Chapter Text
Jack sighed, his breath curling like smoke as he stared out over the edge of the cliff.
Above, the sky boiled.
Dark thunderclouds churned and collided like brothers locked in an endless, senseless fight: no real goal, just fury and pride. Jagged streaks of lightning forked through the sky like angry punctuation.
And of course... it had to be them.
Jack let out a long sigh and tilted his head back, snowflakes melting instantly against his cheeks.
To anyone else, the winds were just air. Weather. A thing that happened.
But not to him.
To Jack, the winds were family.
Unchosen, unrelenting, sometimes unbearable, but always there. He didn’t remember a time before them. And like family, they never left without reason.
Breeze was the youngest. Gentle and curious. Always nearby, just at the edge of his awareness, nudging his hood or twirling his scarf like a bored little sibling. Flying with Breeze felt like floating. slow, steady, safe. On quiet days, Jack would whisper stories just for them, and Breeze would hum along with the air.
Then there was Jet: all confidence and speed. Jet didn’t ask. Jet carried. Over oceans, through sleet and sky-splitting lightning. Flying with Jet felt like skating across a frozen lake with no end in sight. Jet didn’t talk much. Jet just moved.
And then... the twins.
Minstrel and Bora.
Bitter. Cold. Unapologetically violent.
They didn’t fly, they tore. Through sails, trees, cliffsides. They bit and screamed and circled each other in eternal storms. Possessive. Spiteful. Unruly.
Jack had cracked his staff the last time he got caught between them.
And now?
They were at it again.
Lightning flared across the clouds, splitting them open with jagged arcs. The air howled like wolves in a storm, the shriek of one wind crashing against another in a spiral that made the sky shudder.
Jack rubbed his temple.
It was like a migraine forming behind his eyes. Not pain. Just... pressure. Too much movement. Too much noise. Too much them.
He grit his teeth.
He didn’t get paid for this. He didn’t even get snacks for this.
“Seriously?” he muttered.
Then he lifted his staff.
The old wood crackled, frost crawling from its tip like warning fingers.
He raised his staff higher, then slammed it down.
A ripple of cold exploded
outward in a silent pulse. The air thinned. The shrieking calmed. Even the storm flinched.
The winds knew what that meant.
He wasn’t in the mood.
Jet hesitated under his feet, stalling mid-gust. Like an older brother biting his tongue, Jet circled tighter around Jack’s body, steeling him against the buffeting swells. Jack braced himself, breath fogging. He crouched slightly—
And jumped.
Leaning forward into the growing storm.
The wind tore at his hoodie, ripping it back as if to throw him off balance. He held firm.
“Minstrel,” he muttered under his breath. “I just cleaned up after you in Siberia. I swear, if this is another tantrum—”
A crack of thunder cut him off. Sharp and close.
“Bora,” he snapped. “You don’t even like coastal air. Go scream at a mountain instead.”
Lightning flared again. The gusts pushed against him like words. Whispers of ‘no way’ and ‘he started it’ where all that he could hear. He could feel Jet struggling beneath him, tugging his weight sideways, not scared, but impatient. He didn’t like to get involved in these situations.
“Okay,” he muttered. “You want to go loud? Let’s go loud.”
He spun his staff once and slammed it down midair.
A pulse of frost burst outward, freezing the droplets in the sky, coating the storm’s edge in a crystal white sheen.
The winds shuddered.
“You listening now?” Jack barked.
For a heartbeat, everything slowed. The snowflakes hung still, suspended. The clouds stopped rolling. Breeze circled at his feet like a cautious dog returning to its master.
Jack took a deep breath and lowered his voice.
“People live down there,” he said quietly, pointing towards a dim light in the distance. “They don’t have magic. Or staffs. Or... whatever you think you’re doing. They just have roofs and wool coats and badly-tied shutters.”
Another pause. The wind picked up again, but softer this time.
“I know you’re angry. I get angry too. But not tonight. Not here. You want to fight, take it somewhere that doesn’t have sleeping kids. If not I’ll take you to Bermuda myself.”
It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise.
The storm shifted. Not vanished — eased. The clash of the twin currents softened, the swirling calmed. Even Minstrel, the more spiteful of the two, peeled away into the upper atmosphere, leaving only scattered snow in his wake.
Jack hovered in silence, watching the storm begin to drift out toward the open sea.
Breeze circled back, tugging at his arm like a child. Asking for one more story. He smiled — just barely — and let himself be guided to the cliff he jumped off of. The rush of air under his bear feet lifted him gently, carried him eastward.
As he flew, Jack rubbed a hand along his arm absentmindedly.
His hair was a mess. Ice had crusted along his fingers. And now that the wind had calmed, the aches returned — dull and persistent in his fingers, his shoulders, his ribs. It was a new thing he learned would happen after stressful moments.
