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Pitch could feel him before he dared to open his eyes. His muscles tightened as he squinted and clenched his jaw against the taste of fear. Jack’s fear. The light blinded him briefly. It took longer than he would’ve liked for his eyes to adjust and find Jack.
Somehow, he’d known his prayer wasn’t going to be answered.
“Aren’t you going to say hello to your friend, oh dark one?” one of Jack’s captors said, the other laughing. Each held the boy by an arm as Jack struggled against their bony grip.
Pitch’s muscles loosed as he pulled against his shackles, which were tethered to a chain that fed through an iron circle in the ground at his feet. His growls turned feral as the sunlight burned him and a third skeletal creature grabbed that chain and pulled him back to his place. He felt the chain being locked into place, sealing him in that spot. He still didn’t stop pulling, rubbing his wrists raw on the manacles as he ignored the searing pain in his side. “Unhand him!”
“That is the plan,” the other spoke. Then they lifted the young Guardian off the ground and pressed his forearms to the wall, trapping his wrists with a set of hanging cuffs. Pitch didn’t realize he was gasping for air as he watched Jack’s eyes widen and his chest heave. When the creatures let go of Jack and the winter spirit was hanging on the wall, Pitch could almost feel the tremors running through the boy’s body from across the room.
The fear was so disgusting that Pitch was willing to bite his own tongue off just so he didn’t have to taste it. He mindlessly scolded Jack, “What were you thinking? You shouldn’t have come!”
“And leave you to die? Fat chance!” Jack put up a good front, but his frustration with Pitch’s words had an undertone of terror so painfully obvious that Pitch felt helpless. The Boogeyman tugged on his manacles again, but they didn’t budge. Meanwhile, Jack just hung vulnerably on the wall while one of his captors stepped towards Pitch. The creature was holding Jack’s staff. Don’t break it, Pitch thought. He was almost mouthing the words when the creature swung the crook in a wide arch, the wood striking the backs of Pitch’s knees. He snarled and fell to the ground, bruising himself as he did so. He closed his eyes against the jarring feeling in his spine, gritting his teeth against the urge to shout.
“This is a nice tool. I think I’ll keep it,” the captor said, tapping the ground with the staff. Then the hooked end of the crook met Pitch’s neck, lifting his body upright. “Open your eyes, wouldn’t want you to miss the fun.”
Pitch gazed back at Jack, whose horror was becoming more evident. Then Pitch’s focus shifted from Jack to another of the creatures beside him. It was holding a wooden box in his hand. Pitch felt a sour, boiling sensation in the pit of his gut form at the thought of what might be in that box. “Our master seems to think you owe us a life or two.”
“For the monkeys you dispatched,” another chimed in from across the room. Pitch hadn’t counted how many there were when he’d been captured. He’d just known there were too many for him to fight alone.
“Their orders were to take out the Guardians one at a time,” the one holding Pitch’s chain declared.
“But then you got involved,” yet another from the other side of the room stated.
“You could’ve stayed out of this whole thing, but it seems you have a tenderness for this pale one,” the one with the wooden box lifted a hand to run a bony finger down Jack’s cheek. The slightest whimper escaped Jack’s lips, making the creatures chuckle and Pitch want to wretch.
“Just let him go,” Pitch pleaded. “I killed the monkey men. If your master wants revenge, take it out on me. Just let. The boy. Go.”
“Can’t!” they said in unison. They chuckled at themselves as Jack shivered uncontrollably, Pitch’s eyes meeting his again. Suddenly, Pitch was aware of his own heartbeat.
“He is to die regardless. He is a Guardian.”
“But the two of you make a fine payment for the loss of the monkeys that our master took under his wing.”
“An eye for an eye!”
“We just want you to watch.”
“NO!” Pitch roared, flinging himself against his restraints again. A solid whack to his head from the staff forced him to remain on the ground. They were laughing. They were still laughing at him when he squinted against the sunlight and stared desperately at Jack. Jack’s eyes were closed now, his chin resting against his chest. Pitch squeezed his eyes shut, moments away from being consumed by the agony within him.
