The Darkest Hour (Blackice PitchBlackxJackFrost)

Chapter 4 ~ Sands

“What are you going to do?”

Jack watched the shadows flicker in the dimly lit room. Eyes scanned the premises in attempt at finding some exit, but soon realised that even if he were to find a precious way of escape he would have to undo the chains that bound his wrists first. He may have been ethereal but that didn't make him resistant to bonds, especially when those bonds were as other-worldly as his own body.

“I'm not inclined to tell you that,” the man responded calmly, and Jack had to look around yet again in an attempt to find him. Where was he? He had a body, it had to be somewhere present, but where? The shadow on the wall would not suffice for him to believe that Pitch had risen, regardless of how it walked with his shape or talked with his voice, now saying, “How have you been, Frost?”

“I'm not inclined to tell you that,” Jack responded with mockery dripping from his tone. Something darted across his vision, a dark shape too fast to identify. “Pitch?”

“Not quite.”

The voice had been heard louder in his left ear and Jack whipped his head in the direction of it, staring intently to try and find its owner. “Where are you?”

“I'm not inclined to tell you that,” Pitch sneered, but this time to the right of him. Jack turned his head swiftly in again and stared at the empty space. There was a candle holder upon the wall. The flame flickered erratically. Jack faced forward again but his vision was met with amber eyes.

He hadn't meant to scream. It wasn't very manly to scream, he had thought to himself while he screamed, but then again, the dead creature was staring at him, inches away from his face. It seemed a perfectly appropriate time to scream and Jack didn't care for a moment how manly it was. Fear could overtake anyone, nobody was exempt to its grasp. The amber eyes were unwavering, glowing brighter than any candle flame or light. There was something sickening about them upon the grey skin that caused Jack to feel nauseous for the first time in three hundred years — once he'd stopped screaming, that was. He blinked. And then suddenly he was staring at the empty room again. The eyes had disappeared as if they had never been there and Jack hadn't bothered to check for the rest of the owner.

“Enough playing games!” the guardian demanded once he felt his voice again. Weak, but present enough. The response was a dark and cruel chuckle, Pitch enjoyed making the boy miserable.

“You.. You were afraid.”

“No I wasn't.”

“No, I felt it. I could taste it.”

Jack swallowed thickly at his words, feeling tendrils of shadows slip under his hoodie and roam across his chest, causing him to shiver, breathing quickening in involuntary fear. He was helpless against the man who wanted him completely destroyed. That was terrifying.

“What do you want from me?” demanded the guardian once more, feigning confidence in order to gain a response from the Nightmare King, who was still nowhere in sight. Jack looked to his left and made note of his surroundings. A window. Large and arched like something one would find in a church. Stained glass showed the rise of Jack Frost, the boy stood upon the frozen lake, staff in hand, clothes as old as they had been when he died but hair the signature frosty white. His face wasn't shown but he was staring up at the glaring moon who'd deemed him worthy of rebirth with his selfless act of heroism.

Jack looked to the right of him. A similar window, large and arched with stained glass depicting an image. Why hadn't he noticed this before? How hadn't he noticed this before? This was what could've been had they not chosen to go to the lake that day. A home, his sister, his mother. No icy cold despair and hopelessness as water filled his burning lungs but the warmth of a fire while they sat at the feet of their mother while she told them stories and knit blankets for the winter. Jack, for a moment, recognised his crippling loneliness. Hiccup had his mother, his sister. Anna and Elsa were creating a family, Merida had a family, Rapunzel had a family, even each guardian had some minions or each other that they loved and cared for. But him? He was new. He was an outsider. But he wouldn't have been in his home, right? His real home. With his family.

“I want you to make a choice.”

The voice booming again forced Jack to look forward. A third window. The shape was the same, the image, however, was not. It was unfamiliar to him at first, but as he continued staring at it, his mind began to wrench in pain. It was if it was being ground between gears, the pain splitting his mind open to force out some ancient, hidden memory. A memory from before he was a guardian, from before this life as a winter spirit. The Dragon's Eye symbol was an isosceles triangle with a ‘Y’ in the centre that connected the three corners. The symbol represented a choice between good and evil, a choice he was sure he'd had to make before for the symbol appeared all too familiar.

“I did a little something, Jack, while I was away.. I played a few games and I read a little.. I spoke to your precious Man in the Moon and sought out other powers.. You know he's not the only deity, hm?” Pitch's shadow floated across the walls and Jack watched him, vision blurring from the pain. A ringing had begun but it soon ceased and his vision became normal again, clearer.

“What did you do?” Jack didn't know if he truly wished to hear the answer. For the Nightmare King to be so confident about his works, he must have done something tremendous and the young guardian knew that it had to be something that would be strong enough to take them down — to take them all down; the alliance, the guardians, anyone prepared to or capable of ridding the world of fear and nightmares forever. The question simply was what. The answer, however, chilled the boy of ice and frost, and caused his eyes to widen in shock, for it was impossible. It had to be impossible. Pitch's voice was gleeful, like a man who'd earned his way. That was precisely what he was, after all.

“I changed the sands of time.”