura of light shrank back to nothing, revealing that his eyes weren't fooling him. The familiar, white orb was indeed up there, full and bright. And judging from the way its rays were focused, its master had something to say. It was a rare occurrence, and North was almost sorry the other Guardians weren't here to see it.
"Manny!" he greeted anxiously, almost pleading. "Old friend, this is really bad time! Pitch is on move now! I must go! If there is anything I must know, tell me now!"
For a moment, nothing resembling a reply, even from the Man in the Moon, came. The light didn't so much as shift as the celestial body just sat there, seeming to stare thoughtfully down. As faithful as he was in his creator, North almost wondered if he was wasting his time, knowing he was needed elsewhere.
Before the Guardian could decide between speaking again or just giving up and leaving, the light changed at last. The spread of the beams shrank, becoming more focused, but not on him. Turning, he saw that they illuminated Tomas – or rather, the floor beneath Tomas's feet. The yeti jumped back with a yelp as if he'd stepped on something sharp. As it was, he'd been standing above something almost sacred; a circular section of the floor that bore the ornate "G" of the Guardians.
Before everyone's stunned eyes, that section of floor broke in two, its halves retracting to reveal a hidden chamber filled with blinding light below. From within this light, a chunk of rock atop a pedestal of wood slowly rose, lifting a magnificent, perfect gem as big as Sandy into the air. The blue and white light of the Moon refracted dazzlingly off and through the rarely-seen Guardian Stone, shining in turn onto the surrounding floor, walls, and onlookers. But none of this was even half as incredible as what it meant.
"A new Guardian?!" a baffled North asked almost indignantly, looking back up. "Are you sure?! Is this really time?!"
When the only answer he got was the continued shifting of the light, North supposed it wasn't all that surprising, when he thought about it. Jack had only been chosen to join their ranks the last time Pitch had been on the offensive. But at least then, the Man in the Moon had had the courtesy of reaching down here before things had gotten bad, not when they'd been on their way out. If North's gut was right, Baby Tooth's warning had come too late, rendering he and the others the same! Was the eleventh hour really the best time to find, enlighten, and convince a new recruit?
Despite these doubts, the Guardian of Wonder waited with struggling patience as particles of blue energy began to rise from the Stone like slow steam. At first, the only shape they took was no shape at all, merely a formless cloud of blue sparks. But finally, that cloud began to lift like mist, leaving only enough of its particles to create a vague image of someone. With every second, more and more details appeared, making the image clearer – and making the expressions of all who witnessed it utterly dumbstruck. North's mouth fell open.
"But that..." he murmured, words almost failing him. "That's... that's impossible..."
Things weren't quite as ordinary at the Tooth Palace.
If the news that a handful of nightmares were on the loose had been bad, the confirmation that Pitch was alive and up to no good had been far worse. Though more of Toothiana's helpers had managed not to succumb to their fears than last week's instance, it was clear that they were all affected. The last of the joy they had long found in collecting the fallen teeth of children and leaving coins in their places was gone. They only left the Palace on such pickups now with great trepidation, and returned as fast as they could, as if it were any safer here. But it wasn't, and they all knew it, no matter how much they were told that Elsa, almost halfway around the world, was who Pitch was really interested in. So all the fairies went about their work in as close to daunted silence as they could, here in their own home.
Worse than that, nothing Tooth said or did seemed able to bolster their spirits anymore, especially when so many of their (braver) number were still out in the field on surveillance duty. Though she'd put her weapons away in an attempt to convince them otherwise, the fairies could all see that she was expecting an attack, rendering all her encouragements and reassurances hollow.
All this had made the Guardian of Memories look back on her actions last year, particularly taking any of her fairies into conflict, with regret. The fact of the matter was that they weren't made for battle. Sure, some of them were certainly valiant, but as a species, she'd created them in a time of peace to collect teeth and leave coins. Slaying enemies had never been part of the design, much as she armed them with needle-like noses that could definitely inflict damage. That was why she'd changed her way of fighting since Pitch's last attack, crafting weapons and training with her fellow Guardians. She could only hope she was ready, and know that they would have her back.
