Cold

      For the untrained eye, the sand of dreams was impossible to distinguish over a starry sky.

     Through a blank canvas, they both shined, impossibly small yet intensely bright, a perfect compliment to the darkness of the night. The moon watched over them both, the light of the stars and the sand of dreams, its power shaping them into what they had been since humanity had come to be. Mortals, smart, resourceful beings, appreciated both in equal amounts, finding them to be as wonderful as any man-made treasures. But for a human, a spec over darkness was just something beautiful to look at, with no distinction, and no further purpose.

     Star knew better than that, because, despite the beauty that both stars and dreams carried, their differences were as clear as night and day. The stars lived far away, smaller versions of a Nightlight, quiet companions to the man on the moon. Star themself was the exception, coming and going as they pleased, to deliver messages from between heaven and earth– a shooting star, sole keeper of wishes and hope. Meanwhile, dreams originated on earth, created by an immortal Guardian, and conducted by humanity itself. Sandman crafted the sand, blessed it to take the glow, and each sleeping person would shape it into their most innocent of desires. In the end, they were both just golden speckles in the night, but they were both incredibly different. And to Star, they were wonderful.

     Over the years, Star had perfected the art of admiring both phenomena, stars, and dreams, dancing in unison. Certain elements had to be in place for this to happen: A good view of the sky, free from trees and mountains, to admire the farthest reaches of space. A strong concentration of human population, with houses filled with beds, filled with dreamers to will that spark through their imagination. A good mix of both, usually found within quiet suburbs, through rows upon rows of roof and tile. There, back pressed against a chimney, they had had the best seat in the house.

     Sand flew all around them, quietly forming into different shapes and sizes. Star saw countless dreams take the forms of animals: horses galloping in the sky, fish banks expanding and retracting– and a little robin landing atop Star’s head. They welcomed the new companion, they welcomed, another peaceful night, and were greeted by the sky, the dreams, and their presence. The spirit hummed out to their favorite lullabies, some of which humanity had forgotten countless years ago. But Star hadn’t. Star was there to give the past a new life, as the dreams of the people slowly built what would be their future.

     It started with that little robin.

     The bird, once lulled to sleep through Star’s voice, awoke in a panic, hopping and struggling on Star’s head. The spirit quickly scooped the little creature into their hands, wondering what had happened, and realized that its golden hue was changing. Right before their eyes, it morphed and darkened, the robin vanishing on the spot. Star watched with a horrified expression, as the dream crippled into the deepest of blacks. It flew onto the winds, joining its brethren and reforming into a darker, sinister form.

     A nightmare.

     The horse attacked Star as soon as their eyes met, the creature’s mind filled with hatred. This time, Star was aware enough of the situation to react, and the black sand collided with their stardust, white and glittering. It cut through the nightmare cleanly, and the sand scattered once again, attracted by the darkness.

     There was something so, so incredibly wrong in here. All through the sky, the light of dreams was being put out, one by one. In a panic, Star willed their mind to find any wishes to hang on to, so often intermingled with dreams– and found nothing. They thought of Sandman, the gentle soul that handled the dreams and was not able to spot him anywhere in the sky. Was he okay? Were the dark ages seeping their claws back into the world? Where were the guardians now?

     No use in questioning themself when they were so unaware of the answers.

     And yet, anxiety kept pulling at the ends of their nerves, a sort of uncomfortable itch that Star didn’t have the time to begin relieving. The pain of uncertainty was as ghostly physical as it was mental, so distracting to the point that travel felt shorter than it had before. Star didn’t find themself present from outside their thoughts until the cold of the north pole was already chilling their extremities, bitting and nibbling at any exposed piece of flesh they could find. Star knew it should be impossible, to feel cold, but was also all too aware that their powers depended on hopes and dreams. And when the flame of hope was flickering inside of them, so too was that warmth that kept them from feeling cold– It was uncomfortable, going to such ends of the world, even when going to meet the guardian of wonder. And with the situation as dire as it was, a building full of toys was doing little to comfort Star.

     The guardians were arguing. Star could hear their yelling even before spotting their faces, and the discord in the globe room only gave Star more questions than answers. Sandman was also nowhere to be found.

     “-- you know what?” North was saying, voice powerful and booming as it ever was, but with a sort of hostility that only came out in battle. He must have heard it too, because he never finished his sentence, choosing instead to turn around and face the door, clearly with the intention of storming out. It was only then the man noticed the newcomer in the room, “Star?”