I wonder why…
That storm had taken more out of him than it should have.
Or maybe he was just tired. He hated to admit it, but North was right — he wasn’t just some lone snow-spirit anymore. He had a title now. A job.
Guardian.
The Northern Lights shimmered into view on the horizon, like a ripple of green flame curling through the sky.
Jack angled Jet toward them and sighed again, this time through clenched teeth. The storm must have blocked the call out.
“I’m so getting yelled at.”
He looked up at the glittering sea the Man in the Moon calles his home. The world slipped past him as flew through the northern lights. Only snapping back as the smell of warm gingerbread and melting plastic wafted to his nose.
“Okay,” he muttered to himself, angling down. “Time to land.”
The world blurred past before Jack touched down gently on a windowsill. Fern like patterns start dancing on the glass as he pushed open the closed window. It was a squeeze but he managed. Soft feet tapped down on Norths mahogany floors.
He was in the reindeer pens.
One of his favorite places since becoming a guardian.
Hiding in obvious places was his only escape from his permanent overtime. Also getting away from the noise of what has become his every day life.
Donner raised his head as jack passed by. “Sorry buddy but no treats right now.” Donner chuffed back at Jack before laying his head back down. Hay crunched as he made his way out of the pens.
His hand landed on a door knob as he slowly pushed it open.
Jack twirled and twisted around the last of the yeti’s still up. He could hear bells jingling in the corners of every room. Followed by soft snoring.
He can never really find out where the elf’s are supposed to sleep. North said not to worry bout that. He joked about one of the yetis should Make them all shelf’s.
North was not amused.
Over the distance he could hear North’s booming voice and a surprisingly serious tooth. Oh god, he hoped he wasn’t missing an important meeting.
As he walked he looked to his right, a beautiful sphere adorned with little twinkling lights. Some of the lights were dimming from age. Another was brightening. North’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Bah! You are late again jack.” He thundered. “Even Sandy made better time. And it is prime sleep time!” Jack winced at the words before quickly putting on a nonchalant smile.
"Might as well start sendin' him postcards instead. Bet they’d get here faster." Bunny said, casually leaning on his paws. Soft elbows making a slight thump
Jack teased. “Relax, North. I wasn’t ignoring you. I was just… detouring a category five tantrum from crashing into Norway.” He twirled his staff for a little extra flare before jumping up to sit on it.
“Snow tantrum? Mate, you make it sound like the weather’s got opinions.” He said, Jack looked at him blank faced.
“You’ve met weather, right? It definitely holds grudges.”
“You were three minutes and seventeen seconds late, Jack. And that’s after I padded your flight time.” Fluttering in annoyance as she said it. Tooth, jack was quick to find out, was a very punctual spirit. If he didn’t give her a sorry look he’s pretty sure she would have gone down to nanoseconds.
“Aw, Tooth,” Jack purred. “That almost sounded affectionate.”
He gave her a slow, mischievous smile — the kind that usually made people back away or throw things. She chose silence.
“Grudges with weather or no, we needed you here sooner.” North said, he sighed. “We just finishing up making plans, go sit with sand man till you’re need, da?” North stated. Less of a question in his words and more of a demand.
Jack hopped down off of his staff. “You’ve got it boss.” He saluted as he walked to the shorter glowing man.
Jacks staff clicked against the hard wood floor. The warm glow of the fire casting long shadows on an ancient rug. The smell of cooked chestnuts fills the air.
The meeting - that he apparently wasn’t urgently needed for - became background noise.
"You look cozy over here. What’re you working on, Sandman? A new bedtime story?" There was no malice behind his words. He softly set his staff down before dropping cross-legged onto the rug. After the Pitch fiasco the frost boy and sand man and become quite close.
Sandy looked up at the younger immortal. A image of strange symbol appeared above his head. The golden sand constantly moving as Jack tilted his head in question. Sandy took a small finger and drew a circle, a spiral that starts in the middle and stops, and four dashes all around it. If Jack didn’t know any better it looked like a sun.
Wiping the awed look off his face he joked "Neat snowflake.” He closed his eyes and nodded “Ten outta ten for sparkle. What's it do?"
The golden symbol slowly dropping as another picture gathered above Sandy. A picture of a hand appeared as Sandy put his own out.
He was asking for jacks hand. Basically saying-
‘May I?’
Jack took the hand that was holding his staff and put it in his. He opened his hand - full of frost burn and scars from his old life. The older spirit started, using his sand to draw on jacks open palm. The same golden symbol he just drew in the air.
"Whoa—hey, that tickles,” Jack laughed under his breath, but his voice faltered as Sandy drew the final curve.
Then something bloomed in his chest.
Warmth.
