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The Nightmare King conjures up another nightmare sand shield as Jack fires more frost lightning at him, pushing the dark spirit back. The older spirit’s eyes dart around the area quickly, assessing the damage and growls in annoyance, seeing the Nightmare Men and Nightmares being driven back by the golden snow flurry Gwyn and Jack managed to create. Gwyn’s golden light may have been a weak duplication of what Pitch was able to create, but the strange spherical device that he was wielding made it even stronger. It radiated the more concentrated beams of light all across the clearing near Santoff Claussen. It just so happened to be the place where the Seelie Court and the Guardians had chosen to attack and corner him, without reinforcements. When the concentrated golden light hit the Nightmare Men, they simply dispersed into nothing more than a puff of black smoke, purified out of existence.
“You’re finished, Nightmare King.” Jack hisses, raising his now glimmering staff up defensively. The older spirit laughs harshly, eyeing the Frost Sprite.
“Ah, but Jack, I’ll never really be gone…not completely…poor little Kozmotis will always remember every detail of what I have done…all of the people I’ve killed while he remained trapped inside his own body. All of their terrified screams.” Jack glares, shooting more ice at the Nightmare King, but the dark spirit merely blocks the attack, smirking knowingly.“Tell me, child. How do you think your precious Pitch Black will react when he sees what you’ve done to his beloved sword? Do you think he’ll forgive you so easily? After he sacrificed himself to save you, you repay him by destroying what little he has left of his home.” Jack’s eyes widen as the wind lowers him to the ground.
“I-…he…I had to do it! There was no other way!”
“Wasn’t there? Poor Jack Frost, so desperate to save his lover that he takes away one of Kozmotis’ most cherished items.” The Nightmare King grins viciously, taking a step forward, sensing Jack’s fear of failing rise. “He should never have asked you to save him. It was too much to ask of you…you, who cannot even save himself.”
“Shut up!” Jack roars, pushing down the bubbling fear, and lashes out again, shooting more bolts of frost lightning at the Nightmare King. The older spirit blocks the attack, but before he can retaliate, an arrow burrows through his right forearm, and embeds itself into the boulder behind him, pinning him to the rock.
The Nightmare King hisses in pain, and reaches to try to pull the arrow out, but the projectile sends an electric shock throughout his body. He jolts, and quickly tries to yank the offending arrow out, but another arrow punctures his left forearm, pinning the limb to the other side of his body. The Nightmare King cries out in agony as yet another arrow pierces his stomach, causing all three arrows to simultaneously electrocute him.
“Wh-What have you done to me?!” The Nightmare King snarls, glaring up at Gwyn, who still had his bow aimed at the dark spirit.
“It seems those arrowheads forged from Pitch’s sword proved even more powerful than I anticipated.” The Seelie King states, slinging his bow back into the satchel on his back. He unsheathes his sword, nodding meaningfully to Jack, who quickly flies to his side. Jack picks up the laser type weapon he designed and takes a shaky breath, sending a worried glance over to the withering Nightmare King.
“I’m sorry.” Jack whispers before nodding to Gwyn. The Seelie King replicates Pitch’s drill, and produces the golden light, aiming it straight for the weapon. Jack tenses, waiting for the weapon to absorb the light, then fires it at the Nightmare King.
The older spirit has just enough time to look up in horror before the light overtakes him.
He screams in agony, thrashing against the arrows as the golden glow consumes him. Swarms of liquid shadows pour out of his orifices, only to dissolve as soon as it hits the light. Jack starts to tremble as the screaming continues.
What if this was killing Pitch too and not just the shadows? Right before he lowers the weapon, the Nightmare King suddenly goes limp and the golden light dissipates. Jack draws in a shaky breath, putting the weapon down, and eyes the limp figure carefully. The older spirit’s skin appeared to be paler, the shadows no longer clung to him, and the golden embroidery on his robes had even reappeared.
“Pitch?” Jack asks hesitantly, taking a step towards him. The figure coughs roughly, blood trickling out of his mouth. “Pitch!” The Frost Sprite soars over to him, ignoring Gwyn’s shouts of caution. Jack was about to rip the arrows out, when a strong hand catches his wrist. “Let me go! I have to help him!” He growls, rounding on the person restraining him, only to see North looking down at him sadly.
“It is alright, Jack. I will help. You cannot carelessly rip out arrows. Will do more damage.” North lets Jack’s wrist go, and unsheathes one of his sabers, watching Jack carefully.
The younger spirit takes deep breath and takes a half step back, giving the large Russian space to work. North slices the arrows close to the wound on all three arrows before gently sliding Pitch forward, off of the arrows. The toymaker then carefully lays the unconscious spirit on the ground, and starts to pull the robes away to get a better look at the damage. Jack kneels down next to Pitch, gently stroking the older spirits coarse black hair out of his face.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Jack asks quietly, not exactly sure if he wanted an honest answer at the moment.
