Zenith State

Awaking with nothing but a name was not something anyone in their right mind would take lightly. Waking and being invisible to the rest of the world and literally walked straight through like a ghost was utterly heart wrenching, terrifying and soul crushing. At least it was for Jack Frost. He wandered across the snow cover land searching for someone, anyone who could see him, who might know him and tell him just who he was. Maybe find the voice that had resounded from the moon and spoke his name that frightful day he awoke in the frigid water under thick ice and snow. He had tried many times to call out to the moon, hoping it would answer but it never did and soon he thought it a strange dream. Soon he forgot.

The first year was hard as anyone might guess. He wandered the land, lost and alone yet for whatever reason always returning to the place as his "birth" where he would sit on his pond, curled up and sorely in need of a friend. He began speaking to his staff after a while, seeing as it was his only companion and it was much more than a mere piece of twisted wood. He felt power in it and it seemed almost as if it was a part of him. It was the one constant in his life and he would curl around it when he slept – which wasn't something he needed as often as humans did.

Spring was a frightening time for the new winter sprite. He had ignored the sudden warmth at first, burying himself in a bank of snow and using his magic to keep the immediate area around him cold and ice solid but as the days passed and the temperate went up his power began to waver until one afternoon Jack awoke to the strangely familiar and terrifying sound of ice cracking. An unexplainable, chest crush fear hit Jack so hard he thought someone had punched him and while that thought was strange in itself – who would ever be able to punch him let alone thought him? – he was no less scared and for one horrifying moment he relived a memory of falling through the ice. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was the moon finally speaking to him once more but he leapt for the shore, calling upon the wind to boost his speed and get him to safety. And the timing could have been better; where he had lied just moment ago now cracked and water began gushing up to cover the ice as it melted away to show a beautiful pond.

Jack didn't really take his time to appreciate it. His heart was racing as was his mind as he tried to make sense of what happened to his home and why he felt so warm and weak. It made no sense. When the weather continued to grow warmer and warmer and his precious snow and ice melted away Jack knew he needed to find some place cold but he didn't know where to go and was afraid to leave his pond in case it was no longer there when he returned…if he could find his way back. So he settle for a small cave not far from his pond where it was cool and entered a deep sleep during those warm and later hot months.

His second year was a little better when he awoke in the fall to discover it was cooling down. He also met his first spirit, an elegant woman of few words with the stature of royalty. She called herself Mother Nature and treated him almost as if he were her child…or maybe a servant of sorts depending on her mood. She had been painting leaves and asked – well told – Jack to do the same, handing him an orange container of magical paint that never ran out and sent him on his way. It was an assignment that lasted weeks and finally opened Jack to the rest of the Northern continent, something he thrilled in. Sadly, the other elementals weren't as thrilled at the sight of a new winter spirit and immediately shunned him. Apparently ushering winter and destroying the hard work of the summer elementals put you on "to destroy" list and sometimes had Jack running for his life. Making friends was not easy and Mother Nature was no help at all. She'd only pet his head when he issued a complaint and tell him he was meant for greater things. Of course what things she would never say and Jack would be left once more feeling lost and alone, maybe more so now than ever before but he continued his new duties if only to have fun pestering and challenging the other spirits. Pulling pranks became a bit of a hobby and while humans were unable to see him pranking them and making snow days for kids was fun as hell and made Mother Nature smile almost lovingly at him on those rare occasions they saw each other.

It was around this time Jack began hearing stories of the Guardians, some good and others a little scary. Mother Nature never spoke of them but when Jack would spy on the summer spirits that invaded his territory in early spring to melt his pond – the bastards tried drowning him every single year – he would hear them speak of a spring spirit who was likely to go after them if they mess up his holiday, a Guardian named Bunnymund. It made Jack curious. Surely someone that made these two jerks afraid was someone worth knowing…or fearing. Whatever the case it peaked his curiosity and once that was peaked there was no stopping the youthful spirit.