Not the blistering, suffocating heat that chased him from hearths and sunlit plazas. This was different — gentle, golden, like a soft blanket over snow. It didn’t burn. It settled.
Jack didn’t dare breathe.
He glanced down. The frostburn was gone. The rough old scars from his life before the pond… faded like winter mist.
It made him afraid to move.
He looked down back at his palm. The frostburn was gone, his old scars from chopping wood were dulled at the edges.
“holy shit.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could even think. A yellow hand came down on his hair. Hard.
Jack made a choked yelp.
“Did-” Jack took a breath."…Did you just… heal me?" He took his hand twisting it around in awe. Now that he has a better look all of his scars seemed smaller, duller, or even gone completely.
Sandy’s expectant smile widened. He looked so pleased with himself too. He snapped the small book close. Placing it on his lap.
Jack gasped at the realization, “Hold on, what even was that! How the hel-“ Sandy gave him That Look tm “Heck… did you heal me. I thought that was impossible…”
Sandy gave him a sad little smile before looking away. Eyes fixed on the warm embers of the fire. Sandy looked away a silent sigh escaping his lips. He picked up the small book in his lap and handed it to Jack.
Jack picked up the book, careful to real in his frost when brushing the cover. The words engraved into the old leather, ‘Runes for Dummie’. A amused scoff resonated throughout the room.
Still a little surprised from all of this, "This is for me? I— seriously?
A book. A real spellbook. Is it even a spell book? For him. Not North. Not Bunny. Him.
Sandy nods, then give a small shrug. Pointing at jacks heart. Basically saying ‘Yes it’s yours, but learning is up to you.’
The younger spirit gave a shaky laugh, "You’re trusting me with magical doodles that can melt frostburn off of an immortals skin?"
Sandy pokes jacks heart again, ‘Their more then that.’ Jack chuckled, “Alright, alright, I got your point.” He paused, thinking about what he should say. “Thank you, Sandy.”
A golden heart formed above the shorter spirits head. His smile as bright as his skin.
"Pfft. Cute." Jack picked up his staff as did a long jump backwards. Back gently tapping agains the old wood.
Before he could even open the small book.
“Frost, Sand man!” North said in a booming voice, “We have problem.” A hint of concern laced his voice, though his face says otherwise. Jack would say he looked… excited?
The three major guardians walking into the room. A mix of exasperation and anxiousness following their air.
North looked directly at him, of course. “Will be your first time going to Inbetween, Da?” He said it more like a question then statement, it was hard to tell sometimes.
Jack looked at the larger guardian with sly fascination.
“The Inbetween?
Let out a heavy sigh, like he’s done this at least three times to many. Large hands reach into even larger pockets. Pulling out a map, and now this is what Jack expects a magic map to look like.
What he can now identify as runes glowed and swirled at the borders, the drawn on oceans flowing and ebbing, and at the top left corner of what he thinks is Norway a giant inflamed gash.
The gash was pulsing in a horrific way that he couldn’t quite look away from.
“Da Inbetween is pretty self explanatory, it is the in between of two worlds. Magic and normality as we know it.” The words sounding weird from the normally jolly man.
He continued when Jack didn’t question, “A scar, as see there,” he pointed to the giant red line. “Happens when a rogue magic spirit tries to get into the world.”
Tooth unintentionally interrupts, “If it reopens… all the boundaries fail.”
“Bloody, last time that happened many humans died. I mean the Bermuda’s magic is still recovering.” Bunny scoffed, like the idea was gum on his shoe.
Metaphorical shoe.
“Which is why we must not allow that.” North’s voice boomed once more.
Jack leans in, squinting at the red mark.
Jack started lightly “Soooo, what I’m hearing is you need someone subtle, quiet, composed—possibly devastatingly handsome.” He batted his eye lashes as emphasis.
Bunny snorts.
“Ya bub, and I’m Christopher Columbus.”
“Bah! Stop it you two.” North interrupted, “You can argue like old marry couple after saving world.”
The two spirits necks snapped, eyes narrowed, looking at North. Before they could argue more North continued. “Sand man is in charge,” He looked down. “You are taking Bunny and Frost to the scar, Da? Da.”
The golden man looked up. Snapping to a salute before wizzing around. A rabbit and snowflake appeared in sand above the small spirit, pointing to Bunny and Jack respectively. He then pointed a thumb at himself. Something Jack could only describe as proudness in one’s self graced his face. Then he stared at Bunny, eyes furrowed in fake seriousness. Golden sand created the picture of a portals.
The Easter Bunnies angry glare grew into a smile. Slyly he looked over to Jack in fake questioning, “Hay frosty, guess whose turn it is to drive this school bus.”
Before Jack could respond a tunnel about his size in diameter appeared under him. He could have just floated above it but what’s the fun in that. But he would let Bunny have all the fun. He concluded, if he’s going first then he’ll frost over the tunnel for Bunny.
