“Just need a little light.”

“Of course,” he grumbled, “What are we looking for?”

“I dropped a quarter.”

Jamie was starting to feel down right used. But to be fair he used Jack as a personal air conditioner.

The magic of myths and belief is arcane and not fully understood. Even by ancient scholars like Tsar Lunar, Ombric, or E. Aster Bunny. It didn’t surprise anyone that there would be repercussions of The Nightmare of Easter. A couple of them did surprise everyone.

Jamie Bennett was one of the most effected. Names have power, people understand this instinctually. They feel the power of titles but attribute it to the position rather than the bearer. What they tend to forget are the powers of sobriquets – which straddle name and title.

North may have unintentionally bestowed the title/sobriquet/nickname of “The Last Light” on Jamie Bennett, but no one corrected him. As a centuries old wizard known (if not widely believed in at that moment) to judge naughty and nice, his declaration was spell in itself.

“Found you!”

Jamie groaned, he didn’t know why he’d agreed to play Hide’n’Seek. Scratch that. He knew: Sophie’s bunny kit eyes. (She didn’t make puppy dog eyes). He played the defeated foe for her before returning to the counting spot.

“One, two, three…”

Still the fact that he glowed in the dark made it a little unfair.

The Last Light had not been the only child to believe for very long. For all his temerity he would’ve buckled. Even as the Guardians showed how the loss of belief sapped them, they also showed that it didn’t destroy them immediately. The Last Light became Atlas to all the world’s myths and legends. The weight of which would’ve crushed his soul in time.

As it was his soul was released from the pressure before it was pulverised. It was changed, reforged into diamond. The outward expression of this was that Jamie Bennett shone.

Jack had to close his eyes when they came together. Not because Jamie was ugly – far from it. But the subtle glow Jamie possessed intensified as he approached climax. By the time Jack had worked his magic Jamie was so radiant that he could almost see with his eyes closed.

“Dark now,” Jack breathed, enjoying the presence Jamie laid out on top of him.

Jamie’s response was a disgruntled mix of giggle, hiccup and groan. He was immune to his lightshows so tilting his head he could see Jack blinking furiously.

Fortunately, the light he produced was invisible to non-believers. Otherwise the neighbours would’ve called the police weeks ago. Most of the time it was muted and easily washed out by an overcast day. However it broadcast his state of mind to anyone who believed and could read them.

“This is my favourite,” Jack softly said.

“Favourite what?” Jamie asked, too comfortable to even turn his head to make eye contact.

They were stargazing in the clearing next to Jack’s lake. The early winter air crisp and still. The blanket Jamie had brought was only pulled up to their waists, since he was wrapped up well enough.

“My favourite…” Jack’s spare arm lifted up and made indecisive gestures, as if he could physically grasp the right word out of thin air, “moment? Feeling? I don’t know.

“I really like this, whatever you call it. I like us together. It’s comfortable – I feel home like this. I know you hate it sometimes, the glowy thing I mean. But I think it makes you brilliant. I’m sure even if you didn’t shine, I’d think you did.”

Jamie smiled, unsure how to reply. He never doubted Jack but the winter sprite wasn’t one for poetic declarations of love. Not that he was afraid to pun on his condition.

“Thanks Jack, I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Jack equally heartfully before teasing with a nudge, “I can tell you’re blushing. You’ve gone all pink.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey I like it when you glow,” Jack soothed, “Doesn’t hold a candle your ‘Super Nova-gasm’.”

“So good to see you again Umbra Blacksun. Are you going to introduce your new friend?”

“Ah, this is Jamie.” Jason shrunk under the Boogeyman’s gaze, losing a little definition even. “He asked me about you.”

Jamie did his best to ignore the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. His reptilian hind brain was heavily leaning toward flight over fight right now, but Jamie knew panic never helped. He was a nerd – Yoda and the Bene Gesserit had taught him well.

“Yeah, people kept mentioning you but not saying anything. I just wanted to know what was going on.”

“Oh, I am more than happy to answer your questions.”

“For a price?” slipped out before Jamie could stop himself. Again.

A cruel smile was Black’s reply, “Nothing extortionary. I have no need for mortal tokens.”

Well mortal tokens were probably the least valuable things Jamie could lose in this fairy tale. Money and objects could be replaced, memories and his soul – not so much.

