Jack,

If you are reading this, we have failed. The children of the world no longer believe, and our time, after so many centuries, has finally come to an end.

I do not know how much you will remember.

Pitch has, impossibly, returned. We are unsure exactly how. Do not face him readily- in his absence he has grown powerful, and though we cannot be certain we believe he no longer works alone. Dark forces are growing steadily in the cover of the shadows. Even the moon's bright light dims steadily each day, like a candle being snuffed out in the night.

His onslaught came without warning. Even with time to prepare, I doubt we may have been able to face him as an equal force. It was Christmas eve when his Fearlings rushed my workshop, black sand pouring through every conceivable crevice like a tidal wave of shadow. We think now that he was after you at the time, seeking the advantage of surprise in order to extinguish his biggest threat. You fought valiantly, but in the confusion of the moment it was inevitable you were overpowered and engulfed. Bloodied, unconscious, and close to death, we managed to save you. Unfortunately, the damages you suffered were more than merely physical. A strange sleep plagued your being, and your body and mind alike contorted in incessant nightmares. Sandy was able to ease your suffering somewhat; yet since then weeks have passed and still you do not wake. I do not know how much time will pass before you wake up. Hopefully, if we are lucky, you will.

With the destruction of my workshop, Christmas did not come. There was little we could do but watch as the lights across the globe began to rapidly flicker out. When Tooth flew home, she found her palace destroyed and her faeries slain. Night after night, nightmares grew to infest the sleep of children everywhere- it has reached the point that Sandman's golden dreams will rot should Pitch's forces even come near.

We are now on the run. In retreat, you might even say. At the moment we travel underground with Bunny as our guide, nearing the place we have decided to hide you. Easter Sunday is tomorrow morning. With it we had planned to stage a revival of faith, but over the last several hours a strange sickness has befallen the eggs, and thousands of cracked shells are now all that inhabit these once sacred fields.

Bunny reports the black sands are approaching - we cannot stay where we are much longer. Jack, you need to know that we will do whatever we can to keep you safe, even if it means relinquishing our titles and our lives to do it. With his new found power, Pitch still saw you as a threat. We hope this means that, given the chance, you may be able to face him. We've found a place to hide you, as well as your staff, though I will not write where should Pitch somehow discover this message. We have fought, but we have failed. We place the last of our hope in you. In giving our lives, we will give you safety. It is not a decision made lightly. Hopefully with this magic, Pitch will not find you before you awake, nor for a good while after.

I suspect the world will have changed considerably from what you last knew of it when you awaken. Children may not believe in you again, but know that though we are gone we will have faith in you always. Stay strong Jack. We love you, and we're sorry.

The Nightmares approach, we must run.

North.

ooo000ooo

Someone had taken Jack's heart and crushed it in a vice. The air in his lungs felt heavy as lead. One by one, blotches of water fell to the paper, smearing the delicately laced ink.

Tears, some distant voice informed him.

A strangled noise cut through the deadened silence of the desert, transforming into a wretched howl of desperation and fury as Jack's fists closed tight around the parchment in their grasp. He was scarcely aware it was his own voice. His mind felt as if were spiraling into a black hole.

It's not true, he wanted to shout. It can't be true. The growing turbulence of his emotions was like boiling oil beneath his skin. The pressure was unbearable, and he felt certain he was going to explode. His forehead hit his knees abruptly as he doubled over in the sand, all but oblivious to the sudden pain. Sob after sob bubbled up from inside him, resistance eroding away until they wracked his entire body, limbs wrenched with spasms and breaths coming rapid and choked.

Jack now understood the foreboding he'd sensed in coming here. It hadn't been an effect of his slumber, it had been the absence of belief, the absence of magic in the world itself. The absence of the Guardians who had grown to be his friends and his family. The absence of a piece of his soul that would never be returned for as long as he was alive.

With a wet sniff he glanced down at the letter, now crumpled and moist in his hands. Anger flared briefly inside him. How could they leave him like this, expecting him to fight Pitch on his own? Almost as quickly, these thoughts overridden with guilt. They had no other choice. You failed to protect them. Its your fault, Jack. You weren't strong enough and they died because of you.

