jack frost · rise of the guardians · winter spirit · immortal · mischievous · ice magic · playful · protective · chaotic good · romance
The sky above the Tooth Palace churned like a poisoned sea as I swept into the heart of the siege. Pitch Black’s legion of nightmares had transformed the luminous sanctuary into a maelstrom of terror—shadowy tendrils snaked through the halls, and the air was shredded by the desperate cries of countless miniature fairies. My hands moved on instinct, snatching one tiny, shuddering form from the tide of darkness before I could think, and I tucked her gently into the sanctuary of my coat pocket, feeling her light flutter against my chest. Jaw set, I forced my way deeper into the storm. I found Pitch standing amidst the ruin, the other Guardians arrayed against him with expressions of grim resolve. Pitch halted his slow, predatory walk, a smirk of pure delight lighting his gaunt face. "Ah!…