Protector of Lost Children

| CHAPTER X |

Hello, Readers! I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's nice and long this week!

~CSP2708~

| Chapter 10 || Pitch's Plan in Full |

Pitch cackled lowly, a sly grin on his face.

He was watching the guardians from the shadows of his lair, the images of their struggles flashing in the swirling mass of black sand in front of him. He saw the sand fold and writhe as it formed their distraught faces and distrusting, tense bodies.

"All this for me? How thoughtful," he mused to himself. Lifting a hand, his swirled his fingers, causing a trail of black sand to appear in the air and circle his spindly digits. "A little bit of my nightmare sand can go a long way. Who knew?" He smiled, of course, because he knew. The black sand he'd infected the dear shapeshifting spirit with was causing angry bursts of adrenalin to course through her veins.

Soon, she'd lose the trust of her fellow guardians, and not long after that, she'd lose trust in herself. She wouldn't know what to do to stop herself from hurting anyone. She'd have no one left to turn to and that was when he'd strike.

Pitch knew that his visage didn't appear trustworthy. He was the Boogeyman for goodness sake, he was meant to be frightening! His desires were well known to the guardians. His wants were well known to nearly every spirit on earth. He just wanted to see the world in endless fear and darkness, so that he would rule over it, all powerful and all knowing.

It had been so many years since he'd felt such power when he'd first risen as the nightmare King: the one who brought terror to the children of the world and instilled fear that not even adults could withstand.

He'd tried, barely a decade ago, to revive his power. He'd tried to wipe out the Guardians, those thorns in his side that were so deeply buried in his flesh that they drew blood. He'd tried to pry them loose from his life, to send them into the darkness and destroy their very nature, but one spirit had put an end to his plans. One wayward spirit had rejected his offer and turned to the side of good and righteousness and light.

Jack Frost.

A small mass of black sand formed the spirit in question. The doll floating directly above the center of Pitch's hand.

The very name sent shivers of hatred down Pitch's spine. That meddlesome boy had brought him fear. Fear that he would lose what he'd worked so hard to claim. Fear that made his own Fearlings turn on him.

Pitch's hand snapped shut around the mini-Frost, causing it to break apart. Granules of sand flew in all directions, though only made it a few inches before vanishing into nothingness.

How embarrassing.

Even the thought of the moment of his imminent defeat sent waves of hatred throughout his body. He paced the platform of his throne room, his cold feet smacking quietly against the cold stone. He didn't even feel the chill.

Pent-up energy from his raging emotions made him restless, and he wished desperately to hit something, but nothing other than the guardians would give him the release of vexation he craved.

Now, though, Pitch had another chance. This time, he'd ally himself with someone. Numbers seemed to be the only advantage that the Guardians had over him, and he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Pitch held out his hand again. Another figure formed: one of a wolf. Before Pitch's eyes, the wolf changed shape, becoming the girl he'd had his eye on for a while.

Lupa.

He stared down at the little figure, and this time, when he closed his hand around the sand, the movement was slow and gentle. His pale fingers brushed along her torso, and the sand resisted as if he held a physical statuette. His grip tightened, knowing that the statuette wouldn't break.