Chapter Text
Earth has always been a peculiar planet; extraordinarily different than any of the planets and constellations in the long-forgotten Golden Age. There were—and, to this day, still are—many diverse cultures. Each with their own distinct traditions that clashed with one another in such a way that it should have been impossible for them to coexist on a single planet. Societies with tremendous dissimilarities gave rise to conflicts rooted in fear. In a way, it was because humans had the tendency to fear what they did not understand that the fear extended to anything different than their own ideals.
However, the very same humans, who fought and waged war against what was different from them, could change over time. More importantly, they did change. Earth and its people were unique in that aspect as they were constantly changing, growing, evolving. Unlike those of the Golden Age, the people of Earth's shorter lifespans led to an innovative society radically different to the near-stagnant civilization of the Golden Age with their longer lifespans.
Human ideals often transformed, their cultures shifted, and their opinions reversed as their future became the present and then moved on to the past with each generation. New ideas replaced old, outdated traditions and some cultures changed so radically that they had all but been destroyed; only to be replaced with newer, improved versions that begot modern-day life. Yet, despite the new developments, their differences still set humans apart from one another and kept wars waging.
There was one similarity between those of Earth—no matter where in the world one was to look—and the people of the Golden Age. One commonality. They all believed. By no means did they all hold the same beliefs; no, the Golden Age was too dissimilar from Earth and humans themselves had different beliefs depending on their culture and society. The people of Earth believed in their own god or gods, their own myths, their own legends, some of which were remnants from the once powerful Golden Age.
Granted, nothing on Earth was set in stone. The progress of the sciences gave reasonable justification to explain away gods and goddesses’ “divine” acts and instead attributed them to natural occurrences and other explainable phenomena. The magic of the world was pushed aside as petty sleight of hand or illusions. Some scientists went as far as replicating magic to a degree through technology and in a few cases, trickery.
In spite of everything, humans held onto their beliefs. Maybe not as strongly as they once did, but they still believed. Even in modern times, belief was exceedingly popular. Some areas in the world had their own unique folklore and myths which stood up to the test of time while other places adopted their legends from older civilizations but put their own spin on classic tales, creating their own variation to the legend. One such place was a small town in Pennsylvania named Burgess after Thaddeus Burgess, who built his log cabin there before the bitter winter of 1795.
The youth of Burgess took the underappreciated myth of Jack Frost and gave it new life. Even though most of the adults of the town knew the legend originated from Anglo-Saxon and Norse winter customs, the children conceived a new history for Jack Frost. None of the adults could correct the children of the town about the true origins of the Winter Spirit. Not when the tale spread throughout the town like a wildfire and had become the most popular schoolyard story. Even if any adult did try to correct the children, none would listen and in turn, they would correct them with the “true” version of Jack Frost.
To the children, Jack Frost was an adolescent boy who lived in Burgess during the time of the first colonists. He wasn’t a winter sprite or an elf as the Anglo-Saxon and Norse myths depicted him as. No, the children of Burgess insisted Jack Frost lived a normal life as a simple boy who had a love for games before he became something more. How the simple young colonist became Jack Frost was where the story got a bit sketchy from the countless retellings in the schoolyards and playgrounds. The gist of the lore was humble in that after a selfless act, the young boy became more than human one winter night. He became Jack Frost.
Many parents came to realize that their children were having serious—for children—debates about what sort of selfless act Jack Frost did to become immortal. None knew for sure save for seven children in Burgess who didn’t have to speculate. They knew the truth without a doubt, and it was something they weren’t going to share with anyone. It was too personal because it was not only the tale of Jack Frost’s birth but the extremely intimate account of Jackson Overland’s death. None of the seven were going to divulge that information since their belief in Jack Frost was unwavering and their loyalty even stronger.
The reason for the unwavering belief and loyalty was due to the older of the two Bennett siblings being Jack Frost’s first believer. However, that is another story altogether, reserved for a separate sitting. This story is not only of Jack Frost but the beginning of the myth of Jökul Frosti. Our story begins on one cold fall afternoon in a quaint two-story house where one Emma Bennett was herding her two children out the door.
