Stories, tales, yarns, legends, accounts told by word of mouth, by ink kept in the pages of leather and paperbound books, morals forever treasured no matter the format. All of them kept safe in one pair of paper cut hands. A shape shifter taking on the guise of spinster, old man, antique shop owner, and librarian, if only to give children one last bit of comfort before they cease believing in magic of this world.

Fable is her name, and she is the simple spirit of children's learning and curiosity, and a protectorate of those who are either forgotten by the world or on the cusp of adulthood. All knowledge gained by children is kept in the hands of a bookish ageless teenager. In her own form, her skin is lightly brushed with a film of chocolate brown. Her eyes are lamplight and glitter behind the lenses of her bejeweled reading glasses, her hair a shade of worn leather, and a mass of snarled vines that she pulls into a tangled braid. Her voice, the most distinct, rough like the pages of her books no matter the shape she takes.

She is not remembered, and not many see her. Unless they are afraid and in need of comfort. Some will find themselves in her dwelling; no sooner upon their arrival will Fable make herself known. She will lead them by the hand, sit them down with hot chocolate or tea whatever suits their fancy. Her papered voice will spin wild tales of just about anything, even her fellow Spirits and unofficial protectorates, if only to give her listeners something to aid in their time of hardship and hurt. An attempt to send those children off with a memory of their blissful innocence, perhaps even achieve in making them permanent believers.

Fable was a spirit of knowledge, alone in a form of self inflicted solitary. The others who worked to guard the children just barley acknowledged her, this was a something that to pass within the last 100 or so years. Though, there was a time when she found friendship in the Guardian of Fear, a boogie man, an outright monster. But Pitch grew too big for his shoes and challenged the natural order that was set by the Man in the Moon. In his rebellion, he looked to Fable for support, but she knew that he was corrupted and refused to fight for him or against. That is, until he threatened her life, the life of her ancient dwelling, the children and adults she had treasured so much.

After the one on one battle, Fable was ancient history, almost nonexistent. She thought herself forgotten, and threw herself into her personal studies, finding solace in gaining more knowledge and running her library like clockwork, helping those that came her way, a rare thing, thus leaving her very much alone.

Then something unexpected, visitors came to seek her out. Not the children, not teenagers on the verge of no longer believing. It was her fellow Guardians who came to call, bringing with them, their newest member. Needless to say, poor Fable was so surprised that she hid among her endless array of shelves, her candle wick eyes wide as she took in the familiar faces of past friends, as well as the newest addition to the Guardianship, his face, only known to her through books and constant study, if only to tell children his tales of never ending mischief.

They entered her dwelling, though they had done so many times in the past, their movements proved unsure. Even the fearless Bunnymund proceeded with caution, his ears perked for the slightest hint of ambush. It had been that long, and she had let her home fall into disrepair, it once was alight with forever burning candles, now it was dank, dark, caked in spider webs and dust.

Skirting along the shelves, Fable watched as the group split up, prepared to search every nook and cranny of her library. Slowly, a smirk twisted her features, and in swirl of paper, Fable ascended and leapt along the tops of the shelves. Her laughter, a mere whisper, but still heard by them that pursued. Movements nimble, Fable perched atop a shelf that held an endless supply of sheet music.

There was the sound of laughter. "Sheila's playin with us."

Of course Flat foot would know what she was doing; this was a game they had played many times in the past. "What?"

Must have been Frost who spoke "Girl's a Guardian of knowledge and learnin, she doesn't get out much, lettin off steam an all that."

The next words to come from Frost were said with an arrogant chuckle. "So she's a boring little bookworm?"

Growling, Fable called from her spot "Like I haven't heard that before Snowflake!"

At her words, it seemed like the world within the library came to life. Dust was suddenly swept away, cobwebs had been pulled from the books, and the candles began to burn, throwing the Knowledge Guardian into full fledged light. Slowly, she descended the shelf, her knees bent as if ready to take off running, much like a feral cat.

Her body moved like a snake, taking in her old comrades. Stopping at Frost, Fable took a step back and looked him over. "Woman who knew too much were burned at the stake, you're looking at a convicted demon spawn Ice cube."

Fable's hand lurched out and snatched Frost's staff. He tried to take it back, only to close his hands around nothing. The girl was staring at the wood carefully, balancing it in her hands, running toward one of the many desks in her library, she extended a free hand and a book flew into it. Placing the staff on the desktop, she began to eye it closely, looking between it and her book. "Made from Blackthorn, with a bit of Silver fir…. Silver fir would explain the coloring. Now, the magical properties, that's a tricky one that is. Man in the Moon of course, but there is something sacred about the inner workings of the wood, Celt in magical origin…."

The staff was suddenly snatched from the desk. At this, Fable's shoulders slumped. "Aww bullocks, ruin my fun."

Holding fast to his staff, Jack looked over the other teenager. "Why weren't you called to fight when Pitch started messing with stuff?"

His tone came out judgmental and condescending. "I was busy."

Busy, with what? Seeing the question, Fable muttered. "He attacked me first, went after my books, tried to hurt the some of those that I treasured most. More practiced in battle, paper and ink don't exactly stand up to his nightmares."

Her dark skin seemed to pale at the thought. It was then that Jack realized that she had been taken down just like Sandman. But she smiled, as if hearing his thoughts. "Not exactly what you'd think, I fought him to protect the children I loved, the ones he knew I cared for. Otherwise I refused the call, because to vanquish fear, is to vanquish a way of gaining knowledge. I am not a Guardian, Jack Frost, it would seem that Man in the Moon felt you were more qualified than I on the matter of guarding our world's most precious pursuers of knowledge."

Turning, Fable walked through the aisles of bookshelves. "I didn't get involved past that because fear, Snowflake, no matter the form, is a necessary evil, as long as it doesn't get to big for its shoes" She looked over her shoulder, "Tea?"

Jack wasn't sure how to react to this woman. All he could do was stand there and stare as she walked away, the other Guardians following closely behind. Bunnymund came up next to Frost, smirking. Pointing at her, Jack muttered. "Did she just defend Pitch?"

Still smirking, the Australian clapped him on the back. "That's Fable for ya. Her job ta see everything from all sides. Goes a bit starkers from time ta time."

Chuckling, Bunny hopped after the retreating group. Fable was calling back to them. "I've been experimenting with tea leaves. I think I have a specific flavor for each of you.

Shaking his head, Jack took up his staff and flew through the piles of books, momentarily disturbing the pages of the texts left open. "Mind the books please; some of these are thousands of years old, they deserve the highest care and respect."

The crazy bookworm talked as if these books were living things. Upon thinking this, Jack nearly tumbled from the air; right in his path was book, jumping about the floor on a pair of spindly legs. Passing the winter spirit up, it hoped onto a pile of its fellows and wedged its way into a practically packed shelf. "Edgar Allan Poe!"

Fable appeared out of nowhere. Her arms were crossed and she appeared to be glaring at the place where the book had stored itself. "You don't belong in the fantasy section!"

The book slowly descended the shelf, almost resembling a scolded child. Pointing her finger in the direction from where the book came, Fable issued her order. "Get back to mystery and horror, and don't act like I don't see what you're doing, I have eyes on the back of my head mister!"

Begrudgingly, the book dragged its feet and returned to the shelf from whence it came. Shaking her head, Fable looked up at Jack. "Sorry Snowflake, it appears that I don't have a tea leaf that is specifically suited for you. All I have is some iced black breakfast tea."

Taking his silence as a yes, Fable turned on her heel and left Frost in fixation of stunned muteness. Pausing, she looked over her shoulder. "Oi, Snowflake, coming or what?"