PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING!

This is a sequel to my story 'nightmare dust and the silver sands'

Please read that before you read this to avoid confusion.

This is a small prequel fic to the 'Rise of the Guardians' and the fic I'm going to write based on the movie feature Jo among the Guardians with a few different Twists.

I own Jo and Anguish, nothing else.

Please review.

The Shadow at the Side.

He had no idea how long it had been.

Death wasn't a kind person, nor was he cruel. He was, in essence, Death. He did his job with a swift swipe of his blade, with which he cut the strings of life from your soul and allowed you to continue on. He wished you luck, he did not taunt. And thus one particular spirit had no quarrel with him.

Actually, he was grateful. If there was one thing Death did not tolerate, it was bending the rules...something that the mysterious entity known as the Man on the Moon broke regularly...well, if you counted once every other century 'regular'

The spirit was standing in the shadows as he'd always done. He was not tall nor short; His figure was slight and thin; hands slender and pale, freckle-tinted skin soft and smooth. The still-remaining essence of youth appeared on his narrow face, his black curled hair falling on either side of his face, parting in the middle. Slowly, he came forward.

The room was very cosy, as the inhabitant usually loved being. It was small with drawings and small trinkets lining the walls and shelves, carved patterns in the wood above and boat-shaped bed soft and comforting. The small occupant of the room was snuggled under the blankets, only his small forehead, softly closed eyes and brilliant silver hair visible.

The silver hair fell just past his ears and his fringe parted in the middle much like his own; Though his face held no resemblance. The spirit wandered to the beside, noticing how it had been modeled out of a old-fashioned row-boat as seen before. He placed a faint, almost transparent hand on the side, gazing down quietly at the silver form.

He sighed deeply, husky voice echoing vaguely through the room. The spirit couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen at best, yet he felt so much...older.

How long had it been? More years than he could count.

"You have no idea how important you are." He murmured, resting a hand on the smaller boy's hair and brushing it back gently.

No. He didn't.

The black-haired spirit turned his sharp featured face towards the window, where the ever-watchful Moon gazed down at him silently, blue-tinted beams slighting his already luminous form. A blueish hue surrounded the spirit's body, and he grazed the Moon with a small, greeting smile.

"Hello Old Friend. I do not blame you." He felt as if he should say that. After all, it was the Man in the Moon who sought this to happen...and had unknowingly sealed the spirit's fate.

And again, he held no quarrel. Actually...he was happy. He'd waited for so long to finally gaze upon the one that he had waited to see for many, many long years.

And now, here the child was...looking so alone and vulnerable that the spirit couldn't bear to leave him despite the fact there was really noting he could do at this moment to protect him.

Abruptly the window shutter swung to a close, and the spirit frowned in confusion and alarm. He raised his head and turned around, worry adorning his features. He slipped a hand into the air and twirled his fingers, and out of the shadows around him he drew a dark, grey mask. He placed it on his narrow face and it fixed there, only his sharp chin and black, curling hair slinking back.

He stood warily by the smaller boy's bed, fist clenched in preparation for an attack. Then, a deep, chilling voice spoke. One that would strike awe into the hearts of the bravest men, and one that commanded respect and wariness.

I have no business here that concerns the boy, Anguish.

The spirit turned, slowly and carefully, to the right. Another dark figure had materialized from the shadows.

Tall and straight. Cold and calculating. His black, hooded robe trailing long the ground. And most frighteningly to any mortal who had laid eyes upon him: His great, intimidating scythe stood against his frame, held in his bony hand tightly. No face was visible; There never had been. A pair of dark green eyes watched him, pupil-less from the shadows as they drew nearer.

Death placed his other hand on his scythe in a calm, eerie manner.

It is not him I am concerned about.

Anguish let his fist relax, stiff posture slackening as he turned to face Death fully, eyes locked almost fearfully on those dark green irises.

"I understand, old friend." He murmured in a soft, accented voice like that of an Irish native, though a small hint of English made its way into his tongue. "I am...merely nervous at the moment. I feel as if the time is upon us both."

Indeed. Man in the Moon had sought out not only the boy, but another not much different from you.

Anguish tilted his masked face, quietly asking the hood figure with intense curiosity "Who?"

Jack Frost.

"Jack...Frost."

Anguish murmured the name, glancing to the side in deep thought. He had heard of this winter spirit...what was it Death knew? after all...Death was more knowledgeable than even Man in the Moon. The future, past, present were all one as far as the entity was concerned.

"What is to be done, then? What it is you hoped for when you sent me forth?"

I spared you for reasons that must remain unknown for know. You understand.

Death turned to gaze down at the silver-haired Guardian resting obviously under the blankets with a firm mirth in his green eyes. Anguish felt worry sink into his heart.

"What will happen to the boy, old friend?"

...I cannot reveal the future, Anguish. But whatever the cost, you must be with him whatever happens. Jack Frost as well, once he appears.

Anguish stiffened and his hazel-brown eyes widened considerable as Death's calculating, cold eyes met his.

Be ready, Anguish. Pitch is planning something more formidable than ever before. I suggest you pay him a discreet visit and find out for yourself. After all, it is time you finally allowed yourself to be known to those who are also immortal.