So he made it his purpose to find this Bunnymund and learn about this holiday. He went about it the wrong way.

It was abnormally warm that spring and normally Jack would be preparing to hibernate or moving on down south as Mother Nature advised him to do – there were other winter spirits there but it meant he didn't have to sleep half the year away if he didn't want to – but he wanted, no need, to know about this spirit that was so revered by others. Some said he was a fallen fertility god while others called him an alien that did not belong there. Whatever the case this creature might be able to help him learn who he was and what his purpose in life was. Perhaps he could make the moon talk to him.

He was knocked for a loop when he found an oversize rabbit-man with a large wicker basket leading a parade of brightly painted eggs with small stick like legs throughout his village and through the surrounding woods. The little eggs darted here and there, hiding in the bush and places not quite out of sight but where people would have to pay close attention to find them. Jack had followed at a safe distance, wanting desperately to speak with the strange rabbit-man but he kept getting distracted by the little eggs and he made the foolish mistake of picking one up.

"Whoa…" he breathed as he looked it over. He twisted it this way and that, admiring the wonderful paint job and poking at the tiny stick legs. The little egg was kicking furiously, trying to get down and away from Jack's icy fingers and even worse, the ice that was beginning to coat it with each exhale the boy made. Jack didn't mean to freeze the little egg, it was purely an accident but its little legs stopped kicking and it was frozen solid.

"What are you doing?" a husky voice in a strange accent demanded and for one frightful moment Jack was certain this Bunnymund was indeed an alien or ancient god there to strike him down. He held the little egg against his chest, inadvertently causing a layer of ice to form over it and his fingers as his fear got the best of him. His eyes widened as the rabbit-man stalked toward him, anger in his bright grass green eyes.

Jack stepped back, his hands protectively around the growing egg of ice. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I just…I…"

The rabbit-man's eyes narrowed and Jack cringed, fearful of being hit but this strange being didn't strike out as some of the other spirits had instead he reached out, his furry paws unusually warm – not hot but enough that they strung Jack's fingers a little – and thawed both Jack's fingers and the little egg. The egg began wiggling and with a strange gentleness the rabbit untangled Jack's fingers and retrieved his egg. Then, just as gently, he set the egg down and sent it off to find a hiding spot.

"I didn't mean it! I just wanted to see what it was and…" Jack said quickly, feeling to need to explain himself and babbling instead. Hugging his staff and began chewing his lower lip, certain he was in trouble.

Those grass green eyes looked off toward the horizon where the sky was beginning to lighten. "Damn…I behind schedule." He sighed. "Look, kid. This is my season, not yours. Either get your butt down south or go into hibernation," he advised as he straightened, towering over Jack. "And leave my oogies alone. They're for the younglings not you."

"Oh…wait, I need to talk to y…ou…" Jack gave a huff. The rabbit-man had tapped his foot on the ground where a hole opened and then jumped in without so much as a backward glance or good bye leaving only a flower in his wake. Jack jumped back as a circle of fresh green grass seemed to grow outward from the flower until the entire forest came to life as if this Bunnymund was magically telling Jack to leave or melt with the last of the frost. A small sob escaped the frost child. All he had wanted was a few minutes of the creature's time but like so many other spirits Bunnymund had shunned him and told him to get lost without so much as giving him a chance and it only deepened the depression Jack often felt and he hugged himself, deciding that maybe he would go into hibernation rather than traveling south as he had planned.

That was how he came to meet Pitch Black although meet is rather a strong word to describe their encounter. No one came into Jack's little cave, it was too tiny, so for him to awake to a strange dark figure hovering over him was rather a shock and disconcerting and more than a little frightening. Jack probably would have slept right through the experience if it weren't for that internal call saying it was time to paint the leaves for fall and prepare the land for winter.

The cave was always dark but it was as if this strange man emitted his own glow and amongst all the black Jack could see a narrow pale gray face and bright amber eyes staring down at him as long gray fingers twirled above Jack as if weaving what appeared to be grains of black sand. Fear turned to curiosity as Jack watched those fingers and how very similar it was to his beloved snow and how he twirled snowflakes through his fingers.

