9Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians or any variation of it.
Summary: They all made a sacrifice to become immortal. His sacrifice broke his heart forever. (Companion to A Child's Greatest Sacrifice.)
A Blackened Heart
It was like a memory, faded, dim, forgotten . . .
A squeal of laughter alerted him to the approach of his daughter as she rounded the corner. He grinned and picked her up as she passed, spinning her around when she yelled in surprise, her feet swinging out in a weightless arch.
"Daddy! Put me down!" she laughed, her smile so bright that it seemed to light up the room.
He laughed with her and settled her onto his hip. "What have I told you about running through the halls, sweetheart?"
A pout slipped over her lips, "But Dad-"
"Nope." Grinning, he tapped her nose lightly. "You know the rules. What happens when you break them?"
She frowned for a moment, deep in thought, and then sighed. "I have ta clean the dishes. Icky!"
"That's right. Now, why don't you tell me why you were running?"
Her face brightened again and she began to babble happily about her imaginary friend chasing her around their small home.
"An' over an' under and through the tunnels, Daddy!"
"Really?" he said as he walked into the kitchen to start preparing dinner for the two of them. "I hope your friend didn't make you go anywhere you weren't supposed to."
"Noooooo . . ."
"Well, I guess if you didn't get caught-"
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
He turned toward the front door with surprise, putting his daughter down. Fear bubbled up in his heart and his eyes narrowed. They weren't expecting any guests. "Honey, go to the living room, please."
"Dad-"
"Go."
Everything had been perfect back then . . .
"Daddy?" she hovered by the doorway, a stuffed Pooka doll clutched in her small arms, unsure.
His little angle.
White fingers pulled angrily at his hair as he looked down at the paper in front of him. Tears threatened to leak from his eyes as he reread the words on the page.
"Daddy, are you ok?" her voice quavered. She already knew the answer. Slowly she crept into the room, her dark brown eyes earnestly searching for approval that wouldn't come. Not now.
"I'm sorry, Sweetie," he closed his eyes. "I . . . Daddy has to leave for a while. You . . . would you like to see your aunt again? The one that lives in the mountains?"
She brightened slightly. "Auntie Cara?"
"Yes. Why don't you go pack? I'll be out in a moment."
"Ok."
She skipped from the room, successfully distracted. But nothing could change what had happened. The words had already been burned into his memory.
Kozmotis Pitchiner,
You are hereby drafted into the Luna Army. As of three weeks from now you are to report to General Kan for instructions and your unit number. Good luck soldier.
He didn't understand. They were supposed to be safe. The war wasn't supposed to rip them apart again . . .
. . . but the war took it all from him.
"Name, Soldier?"
"Kozmotis Pitchiner."
"Report to the tenth division soldier. Front lines."
His eyes darkened. The front lines were certain death.
He would not die.
He fought, he trained, he learned . . .
"Watch out!" Kozmotis shouted, sacrificing one of his own swords to block a blow from a Fearling that was lunging at the back of a grey Pooka.
The Pooka turned around with large eyes, surprised, just as he finished off the Fearling. There was a lull in the battle and Kozmotis allowed himself to relax, just a little bit.
"T-Thanks." The Pooka stuttered, looking at the remains of the creature that would have been his demise, "I . . . I didn't realize that it was there."
Kozmotis snorted, his own eyes hard as he looked down at the younger soldier. "Never think that you are safe." He spun around suddenly, his remaining sword swirling in a deadly dance as it cut down two more Fearlings that were attempting to sneak up on him, "because you never are."
The Pooka was new blood. He could tell. The other fought like a soldier, but not a survivor.
"If you want to live," Kozmotis looked the Pooka deep in the eyes, trying to convey the importance of what he was about to say, "Then you have to have something to live for."
As suddenly as the lull had come it was gone, and they were once again swallowed up in the fighting. Kozmotis was cut off from the young Pooka and a spike of regret pierced him. He doubted that they other would survive, but he'd had to try.