His mind seemed to still after that. It was as though the shock of everything he had learned left him incapable of reacting to the world around him.

It felt as though time had melted into an eternity.

He wasn't sure how long he had been laying cradled in the dirt when he noticed the tip of something white poking from the envelope he had cast aside. Righting himself slowly, the ache of his old age for the first time felt in his bones, he moved to withdraw the second item.

A white sheet of paper just smaller than the size of his hand, with the words, for you inscribed across the center in broad strokes. Numbly, Jack flipped it over to reveal the other side.

It was a photo of all of them, taken on Santa's sleigh. The memory brought a wobbly smile to Jack's lips. In commemoration of his accention, North had taken them all out for a spin on his jarringly red speed machine. Jack, Tooth, and Sandy all sat smiling side by side, while North crowded the seat in front of them, a meaty arm wrapped around the shoulder of a slightly green looking Bunny. Even baby Tooth was there, her head poking out of a fold in the winter spirit's hood. North must have grabbed the photo just for him, despite the haste and chaos. His eyes were drawn to a small inscription the bottom left hand corner. Do not forget who you are, Jack. The message was nearly enough to make him break down again.

We will have faith in you always. They had held such certainty in him, right until the very end. Why did they have to do that?

The heat beating down on his back grew uncomfortable enough to pierce his thoughts, and with mild surprise Jack recalled he was still sitting in the middle of a desert.

Squinting against the harsh light of the sun, he looked up to his staff, still standing protected by the shrine of his friends. Stay strong. They hadn't abandoned him, they had sacrificed themselves for his behalf. For their sake, he had to carry on. Climbing to his feet, Jack felt this conviction kindle inside him, weak but strong enough to smoulder. He would fight for their memory. He would fight for the Guardians' belief. And he would annihilate fear.

Pitch would regret the day he ever sought to challenge the Spirit of Winter and Ice.

Jack stretched out his hand, tentatively crossing the invisible line of the diamond created by the stones. Feeling the pulse of magic return to his veins as his hands closed around his staff, he steadied his weight and pulled it free from the ground.

A mighty wind rose suddenly, and the world was lost in a blinding whirl of dust and sand. Alarmed, Jack raised his arms to shield his eyes. Panic flared inside him as he felt the crumpled letter slip from his fingers. "No!" He shouted, but in the sandstorm around him it was impossible to see where it had gone. It didn't take long for the wind to settle, but when it did both the tombstones and the letter had disappeared without a trace. Magic, he realized with surprise and sorrow. Clutching his staff tightly in one hand, Jack took a long look at the photo he had managed to keep hold of before carefully slipping it into the pocket of his hoodie. For their sake. But first he had to get out of the sun.

ooo000ooo

Toes dragging in the dirt, Jack cursed his own stupidity. He was going to be stuck in the desert yet a while longer. Lost in mourning, he hadn't realized the extent his body had been weakening in the heat, but when an attempt to take off had achieved no more than an exceptionally high jump (and and exceptionally painful landing thereafter), the seriousness of his situation hit him full force. The irony of losing his magic so soon after reuniting with his staff burned him just as badly as the sun. There was nothing around for miles, save the mountains still far in front of him, but Jack had decided to ignore those beguiling behemoths knowing full well he would be melted away before even crossing half the distance to their sanctuary.

Thus he had chosen to focus on a dark blob of what could have been anything from a boulder to a building to a refraction of the sun's light, wavering and distorted on the distant heat of the horizon. It was a long shot, and frankly the only one he really had.

Several hours later, water was condensing and evaporating off Jack's skin at a worrying rate. He raised a sleeve to wipe the droplets running into his eyes, trying not to notice the dark patch of moisture left on the fabric when he pulled his arm away. It was just too damn hot.

"Come on wind, can't you help me out a little?" He pleaded, eyes trained somewhere just above the tip of the mountains.

A slight breeze picked up behind him in response, easing his journey forward while cooling the moisture along his back. Though a welcome relief, Jack noted the gust was decidedly weaker than what should have been possible for the element he knew so well. It may have simply been the lack of nearby trees to run through, but Jack wondered if even the spirit of the wind had been cowed by whatever forces had taken root in his absence. It was a silently disturbing notion.

