The Guardian chosen by the Moon

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The warehouse, now engulfed in darkness, was silent. The cold I had summoned lingered, freezing the floor and walls, leaving a thin mist drifting through the abandoned space. The children had left, Liam leading the way, leaving me alone with what was both a victory and an unresolved mystery.

Something was wrong about this place. The nightmare horses hadn't appeared here by chance. They weren't supposed to exist outside of Pitch Black, and yet, here they were, manifested in a far more tangible form than I had ever seen before.

I walked slowly, my staff tilted slightly toward the ground, searching for a trace, a clue. My breath formed small clouds of mist in the frigid air. That's when I saw it.

At the center of the warehouse, right where the horses had emerged, a black, amorphous mass was embedded in the floor. As I stepped closer, I realized it wasn't just a simple shadow—it was a seed, about the size of a washing machine, rooted into the cracked concrete. Dark roots extended beneath it, spreading threads of black sand into the ground, as if fear itself was seeping into the city's foundations.

I reached out to touch it, but an icy wave shot down my spine. My instincts screamed at me not to. This wasn't just a reservoir of nightmares. It was a doorway. An anchor. A direct link between Pitch and this world.

"Pitch…" I murmured.

He had changed his strategy. Instead of spreading fear in one massive wave, he was scattering it, planting his nightmare seeds across the world. Each seed was a nucleus of nightmares, a nest where fear took root and multiplied, slowly but surely. More insidious. More dangerous. He wasn't going for one grand assault. He was infesting reality itself, creeping into the collective subconscious, invisible to those who didn't believe.

I straightened up, gripping my staff tightly. My first instinct was to destroy it, but I stopped just before striking. Think, Jack. If I destroy it now, Pitch will know I'm here. He'll realize I'm hunting him. He could simply recreate these seeds elsewhere, in even more discreet locations, and I'd lose my only chance to track him.

I let out a slow breath and stepped back. Caution was necessary. I needed to observe, to understand his plan before making my move.

And I had a lead—Liam.

That kid had been able to see the nightmares while the others had seen nothing. He hadn't been paralyzed like the other children. He had been drawn to this place, while I, after days of searching the world, had sensed nothing.

That wasn't a coincidence.

If he could see these things when even I, an immortal spirit, had been blind to their presence, then maybe he had a gift. Maybe he was a beacon, a radar capable of detecting what I couldn't.

Or worse… maybe Pitch had already noticed him.

I left the warehouse, scanning the horizon where the first light of dawn was breaking. I'd wait for morning. I needed to find Liam.

Finding his home was easier than I expected.

I simply followed the trail of my own frost. I had let a winter breeze brush against his steps when he left the warehouse the night before. By focusing, I could feel the subtle chill of his presence, a delicate echo carried by the wind. A faint trace of winter magic clung to him, guiding me like an invisible thread.

I landed lightly in an alley and looked up at the house.

It stood out in the neighborhood.

The other houses were modern, with large glass windows and smooth concrete structures, but this one was a relic of the past. A dark stone Victorian manor with tall windows and a steep roof, its wrought-iron balconies seeming to hold centuries of stories. Snow blanketed its roof and gardens, but unlike the other homes, it was eerily empty. No Christmas decorations. No signs of life, except for a faint glow in an upstairs window.

I stepped closer to the door and whispered,

"Liam?"

No response.

I frowned and tried to step inside.

But I was thrown back.

As if an invisible wall barred my entry.

I staggered a step, shaken. There was no reason I shouldn't be able to enter. This house was… protected. Something was blocking my magic.

A shiver ran down my spine, and for once, it wasn't my own cold.

Behind the window, a silhouette appeared.

An old woman.

Someone here knew I existed. And they didn't want me near Liam.

The door slowly creaked open, and an elderly woman stepped onto the threshold. She was tall and slender, with piercing eyes and an aura that immediately put me on edge. Her silver hair was tied in a strict bun, and she wore a thick wool coat.

She looked directly into my eyes. She could see me.

"You…" she murmured.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she raised a hand to stop me.

"You are not welcome here," she said firmly, her tone carrying an authority I couldn't ignore.

I remained frozen, my instincts screaming that this woman was different.

And for the first time in a long while, I felt genuine fear.

This woman was far more than just a grandmother.

Who was she? And why was she so determined to keep me away from Liam?