Her assigning pickups was interrupted by loud trills from a few of her fairies. Before others could follow their example in a panic, Tooth turned to see what she'd been dreading since yesterday. A white aurora reached across the early morning skies like the tendrils of some questing sea creature. If the oddness of these lights' colour and timing hadn't been a clear sign to the Guardian, the magic of their artificiality would certainly have been.
"It's time!" she hissed to herself.
She spun to face all the present fairies. Though many of them looked to be steeling themselves for a fight, all of their eyes were filled with terror. It made Toothiana's heart crack apart.
"You all stay here." she ordered resignedly. "Go out on pickups if you're up for it, but stay out of Arendelle until I say so."
Protests broke out across the swarms of tiny creatures, a new mixture of emotions taking over most of their features. Fear was still the dominant one, but even that had changed. Now, they were more afraid for her than themselves.
At this, Tooth offered a gentle smile.
"It's okay." she promised. "I'll take care of it this time."
Slowly, the little fairies gave into their creator's assurance. While some continued stoically with their duties, others retreated to the lower levels of the Palace to weather a storm out. Tooth caught a handful before they could join their sisters.
"Do me a favour before I go?" she asked. "Get me Incisor and Enamel."
"And they lived happily ever after." said Filip, closing the book in his hands. "The end."
With the story over, he cast a smile at his seven year-old daughter, seated on the bed beside him. For her part, Selma beamed back, waving her little, bare feet in space absently.
"The end." she repeated.
"That's right." Filip agreed.
"That was a good ending."
"It was pretty good."
"Yeah!"
Filip said nothing more, hoping his silence and his smile turning pointed was enough to communicate what he expected of her. But Selma, who had a talent for exploiting the loopholes in her parents' expectations, did no more than he did, obviously probing to see if her adorability would earn her any more minutes out of bed. As much as she was a perfect replica of her mother some twenty years earlier, the only thing her father would give into was her need for directness.
"And now, you go to bed." he finally prompted.
"Nooo, I don't!" Selma whined, her grin falling with her act of innocence.
"Yes, you do, sweetheart. You've been up long enough."
"No, I haven't!" Selma protested. "I haven't been up as long as you and mama yet!"
"Mama has the late shift at the clinic, remember? But she doesn't want it. If she didn't have to take it, you know what she would be doing right now?"
"No?"
Filip gave a triumphant smile.
"Going to bed."
Selma groaned, realizing she'd been fooled.
"Well, you don't have the late shift!" she protested in a last-ditch attempt at stalling her bedtime. "What's your excuse?Haven't you been up long enough?"
"Believe me, I have." Filip responded, holding back a laugh at his daughter's wit. "I'd turn in right now if I didn't have to make my lunch for tomorrow and help mama wind down as soon as she's back. You're lucky you get to sleep now."
"I could help mama wind down!"
"Not the way she needs. But you can make my cod sandwich if you want. Extra olives..."
"Ewww!" Selma made a face at the mention of two of the foods she hated the most.
"Bed doesn't sound so bad now, does it?"
With a reluctant nod, Selma slid off the bed and landed on her feet, allowing Filip to draw back the covers for her to crawl in. When she didn't immediately do this, he saw that her attention was on the shadows beneath the bed, which she eyed doubtfully. Having been in her place a long time ago himself, he guessed that one more demand in exchange for her cooperation was coming.
To his surprise, it didn't come immediately. Selma climbed into bed and made herself comfortable as he pulled the covers up to her chest. Perhaps she was finally growing out of her childhood fear of monsters hiding under her bed, Filip mused. Deciding not to push this luck by questioning it, he skipped right to pecking her on the forehead and wishing her pleasant dreams.
"Will you check for the Boogeyman?" Selma asked timidly as he reached for the lamp on her bedside table.
Halfway there. Filip consoled himself.
"Sure, honey." he acquiesced with a grin.
As he had many times in the last few years, he took the lamp, got down to his free hand and knees, and held the lamp out as he peered under the bed, knowing full well that all he would find was toys, a spare blanket, and-
With no warning whatsoever, something – no, several things – burst out from under the bed with deafening howls, shattering the tranquility of the bedroom! The noise was only added to by Selma's immediate shriek at the disturbance, while Filip barely managed to get even a foot back and shield himself from the onslaught by reflex! His lamp went flying into space, where it was extinguished, dimming the already-dark room even more!