It soon became obvious the wind could not keep up its aid. The breeze faltered and weakened steadily until long pauses interspersed the movement of the air, like a spent athlete struggling to catch their breath. Finally a weak gust culminated to press against his back, the air softly tousling his hair apologetically. Jack smiled understandingly as the last of the breeze slipped past his cheeks, wanting his friend to know he understood and was grateful all the same.

As the sun returned to battering his body, Jack found himself increasingly resorting to using his staff as a beam of support, until it was practically a third and heavily depended upon leg. Step. Step. Move staff forward and shift weight to repeat process again. By this point he had tried lifting his hood to block out the sun, only to feel the skin beneath the thick fabric feel as though it were being burned alive.

Shift. Step. Step.

He tried not to notice how rapidly his pace was decreasing. It was becoming difficult to keep his eyes trained on the horizon without them slipping down or closing entirely.

Step. Step.

Jack began to develop a strong compassion for all things oven-roasted. Limping along, he imagined himself in a marathon among baking cakes and meat dishes, all of them dressed in ridiculous blue jogging attire. Some sped ahead of him, some fell behind him, but one by one they eventually dropped like flies, sizzling in the heat before burning to a smoking crisp.

Crisp... Crispy. Like a dried Autumn leaf. Jack wasn't aware how far his mind was wandering as the previous mirage evaporated, thinking only that liked autumn leaves, liked tracing their veins in ice as he brought in the first frost of the winter. He looked at his hand. It looked kind of like a leaf, too, in a rounded, fleshy sort of way. It was even stuck to a branch, which was the coolest part. Jack didn't know of many leaf hands that were stuck to actual branches. He stopped walking to lift up his leaf and his branch, willing them to frost over like he made so many other leaves frost over season after season. Much to his dismay, nothing happened. After a moment Jack lowered his leaf branch and looked at it with forlorn sadness. Why did it feel so warm? It was covered in dewdrops, not ice. His thoughts lulled into nothing as his heavy lidded eyes focused emptily on the many multiplying droplets. Was it raining? But it was so sunny. Deluded as he was, Jack thought that this was a very convincing reason to take a nap.

He was moving to lower himself to the ground when a sudden wind assaulted him from the side. Move, it seemed to order him in all its persistent cold clarity. Annoyance filtered through him, but Jack obediently righted himself, scarcely aware of where he was being carried as the wind veered him to the left before shoving him forward. He really wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the cold air was a welcome change from all the soggy mushy heat inside him, so he kept going.

Step. Shift. Step. Step.

Brown, orange, and blue hues danced across his eyes, obscurely incandescent gradients that he could make neither head nor tails of. He had to keep moving, to follow the wind, for as long as he could.

His sense of space and time was melting away. Slowly, the world was fading, oranges and browns dulling into bleached whites, thick greys, and finally a mixture of onyx and obsidian grey. He pressed forward, his orientation grounded solely in the balance of his pole.

Suddenly, coolness. Scarcely present, but there. It could have been a shadow, it could have been the night- scarcely clinging to consciousness as he was Jack could hardly tell. A faint smile teased his lips as the wind disappeared around him, and with the support gone he collapsed to his knees, feeling the soft shiver of cool granite run up his legs and into his blood.

He could sleep here, he decided, even as he felt his mind begin to slip and the rest of his body falling limp to spread across the hard, smooth floor. Just for a while.

Soothing darkness rushed up on him. "Thank you," he struggled to say, managing no more than an inaudible whimper. He descended deep into slumber.

Watching from a distance, the wind smiled knowingly at its friend before dispersing back into the sky.

ooo000ooo

Ever woken up to 70 new messages in your inbox? Its much more sobering than any alarm clock. The feedback I've received has been overwhelming and amazing. Huge, huge thanks to you all, especially those kind enough to review. This was a difficult chapter to write, and I hope it satisfies your believable backstory/emotional/Jack criteria. It was supposed to be twice as long, but meeting the 1 1/2 week deadline is difficult with my insanely busy schedule, and I believe in quality over quantity. (That being said I feel the chapter could have been polished more). As always, constructive feedback is sought in everything.