“Why Mommy send us out when Daddy calls?” little Sophia Bennett asked around the knitted cap hanging from her teeth as she pulled on a yellow and green raincoat that clashed horribly with her white spotted blue pants and pink galoshes. Once the raincoat was secure, the young child took her multicolored knitted cap from her mouth and pulled it over uneven locks of blonde hair that perpetually covered the emerald-green color of her right eye.
Brown eyes rolled as larger calloused hands batted small hands away and pulled the child’s knitted cap on correctly. Once finished, James Bennett resumed zipping up his red vest over his white long-sleeved shirt before crouching down to check if his blue jeans were tucked safely inside his own red galoshes.
“Because, Mom doesn’t want us to hear what a lying sack of shi—ouff,” the older of the two siblings was interrupted when a perfectly round snowball hit him squarely in the face, causing him to stumble backwards. His foot slipped on an out-of-season patch of ice which sent him tumbling to the ground before a whole blanket of snow fell on top of him. Leaving him completely covered, save for a few strands of brown hair.
There was a fleeting pause before Sophie burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter as her brother surged out of the snow pile. Brown eyes sweeping across the yard before settling in a wavering glare on a figure behind his sister. There, a lanky teenager stood dressed in only a blue hooded jacket with one hand tucked inside the hoodie’s pocket while his right hand loosely held onto a gnarled staff. Tattered brown threadbare trousers, which were not suitable for the chilly weather and had to be bound from the knees down with leather cord to keep the fabric from fraying further, covered the teen’s legs. The snow-covered brunet wasn’t annoyed by the other’s appearance; it was the casual way in which the teen leaned against the gnarled shepherd’s crook with a mischievous smirk that had the pinched expression forming on Jamie’s face.
“Tut, tut, tut, Jamie, lang~uage,” the teenager chastised in a sing-song tone, wagging his finger back and forth which only intensified the glare coming from those brown eyes. However, no matter how hard Jamie tried to force himself to continue his death stare at the young teenager; he found his lips twitching upwards as unbidden laughter bubbled up inside him. It was inevitable that laughter would come out. Jamie knew resistance was futile and gave in. Flopping back into the already melting snow, the young boy burst out laughing just as loud as his sister.
Soon the laughter began to subside, and a pale hand reached out in offering. One that the brunet readily accepted as a few stray chuckles passed his lips. Jamie was abruptly lifted up, his body feeling weightless for a few seconds before his feet lightly touched the ground once more. The boy wasted no time in propelling himself forward towards the teenager for a tackling hug. He could hear the air being knocked out of his victim as the two fell to the ground, but the laughter never subsided.
“Jack!” Jamie exclaimed between renewed bursts of laughter, looking up from his position on top of the teenager’s stomach and straight into striking blue eyes shadowed by the hood of the older boy’s jacket. “What are you doing here?”
The words were barely out of the young boy’s mouth before another shrill of excitement pierced the air and another body joined the piled.
“Jack!” Sophie squealed, worming her way next to her brother so the siblings were situated side by side on top of the teenager. “We missed you!”
“I’ve missed you two, too,” Jack chuckled, wrapping his arms around the two children for a tight bear hug. The staff in his right hand put a slight pressure against Jamie’s head, but the boy didn’t care. He and his sister could only laugh in exuberance as a sudden gust of wind whipped around them, lifting the three from the ground as if they were nothing but feathers in a breeze.
Jack swung the Bennett siblings around in the air, his hold on them was light but secure as they created a small wind vortex in the family’s backyard. Leaves were pulled from the tree and snow from the ground due to the slight vacuum, swaying around the trio as they spun fast enough to force the teen’s hood from his head to reveal an angular face and snow-white hair. All too soon, they steadily decelerated before their feet slowly came to rest on the ground once more.
“So how are two of my three favorite children today? And where has the third one of you gotten to?” Jack Frost, the resident spirit of Burgess and one of the Five Guardians of Childhood, inquired.
“Good,” Sophie chirped, as Jack twirled her around with his left hand like a ballerina, “Especially now that our favorite Guardian is here.”