“The Nightmare King is afraid!” one cried joyously, the rest repeating and turning it into a chorus of shrill, ghoulish voices.
He was afraid. Pitch Black was indeed very, very afraid.
“Which tool should we use?” the creatures began debating. They couldn’t decide between pulling out all of Jack’s teeth and simply slicing him open from neck to groin. The cloud of anxiety in Jack’s chest, the numbness in his arm, and humming in his head almost drowned out the voices.
“Let me out, doofus!” Rin screamed.
Jack trembled against the cold wall, completely surrounded by darkness. Meanwhile Pitch was contained in a circle of light, just out of reach of shadows. Jack glanced up quickly, staring pointedly at one of the many mirrors being used to reflect sunlight onto his partner. Then he glanced quickly at the creature holding his staff, standing just outside of the sunlight Pitch was in. Pitch looked injured, the light having blistered the Nightmare King in ways Jack hadn’t thought possible, but if Jack could free him . . . .
“Jack, I can save us! Just let me out!” Trusting Rin was a risk Jack hadn’t wanted to take, but this situation was dire. He and Pitch were going to die here, and no one was coming for them. Whether he liked it or not, he needed Rin.
“I give you permission, Rin,” he whispered. Then, his whole body felt like it was on fire.
A pulse shot through the temple, awakening something inside Pitch. Then there was silence. Complete and utter silence. Pitch opened his eyes, a streak of panic falling on him as he looked at Jack’s body slumping forward as if he were unconscious. But then he saw the shadows creeping into the boy’s white hair, turning each strand black. He saw the shadows creeping over his skin before bleeding into the blue of his hoody. Pitch glanced at the boy’s hands and feet, noticing that his nails had lengthened just enough to form claws. White skin turned a shade more ashen than Pitch had ever seen, and he was almost horrified at the thought of what the boy’s face may have become.
A dark laugh escaped the boy’s body, making his whole frame shake. The creatures looked too stunned to react to this sudden change. The laughter grew louder before it stopped abruptly and the boy raised his head. It took every ounce of strength for Pitch not to gasp at the true face of Rin. The eyes were the same, but the black surrounding them was taking up almost enough space to make it look like he was masked. And his teeth . . . they’d grown half an inch in length and had sharpened into fangs. He seemed proud of his form, thin lips pulled back to reveal a terrifyingly sharp grin that easily rivaled Pitch’s. One name fit that face better than Rin: Fearling.
“Let’s play a game,” Rin sang, his voice low, even, and yet lively. Before the skeletal creatures could react, Rin disappeared into the shadows, leaving his manacles dangling. The creatures then flew into a panic, searching for their lost prisoner. They began shouting, the noise, shock, and sunlight making it hard for Pitch to follow what was happening. Then, the sunlight was gone. For the first time since he was captured, he was in the darkness again. He inhaled appreciatively, the dark soothing his blistered and mottled skin as he caught a glimpse of Rin knocking the reflectors aside before disappearing into the shadows again. Pitch followed suit, his wrists free of the shackles as soon as he took to the darkness.
The interior of the pyramid filled with Rin’s laughter as the creatures flew about in search of their now freed prisoners. Pitch knew that he and Rin could leave at any moment, but no. Pitch wasn’t going anywhere just yet. He hastily estimated how many they were up against: fifteen. Maybe fewer than fifteen, but certainly no more. Rage seeped into his chest and limbs as he chose his first target.
Rin moved first, dropping from the darkness onto the shrouded head of the creature holding his crook. He straddled the skeletal shoulder, placed his hands on either side of the creature’s face, and broke its neck before grabbing the staff out of its crumbling hand. The being shriveled into a pile of dust before Rin started firing bolts at the other shrieking fiends that now charged at him. “Freeze tag!” he shouted maliciously as dark frost shot from the crook and shattered another creature.