Just as Filip started to get up to protect his screaming daughter, catching a glimpse of the inhuman trespassers that were far too big to have ever hidden under her bed, another couple of their number erupted from that hiding place! One barrelled in his direction, and he just narrowly managed to get back down and let the newcomer pass harmlessly over him! Once again, he found himself almost flat on the floor, staring into the shadows beneath Selma's bed!
In that moment, with all the noise and chaos and impossibilities rapidly filling the room... Filip believed in monsters under the bed. And, by extension, he believed in the Boogeyman.
As if sensing this, something else swooped out from the monsters' point of entry! Filip only got the briefest flash of glittering yellow eyes and a rictus smile before he felt a cold hand seize him by the throat, lift him roughly into the air, and pin him to the wall!
For a few seconds, the father was dazed from the impact, and he struggled to get back to full consciousness. When he did, he almost wished he hadn't. He found himself staring into the eyes of his captor, a man whose smile was almost relaxed, but whose face wasn't quite... human. Nor was his strength, Filip realized when he noticed that his feet were dangling in the air. But to this attacker's credit, he looked more human than the other few beings that had emerged from under the bed. Though they had settled down and were now standing around the room as if waiting for orders, they looked anything but harmless.
His only respite came from seeing that Selma, who had stopped screaming, didn't seem to be hurt. She was huddled in her skewed bed, her back against her headboard as she stared in outright horror at the dark being holding her papa captive – at her papa, silently begging for him to break free and make this stop, make all this go away! But for the first time since she'd been born, Filip felt truly helpless.
"Parents have been checking under beds for me for so long." the intruder commented idly. "But even when I was there, they never saw me. So I've always wondered..." He leaned closer to whisper his next words to his unfortunate victim. "What exactly would a parent do if they found a monster under there?"
Feeling a sudden burst of angry protectiveness, Filip swung his fist into the man's cheek as hard as he could! There was a crack... and Filip cried out in pain, clutching his injured knuckles. Probably realizing how powerless her papa was, Selma gave another scream.
"... So that's it?" the man, who hadn't even blinked from the right hook, asked softly when the noise died down.
The pain in his hand dulling a little, Filip looked helplessly at his assailant.
"Please..." he begged shakily. "My daughter... don't..."
He trailed off as his breath ran out, and this being's grip – or maybe his own terror – made it hard to even draw in another. The darkness in the room increased around the edges of his vision, and he could only pray that his and Selma's deaths would be-
Suddenly, Filip fell to the ground, and he gasped in a welcome lungful of air... before looking up again. Sure enough, the man smiled mysteriously down at him, as if planning something truly wicked. As a result, when he crouched down to look him in the eye, Filip braced himself for another attack.
"You and your daughter." the man instead delivered words that gradually became softer and madder. "... Run. Scream. And warn your people... the Boogeyman has come!"
Several seconds passed before Filip, petrified, even comprehended what had been said, let alone did anything. But when the man before him – the Boogeyman, he was horror-stricken to admit to himself – briefly tilted his head in an impatient hint, he jolted right out of his stupor. Keeping his eyes on the danger as much as he could, he scrambled to the bed, gathered his daughter in his frantic arms, and lit out of the room as fast as he could. A final look back revealed that, though the Boogeyman had stood back up and was watching them go, no one was pursuing them.
But as they hastened into the streets, Filip and Selma were both sure they heard the approaching footfalls of many more of the monsters...
All there was to hear were Anna's muffled sobs. The once-spunky and unshakeable Princess had entirely broken down in Kristoff's embrace, the only place she might have had even a chance at the slightest shred of comfort ever again.
It was still more chance than Jack had. The Guardian of Fun was only vaguely aware of Anna's crying from where he knelt, too inundated in his own overwhelming problems to really absorb it.
He couldn't move. He couldn't look away from the horrible sight before him. He couldn't wipe the look of terror and anguish off his face. He couldn't say a word. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't do anything. Because there was nothing to be done about this. There was nothing to be done about Elsa lying here in the snow, completely motionless – all the way down to her heart.