Jamie, in a bid to take advantage of Jack’s distraction, slipped out of the Guardian of Fun’s hold and gathered up the snow which made its way down his vest. Compressing together what little powder was left; the nine-year-old child took careful aim and threw it at the white-haired boy. Without looking, Jack scooped up Sophie in his arms and effortlessly side-stepped the snow, causing the young girl in his arms to giggle.
“Your favorite Guardian?” the eternal teenager asked, unfazed by the pitiful excuse for a snowball. His voice was unusually high as he imitated shock, eyes opened comically wide. “I thought Bunny was your favorite.”
“Nope, you are,” Sophie said popping the p. Leaning forward, she gave Jack a small peck on the cheek as the teenager dodged yet another snowball coming from behind. “No tell Bunny, kay? He’d be sad.”
“Promise,” the white-haired teen said, pressing a fleeting kiss against her forehead before making a snowball out of thin air and handing it to the four-year-old. Without any prompting, the blonde threw it at her older brother and nailed him right in the chest. Jack carelessly waved his staff around, forming another blanket of snow right above Jamie and allowing gravity to do the rest. The once-again buried child popped back out of the white powder a second later with a snowball in hand, ready for action.
However, when the young boy saw both his sister and Jack standing only a few feet away from him, both holding snowballs of their own, he wisely let his drop to the ground.
“I yield, I yield,” Jamie declared, dramatically holding his hands up in the air as a sign of surrender. He could only watch in dread as emerald-green eyes met striking blue and a shiver ran up his spine that wasn’t from the cold. The twin mischievous grins crossing his opponents’ faces were all the warning the boy had before two balls of snow pelted him.
“We take no prisoners!” Sophie yelled, throwing yet another snowball at Jamie and that was when the real snowball battle began. True to her words, none of them took prisoners. Then again, they did not remain faithful allies in combat either. For just a little while into the Battle of the Backyard, the little girl teamed up with her brother and the Bennett siblings combined their forces against Jack Frost.
It was a grueling battle, snow slush everywhere as the mild temperatures of the fall warmed the little piece of winter Jack brought. Underhanded tactics were utilized, including forcing snow down the back of enemy combatants’ shirts and a blatant disrespect for the laws of physics as snowballs were redirected in mid-flight. A fighter even joined mid-battle, taking the side of the Bennett’s, Pippa ambushing Jack from behind.
The ends of her short reddish-brown hair brushed up against earlobes when her white cap caught a snowball which gave rise to an uncontrollable fit of giggles. Be it due to a little extra something put into the snowball or the cry of ‘betrayal by three-thirds of his favorite children,’ only Jack knew for certain. Brown eyes sparkled with mirth as she wrapped the green and white striped scarf once more around her neck and rolled up the sleeves of her green sweater before taking on Jamie.
After a half an hour of harsh combative conditions, the group called a truce after collapsing in various spots on the ground around the backyard.
“You never answered my question,” said Jamie in between deep breaths, not caring at all about the snow melting in his hair. Actually, it felt quite nice against his heated skin.
“What question was that?” the immortal teenager hummed, blue eyes closed as he enjoyed the rustling of the breeze passing by, stopping long enough to ruffle his hair in greeting before continuing on its way.
Rolling over so he was propped up on his elbows, Jamie looked at the relaxed figure of the Guardian of Fun. “What are you doing here? It’s not even winter yet.”
“Do I really need a reason?” Jack countered, never once opening his eyes. Stretching out his limbs, the white-haired teenager rearranged his arms behind his head in a more comfortable position. The new position, however, could not be all that comfortable in Jamie’s opinion, what with his staff digging into his head; yet the Guardian of Fun didn’t seem to be bothered by it.
“Well, no,” the child replied, catching a glimpse of his sister sitting up out of the corner of his eye while Pippa shuffled closer. “But you usually don’t visit, except during the winter seasons.”
“No true! Jack visits on birthdays and mine’s in June,” Sophie pointed out.
“So is Monty’s and Cupcake’s,” Pippa reminded him with a roll of her eyes. Their favorite Guardian—no matter which Guardian of Childhood their favorite Guardian was—always paid a visit to them on their birthdays along with the Guardian of Fun, the latter of which bringing them some sort of little trinket from around the world. He never failed to show up for any of The Seven Brightest Lights—as Jack had dubbed the children who stood up to Pitch—of Burgess’ birthdays.