Meanwhile, Pitch closed in on the creature that had been holding the wooden box full of torture tools from behind. Pitch allowed the shadows to elongate his appearance so that he towered over the fiend. When the creature realized the threat, it was too late. Pitch had completely covered it in shadows and began applying pressure, slowly crushing the creature using only darkness. Its screams turned to squeaks in a matter of seconds as the shadows constricted around it. This was the only kill he intended to take his time with. Pitch wanted the other creatures to see what he would do to any and all who threatened his Guardian, because clearly the removal of all thirty-two teeth from one’s head hadn’t been warning enough.
When Pitch was finished, he dropped remains of the creature on the ground and prepared to return to the shadows. That’s when a fiend came flying at him, arms raised and prepared to attack. Its retaliation was short-lived, for soon it was impaled and pinned to the wall by a curved sword with a jeweled hilt. Pitch started at the familiar weapon, not having seen it for centuries. However, he didn’t feel the slightest bit endangered as he pulled it from the creature’s bones and tossed it back to its owner, the twit. She saluted him before she continued fighting alongside the Cossack, while Sanderson flew in and lashed at their foes with his whips. He didn’t know when they’d arrived, but for once was not irritated at the sight of them.
Catching sight of Rin, who was still shooting bolts of ice at the enemy, Pitch conjured his scythe and dove into the fight once more. With the additional help of three more Guardians, they tore through the creatures at a rate that wouldn’t have been possible had only Rin and Pitch been fighting. The twit and the Cossack remained back to back, their swords barely visible due to how fast the two were wielding them. Sanderson brought enough light to the darkness for the Guardians to see what they were doing. Meanwhile, Pitch and Rin thrived in the shadows.
“Kneel!” Rin screamed, running at Pitch head on. Pitch didn’t question the boy, kneeling just enough for Rin to jump and use Pitch’s right shoulder blade as a launchpad. Glancing behind him, Pitch saw Rin impale a creature that had been headed for him with the staff. Then Rin locked his jaws around the fiend’s neck and snapped the bone with his fangs. The creature shattered in the air and Rin disappeared into the dark again. Pitch resumed fighting, cutting a fiend in half with his scythe.
Then there was one. The Guardians, Rin, and Pitch surrounded it. Rin had long since ceased to laugh, but he still wore that proud, intimidating grin. The Guardians had yet to fully acknowledge what their fellow Guardian had become. They were all too focused on the fiend on the ground shaking. Four swords, a scythe, and a staff were pointed at its beak, daring it to move.
“Who is your master?” Pitch spoke first. He was bruised, out of breath, wounded, and still pumping with enough adrenaline from the fight to ignore the immense pain that would soon force him back to his knees.
“The end bringer,” the creature answered shakily.
At first, Pitch couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That was a title that predated the Great War between himself and the Guardians, and a title that he didn’t expect to hear. “He was imprisoned long ago. He can’t still command—.”
“He is almost free, and when his bonds have broken he will come for you all!” The creature curled into a ball, expecting to be destroyed like its brethren.
“No!” North shouted, jabbing the creatures hood with one of his swords. “You fly to your master. You tell him the Guardians will find him first.”
“And that the Nightmare King sends his regards,” Pitch added.
When the creature realized they were freeing him, it moved slowly at first. Once the Guardians stepped aside to allow him escape, it suddenly cackled and flew to section of the pyramid they had not seen and pulled a lever. Then it disappeared as a rumble ran through the temple and the ground quaked beneath them. All five of them struggled to remain on their feet, Sanderson and the twit having an easier time by flying. They soon met their own challenges as soon as stones the size of their heads began falling. Pitch stumbled, landing hard on his side. He groaned, his vision blackening as familiar, chilled hands wrapped around his waist.
“Hold on, Nightmare Man!” Rin cried, pulling the Boogeyman upright so he was leaning on the boy.
To Pitch’s surprise, North joined Rin and pulled Pitch’s other arm over his large shoulder. “I’ll be expecting full explanation of all this later,” the Cossack shouted over the crumbling of the edifice around them, as if he’d heard Pitch’s thoughts questioning why he was helping his former nemesis.
First, they had to ensure there would in fact be a ‘later.’
“Over here, you bloody dafts!” came an Australian accented voice. The five looked and saw their escape where the rabbit had opened up one of his tunnels nearby. They raced for it, and before Pitch could protest about being tossed down a brightly colored hole in the ground, he was falling.
