Snowflakes And Shadow Crowns

Pandora's Box

"Frost?" Jack whipped around as a bolt of fear ripped through him. A slithering silence flooded in when the voice faded. Everything was as still as death itself, and he could hear his hear heart thundering in his chest, his blood rushing through his veins. It was almost maddening.

"Come to deride the sundered King?" The weak voice resonated with a hint of emptiness and contempt. Jack shivered as the scratchiness of the words ran a chilling claw down his spine, causing a defiled feeling to crawl under his skin and dance beneath his rib-cage.

Jack tiptoed forward slightly, still feeling around for his staff with his feet, but the darkness only grew impossibly darker as he walked cautiously onward. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tried to push away his fear and stand brave.

"Show yourself, coward!" He shouted into the abyss, the words coming out less threatening than he had hoped. His voice echoed back, followed by a low grumble that vibrated the damp, swampy smelling walls. Jack mistook it for some animal, but as it slowly zeroed in on the emptiness in front of him, he realized that it was instead a low, feral chuckle. The darkness did not fade but he stopped, the mood in the air changing from desolate to dangerous.

"Coward?" The crackly voice questioned with a smile that Jack could not see. The darkness laughed but quickly died back down in a sort of realization. "Coward...?" The voice faded slightly, becoming a dim whisper. Then there was more silence; somehow thoughtful and yet on edge. Jack dared not to breathe.

"Coward!?" It demanded once more but with a sudden newfound rage. The man growled and suddenly Jack was grabbed by the collar of his sweatshirt.

"H-Hey! Get off me!" But the long, thin fingers only grasped tighter as he was dragged forcefully into a place he could not see. He scratched and clawed at the knuckles laced in the cloth, but it was as if he were attacking shadow; nothing deterred this monster.

"I'm a coward, am I?" The cave walls shook with fury as the words were shouted at Jack, his feet dragging helplessly behind him. His breathing was being strangled as the figure only gripped him tighter and tighter. The shadows slowly began to fade as he noticed a beam of light pouring in from the high ceiling.

Before he could register what was going on, he was thrown into the light. He quickly recovered himself and turned in all directions to find the man somewhat like a cornered animal looking for it's assailant. But there was nothing.

Jack squinted, but still, not even a silhouette could be seen nor a glimpse of contrasting shadow. His ears picked up sounds of weak rushing water, and the pained wailing of wind as it passed through the twisting tunnels of the once immaculate lair.

"I am no coward." The sudden cold, almost hollow hiss startled Jack, his eyes widening as Pitch emerged from shadow. He did not look up at him, but kept his eyes low; a furious scowl was plastered on his pale face.

Jack couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

The once infamous, 'boogeyman' looked no more scary to him than an wounded, dying raven. His tall figure was deathly thin, and Jack would say that Pitch had always been lithe, but now the word seemed somewhat wrong as the shade had about as much grace as a newborn fawn. Pitch's cheekbones were alarmingly prominent; the skin of his face was sunken and thin. All around his eyes were shaded and bruised from a clear lack of something more than just sleep.

Pitch lifted his head slightly to glare at him, his once magnificently beautiful silver streaked amber eyes now faded to a dull, lifeless grey. Jack swallowed nervously as his eyes trailed across the rest of the beaten man's body. He was covered in cuts and scars, some seeming recent/ and others as if they were ancient, long forgotten wounds that would never heal. His knuckles were split and stained with dried blood, and the once liquid like robes that used to fall perfectly around the man's form now were frayed and faded. Jack felt sick to his stomach.

"Who did this to you?" He asked more to himself in a whisper of disbelief. Pitch scoffed and retreated back into the shadow.

"You dare try to feign innocence?" He spat, "If it weren't for you and the rest of the Guardian scum..." A sharp inhale of breath cut off his words as he began coughing violently. Jack knew that Pitch was his enemy, and he knew that he shouldn't, but he couldn't help feeling bad for the other man. Pulling himself off the ground, he looked around for him, suddenly feeling as though he needed to do something.

"Pitch, come on! Get back here, I want to help you." The coughing slowly subsided and was replaced by another low growl.

"Help? Help!?" Jack fumbled back as Pitch lashed at him, suddenly reappearing. "Don't think, Frost, that I'd stoop so low as to accept sympathy from the likes of you. You and your ilk are nothing but a plague in the world that should be mine!" Pitch gnashed his teeth at the shorter boy, narrowing his tired eyes. "I don't need your pity." His voice was full of venom.

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't," Jack said quietly, his chest tightening. "But I can't...I can't just leave this alone!" Pitch made a disgusted sound, but Jack ignored it and continued, his heart frantic from uncertainty. "I'm not saying that I'm not at fault, and I'm not trying to play innocent." Pitch turned to walk away but Jack grabbed his wrist. "I'm not asking you to forgive me."

What am I doing? Was the one thing running through Jack's mind, but for some unknown reason he felt that this was wrong; something--anything--needed to be done to make this right. Pitch pulled his arm away and ran questioning eyes over him.

"What are you asking then, Jack?" He asked low and curiously, clearly skeptical of Jack's motives.

"Let me make this right." Pitch laughed. It was an empty, sarcastic laugh and Jack shivered as emotionless eyes glared into his own.

"Make it right? Oh my, but you are something different." And he said it like a curse.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What's that supposed to--" Pitch gasped and turned away as he broke out into a sudden hysterical laughing fit, much to Jack's irritation.

"It's not funny!" Jack tried to say, but Pitch wasn't listening.

"You do realize that I'm your sworn enemy, right?" He took a breath. "Me being defeated IS right." He chuckled. "Don't tell me you're actually through playing 'Guardian,' are you, Jack?" A sly smile crept it's way onto the taller man's face. Jack lowered his head, narrowed his brow, and tightened his lips into a thin line, much to Pitch's surprise.

"Wait, you're not serious are you?" Jack looked up at him with a conflicted look on his face, but still said nothing. "You really are through with them." Pitch chuckled once more.

"No." Jack demanded sudden, not entirely sure why he felt something missing, "You're wrong, I'm not--" But he was cut off.

"Didn't I tell you, Jack? I told you that you'd never be one of them, and look. I was right all along."

"I said that you're not!"

"Oh, but I am." Pitch laced his hands together and stared down at him. "I can feel your fears, Jack, or have you forgotten that too?"

"You're the one who's forgotten! How many times do I have to say it: I'm not afraid of you!"

"Oh, I know. I remember that quite clearly. You were never quite afraid of me," Pitch smiled wickedly, his sharp teeth showing from behind grey lips. "But you are afraid of believing me." Jack clenched his teeth as Pitch once again faded into shadow. An eerie, hollow laugh echoig all around him as the darkness moved like a living substance.

"Pitch!" Jack shouted but, unlike before, his voice did not echo; it sounded muffled and constricted. Suddenly the light faded.

By the way, Jack, The words flooded in all around him. Your fear tastes so refreshing;Thank you for setting me free.