The man scowled and stopped what he was doing. He gave a long sigh of annoyance. "Of course," he grumbled. "The mind of a teenager."

"What?" Jack asked, leaning on his elbows but the man only shock his head and faded away with no explanation but it wasn't the last time he would see Pitch and his confusion over the dark being only grew each time.

Jack discovered an amazing thing. Whenever he had a relatively bad encounter with a spirit or felt lonely or upset Pitch usually visited him when he slept. It led to nightmares and him being grouchy when he awoke but it brought Pitch and even if it was for only a few minutes Jack had someone who actually talked to him, who seemed interested in him and that was a wonderful thing. They weren't friends but they weren't enemies either. And it brought another spirit who seemed just as curious as Jack as to why Pitch was haunting his nightmares.

Of course watching the two dream entities argue was rather amusing. It was pretty much a one sided argument as Pitch argued with the Sandman who simply floated before the tall thin man with his chubby little arms folded across his brilliant golden chest, a scowl on his face. Despite his size he had power and Jack could feel it from where he sat perched in a tree absently painting leaves as he watched them. Sandy never spoke but he tried to counter the nightmares Pitch bestowed upon Jack and always had a kind smile for him.

Bit by bit Jack met the rest of what Pitch called the "Guardians". The Sandman and Easter Bunny – that weird rabbit-man creature he had met in the spring – were two members of these Guardians who supposedly protected children. Jack was excited by the idea, after all that was what he tried to do as well as make sure they have fun. But of course Pitch only ever gave vague descriptions and Sandy would only pat him on the head with a smile as if telling him not to worry about such things so when a strange man with reindeer came to his village Jack's first thought was it was a thief trying to rob the villagers and he attacked. He almost lost his head.

The man was deceiving on first appearance. A large man with a thick Russian accent – Jack spent a lot of time in Russia now that he knew how to use the wind to fly there – had knocked Jack off of him when the boy tackled him as he went to climb down a chimney. The man had been so surprised by Jack's actions that he had not thought twice of throwing the boy off him until he saw just how small and young the spirit was but by then the damage was done and Jack thought he was an enemy. He pelted the man with his winter magic but to his astonishment the man had magic of his own and deflected the blow.

"Easy, boy," the man told him in that thick accent that Jack had to concentrate hard to make out his words – very few Russians spirits spoke to him and he had yet to pick up the language on his visits. The man raised a hand, showing he meant no harm. "Who are you, child?"

Jack hesitated. No one had asked him his name before, not even Mother Nature, she just knew as did Pitch and Sandy. A name was a powerful thing, Mother told him. It was why she never gave out hers. But what harm could it really do? "Jack," he finally said, feeling it was poor manner not to introduce himself. "Jack Frost."

"Jack Frost?" the man repeated with a small nod as it the name meant something. He smiled softly. "The Frost Child. Ah…yes, Sandy told me about you. My name is North."

"He never told me about you," Jack muttered, folding his arms across his narrow chest at the idea that Sandy had told this North about him but had not told him about North.

"No, I wouldn't think he would," North said with a chuckle. "Well, Jack, this is my holiday and I am delivering presents to good children."

Jack raised his brows in confusion. "Presents?" he asked, not really sure what they were. "Like on their birthday?" He had seen children receive presents for their birthday but why would this man be giving all the children presents on one day?"

"It's called Christmas," North explained. He looked about the village that would be waking soon. "I need to go, Jack but we'll speak again."

"Christmas?" he had heard of Christmas. The children always got excited about the holiday but he didn't know until now what it was all about. Good children? He was good. Maybe if he went home to his pond he would get something too.

He didn't. He never did no matter how good he tried to be and that despair and depression grew as his few encounters with the Guardians got worse and worse and Pitch whispered in his ear that they were not the defenders of children they claimed to be but used them to gain belief for belief was power and only the strong could survive.