Anguish looked like he was about to protest when Death held up a bony, skeletal hand.

Do not show your face for now. Keep to the side and observe until the time is right. As for Pitch...rest assured you must make the Guardians believe that you are nothing like that of the Nightmare King...however much you may look alike.

Anguish lowered his head, hazel-brown eyes traveling over the smooth floor of the bedroom before he looked up to ask more, only to find Death steadily stepping back into the shadows. He reached out slightly, feeling anxious and unsure.

"Wait...Sir...I don't understand what's to be done!"

A strange wind blew past him and circled the room as Death fell back into the shadows, green eyes glowing; Eerily calm.

You shall see, my friend. You shall see.

Anguish found himself alone as Death vanished into the shadows whence he came. The spirit sighed, turning his head to gaze at the silver-haired boy once more time.

"I'll be back, Jo. But for now, I have to visit someone."

Jo's eyes snapped open suddenly.

He sat up, heart pounding and head spinning from the sudden movement as he gazed anxiously about his room, running his fingers through his silver hair. He swallowed and relaxed upon finding nothing there.

"Its nothing..." He murmured to himself. Then, he frowned.

The window was open, and the chilly, northern air slipped into his room through the moonbeam-lit windowsill. Jo slipped out of bed, padding along the smooth surface of the ground and took both window shutters in each hand, glancing around the snowy land below.

Nothing.

Jo shrugged to himself, smiling nervously.

Daft. You were just imaging things. Of course there wasn't anyone here...

What he didn't see, however, was a conspicuous shadow traveling along the snow, before leaping into the air and flying out of sight of the Guardian of Belief, and out of the sight of the ever-watchful Moon.

Anguish had never ventured into this place unless the need was necessary, and even then he was cautious beyond belief.

The underground domain of the Nightmare King was ominous and shadowed; grey and colourless. Jagged, black lanterns hung down from the curving ceilings, crumbling steps and paths scattered with small rocks and faded dust. It was eerily quite.

Anguish hid in the shadows; invisible to all. The Nightmares, fiendish, intimating creatures that watched every part of the domain, did not notice the shadow slinking past them carefully. He leaped past a forest of lanterns before reaching a broken, shattered sphere-like construction. Anguish, hood cast over his head and grey mask hiding his features, remained hidden still as he back away from the area surrounding the broken sphere. He waited, breathing deeply to keep himself calm.

This place was not for the faint-hearted. You had to be careful of what you even thought.

Suddenly someone materialized from the shadows of the ground, rising up from the depths as black, slithering sand the colour of the darkest, moonless night appearing from the shadows around surrounding the area. Anguish ducked sharply, backing away even more, ragged clothing blending in with the night.

The figure, having been made of the same sand surrounding them, slowly began moving around the globe. As they did, the dark sand began slipping off their tall, thin frame to reveal the Nightmare King himself.

Anguish felt his breath catch in his throat, and the spirit covered his mouth. Thankfully the other occupant of the area did not hear him.

Pitch gave sharp-toothed, malice filled smirk as he watch his sand slither around him. A deep, inward chuckle filled the air from all around. He shook his head, smile broadening as he finally laughed out loud. At last, he spoke in a harsh, malevolent tone coated with grim humor.

"And thus my plan is in motion." He turned and began strolling almost carelessly around the broken sphere, grin still in place as the sand around him began to morph. "And this time...no one will be able to stop me."

Anguish backed away even more as the sand transformed into more and more Nightmares, luminous red eyes piercing through the darkness, much like that of Pitch's ember, green-tinted irises. Smiling, the Nightmare King slipped into the shadows in the ground, and Anguish, determined not to lose him, followed discreetly as the Nightmares sped after him in the shadows.

He found himself in a snow-covered forest, the inky blue sky scattered with stars. Pitch stood in the cold, chilly night air, smiling darkly to himself as the Nightmares leaped from the shadows around him and into the Moon-lit sky.

Anguish slipped out of the shadows lastly, quickly tip-toeing behind a large, frost-coated tree behind the Nightmare King, leaning cautiously over the rim to stare at him with growing unease and alarm.

He looked up into the sky as the herd of Nightmares traveled across the sight of the moon like a stain of ink in the snow, and as Anguish lowered his head, he heard Pitch give one last statement, His voice loud and menacing.

"My Army's Ready."

Anguish began backing away as Pitch let off a small chuckle. Just as he began stepping quietly through the snow towards the shadows of the forests, he looked back over his shoulder at the Boogeyman.

SNAP.

Anguish's heart leaped in fright and his head jerked down to his feet. He'd stepped on a twig.

Pitch's head whipped around and a scowl began forming just as the dark, hooded figure of a young boy vanished into the shadows. It had been visible only for a second.

It seemed there were others who were aware of his existence beside the Guardians, for he's sensed that the figure fleeing from his sight was not the same as them nor himself. An odd type of aura that was barely noticeable.

His frown deepened dangerously, but after a moment a chuckle began to form inwardly. Then, it grew to a sharp, malicious laugh.

"It seems there's another little player involved. How delightful...I'll be sure to make their acquaintance..."

Please review. The Picture for this fic is meant to be 'Anguish'.