Chosen Spirits

The Storm Part Three

Jack sunk further into the purple themed couch, with Sophie lightly curled in his arms, asleep from the long day. How was he suppose to answer Aster's great question? What was he suppose to tell him? He fought off a sigh of relief when a soft crunch brought everyone's attention back to the screen...

The Jack in the screen was gently put in the snow. Surveying the damaged done.

The damage he had done.

Everything was a mess. The world looked as though it was devoted and denied all color. The water was frozen in waves like time had simply stopped. Like Jack had somehow froze the clock with the rest of the place.  As if the world was literally frozen in time.

Unlike all of his other 'storms' no one was laughing, there were no children out, even though the storm stopped at lest hours ago. In fact, there was absolutely no one. The whole place was like a ghost town, faded like a black and white picture that only held a dim memory of something not even worth remembering. The town, only hours ago, bursting with life and people, now was merely a husk of what it used to be.

Jack, could easily say, that this was the biggest storm he ever created.

While others might of felt proud for accomplishing such a feat Jack only felt sick. Oh god what did he do?  He felt sick. So, so sick. His frame slightly started to shake. Juracán words rang in his head like a chant, like poison. 'The world has called for a monster' At that, he fell to his knees. looking at his staff that laid innocently in his palms. As if such a simple object could do no harm.

Death came here. Jack knew that for certain. It swept through here like the plague. Jack knew that his storm didn't save everybody. Such luck didn't exists for beings Jack Frost. He quivered at the number that he knew instinctually, that haunted his mind and very soul.

Seventeen.

Seventeen people died, and those weren't the only numbers whispering in his head. The animals, the plants everything that his storm did, rang in his ears. Biting into his thoughts. The consequences of his choice striking back at him at full force. He remembered making the storm painfully clear, He couldn't vent it, the blizzard wasn't fully in his control. The storm wasn't fully his. It wasn't quite in his grasp, which Jack supposed made sense.

After all, the storm was supposed to be Juracán's not his.

He weakly tried to remind himself that it was better this way. The town was a bit more up north, so they would be better at bracing themselves for a surprise blizzard rather than a tropical storm. Lives were taken, yes. But much less than what the number would've been if the typhoon hit like it was supposed to...

Right.

Like that was a excuse. Like that would return lives he took. Like that would ease the grief.

The wind nipped at him in vain attempts to comfort him. He gave the wind a weak smile "... I- I guess we did it, huh?" Mission accomplished.

'A thankless favor'  Juracán had called it. What kind of favor was this? What dim-witted soul would thank him for this? Juracán almost made him sound like some hero. Like he wasn't just the lesser of the two evils. The wise words of a old woman he once heard struck his thoughts like venom 'pick your poison'...

Heavy and almost angry foot steps snapped Jack momentarily out of his grief, he leapt back onto his feet in both instinctual self defense and curiosity. His eyes widen when he saw who the owner of the footsteps. It was no other than E. Aster Bunnymund. Or more popularly known as the Easter Bunny.