     Instantly, all the eyes were on them, some of the guardians even adopting something close to a defensive pose. Toothiana stood there, grounded, with no fairies to be found. Bunny’s hands hovered over his waist, where his boomerang was on the ready. And Jack Frost of all people was holding onto his staff with such force, his knuckles were shaking. The kid looked about ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

     “What happened?” Star spoke before even thinking of a greeting, the cold fueling their anxiety to the point of forgetting anything else.

     “Star, thank the moon!” North started, and he was the first to relax, “Are you hurt? Have you seen any of the others?”

     The man started to approach, hands forward as to trying to grab onto a being made of glass.

     “Wait,” Bunny suddenly barked out, startling guardians and spirit alike, “How do we know this is… not one of Pitch’s tricks?”

     “Don’t be ridiculous,” North protested, but he lowered his hands, and didn’t advance forward.

     “He’s right,” Jack mumbled, “If he absorbed Sandy’s powers, then…”

     Suddenly, the cold of the scenery had turned sour, tearing through skin and right into Star’s blood, paralyzing them on the spot. That name, Pitch Black, Boogeyman, it rooted in Star’s worries, both confirming and amplifying them much more than they had thought possible. The guardians kept talking, arguing once again, and though they sounded more concerned and unsure that their previous anger, Star could not focus on what they were saying. Instead, they kept replaying those words, the golden sand turning golden, and the implications of it all being–

     “Where is Sandy?” Star finally asked, and though their voice was quiet, everyone stopped talking.

     “My friend,” North said, finally breaking the distance, and catching Star in a big, tight hug, “There is so much we need to talk about.”

     Sandman was dead.

     The guardians filled Star on the events of the past twenty-four hours, from the new guardian to the moon’s warning, to the attack on the Tooth Fairy’s kingdom. And with easter around the corner, this was not the time to rest.

     The conversation was tense, the stakes were higher than they had ever imagined, and though a wave of sadness was looming on the horizon, Star found themself close to numb to the entire situation. Experience, maybe, from the dark ages past, though the mere memory of it made them seize with anger. Shock, most likely, though that would be something to try and unpack when they were out of the woods. For now, they very much weren’t. No one was.

     Bunny had apologized, Jack as well, for doubting their existence as anything less than benign. Star, of course, was quick to forgive them, thinking their paranoia wise with who they were dealing– still, Tooth was the first to suggest Star not to get involved. This was Guardian’s business, and given Star’s similarity with the whole concept of Sadnman himself, getting involved in a battle with the Boogeyman would only endanger them more.

     “I still would like to help,” Star concluded, after they had been caught up with their situation, “I know I’m not a guardian, but I cannot stand here and do nothing. Sandy is… was, family”

     Silence filled the room. Star felt Toothiana’s hand on his shoulder, but they didn’t turn to look at her. After a second, when the rest of the guardians looked desperate to change the subject, North clapped his hands in discovery,

     “...why not guard the globe room?” He nodded as if he needed to convince himself as much as the rest of them. “That’d be a good idea, right?”

     If it was or not, the decision seemed to have been made even before Star had the chance to speak.

     And so, they stayed behind, alone inside the room where the guardians were supposed to watch over humanity. Though not much of the base itself had changed, the atmosphere was completely different than the last time Star had visited– the yetis and elves had scattered to a lower floor, presumably to prepare or comfort each other for whatever was to happen within the next couple of hours. The sounds of crafting and construction, the little airplanes and boats floating around the room, all were eerily absent. And though there were many more souls left in the building, Star found themself more alone than they had felt in a long time.

     And the cold was still there, to the point where phantom chills would course through their skin from time to time. Logically, Star knew that there were fireplaces running, warming up the entire base, but they couldn’t feel the heat. The sensation was eating them alive.

     They tried it all to distract themselves: breathing exercises, playing with some of the toys that had been scattered around, humming some melodies they remembered to themself. In the end, all they could do was wait, eyes fixed on the globe, desperate to try and notice any fluctuation in the lights of kids all over the world. Some would pop in, and out, but the rate by which they did seemed eerily normal. But they noticed some splotches of unlit space that had not been there before.

     Time ticked away, and before long, Star had been at their post for almost an hour before they saw the first flicker of something… unusual. Some of the lights, a select few across the expanse of the globe, disappeared, re-appeared, and disappeared again in a matter of seconds. Star caught a glimpse of it, and once they did, they saw this phenomenon happening all over the map, in and out, too fast for it to be human intervention. Trying to figure out what it was, Star flew closer, eyebrows furrowed and eyes fixated on these spots.

     The lights themselves weren’t disappearing. They were just being momentarily covered by little spots of black sand–

     “I’m surprised you showed up,” a voice purred out behind them.