“Yeah, but those are special occasions,” Jamie argued with his cousin.
“So is today,” the white-haired teenager mumbled, halting the tangent that had the trio of children straining their ears to hear the next softly spoken words coming from Jack. “It’s Mabon.”
“What’s that?” the little blonde questioned, scooting closer to listen to what the spirit had to say.
Opening one eye to peer closely at the two, Jack expected to see impish smiles on their faces as they tried to hold a straight face, yet all he saw was honest curiosity which had him mystified. Some days the three-hundred-sixteen-year-old marveled at how much the world had changed since he was a child. Honestly, even if Christianity had been the predominant religion of the colonists back in his day, they had at least heard of the Old Religion holiday dividing the day and night equally. The world was definitely a different place than it was when he was growing up.
“It’s the Harvest Tide,” Jack tried once more. His clarification only got him one pensive look, one scrunched-up nose, and a quirked eyebrow in return. “The autumnal equinox, The Second Harvest Festival,” the spirit tried again, this time to be met with bewildered expressions resulting in a sigh escaping his lips. “You three really don’t know what I am talking about, do you?”
“Nope,” Jamie said, grinning widely. He had no inkling as to what the immortal teenager was going on about. Even so, the boy could see that whatever this ‘Mabon’ was, it was important to Jack and of all the places he could be today, he had chosen to spend it with them. The fact that the spirit was spending an important day with them, instead of somewhere else, had a warm feeling blossoming inside of the young boy.
“Not at all,” Pippa piped up, beaming. She too came to the same conclusion as her cousin and together they shared a pleased grin over a blonde head of hair.
“Nuh-uh!” Sophie shook her head negatively, blonde locks whipping around at the force behind the motion. Unlike the older two, the young child hadn’t understood the implication but was thrilled at the perspective of what was to come.
“Well,” the Guardian of Fun grinned, swinging himself upwards and with a little help from the winds and a little ice to brace his staff to the ground, Jack defied the laws of physics and took a seat on top of the crook. “I guess I’ll just have to tell you the tale of Mabon and how King Arthur rescued him along with his manservant, the warlock in hiding, Merlin. How does that sound?”
“Awesome!” the trio cheered in unison.
Two hours later, after forcefully hanging up the phone with her ex-husband, Emma wandered outside to find both her children and her sister’s—Anne’s—daughter staring off out into the distance. Being mentally exhausted, the single mother let the first thought flow into her mind be her conclusion that Jamie, Sophie, and Pippa were watching the dark rainclouds drifting over the far-off mountain range. However, if she’d ever taken her own words into consideration and believed that Jack Frost could be nipping at her nose, she would have been able to see the immortal teenager resting on top of a gnarled shepherd’s crook weaving a tale with his words and frost constructs.
Instead, Emma called her children and niece inside for a nice warm cup of hot chocolate. Her mind too absorbed in the latest argument she had with her ex-husband that she never noticed the unusual patches of melting snow located in her backyard and nowhere else. Neither did she take notice of the way Abby—the family’s pet Greyhound—was jumping around in circles, tail wagging, and barking happily. Something the dog only did when there were welcomed guests around.
Although she did notice the ramifications of Jack Frost’s visit as she tucked her children in that evening, each of them wishing her a happy Mabon before settling in, which after a moment of uncertainty, she replied in kind.
After closing the door to Jamie’s bedroom, the single mother looked down at the large Greyhound at her feet with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell is Mabon?”
And even though Abby just wagged her tail, Emma could have sworn she heard someone laughing at her.
Jack hung around the Bennett’s house long after the siblings went to sleep and the golden strands of Sanderson Mansnoozie’s Dreamsand drifted through the town of Burgess in wisps of gilded dust. Granules glistened as they worked their way underneath closed doors, through partially opened windows, and in some cases, through microscopic imperfections of the structures delaying the sands but never blocking them. Nothing could stop Dreamsand from reaching the children of the world, protecting their magnificent dreams, and guarding them against terrors in the night. For, it was the duty of the wielder of the golden granules as a Guardian of Childhood to keep and protect the dreams of children.
