Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I've been sick.

Pitch guided the dark ship through the wreck of what had formerly been a carrier liner. There were ruins of ships all over this place, which told him that they were reaching their first checkpoint. His skin crawled with the sensation of fear, but it wasn't his own. Nightlight had terrible memories of this place, of a great battle he fought with a dark foe, of a blow that left him terribly wounded and made him flee for his life.

Jack's emotions fueled the fear, and Pitch knew the boy could sense the darkness; it was more than the just lack of a close star. It was nearly tangible, and it spoke of Shadow Man's influence. Pitch's sharp eyes moved across the field to an asteroid. A tall tower was perched on it, a defense from the Golden Age that had been taken over by Shadow Man to deter unwanted guests. Though if anybody went by the tower, it would have to be on purpose, as they were doing.

"I don't like it," Jack whispered, his blue eyes narrowed as he tried to peer through the darkness that pressed on every side of them.

"Neither do I, Frost," Pitch replied. "It's watching us. It's waiting for us to get close enough to strike."

"What?" Jack asked.

Pitch didn't answer. He wasn't sure what creature inhabited the tower. Nightlight's description was vague, and Pitch could feel the edge of the boy's sanity, wavering like a flame on a windy day. He knew if he pushed the boy to remember any more, it would do damage to his psyche, perhaps permanent damage, and Pitch couldn't do that to his childhood friend. So he kept sweeping his eyes over the field, knowing that the attack was coming, and it could come from any direction.

The first strike was from below, and it rocked the ship like an earthquake. Pitch managed to remain standing by grasping the wheel. Nightlight nearly tumbled over the edge of the crow's nest, saved from a nasty fall by his hand grasping the railing. Jack was thrown into the navigation table, yelling with shock as he dropped his staff. Pitch grunted, twisting the ship until it was reoriented 180 degrees. A creature swam below them, glaring up at the Nightmare King with dark red eyes. Pitch met them, baring his teeth.

"What is that?!" Jack screamed, snatching up his staff.

"Void Serpent," Pitch replied, his eyes gleaming.

It was a dark snake that somehow swam through vacuum of space. Its fangs were dripping a viscous liquid into the void, shimmering like stars. Its whole body could have easily wrapped around the ship to crush it. But Pitch could sense that it wanted to play with them first. He was eager to meet the challenge.

Nightlight's terror reached a fever pitch even as he bravely stood straight, clutching his spear and ready for battle. Jack's panic grew, but he stood his ground, his eyes flashing with his inner power. Their fear filtered into Pitch Black, and it was so sharp that he could smell it. Salty with a dark tang that satisfied a terrible longing inside of himself to spread pain and fear, he couldn't get enough of it. Inhaling deeply, the scent went straight to his head like the finest of wines, and he laughed defiantly, power snapping at his fingers.

Both boys looked at him to see a strange glow around his form, a mixture of shadow and light that gave his body a depth that they had never noticed before. And as they met his flashing eyes, a surge of energy pulsed through their frames. As the strange energy washed over them, both of them let out yells of defiance, and the creature's red eyes narrowed as it twisted around to try and get beneath them again. Pitch twisted the wheel to turn the ship alongside the creature, and for a few moments they fought for an advantage. Then Jack leaped up to the crow's nest and held out his staff.

Power such as Jack hadn't shown since his battle with the Nightmare King exploded from his staff, and the creature shrieked as shards of ice dug into its flesh. It writhed and slithered away to regroup, and Nightlight whooped in excitement.

"That's it, Jack!" he laughed. "Bring us closer, Prism! I have a score to settle!"

Pitch grinned and turned the ship to follow the fleeing creature. Nightlight pushed off and flew through the gravitational barrier. He flew toward the serpent, his entire body glowing as brightly as the full moon on a clear night. Jack gathered himself and followed, his staff held defensively as frost shimmered in his wake. They were eager for battle, and they had the advantage of being smaller and more agile than the serpent, unlike the ship. Pitch followed their swift forms, watching with delight as Nightlight's spear flashed like a shooting star as he threw it into the flesh of the beast.

Their fear was gone in a surge of adrenaline, but the creature's primal fear blasted across Pitch's consciousness. It was darker and stickier, and it stirred Pitch's dark heart. He gathered his energy together and focused it into a sword. Releasing the wheel, Pitch threw himself into the void of space. There was a tightness as gravity squeezed him then he was free.

