Luna_Midnight258
Everyone knows the legend of Jack Frost-the playful spirit of winter, the Guardian of Fun. But that's the story Jack wanted them to believe.
In truth, Jack was never one of them. Not a Guardian. Not a hero. Not the boy who brought snowball fights and laughter. He is the frost that bites, the cold that kills, the shadow behind the storm. Frostbite. The creeping terror that numbs your fingers, steals your breath, and leaves nothing but silence behind.
While the Guardians celebrated him, he smiled-and played the part. But he never cared for their warmth, their hope, or their hollow friendships. Not even the Easter Bunny, who always suspected something was off. Because Jack never loved him. He never loved any of them.
His loyalty has always belonged to the dark. To Pitch Black, who found him first, named him, and showed him what he truly was.
Now, the children no longer whisper about Jack Frost with joy. They scream about Black Frost-the black ice that comes without warning, the shadow frost that steals in on silent winds. And when winter falls heavy, they don't pray for snow. They pray he passes them by.
Because Jack Frost is a lie.
And Frostbite is ready to break the illusion.