So this is it, the end of the series- the main one anyway. I'll probably not come back to Rise of the Guardians for a long time, and if I don't, then at least the story here is finished. I want to thank you all for your support on this series that has lasted over a year by now, and I hope this makes the ending of it worth while. Thank you all so much, though I'm afraid this is the end. Enjoy the Epilogue. :)

Chapter 24: In the Book of Mother Goose

(Epilogue)

Jack and Jo stood on the lake, sitting among the autumn leaves. Jack leaned back on the dry earth, his hands behind his head. Do you think Hal would like some snow on Halloween?"

"Jaaack..."

"Kidding, Kidding..."

Jo shook his head to himself, "Honestly, Jack, you can't have snow all the time."

There was a pause, and Jack touched the water with a toe, watching it ripple with an unreadable expression. Jo watched him quietly.

"Thinking about...you know?"

Jack was silent for a moment. Then, "Sometimes I wonder what it could've been like...if I never went to the lake that day."

Jo sighed deeply. "It was meant to happen...according to the powers that exist," He paused, the hooded figure of Death flashing in his mind, "I wonder about what I could have become if I hadn't been a Guardian."

Jack smirked, repeating him. "It was meant to happen."

Jo scowled playfully, then looked at his silver reflection in the water. "I guess there's a lot of possibilities...but I'm happy this way." He looked over his shoulder at Jack, who stared into the water, too. His brow was creased in thought. "What about you?"

"Huh?" Jack looked at him, snapping from his thoughts. Jo shrugged slowly.

"Are you happy now?"

Jack was still for a few moments, then he slowly smiled. "Now I am. I don't think I could b anyone else now but Jack Frost. The man in the moon told us who we are."

Jo grinned at this cheesy line of his, "And when the Man in the Moon tells you something...you better believe it."

...

It's hard to imagine, really- how so much bad can come about, then a week later you can be alright again. The sun would return and the past would be past, and you would find yourself wondering how you could have worried so much.

But the darkness was always there. But that is always meant to be; it was not the absence of darkness that light reined in after all.

Jamie and his friends returned home safe and sound after that night, and Jack joined the Guardians for good. They bid their farewells to Hal and Ayver, who returned to their home together- but without Anguish.

The absence of the shadowy spirit stung for a long while, long into summer and autumn, but as Christmas drew near and Halloween even closer, it slowly began to fade. Hal returned to his duties as the Trickster of the night, Ayver awaited the next spring with patience.

Jack and Jo never really spoke about Anguish much, though they both knew they owed him a lot. More than they could put into words. Tyzentray was glad to see her friend returned, and for once everything seemed to be running smoothly.

Jo could feel himself strengthening everyday as Jamie spread the stories of the Silver Man and Jack Frost wherever he went; he sometimes saw pictures of himself drawn by children. It was not something he'd expected...but it lit his heart, especially when Ayver and Hal told them of how children would swear they'd seen the Spring Bunny and Halloween Trickster.

The teeth where returned to Tooth's Palace...as did Genevieve. Perhaps truth, not lies and forgetting, was something she guarded now; a separate but connected creature. Tooth was happy to have her returned.

But something still needed to be done.

...

The lair seemed even darker and more desolate than it had ever been. The chained cages hanging down from the ceiling didn't so much as creak now; the fearlings had left the Nightmare king be for a while.

He strode slowly along the dark path, a black abyss below him. He regarded it indifferently, a smooth frown on his face. No emotion was present on his pale face. He was meant to rot here it seemed; more than usual- the darkness, it seemed, had no real place no matter what those above said about balance. A bitter pang filled his chest, yet he continued walking.

Then, something rustled behind him. Pitch turned, his hands still placed behind his back, and stared as a dark portal opened up in the ground. Then, a small figure raised out of it, hovering in the air as it closed. He scowled and turned away again.

"Genevieve. Why are you here?"

She was quiet for a while. "I'm the Guardian of Truth now...as the Man in the Moon says."

He chuckled quietly to himself, a phantom of a smile playing about his lips. He kept his back to her. "How sweat. And have you come to tell me of my wrong doings and how I should just vanish forever? Not likely, my dear."

He began striding away again, slowly, back straight. She scowled, but not venomously.

"So what happened?"

He looked over his shoulder; bright eyes flashing. "What to do you mean?"

Genevieve shifted on her feet, then made her eyes meet his again. "I heard about your Daughter, Pitch."

Something sparked behind Pitch's pale eyes, and it burned with a passion. He turned away from her again, his brow creasing as if he'd heard something horrible. Genevieve did not relent. She walked towards him slowly, closing the space between them in the silent, dark, lonely lair.

"I hated you for years. So long all I could think of was how you hurt me."

Pitch's face became unreadable; eyes downcast. He said nothing. The girl turned a little, staring down to the black abyss below them. "That's why." She said softly, coolly. "That's why you said those things.

Pitch snarled, finally turning around to face her. His limbs still felt very weak, but he mustered up enough strength to storm over like a bull. "Do not speak of things you do not understand."

Again, he turned and began walking away, burying any emotions, any thoughts that dared to surface to his mind and chest. They gripped at him like they were drowning in quicksand, and his steps felt heavy for some reason as he walked.

"My daughter is forever beyond my reach."

He stopped, standing at the edge of the cold ground, staring down to the dark depths. How familiar they looked to that day.

Then, a small, warm hand, so familiar and comforting closed around his fingers. He turned his head just a little, his face becoming soft and bewildered, as he saw the girl staring down into the darkness with him. The fearlings felt quite far away for once.

And, in the cold, silent lair, Pitch's hand tightened around Genevieve's once again, the two of them watching the darkness that would always be there together.

Slowly, she began leading him away. "I want to show you something,..."

She tugged him towards the globe, and raised her hand to one of the lights. Then, an image appeared in a small blue orb of dust from her hand, and it showed children comparing drawings of the Boogeyman together.

"I think they do believe...a little." She smiled gently- though almost mischievously. He supposed that was just the kind of creature she was. Then, the smile became more happy. She came forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, and that long forgotten warmth filled his heart, and for a moment those memories of so long ago did not hurt him. They did not sting.

They...made something in him feel lighter.

"Don't worry, Daddy. I...forgive you."

His face was still expressionless for a moment. hen, for a flicker of a moment, Kozmotis's smile returned to his face.

...

And in the shop that was once Alecvander's, the story book lay open, dusted and clean. The colourful pictures remained as they where, the beloved Guardians. But, on the new pages, ahead of the old and well known tales of Mother Goose, the stories of the Silver Man, Spring Rabbit, Trickster of Halloween and Jack Frost filled up the pages.

One page showed a beautiful drawing of a snowy hill where they all stood together.

Another showed Jo, as his human self, staring up at the Sandman in wonder. One showed the Nightmare King being led along by an odd little blue-black creature made of feathers.

And the last one showed a golden, shining. drawing of two little boys standing in a meadow, running through it with the belief that it would shine ever more.

The End.