Much like the Guardian of Fun, the Guardian of Dreams had a soft spot for the small town of Burgess. His Dreamsand never failed to reach it, blanketing Burgess with the sweetest of dreams and pursuing The Seven Brightest Lights to their fullest extent. After all, they were the brave children who held onto and pulled the Dream Guardian back from the dark recesses of Pitch Black’s nightmares. Although, if his Dreamsand spent a little extra attention on one blond child who had begun to grow out of his awkward stage and started to fill out, none of the other Guardians of Childhood ever mentioned it.
None of them could say anything, not when the Guardian of Wonder left a certain dark-skinned child, who was in the habit of wearing beanies no matter what time of year, an extra present or two more than any other child without checking his list twice to see if he’d been naughty or nice. Nor could the Guardian of Hope point out the unfairness of having favorites when the dark-haired boy’s twin brother had the best basket of assorted goodies when Easter rolled around. As for a certain preteen girl, even if she had long since lost all her baby teeth, she would occasionally find little trinkets left by the Guardian of Memories to brighten her day.
Granted, all the Guardians of Childhood had a soft spot for the Bennett family and equally lavished the two siblings and their cousin with special treatment, because Jamie had done the impossible and kept believing even when Pitch Black directly targeted him and it took only her cousin’s belief to rekindle Pippa’s own, making her just as special. As for Sophie, she was everyone’s favorite, but Jack Frost would always be her and her family’s favorite Guardian. In return, they would always be his favorite children. Which was why when given the opportunity, Jack Frost decided to spend the seldom celebrated holiday of Mabon with them.
The holiday was important to him. Even though the colonial settlers he grew up with were of the Christian faith, his mother was a Druid by blood. She never wanted to stand out—especially in their small settlement—which was why she had kept that part of her heritage hidden as best as she could. But when his father was out hunting with the rest of the village men for days on end, he and his sister would huddle together under a blanket to listen to their mother’s stories about the magics of old and the traditions of the Old Religion until they fell asleep. Mabon, while not his favorite, was one of the clearer of the batch of his most recent recovered memories he had about his life as Jackson Overland and, even if he wouldn’t admit it, the Guardian of Fun was feeling a bit melancholy.
Jack regained only a handful of his memories over the last two years but time for the immortal moved differently. It was only now he was comprehending that his mother and sister were gone. He knew his family died long ago, yet it wasn’t until recently that it fully dawned on the spirit that he could not join them in the next life. Still, Jack worked to ward off his depression by remembering them. If he could remember his mother and sister, then they weren’t truly gone; he knew—from personal experience—the only way people were ever truly gone was when they were forgotten.
This was why Jack Frost spent the autumn equinox sharing his mother’s stories on the legend of Mabon. He’d weaved additional tales about a colonial boy and his little sister spending the holiday creating their own magic adjacent traditions away from the prying eyes of the Christian settlers. However, the real fun had been telling Jamie, Sophie, and Pippa the most powerful warlock ever born still roamed the earth to this day, waiting for the Once and Future King to return. Their reactions of shock and awe followed by excitement at the thought they had a chance of meeting The Merlin had made his day.
All in all, Jack had an enjoyable day right up until the pastel blues and greens of the artificial, magically generated, Northern Lights rippled across the cloudy night sky. The young immortal felt his muscles tense and his hand unconsciously tighten around his staff, before launching himself in the air with a terse request to the gathered winds to take him to the North Pole. The winds promptly complied, not needing to hear the urgency in the typically carefree voice to know why Jack had gone rigid and cold like the winter he manipulated.
The sight of the magical Northern Lights was not to be taken lightly and Nicholas St. North did not initiate the signal whimsically. Like a klaxon, the Northern Lights were an indicator of major trouble and major trouble was what awaited Jack at the end of the lights. The Guardian of Fun was expecting to face off against Pitch Black once again in another one of his attempts to rise to power. He was incorrect in assuming the boogeyman was the perpetrator.
