Secret of Frost and Moon

Rise of the Guardians 'Part 8'

Alaia Skyhawk: lol, I forgot to mention this on the last chapter, but this fic has passed 1000 reviews! Seriously, you guys are AWESOME! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

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Chapter 60: Rise of the Guardians ~Part 8~

A grey-skinned hand reached out into the breeze, to touch the near invisible trace of glittering dust that it carried. A trace which had settled everywhere that wind and air could go, here upon the surface realm of the world. Into homes, into schools, everywhere! Its power settling into the people, children and adults, waking and sleeping, rendering every single one of them immune to terror caused by Fearlings and Nightmares alike!

Pitch hissed, both in anger and at the sting the dust caused and at its purpose. But even more he hated the way that its power roused a flicker in him, one that for uncountable ages he had sought to erase and yet had never succeeded in doing. A father's memory of a child, the adoration in her eyes as she rushed to him... It was an echo that he wanted gone.

The King of Nightmares pulled back further among the shadows, his expression a silent snarl as he put two and two together. He'd felt the touch of this power before, in the glee following Jack Frost's explosive attack in response to the Sandman's demise. He'd also felt it in the 'bright dreams' that had thwarted his attempts to corrupt them. It appeared that the Spirit of Winter had powers greater than just those of ice, snow, and wind. He also had the irritating ability to imbue light and fun into any person his power touched, thereby warding them against Unnatural Fear.

Pitch's fists clenched, his gaze now following a fairy made of ice and laughter. One which carried a tooth he was certain would soon make its way into the safety of the Winter Sanctuary, and which was itself inimical to the touch of his minions.

Fearlings that had tried to destroy them, were themselves struck by their polar opposite and rendered fragile wraiths that had no choice but to flee Nightmares that attempted to capture or attack them, had either become frozen solid or crumbled to grey ash. Not even he, the King of Nightmares, could harm the things! A savage burn on one of his hands, being evidence of his first and only attempt at doing so.

Jack Frost was keeping the nightmares at bay, and he was also enabling Toothiana to keep collecting teeth. Pitch didn't doubt that Jack would also be there ready to flood the dratted rabbit's tunnels with more of the dust, once Bunnymund's eggs set out from the Warren to hide themselves for children to find. If something wasn't done, Easter would succeed, and if that happened...

Pitch growled under his breath, fury simmering inside him. The pace of the Belief Blackout was slowing, and even with the loss of The Sandman, if Easter went ahead then the Blackout would end. It would end in the laughter of children gloating over the eggs they'd found, and so long as Jack Frost remained in league with the Guardians... The Spirit of Winter would as much as become the new 'Sandman'. One who would keep nightmares and Fearlings at bay, so that the minds of sleeping children could shape dreams of their own free from fear.

The breeze twisted, a tendril of it curling up his arm, and Pitch vanished through the shadows to take up watch elsewhere. Within minutes a new thread of air did the same, almost as though the wind was searching for him, and with that thought Pitch realised that yes... It was. Jack Frost wasn't just protecting and helping the Guardians, he was hunting down their enemy, him.

Pitch's anger faded, and a smug laugh of malice rose within him. But of course, what should he have expected? The Spirits of the Seasons were tenacious if nothing else; they had to be in their line of work. And while he could not harm Jack without risking the wrath of all his peers, there was a very simple way to get him out of the way until it was too late. All that was needed, was suitable bait.