“Anxiety is thinner than real fear,” mused Black to himself, “Probably for the best. Even before Frost locked me up here, I wasn’t really getting my fill of terror. Damn Guardians.”  Black turned his focus back on Jamie. “But I think such an appetiser deserves a reward. Ask me a question.”

“What will you tell me about Jack’s capture?”

“Of course you would ask about that brat. No matter.” Strutting around, hands switching between forceful gestures and clasping behind his back, Black just kept ticking the villain tropes. “It was simple enough – I laid trap for Frost when he returned to his home. He flew straight into it.”

“That much, huh?” murmured Jamie.

“A taste for a taste.”

Fair enough, in a twisted kind of way.

“What would it cost me for you to share the details of Jack’s capture?”

“Hmm, something a little more substantial I think.” Black tapped his chin in thought, and the pairing of rancid teeth and horrid nails wasn’t pleasant. “Tell me about something that scared you as a child, but only unnerves you now.”

Jamie considered the request. He was tempted to say “the dark” but he was never really one to be afraid of it. He’d had a nightlight like most kids but more because he liked the glowing pictures. He could still sleep soundly with it off. Plus all his favourite cryptids hid in the dark.

“Babushka Yakubovich. She’s this crazy, old, Russian lady who’s lived down the street my whole life. When we kids we used to say she was a witch who liked to roast children,” explained Jamie, recalling a ghost of his irrational childhood fear. “Of course, these days I know she’s just an old widow. Nothing to be afraid of. Still she’s always looking at me weird.”

“What’s to say she isn’t a witch? Could she be Baba Yaga laying low? Nevermind, I believe you wanted details. Down here is my lair, where my Nightmare Galleon is.” Black motioned to the darkness further down, before clenching his fist, “That upstart had the nerve to build his home on my territory. And then he was foolish enough to leave it defenceless. Of course I took it one winter while he was away. That’s the problem with spirits these days – no responsibility. At least that damn Pooka and Sanderson work diligently. Not like Frost, or that fool North. Gets his hands on a magic sword and thinks he’s someone important!”

Again Jamie was annoyed by the way he kept being given important information but knowing what do with it. Who was Pooka? Sanderson could be the Sandman? Stupid story book characters being all complicated. What to ask about next?

“Why does Frost have some – but not complete – control over the shadows?”

“You really haven’t worked that out by yourself? You struck me as a bright young lad.” The mocking tone of that description was only out voiced by anger. “When he won my lair he got the shadows and fearlings, but he has no skill with shadow magics. Why would they listen to him more than they have too?” Pitch dropped from his near raging to a merely blood chilling scowl. “One last question, but it will cost you. I will have your greatest fear.”

Jamie considered both his question and his greatest fear. He didn’t have any phobias so he wasn’t sure what Black wanted. Plus, wouldn’t losing a fear be a good thing?

“Why did you call the shadow girl Sera, that?”

Black’s face flickered something hurt, almost human; then black took Jamie’s vision.

First he saw his father. The scum walking out his mother, on him, on his newborn sister. Then he came downstairs, trailing his sister, ready for breakfast. Only his mom was missing, just a note. She wasn’t coming back.

His sister screamed she hated him and ran away. He searched high and low – nothing. Jamie asked his friends for help, but they just turned and walked away. He was on his own. But he kept searching.

Years later he found his sister. He never gave up but reality took more of his time. He stumbled across his sister – a worn down, welfare reliant, teen mother. She pleaded for his help.

He turned away. He left her. Betrayed her.

“Interesting,” murmured Black, mulled over Jamie’s payment like a mull wine. “Fear of betrayal. A complex of betrayals past against you, subconscious worry about the present and dread that you’ll become your father. Like so many do. Exquisite.”

Jamie parsed little of this. Bent hands on knees, panting after a sprint. He doubted Black had taken that fear. In fact, he was sure that it would become a recurring nightmare.

“You asked about Sera? I adopted the persona of this place as my daughter. Seemed only right that gift her the same name.”

Black hooked two fingers under Jamie’s chin and forced him to look up. Jamie flinched away from the oily touch but the grey spectre held him firmly.

“Now, what shall I do with you?"

Jamie started again when Jason – who he’d forgotten was present – spoke up, “Jack will come for him.”

“True enough. I do wish I could make you a fearling prince. I sense you’d be brilliant.” Black’s smile said just how their understandings of the word differed. “But alas, I do not have that kind of power to waste. No I’ll have to be patient.”