No, the Guardians were in less of a battle of wills and more of a battle of endurance against shadowy, humanoid figures. E. Aster Bunnymund hadn’t even needed to see the creatures attacking the hidden magical village of Santoff Claussen to get an inkling of what they were up against. They had barely reached the first barrier of the village when the six-foot-one Pooka’s ears shot straight up. His greyish-blue fur bristling—the usual markings on his fur looking more sinister than normal—as he yelled about Nightmare Men before racing off.
Sandy’s short star-shaped stature became unbelievably stiff at the name and the golden cloud of Dreamsand swirling around him lazily ceased all motions. Golden symbols made from the Dreamsand of his robe rapidly formed over the little man’s head ending in the familiar symbol for hurry.
Jack immediately flew after the racing rabbit, catching up in the clearing where The Spirit of the Forest and The Bear had been holding off the creatures to the best of their abilities. Bunny was already cutting down the creatures with his boomerangs, using a handful of his Bomber Eggs to force back the intruders along with a certain white-haired spirit who had the misfortune of flying into the small clearing at that moment.
Both protectors of Santoff Claussen were showing signs of fatigue, having held the monsters at bay for the time it took the Guardians to respond to Ombric's—the founder of Santoff Claussen—distress call. However, Jack’s eyes did not focus on the weary warriors, but on the Nightmare Men. The creatures were like nothing Jack was expecting. He assumed they would be more humanoid versions of Pitch Black’s horse-like Nightmares made from corrupted Dreamsand. But they were nothing like the wannabe wingless Thestrals and Bunny had a reason to be alarmed at their appearance.
While Nightmare Men were shadowy, humanoid figures that easily dispersed into a cloud of smoke, they were also relentless in their attacks. Most disturbing was that they held no sense of loyalty to each other. If a Nightmare Man had an opening at the expense of one of its comrades, they would take it. Jack was repulsed at that discovery even if it had saved one of Toothiana’s mini fairies’ lives. Toothiana’s dual scimitars made short work of a wraith-like creature, which decapitated its own ally in an attempt to slaughter the fairy behind the other Nightmare Man.
Still, the revelation gave the Guardian of Fun inspiration, and he used the information against them. He didn’t waste his time or limited energy to freeze the Nightmare Men. Instead, he ducked, weaved, and hid behind opposing creatures as if he were playing a game of tag. Only, when a Nightmare Man missed ‘tagging’ him and hit one of their own, they wouldn’t be getting back up any time soon, if ever.
The strategy was effective to an extent, but what none of the Guardians had counted on was the sheer volume of the Nightmare Men. There seemed to be a never-ending barrage of the creatures that kept coming. No matter how many Toothiana and North sliced apart with their blades, there were many more Nightmare Men eager to try their luck against their steel. Bunny had long since used up his Bomber Eggs and was reduced to fighting under Toothiana using his boomerangs and martial arts to save his fur.
Sandy was busy providing aerial support for North, his whips easily thinning the number whereas the former Russian bandit took care of the rest. As for The Bear and The Spirit of the Forest, even though they were drained that didn’t stop them from fulfilling their duties and they continued to do all they could to protect the village. Together they picked off the few stragglers who managed to pass the Guardians. Unfortunately, they were losing ground and were slowly being pushed back closer and closer to Santoff Claussen.
“North!” Tooth’s voice pierced the air as she danced about in the night sky. The part human, part hummingbird hybrid twirled in the air as if she were performing in some kind of exotic ritual; the multi-shades of blues and greens with dashes of yellow and pink of her feathers seemed more like a shimmering dress and less like they were a part of her. Her fluid dance-like motion made her attacks all the more deadly as her blades and wings alike sliced through the approaching monsters eager to get a chance at killing the Tooth Fairy.
The warning came not a moment too late as the tall, buff, and—according to Bunny—a little rotund Russian brought up one of his self-forged sabers in a jerky defensive maneuver. The motion barely intercepted the guillotining strike, saving not only North’s head but also his long white beard.
Golden sands encircled the attacker, yanking the creature away from North, and flung it into another Nightmare Man that had taken advantage of The Bear’s distracted state to make a dash for the village.
“Ah, near blow. Help much-appreciated Tooth,” North huffed, blue eyes meeting pink for a second before the two were drawn back into their own fights.