     Star turned around fast as they could, a shield already conjuring within their fingertips, but they saw no one. Instead, the sand started to grow, darkness crawling around the room and slowly engulfing any rays of moonlight out the window.

     “Boogeyman,” Star whispered.

     “I was under the impression you would only take to matters of the Moon,” now the voice sounded to the far right of the room. Once again Star turned and was greeted by the lack of a person. But the voice kept going anyways, shifting and morphing as it crawled around the room, “Humanity has never seen like a priority for you, as far as I know.”

     “You don’t know me,” the spirit hissed out, looking around, still trying to put a location to the person.

     “Oh, but I do,” Pitch said, letting out a low kind of laughter, “I know you better than you might think. Because I was like you, once. Or rather, you were like me.”

     “… what are you talking about?” The question escaped their lips despite their better judgment.

     “You do not want to be under the control of the man on the moon,” Pitch continued, “and staying here, guarding a map you cannot control— what is that achieving other than the illusion of helping the guardians.”

     Star took a deep breath, trying to ground themself through the confusion, but finding it a fruitless effort. The room was still cold, making them shiver, the darkness was growing, and the poison in the boogeyman’s words was threatening to tear them down. All they could do was tightly grasp their shield, and take a breath before speaking,

     “I know what you did to the world, the dark ages. Is that what you are trying to do now, control humanity like puppets of yours?”

     “Is that what the moon told you?”

     Finally, the voice had a concrete location. Star turned around suddenly to find Pitch Black himself, sitting atop the globe, looking at his mail with a sort of bored indifference.

     “I don’t want to control humanity,” he said simply, and as far as Star could tell, he was telling the truth, “I want to be believed in. Did the moon tell you that?”

     Star didn’t respond.

     “He tells stories to make their little guardians fear, and fuel their protection through the fear of a danger that does not, in fact, exist,” Pitch’s eyes met Star’s, “Guess I’m not the one wanting to treat people like puppets.”

     “You killed Sandy,” Star blurted out.

     And to their surprise, Pitch laughed,

     “Nightmares cannot exist without dreams. I did not kill the man, just scattered him. He will be fine, of that you have my word.”

     “What is your angle here, Black?”

     “It’s simple,” the man said slowly rising to his feet. Without taking a single step, black sand started floating him down towards the floor, closer to Star, who was stuck in a defensive position. And yet, they didn’t attack, “I don’t want to be involved with these rules and tribulations, just like you.”

     Finally, he started walking, approaching Star even more. But one way or another, he didn’t feel hostile. Star could only watch, and listen.

     “Humans don’t believe in you, either,” The man said, glancing at the globe behind them, “They believe in the concept of good fortune, on good luck, but even you know that good luck comes from a power borrowed from the moon himself. And just as much as he gave it to you, he can take it away.”

     The cold was all-consuming now, to the point that Star could feel themselves shivering. It shouldn’t be possible, their powers shouldn’t allow it, and the building should not be cold, yet there was no mistaking the chilling discomfort running through them.

     “You are messing with me, Pitch,” They hissed out, but they lowered their shield.

     “On the contrary, my friend,” once again Pitch was looking straight at the spirit, “I am telling you that you can be free from the constraints of the moon, and I can help you. There doesn’t need to be a being telling you what to do– because you can do whatever you want. And as much as dreams cannot exist without nightmares–.”

     “--good luck cannot exist without bad,” Star finished for him. Pitch smiled.

     “Care to join me for a stroll?” He said, extending his hand to Star, “Somewhere less desolate, more tasteful. Without the moon, the guardians, or anyone to listen in on private conversations. Just you and me, my shooting star. What do you say?”

     Star took a breath, reflecting on their conversation, and the words he had exchanged with the guardians just the same day. Pitch was right– or at least, Star could empathize with the sentiment, as horrible as it felt to do so.  Everything he had seen, the sand, the nightmares, the man on the moon, quiet, unwilling to help out the humanity he himself had fought so hard to protect. Because he did not care. Because he only cared about himself.

     Did they only exist to aid humans who did not believe in them? The man on the moon watching as Sandman died, high and mighty up in the sky– were they disposables for a greater good that would never come?

     Star didn’t fully trust Pitch, not yet, anyways, but they had never really trusted anyone. Not the guardians, not Jack Frost, not the man on the moon. So why not care about themself, for once?

     So, Star reached out to lace fingers with Pitch, and as black sand started engulfing them both, transporting them somewhere far away from the guardian’s reach, they came to a comforting realization.

     Pitch’s hand was warm. And the cold they had been feeling all this time was slowly fading away…