Jamie had the sinking feeling he’d become that foolish explorer who roused the ancient, sealed away evil. That rarely ended well.

“Oh no need to be so grim,” said Black, like Jamie was a child afraid of Santa not visiting Christmas Eve. “I’m not going to keep you down here. Umbra is correct, Frost will come looking. And frankly I’d just got my prison how I like it. Compared to having a spear through my heart, it’s quite pleasant.”

Without warning, the grip on Jamie’s chin shifted. With a thud he found himself pressed against the wall, one hand around his throat, the other muffling his mouth.

“But I do have enough power left to silence you. You will not speak of this meeting, of anything you learnt here, to anyone.”

Jamie’s lungs burned but the sick, oily touch was worse. Maybe it was his imagination but he could feel it slinking down his throat. A lump congealed in his Adams apple, while more entered his lungs. Again darkness took him.

Sanderson Mansnoozie frowned at the echoes in his dreamsand. Thinkers like Jung hadn’t been wrong – dreams were shared by people. He might only orchestrate the dreams for sleeping children, but he paid attention to the greater tides and currents of the world’s dreams.

The past half century had been easy work. A dark touch, he’d piloted against for millennia, had been missing. Naturally he’d been concerned but in the scheme of things it wasn’t a long period. Pitch had been quieter for longer than that in the past. He tried to let the other Guardians know, but they (and he too admittedly) were too busy.

Now Tsar Lunar had given them a message. The others had debated the meaning, concluding they were being ordered to stop Jack Frost collaborating with Pitch. He wasn’t so convinced. But they hadn’t listened.

North and Bunny decided to take a run at Jack Frost’s domain. A new spirit, one with no believers wouldn’t be a problem for them. Since Christmas had passed and Easter was late this year, they’d both been free. He and Tooth, well their work never stopped.

But that wasn’t what had upset him. That dark touch was back. An echo of an echo. A daydream of an adult? What was Pitch doing?

Sandy spun his dreamsand cloud into a flying saucer and headed for the Tooth Palace.

Catapulting upright out of nightmare was something Jamie had never done before. Lungs heaving precious oxygen, he listened to his pulse’s thunder in his ears as it calmed. A glance around told Jamie that he was back at the cave mouth, a worried Jason crouched next to him.

“Are you okay?”

Jamie couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement of relief.

“Yeah, think so,” he gasped, “What happened? Did Bl-”

A burning, oily grip around and in Jamie’s throat choked away his question before he could voice it. He coughed harshly hoping to expel the feeling. The best he could manage was to get it to retreat and let him breathe. Seemed Pitch Black hadn’t been lying about silencing him.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Jamie said, as much to reassure himself as Jason. After a few false starts, feeling the spell rise, he managed to ask, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Jason smiled, gold eyes gleaming, “Jack owns me remember. Pitch couldn’t just take me. Let’s go sit somewhere else.”

Getting away from the cave sounded like a great idea to Jamie. He reached up to grab Jason’s offered hand but flinched back at slick feel of it. A sensation far too alike Black’s hand around his throat.

Jason looked hurt at Jamie’s retreat, but resigned. He said nothing as Jamie stood and wandered as far from the cave as the game would allow. The fact that Jamie didn’t object to him sitting nearby seemed to cheer him a little.

They sat in silence. Jamie couldn’t think of anything to talk about that wouldn’t invoke the gag spell. He spent his time turning over what Black had told him. More and more it seemed like there were things much bigger than him – or even Jack – at play.

“Here he comes,” whispered Jason.

Curious, Jamie followed Jason’s gaze. The shadowboy was tracking something in the snowfield but he couldn’t see it. Not until it was just yards away. He recognised that blue hoodie.

“Breakout!” yelled Jack when he slapped the cave wall in triumph. He then turned and lifted Jamie off his feet. “Let’s get you out of here! You’re running out of time!”

A chilling wind buffeted them, and Jamie found himself swept into the air. He’d seen Jack flying around but he hadn’t grasped that Jack didn’t fly so much as get blown around.

“What about Jason?” shouted Jamie over the wind.

“He’ll catch up,” Jack replied, “You don’t want to be thrown in jail again, do you?”

Jamie couldn’t disagree with that. He wanted to get as far away as possible from Pitch Black’s cave. He was going to rescue his sister and take her home. Everything would be alright.

He steadfastly ignored the coiling in his gut that he’d fail, that he’d fail her trust in him.