Focusing on his inner power, he projected a gravity field around himself as he flew toward the creature. Two smaller gravity fields from Nightlight and Jack brushed against his, but it was countered by the larger gravity field of the creature. Pitch and Nightlight were both gifted with this skill, but Jack's field was weak and wavering. He instinctively used his flying power more than a center of gravity, which was still a difficult concept to grasp for the Earthling.

The snake writhed beneath the onslaught of the two boys, snapping this way and that, trying to sink its fangs into them. Nightlight and Jack were too quick, and Pitch laughed at the helpless creature. Bloodlust boiled in his veins, and the all too familiar feeling of Shadow Man's grip on his essence began to pull him down. And with the serpent's primitive fear making his skin crawl with delight, Pitch didn't care that the darkness was beginning to press in again.

Jack swept past him, glancing at him for a moment. His blue eyes widened in shock, and Pitch grinned at him, baring his teeth in a feral grimace. Jack was so distracted that he stopped midmovement to stare. The snake's tail slammed into him with the force of a truck, and Pitch's anger was roused.

"Still yourself!" he screamed in the language of power, and everybody froze.

Nightlight's spear was upraised toward the serpent's mouth, which was open wide, and Jack was floating upside down, but neither of them moved other than breathing. The snake stared at Pitch with wide eyes, and it let out a strangled hiss as its terror washed over Pitch like a refreshing rain. He laughed again, a wild edge to his voice. He was drunk on fear for the first time in years, and it was intoxicating.

"Come serpent!" he mocked, holding his sword.

With a swift movement, it swept aside Nightlight and lunged for Pitch. Pitch slashed at the creature's snout, leaving a long, deep cut which bled an inky stream as it recoiled from the pain. He laughed and lunged again, driving his blade deep into the sinewy body. A hiss of agony coiled through the air, and there was a subtle shift in the fear. It changed from the fear of pain to the fear of death, and it quenched his thirst like the finest wine.

As the Void Serpent shot forward, fangs gleaming in a last attempt to wound and defend itself, Pitch Black raised his sword and plunged it deep into the mouth of the serpent. The snake writhed in the throes of agony and death, its fear thrumming through Pitch in wave after delicious wave that sent his heart soaring and his nerves tingling with delight. He gave a shout and jerked the sword out, his limbs trembling from the impact as the sense of death filled the void around him. The serpent snapped and writhed, but its movements were slowing as its dark blood poured from its many wounds. Then the snake stilled. Its fear ebbed away, and the soul left its dark body.

A hand touched Pitch's shoulder, and a spike of fear made him spin, ready to slice down whoever it was just for another taste of that exquisite terror. But when he saw Jack's wide eyes, he jolted back into reality. He grimaced and dropped the sword, clutching his ears as Shadow Man's taunting laugh echoed in his head. Gritting his teeth, he tried to extricate himself from the darkness.

Jack stared at him for a moment then embraced Pitch's middle. Shock slammed into Pitch from Shadow Man, and the innocent gesture helped him to pull his mind out of the muck. The shadows in his mind stuck to him, trying to suck him back down into the mire. Nightlight's arms wrapped around him, too, and the two boys guided him back into the gravity field of the ship, holding him up so he wouldn't hit the deck.

When Pitch's feet hit the boards, he went to his knees, curling up tightly as he clutched at his ears. He couldn't stop the tears that dropped from his thin face onto the dark deck. He felt lost in a maze, his eyes could see no light, and the world shrank until all he could perceive was himself lying in the black mud, stained with shadows that tugged at him. He began to sob, clawing at his ears.

Jack watched Nightlight grab Pitch's hands to keep him from injuring himself, his glowing eyes sad. He cradled the dark head in his lap, and Jack stared at the form lying there. Pitch was darker than ever, his skin almost charcoal grey. His body jerked and writhed in some kind of torment that Jack and Nightlight couldn't touch. The only thing that was the same were the shimmering silvery-gold eyes that searched for something that he wasn't finding, even as tears streaked down the man's cheeks.

"How do we help him?" Jack asked, kneeling down to touch the thin cheek. Pitch flinched away from him.

"I don't know," Nightlight said. "I do not understand grown-up pain."

"Poor Prism," a voice whispered, caressing the boys' ears.

Nightlight and Jack looked around to see a silvery gold outline. As they watched, some kind of mist began to fill the silhouette to form a girl. She was young and beautiful, with a sad, contemplative expression on her face. She wore an old-fashioned garment, a dress that swept the ground, with bare feet peeking out under her skirts. Her hair was long and thick, loose waves framing her full face.