Twisting and tumbling, Rin landed with his Nightmare Man beside him. Then the brightness. The brightness of the colors. The rabbit’s home was absolutely uninhabitable. Too many scents to focus, too many senses being assaulted, too much stimuli to do anything but bury his face in Pitch’s robes.
His whole body hummed with life, hummed as the shadows inside him slowly drained out of him and he could feel Jack resurfacing. He looked up, dared to stare back at the light, the light that hurt his eyes. He looked at the four Guardians, who stared at him like he was an animal. He wasn’t an animal. Jack had said so. Jack had said . . . .
He stopped as he began shivering, the heat of the shadows fleeing him. The claws shortened, the teeth shortened, and he caught a glimpse of a strand of black hair turning white again. His eyes remained hot, though. Hot and sensitive to the light, the awful light that the Guardians were so attached to. Hot like the gray on his forearm. He shivered, closing his eyes, afraid of the stares the Guardians were giving him.
Then he lifted his chin. The Nightmare Man lifted his chin and stared into his face. He wasn’t looking at him the way he used to. He wasn’t looking at him like he was a nuisance, and he wasn’t looking at him like he was an oddity. That’s how the Guardians were looking at him. He was looking at him like he was sad. Why was he sad? Why? Did he do something wrong? What now? The fear of being left alone crept up his spine, and that only made him shake more.
“I misjudged you,” the Nightmare Man said. “Jack and I owe you. I especially owe you.”
Rin released the breath he’d been holding. He wanted to speak, but couldn’t. He wanted to move, but felt rooted. He was shocked. He was completely still, completely surprised. For the briefest of moments, he was happy and unafraid.
When Rin closed his eyes, Jack opened his. The humming in his head died and the tingling in his arm stopped, leaving him with an almost content feeling. He remembered little of what had happened after he’d given Rin permission to take control. He’d only started to reemerge when Rin had fallen down Bunny’s tunnel. His whole body still trembled like he’d been bound just seconds before. His jaw hurt. He wondered if Rin had crushed rocks with his teeth or something.
Then he focused in on Pitch’s face. It seemed surreal at first. Seconds ago he’d been so far from Jack’s reach Jack had been sure he’d die before he got to feel Pitch’s warmth again. Yet here he was, with Pitch’s hand sliding from his chin to the side of his neck. When Jack saw a single tear fall from Pitch’s left eye, he seized him around the neck and pulled him into as tight an embrace as he dared give him. Pitch returned the embrace with just as fierce a hold, his arms almost wrapping around his waist twofold.
“I’m supposed to be the accident-prone one, you idiot,” Jack grumbled against Pitch’s neck, the weight of his fear finally lifting and leaving him full of relief. His eyes frosted over with tears as he realized that Pitch was the one shaking in his arms this time.
“You still are, fool. You were dumb enough to come after me, almost got yourself killed.” Pitch’s voice fractured slightly at the end.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Don’t do it again.”
“I can’t hear you over the sound of how right I was.”
“Shut. Up.”
They’d completely forgotten the Guardians were there, watching them. They stayed in each other’s arms until they were sure no one was going to appear and try to separate them again. Pitch ignored the pain of the battle. He ignored the fear in the Guardians over what had become of Jack. He ignored everything. Save for Jack Frost. There was only Jack Frost.
He hadn’t realized a tear had escaped his eye until he’d dried it in Jack’s white hair. The only thing that remained of Rin on Jack was the black in his hoody. Pitch doubted it could be removed, and frankly he wasn’t so desperate to remove it. When Rin wasn’t possessing Jack, it marked the youngest Guardian as the property of Pitch Black.
Pitch held the boy like he was his only lifeline, pulling him against him with what little strength remained within him. For the briefest of moments, he’d been reminded of what it was like before Jack had come into his life. He could say with complete assurance that he didn’t ever want to return to that life. I love you, he thought. He wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud yet. He didn’t know if he would ever be, but he knew it was true. He meant it with every fiber of his being.
And he would stop at nothing to end the so-called end bringer who’d threatened them both.