... She was dead. Her life had ended.
Jack's world had ended.
It truly felt like the mountain, the land, the entire planet was crumbling into oblivion, collapsing into an abyss so deep and black, even the Boogeyman wouldn't have wanted to go anywhere near it. With nothing left to stand on, Jack fell into the void to be consumed as well – and with his immortality, the consumption would be slow and agonizing. Maybe it would never end. But the beginning was already unbearable. It felt like he'd been plunged to the bottom of a sea of acid that was gradually, excruciatingly dissolving him. Like trillions of white-hot needles were slowly sinking into him from every possible direction. Like he was dying in the most debilitating way forever, but wasn't allowed to ever be dead and to pass on.
There was no escape. It was the fully realized version of the horrifying sensation Jack had been visited with when he'd had his realization that Monday morning not so long ago.
That realization... it had sent him on a journey to prevent this ever coming to pass – sacrificing time he should've spent with Elsa. With horror, it dawned on him that he'd been banking all along on her having at least a few more decades before she was due to leave this world. Until his encounter with Pitch three nights ago, the possibility of losing her early for any reason had never really crossed his mind. With that blissful ignorance, he'd gone about both his search and his job as a Guardian, confident that he'd had time to spare. He'd taken her life for granted! If he had only known... he would never have left Elsa's side. He would never have flown off on a fruitless search for something she had never even been sure she wanted, and would've guarded her from Pitch and any other possible threat. And... he would've treasured her full, human life, which was made beautiful by the parts he, Anna, Olaf, and everyone else she'd ever loved played in it.
Instead, he'd flown off and cost them precious time together, and left her unprotected, cutting her life short. He didn't know if losing her to old age years from now would've been better for him than this, but it would have to have been better for her and everyone else! Elsa was dead without having lived her whole mortal life! This was the worst possible turnout!
... And it was all his fault.
That was the last spark of thought in Jack's mind before it began to drown in devastation. Guilt and grief sank their claws into his spirit, deeper and deeper, squeezing and shredding and grinding everything in their paths. Everything was destroyed. It was over. He was done.
He had nothing left. There was only pain and sorrow – and Anna didn't make it any better.
"I can't..." Jack just heard her whimper from the depths of his despair. "I can't lose you like this... Not now..."
If the Guardian had been able to shed tears, those words would have been more than enough to make him cry his eyes out. His eyes watched as Anna pushed away from her fiancé's hold to lean over her sister again, and take her lifeless hand in both of hers.
"Come on, Elsa, please! I need you! I love you!" she sobbed quietly. "An act of true love will thaw a frozen heart, remember? You have to wake up..."
If at all possible, Jack's own heart was further torn to pieces by the reminder. Elsa had long since told him in vivid detail about the Great Thaw of last year, and one moment in particular that had changed her life forever. Even with her body painfully crystallizing to death courtesy of the ice in her heart, Anna had not hesitated to protect her big sister from an attack, throwing herself into a sword's path. This act of true love had, true to the trolls' word, dispelled the ice in her heart and body, leaving herself saved alongside her sister. But on top of that, it had made Elsa realize how much her little sister still cared about her, even with thirteen years of separation and secrets. Anna's love had given them a second chance to be sisters, and they'd gone on to take full advantage of it. Together, along with so many new loved ones, they'd enjoyed a wonderful year.
But that was all they'd been allowed. This was what fate had rewarded all their sacrifices with; not a lifetime together, but only a year ending in a sudden and violent...
...
... What? a part of Jack queried through the ocean of his blame and misery.
The part about Anna's frozen heart lingered in his mind for just a moment longer than the rest of the memory – long enough to give him an idea. Back then, Elsa's powers had been running wild with her fear and self-loathing. She'd been unable to restrain that blast of frigid energy, causing ice to form in Anna's heart, and she'd been equally incapable of stopping it from spreading throughout her body. But Jack didn't have such issues controlling that power, and Elsa had gotten over her own. If she were to be struck the same way Anna had been...