Sorry Sandy. Opps
Popping out of the tunnel he decided to do a little flip, for no one in particular, before floating. Staff over his right shoulder, he waited for everyone to fly out.
Something like a shadow twisted in his peripheral. His head whirled around, body following suit. He opted for a more defensive stance. Moving his staff from his shoulder to both hands. He surveyed the field.
It wasn’t the red pulsing the map tried to show, and it wasn’t like a twilight zone either. White ash acting like stars agains an infinite purple and blue sky. Even from far away he could see the scar.
“-a—-?”
It was a shade of deep red, red veins reaching out into the beautiful background. White little particles flowing out of the wound at a steady pace. Snow. Around it were Ashened trees. Literally the trees were made of ash. ‘Leaves’ littering the ground, other thing of sentiment lost to time glittered the ground. One wedding ring popping out of the ash, a hand sown teddy bear, and other things that made Jacks heart break.
“J-ck.”
His expression turned into one of confusion. It was cold. It wasn’t the temperature that surprised him. It was the fact that it was unfamiliar . No other seasonal spirit he knows made that cold. The only other winter spirit live in the outskirts of Norway. After accidentally getting on her bad side, crash landing inter her ice castle, he knows what the power feels like. New spirits are rare but not unheard of, because of his position as guardi-
“Jack!”
His eyes snapped to the bunny’s, unusual seriousness graced his features. bunny looked surprised at Jacks expression. His eyes softened as he looked at the two, confusion mixed with fear written on their faces. He lowered himself, moving his staff from two to one hand. He gave a weary smile.
"Yeesh.” Jack said wrinkling his nose “This place smells like old regrets and burnt cigarettes.” Waving his open hand in front of his face.
"Charming," Bunny muttered, brushing soot off his fur. "Like a graveyard and a Toy Store had a baby."
"And left it to rot," Jack added, tone quieter now.
The three stood still for a breath, as if the landscape were holding its own.
Sandy floated ahead, golden sand drifting from his feet like stardust. His eyes narrowed. He didn’t gesture. Didn’t make a single illusion. His form shimmered faintly — not with his usual joy, but with something restrained.
Something afraid.
Jack shifted, unease prickling under his hoodie. The cold here still didn’t feel like his. It gnawed at the bone, dry and ancient, like it was remembering something through him. His grip on his staff tightened.
Bunny’s nose twitched. "This place is wrong."
"You feel that too?" Jack asked, hovering beside him. He tried for lightness. "Thought it was just me having a bad ghost allergy."
Sandy suddenly raised a hand — halt.
Then the quiet broke.
A sound like an old machine grinding to life crept through the air. Or maybe it was ice cracking beneath centuries of weight. A being that wasn’t wind stirred the ash.
From the scars shadow — no, within it — something peeled away.
A shadow twisted itself out of the tear in the world.It congealed out of every regret man kind had done and will do. The living embodiment of entropy. But instead of dying, it took form: humanoid but not quite, face shifting like snow just beginning to melt. Dark, wet slush dripped from its hands. Its eyes flickered like dying stars.
It saw them.
And it screamed.
Jack’s hands flew up over his ears — but no sound came. It wasn’t noise. It was memory. Cold memories. Forgotten promises. Things buried under ice. A thousand regrets all shrieking at once.
The spirit moved with terrible grace, lurching toward them. Before anyone could react—
"WATCH IT!" Bunny shouted—
Too late. It went through bunny then doubled back.
A jagged claw, made of unraveling shadow and glittering frost, slashed across Bunny’s back. The rabbit cried out , collapsing onto one knee.
"Bunny!" Jack shouted.
Sandy flung his arms forward, golden sand rushing like a tidal wave to shield them. Symbols burst to life in the air — dreamcatchers, barriers, swords — but the spirit crashed through them like wet paper. Its form unraveled and rewove itself each time.
Jack darted in, staff spinning. He froze the ash in mid-air and launched it like spears. For a moment, the spirit reeled—
But then it snatched the staff mid-arc.
Jack’s eyes widened. "No!"
The spirit looked at it — then at him — and smiled. A cruel, remembering smile.
It swung the staff like a bat.
The blow caught Jack in the stomach. He flew.
The last thing he saw was Sandy reaching for him, golden shapes fracturing mid-air, Bunny limping toward the spirit with murder in his eyes—
Then the portal behind the scar snapped open, pulled like a wound being forced wider.
Jack's back arched as he felt the adrenaline dulled pain of his own core splitting in two, was dragged toward it. His hands scrambled in the ash. His fingers brushed the edge of his staff as it was thrown — snapped in two, but still whole enough to be his.
Then—
Crack.
Black out.