For her. For his little Emily. For everyone who they were leaving behind in this war.
I can not stop.
Above all, he lived.
Kozmotis stumbled, staring around at the cheering mass as the gates closed for the last time, the beasts behind them sealed away with the power of the great Lunar people. Everything seemed fuzzy around him, incomprehensible.
Where are all the Fearlings?
Where was the Darkness that had surrounded him for so long? Where was the Fear?
Was it . . . was it over?
For the first time in years, Kozmotis thought about going home and seeing his daughter. For the first time since the beginning of the war, he realized that he was finally free.
Tears dripped down his face.
It's done.
He hoped that one day he would be able to go back to his little girl.
"General Pitchiner?"
Kozmotis looked up, from where he was packing away his swords and other personal items from his small, cramped quarters. "Here!"
"The Admirals want to see you."
"Now?"
"Now, General Pitchiner."
Kozmotis frowned as he stood up, his hands shaking slightly. What did they want now? He had fought their war. He had won. What more was he supposed to do?
Two hours later he had his answer.
"We have another assignment for you."
But it was not to be.
He shivered as the darkness surrounded him. His eyes closed and he tried to remember the happy moments, before the war. No matter how hard he tried, however, the echoing laughter that he remembered seemed hollow, forgotten.
The tempting whispers tickled his ears tauntingly. He was all alone.
They left you alone.
No. No, he was the only one strong enough to guard the prison, to keep the Fearlings at bay.
They left you here. You haven't seen your daughter in years.
Yes. But he was doing this for her, so that she would be safe, so that she would never have to go through war like he had.
When was the last time you spoke to anyone? You won the war for them, and while you continue to protect them they go on with their lives. They went back to their families, so why can't you?
Even just a few hours with his daughter. How old was she now? When he had left her she had been so young, so very, very young . . .
The years worn on; he resisted. Cold, dark emptiness lay before him, with only the distant stars for comfort. Behind him, ice covered bars creaked, keeping back the enemy that for so long troubled his people.
He never once broke.
But even heroes grow lonely, and he was no exception. The Fearlings knew this. And so they waited, bid their time, and planned.
Kozmotis would do his duty to his people.
But his family was more important.
"Daddy?"
Kozmotis jerked upward at the echoing sound, the first real words he had heard in a very long time.
"Emily?"
"Dad! Where are you!"
His cold heart froze and he turned toward the prison bars for the first time. "No . . ."
She can't be in there, its impossible . . .
"Daddy! Daddy help me! Ahhh!"
"Emily!"
He didn't hesitate. The gates were thrown open and he dashed inside.
"Emily! Emily, where are you! Sweetheart, answer me!"
The shadows swirled around him, thick and gleeful. He battled through them, coughing and struggling. Completely alone.
"E-Emily . . ."
The Fearlings grinned.
"You're ours now."
Kozmotis stumbled, deep wounds appearing on him. His palms fell into the grit as he struggled to pull in what little air was left, his swords clattered to the ground too far from his reach. He fought back, he resisted, but it wasn't enough.
"Emily . . ." the choked whisper left his lips one last time before being silenced forever.
Kozmotis Pitchiner died; cold, alone, and forgotten.
He never made it home.
His grey finger's paused for a second over the head of his most loyal Nightmare as he frowned. For a second he thought that he remembered something. A laugh, bright and happy, from a lifetime ago.
The Nightmare nudged his hand and he went back to patting it, the frown leaving.
Just as fast as it had come, the light was gone, leaving only darkness in its place.
Pitch Black's shriveled heart and half forgotten memories were all that was left of Kozmotis Pitchiner.
Because his home burned beneath his own feet.
0~o~0
Well, I wrote that all in one night, and I hope that you like it. I've been having a hard time lately, but hopefully this will help boost my ideas, even though I really don't have any time to write . . .
Anyway, please review! I love having feedback! What did you think of it? Was it ok? I would like to know, so don't be afraid to leave a comment, even if it isn't a good one!
(Updated: 11/28/16)