Having nothing left to lose, Jack surged into action like a man who'd gone too long without something essential. Almost banging into Anna, he placed his hands over Elsa's chest again as if to resume the compressions. He was aware of Anna and Kristoff asking what he was doing, but he ignored them, needing to concentrate. Pushing aside any chances of launching ice or snow, he summoned the winter within him once more, then directed it straight down out of his hands.
Before everyone's eyes, there was a small explosion of blue light between Jack's palms and Elsa's chest. When he withdrew his hands... nothing seemed to have changed. But the young Guardian continued to look tense, which was an improvement over grief-stricken.
"Ja-" Anna began again.
"I need you to breathe for her again." Jack ordered anxiously. "Can you do that?"
Anna looked like she was going to pepper him with questions for a second, but then nodded, fighting to regain some level of composure as she moved to help Elsa breathe once more. As she did, Jack closed his eyes and reached out with his magic. He held up a free hand, its palm facing toward him. Its fingers gently bent when he found what he was looking for, coming to look like he was holding a small, invisible ball. He took a deep breath... then gave the empty air he was holding a brief, gentle squeeze. Half a second later, he gave it another. And the next second, another two. And he kept up this rhythm for several long seconds before daring to open his eyes. To his relief, he found he still had control over what he was trying to do, though there was no visible sign of it. Anna, Kristoff and Sven sure looked lost.
"Okay..." he warned the former. "Breathe, now!"
With one hand pinching Elsa's nose shut and the other holding her mouth open, just as before, Anna bent over and blew a lungful of air down her sister's windpipe. Elsa's chest came up as the air entered her lungs, then sank back down as it left. Anna quickly delivered a second breath, then retreated. Elsa's chest rose again, then fell-
Without warning, she gasped awake!
Author's note: Yeah, yeah, none of you are surprised I didn't leave Elsa dead. Find another dead horse to kick.
In answer to all the comments about the CPR that I'm sure to get, sorry, but I needed saving Elsa to be a team effort, and this was the most credible way I could make it happen with what I had to work with. I do not support the "Elsanna" ship, I am not trying to throw more fuel onto that crowd of incestuous sickos' fire, and if I was working to make a film out of Snow & Frost 2, I would ensure that the actual mouth-to-mouth was shot from an angle that made it impossible to see. And let's not kid ourselves, if it was your beloved sibling who was dying before your eyes, you would've done the same!
(Sorry if that was defensive. As of the posting of this chapter, I've had a rough few days. Nothing to do with you, just real world stuff.)
Also, yes, I am aware of when CPR was first performed, or at least recorded to have been performed. But one, the keyword there is "recorded". Friedrich Maass may have been the first person known to have applied chest compressions to kick a heart back into gear, but who's to say that others didn't try it before him? And two, this is a fairytale, and I've already established some real-world events to have taken place sooner in this reality. All right, moving on.
You know, I actually thought about having Pitch sing a villainous reprise of Let It Go as a celebration of his new powers, the same way Jafar sings one of Prince Ali in Aladdin. I think it goes without saying that I couldn't make it work, but still, wouldn't it be cool for him to have a villain song, like the ones Disney was pretty good at making once upon a time?
On the subject of music, though, maybe it's just because I heard it in a movie featuring another boogeyman, but sitting here writing Pitch's scenes, I can't help but hear Hunter's Moon (End Credits Version), by Ghost, in my head. Consequently, I have inserted numerous references to it into this story, and I have a reward for anyone who can name them all. (No, I am not telling you how many there are.) Happy hunting!
Oh, and just to give you a heads-up in case you hadn't guessed, the next undisclosed number of chapters will essentially belong to the Pitch plotline – putting Elsa and Jack's relationship dilemma largely in the back seat. What can I say, he's debatably the biggest villain in this universe, so I have to give him his due. Action lovers rejoice, but drama lovers will just have to be patient.
Also, next chapter is going to be a long one. Think I'm exaggerating? All right, remember the chapter where Jack meets Pitch in the lair? Until now, that was the longest chapter I've written so far – and tomorrow's is almost twice as long as it, not to mention over three times the length of the chapter of Elsa and Jack's big fight. So whatever time of day you read the latest chapter, I would set aside some extra time for the next one if I were you.
Mikaelus, November 13th, 2024