The Guardian of Wonder thrust his saber behind him, gutting one of the creatures while using his other blade as a javelin to pierce through four Nightmare Men before being caught by the tempting beauty that was The Spirit of the Forest. She, in turn, used it to divide her current opponent down the middle. The sword was then returned to the Russian in the same fashion it had come to her, going through a few more Nightmare Men than on North’s throw during its return trip.
Her alluring smile exhibited a tiny bit of smugness at having outdone the ex-thief, something which had North hacking a few dozen Nightmare Men down as to not be outdone. “How you hanging up, Bunny?”
“Better than you, ya show pony,” the Pooka griped out, ducking under one shadowy humanoid wisp and kicking his hind leg out, making contact with another one of the never-ending army.
“I thought I was the show pony,” Jack mused, speeding past the Pooka. His staff carelessly connecting with the monsters surrounding Bunny and freezing them solid.
The horde of Nightmare Men chasing after the white-haired spirit didn’t even hesitate when they crashed through their frozen allies, shattering them to pieces. It was at that point that Bunny’s boomerangs decided it was time to return to their owner, taking out the remaining few creatures trailing after the Guardian of Fun.
“Ya a bloody show pony!” Bunny howled, catching the weapons and sending them out on their way once more. His paws darted out, catching what was the head of one of the shadowy wisps, green eyes gleaming into the hollow emptiness where eyes should have been before head-butting the Nightmare Man into nothingness. “North’s the original show pony.”
“Proud of title!” the Guardian of Wonder bellowed, sweat starting to soak through the armpits of his heavy red coat with black fur trim, while his red plaid shirt had long since been a victim to such stains some time ago.
“You would be,” Toothiana huffed exasperated, pink eyes rolling as another Nightmare Man fell to her blades. “Is this really the best time for this?”
“Best time? Not on ye life,” North replied, blades clashing together in a scissor-like fashion, taking care of three nightmares in the process.
“But we’re doing it anyway,” Jack continued, flying around Sandy; letting the little man’s whips finish off his new Nightmare Men stalkers chasing him while he froze the ones surrounding the Guardian of Dreams and let gravity take care of the solid slabs of ice. The immortal teen mentally doubled the tally when one of the ice blocks of shadowy wraiths crushed those on the ground.
Regardless, his best by far had been when an earlier block of ice had crashed down not a foot away from the white-furred bear with the little black patch under his chin, flattening three other Nightmare Men. He had given himself eight points for that stunt.
“It’s fun,” the Guardian of Hope finished off, not the least bit bothered by the fur above his left eye slowly becoming matted with blood trickling out of a rather nasty gash. Sandy nodded his head in agreement and added his own comment with a brief few symbols that only Bunny caught. “Right, you are Sandy.”
“I must agree with Toothiana,” The Spirit of the Forest said, her hand going straight through one of the shadowy humanoids surrounding her. The number of which was slowly growing as more and more got past the wearing Guardians. “This is not the time for such banter.”
“You’re just being a stick in the mud,” Jack let out a strained laugh as he darted under the woman’s raised arms and plowed right into the monster behind her. The blade-like weapon which was just a breath away from slaying Santoff Claussen’s last line of defense, evaporated once the Nightmare Man holding it was knocked out by Jack’s momentum.
However, the sheer force of the dive through the white-haired spirit off-kilter, and without room to recover, he plowed into the ground. His body rolled against the battle-scarred terrain, ripping at his clothes, and scraping his skin. He only came to a halt thanks to a large boulder that decided to catch him, though Jack could have done without the boulder’s assistance.
“Jack!”
He didn’t know who was screaming his name, or if it was multiple people—which would be a relief since that meant the echoing of his name wasn’t a byproduct of a concussion—crying out; either way, it allowed him to ground himself from the not-so-great landing.
“I’m fine,” he croaked out, his breathing ragged as a sharp intense pain radiated from his head.