“Hard to say. He is very weak. Can barely sense his soul.” North murmurs, putting pressure on the wound in Pitch’s stomach. “Too weak to heal himself.” He states as an afterthought, already anticipating what Jack was going to ask next. Pitch groans in pain as North starting poking around the wound, trying to check for internal damage.
“Pitch?” Jack asks breathlessly, not wanting to be hopeful yet. He couldn’t afford to be hopeful yet. Pitch’s eyes flutter open, and dart around in alarm, expecting an attack. Jack takes his hand, trying to calm him, and Pitch gazes up at him, and squeezes the younger spirit’s cold hand.
“J-ack?” Pitch rasps weakly, before coughing again. More blood trickles out of his mouth, and Jack shoots North a panicked look.
“I’m here…it’s alright…” Jack soothes, lightly stroking his thumb across the top of Pitch’s hand.
“The s-shadows?” Pitch asks, staring at their interlocked hands.
“Gone. What’s the last thing you remember?” The older spirit winces, and then hisses in pain as North starting poking around again.
“Darkness. They…didn’t let me up this time…” Pitch’s eyes shoot open as he remembers something important. “I held onto it…they took it…from the Nain Rogue…” The hand that Jack was holding starts to glow a royal blue. Jack’s eyes widen as he senses the source of the glow. It was the missing piece of his soul. Despite everything Pitch had been through, he still kept it safe.
“Pitch…you…but…” The Frost Sprite was at a loss for words. He was grateful that the older spirit had held onto the missing piece of his soul, but surely there was a better time for this. Perhaps when Pitch wasn’t covered in blood? Before he could protest, the blue glow shoots up his arm and into his chest, filling the missing piece inside of him. Jack gets hurled back from the force of it, gasping as he feels that void inside of him disappearing.
The next thing he knew, North was cursing in Russian, and starting to pound on Pitch’s chest. Jack scrambles over to them, having been flung back several feet more than he expected.
“What’s going on?!” He asks frantically, not liking the way how Pitch had gone completely still. His chest was no longer rising. Jack’s breath hitches. “No.” He breathes. “Nononononono! Pitch!” He screams, grabbing Pitch's face between his hands. “I just got you back! You can’t leave me! You CAN’T!” North slumps back onto the balls of his feet, and shakes his head solemnly. “What are you DOING?” Jack snaps at him before roughly shoving the large Russian out of the way and starting chest compressions himself.
“Jack…it is no use. He used the last of his life energy,” North states. Jack collapses on Pitch’s chest, letting out a broken sob.
“No! You IDIOT! It could have waited until you were stronger! You can’t leave me, you selfish bastard!” Jack wails, burying his face into Pitch’s chest, clutching onto the golden embroidered robes like a lifeline.
“Jack.” A familiar voice states from beside North, but Jack didn’t care. Pitch can’t be gone. Not after everything they’ve both been through. “Jack.” The voice tries again, but the Frost Sprite shakes his head indignantly.
“NO!”
“Jack, mate. I know we haven’t been on the best terms…” Bunny starts, trying to get the younger spirit’s attention. “But I may be able to help…I may not like or trust the guy, but I can’t just stand by and let you suffer either.” Jack stiffens and glances up at the Pooka cautiously.
“W-What are you saying?” Jack grumbles, sniffling, and refusing to let go of Pitch.
“Well, his soul is still in there, otherwise the body would disappear. That means that just his life force is depleted. I can heal trees and plants with life energy. It’s not exactly the same, but it might give the buggar a jump start, if you will.” Bunny explains uncomfortably.
“You think it’ll work?” Jack asks North, who shrugs.
“Not sure about this one. Worth a shot. Nothing else to lose, no?” Jack nods, lifting one of his shaky hands and gently strokes one of Pitch’s pale cheeks.
“Please save him.” He whispers before scooting off of the older spirit to give Bunnymund room to work.
The Pooka crouches down next to Pitch’s prone form, and takes a deep breath, letting his eyes close as he focuses on gathering all of the life energy he can. After several moments, he channels the energy into his right paw before plunging it into the wound in Pitch’s stomach. Pitch’s body jolts, as if electrocuted, before taking a deep, gasping breath. Jack was on him in a second, cradling his head as Pitch coughs, gasping for air. He glances up at Bunny, frozen tear tracks on his cheeks.
“Thank you.” Jack whispers gratefully, carding a hand through Pitch’s hair, trying to calm the gasping spirit.
“Just don’t expect me to be doing this all the time.” Bunny mutters, cleaning his paw off in the snow. “And don’t mention it. Ever.” Jack starts to protest, but North holds a hand up, stopping the two.
“Now we must treat his wounds. You two bicker later.” North scoops Pitch up, ignoring the groaning protest he received from the barely conscious man, as Jack trails closely behind. He wouldn’t let this happen to Pitch again. Shadows and Unseelie Fae be damned.