"Who are you?" Jack asked softly, staring in wonder at the girl's shimmering form. There was a sense of light around her that no darkness could touch, and they trusted her immediately.

"Anthea," she replied. Her feet made no noise as she walked over to gaze down at the dark, troubled expression of Pitch. "He is hurting. He will hurt until this is over."

"Can we help him, Anthea?" Nightlight asked, stroking the man's face tenderly.

"Have you any of the golden dust?"

"Dreamsand?" Jack asked. "I think so."

He stood up and ran into the hold to search for the bag. His heart sank as he picked it up; it was so light. Had he and Nightlight used all of this precious substance without a thought toward Pitch? He ran back up to the deck and held his breath as he tilted the bag upside down over his palm. About half an ounce of sand trickled into his hand, and he relaxed.

"Will this do?" he asked.

"Yes," Anthea replied. "Nightlight, speak your rhyme and give him peace for now."

"Does my dream magic work on grown-ups?" he asked in surprise.

"Prism is different than most grown-ups," Anthea said, kneeling down to smile at Pitch. She brushed her hand through his dark hair. "He has no veil across his vision. He never grew up as other grown-ups did. Just because he's taller, that doesn't mean he's forgotten what it means to be a child. Think of how he acts, Nightlight. Think of everything he does for you both. Has he ever let you down? Doesn't he let you play and dance? What else does he do for you?"

Jack nodded as she spoke. "He's never mad at me for being curious," he murmured to the boy of light. "He listens to every word I say. He understands me all the time. I mean, I know he's not emotional, but he still allows me to be a kid."

"He is reserved," Nightlight said slowly. "But he always has been. He is more responsible, it is true, but he is still the companion I knew so well. Perhaps you are right, Anthea. Perhaps he is still young enough on the inside to need a Nightlight."

Nightlight leaned down, and Jack sprinkled the sand over Pitch's face. The wild eyes paused and grew heavy as the boy of light pressed a good night kiss on Pitch's cheek.

"Nightlight, bright light, sweet dreams I bestow. Sleep tight, all night. Forever I will glow," he sang gently into Pitch's ear.

As if Pitch heard him, his twitching stopped, and his eyes focused for the first time on Nightlight's face. He stared at the boy in wonder.

"You never sing that to me," Pitch said, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"You never indicated you wished for it," Nightlight replied. "Sleep, Prism. Sleep and have good dreams."

Pitch's eyes slid from Nightlight's face to Jack's, and the boy smiled encouragingly. Then his eyes slipped over to Anthea, and he chuckled.

"You're keeping your word, I see," he sighed.

"Of course. It's only been a couple thousand years," she teased. "Sleep, Pitch Black. Sleep and dream of the stars."

Pitch fell asleep without another word. Nightlight and Jack both watched his face ease into a peaceful expression then looked up to thank Anthea. All they saw was a dissolving mist that settled onto the shadow-stained boards. The two boys stared at the vacant spot for a moment, wondering just who Anthea was and how she knew Pitch, before they roused themselves and carried Pitch downstairs into the hold. He relaxed into the hammock, his expression remaining peaceful as he curled up under the blanket.

The two boys walked back upstairs and shut the hold. Nightlight glanced up.

"Can you steer?"

"Yes," Jack said.

"Good. I'll guide you and tend to the rigging."

"I have a question," Jack said, and Nightlight stared at him with his big, reflective eyes.

"Yes?" he prodded.

"Was…was that Shadow Man's doing?" Jack asked.

"Just as he picked at your scar, he is picking at Prism's. The only difference is that you have one scar, and Prism's scars are innumerable. He picked your scar like the string of a lyre, and it reverberated through your entire being. But he has such a hold on Prism that he can claw them open. He is bleeding on the inside, Jack. And it is messy."

"I just want Pitch to be okay," Jack said uneasily. "The look on his face after he killed that snake…" Jack could still see the crazed desire, a dark evil that he recognized from the first time he'd met the man. "Shadow Man can make him do such bad things."

"When he sinks into the shadows, he truly is Pitch Black. But there is still the fact that he has his inner light to show him the way. He just needs to break into that part of himself again. Now get to the wheel."

Jack took the wheel, and he followed Nightlight's instructions as he guided the ship in the right direction. His thoughts were below in the hold with the Nightmare King, who lay peacefully in rest for the first time in many years. And he thought over what Nightlight had said about Pitch's inner light. It was true. They needed to help him reach that inner light. It was the one part of childhood that Pitch had forgotten about. But how were they to break through the shadow?