Jack avoided opening his eyes until his mind stopped spinning and he could tell up from down. When blue eyes did reopen, it was instinctual as a deafening roar pierced the air, causing his eyelids to snap open and blue orbs to wildly search for the danger. It took Jack’s mind a minute to clear the hazy outline of the white hairy appendages covered with metal-like armor and recognized the legs belonging to The Bear and not to North as he originally assumed. Either way, he was too thankful to care who it was saving his skin and didn’t give the conjured beast a second look as The Bear ripped apart the Nightmare Men converging on him.
“Would it be appropriate to say I owe you one?” the spirit moaned as he was dragged out from beneath white fur by The Spirit of the Forest. Jack counted it as a win that his words were only slightly slurred after the beating his body took, his head in particular.
“Only if you want to admit you are an idiot,” the woman countered, using her sleeve to clean off the thick liquid from his temple. “What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” the Guardian of Fun volleyed back without missing a beat.
Leaning away from The Spirit of the Forest’s touch, the wound she'd been treating welled up with ichor once more. With a swipe of two of his fingers, ice formed over the wound and stopped the shimmering bloodlike fluid from leaving his body. Grabbing his staff, Jack pulled his feet underneath him and was about to launch himself back into the fray but was held in place by slim digits encircling his wrist.
“You’re in no condition to fight,” the woman’s eyes narrowed onto his free arm currently wrapped around his ribs.
Ripping his hand away from the protector and reflexively positioning his staff in front of his body, Jack’s eyes hardened into glaciers. “They need all the help they can get.”
“But they need you alive more, young Guardian,” The Bear spoke up, voice gruff and flat even as his paw shredded another monster. “They have been fighting together far longer than you’ve been alive and can hold their own without you. It is best if you stay with us; let yourself recover. You can still provide us assistance keeping the Nightmare Men from breaching the barrier.”
Gritting his teeth, Jack tersely nodded his head and gave in. The Bear had a point. He would be more helpful to Santoff Claussen’s protectors than fighting alongside the other Guardians. Besides, no matter how much he hated to admit it—even to himself—the Guardians of Childhood worked better as The Big Four rather than The Big Five.
Viciously shoving those thoughts to the side, the Guardian of Fun used his staff as a crutch to pull himself up. He then spun the staff around his shoulders, bolts of blue energy flinging in various directions, freezing the dozen or so Nightmare Men who'd managed to sneak past the two protectors while they'd been preoccupied with aiding him. The Bear and The Spirit of the Forest took that as the initiative it was and resumed cutting down the thinning ranks that slipped by The Big Four.
The monsters that did get through were fewer and far in between as time moved on and Jack wasn’t there to hinder The Big Four’s team dynamics. The horde of Nightmare Men diminished and there did seem to be an end in sight. An end Jack had a very good view of; one which included a win for them but at the price of one of their own. Something he was not willing to allow to happen.
Crouching down, the spirit called for the winds and felt them respond immediately to his frantic cries as Jack flung himself into the sky. The winds acted like a slingshot; vastly increasing his speed so when he did collide with Toothiana, the momentum should be enough to throw them both out of the way of the volley of spears.
The Tooth Fairy only had a moment to react, startled at the impromptu collision with her fellow Guardian, before she was abruptly yanked back and out of the way by golden whips. Whips which failed to account for the immortal teen’s involvement. So when the volley of spears did intersect with the Guardian, pink eyes could do nothing but widen in horror as Toothiana reached out in a desperate attempt to grab Jack but only grasped thin air. She could only watch helplessly as three of the spears gouged large gashes across the younger Guardian's stomach as he twisted midair in a futile effort to avoid the attack.
The torn edges of Jack's hoodie blossomed with dark patches, yet it went unseen by the last remaining member of the Sisters of Flight. Pink eyes couldn't be pulled from the cloudy blue eyes staring listlessly back at her. Blue eyes which would haunt the Guardian of Memories' dreams for many decades to come.
Jack opened his mouth, yet no words were forthcoming. He could feel himself falling, toppling backwards, and it felt eerily similar to falling through the ice for a second time. His limbs went numb as the cold seeped in and the edge of his vision began to black out. The moon’s light was the last thing he remembered seeing before his eyes unwillingly closed.
That was not the end; the end came when white-hot pain tore through his body and red flares burned designs beneath his eyelids as a golden light engulfed the Guardian of Fun.