Under the waterways and Italian city streets of Venice, there lies a palace, hidden to all ordinary eyes. An exquisite castle, with shining marble halls and glistening gold embroidery upon the silk laden furniture; now those were reflections of the past. Room upon room, escalator upon escalator filled the chambers. A golden embossed throne with a midnight blue cushion sat as the centerpiece of the Grand Hall. There was even a ballroom, with black tiles that reflected the shimmering flames atop the crystal chandelier that hung from the domed ceiling. The palace was a testament to the renaissance age, both enchanting and endearing, yet mysterious and foreboding. A primeval relic from thousands of years ago.

Through the millennia, however, the magnificent building had slowly fallen into disarray, and all traces of the elegant estate had vanished from the human eye. It had become so ancient and decrepit that it had sunk far under the Adriatic sea, never to be seen again. Time had taken its toll on the castle, the walls enveloped in mud and dirt. The floor eventually tilted to an angle, giving off the appearance of total imbalance. Where vaulted ceilings once seemed to soar into the air, gondolas floated over the ocean floor with ease, hundreds of feet above. A solemn, stone city was built on stilts all around the ground where the palace once stood. Not long after, bridges formed over the water, canals divided the city, and islands rose out of nowhere. Yet, the castle remained buried, deep below the ocean floor, never disturbed by the ever changing world above. It was unreachable by any and all that tried to find it. Or at least, all but one.

Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, and his minions were the sole inhabitants of the aged building. The Nightmare King, or as many would name him, The Boogeyman, was the only being to reside in the castle for centuries, turning the once glorious palace into his dark lair. Thanks to the magic he had been cursed with, he had been able to protect the building from complete destruction, making it his one true home.

This is the home where he returned when it seemed all had been lost to him. After the conflict between himself and the Guardians, Pitch's Nightmares had brought him back to regenerate his power. The children no longer feared him, and he was paying the price for it. The once proud spirit could hardly stand, his power weak from his lack of energy. It appeared that the Guardians had restored their powers, and consequently, Pitch had nearly lost all of his. This left the Nightmare King with plenty of time alone to think upon his past and his actions.

As the days wore on, he stayed in his lair, deep underground and safe from those who would wish him harm. Only Jack Frost knew where to find him, but Pitch wasn't worried. The Guardians believed they had won, and they had, for the time being at least. He did not regret what he did, not to Jack, or Jamie, or those pesky Guardians who could hardly function on their own. No. He simply regretted being unable to snuff out the last light on the globe. The child. Jamie Bennett. All of the events Pitch Black had planned for that night had gone right out the window, completely ruined by an eleven year old child.

Pitch rolled his eyes, growling in frustration. There had to be some way to win. To be believed in, to be feared. The Nightmare King skulked around his lair, pacing from staircase to staircase, trying to formulate another plan. He didn't care if it took another century, he would have his revenge on the Guardians, and that child, if it was the last thing he did.

He leaned against the dark corner of a nearby wall, trying to fade into the darkness as he usually did. To his great disappointment and bitter realization, he was unable to teleport anywhere. He couldn't even transform into a shadow. Clenching his fists, the spirit of fear stormed down the marble steps, striding over to the black and gold model of the Earth. He slammed both palms against the metal, moving his fingers along the ridges of each continent and the glowing gold lights that symbolized the children who believed in the Guardians.

The Boogeyman breathed heavily, even just the simple movement of walking around had strained his tired muscles. He exchanged a look with this favorite Nightmare, the ebony horse appearing just as frail as her master. "It's alright Onyx...." He whispered, reaching out to brush his fingertips along the long snout of his steed. She had been the only Nightmare to remain loyal to him after the battle with the Guardians, chasing the other ones away when Pitch was close to defeat. The pet whinnied, shuffling her hooves anxiously. Pitch returned his gaze to the globe, glancing at it one last time before intending to walk away. But then...a strange light caught his eye. Unlike most of the glowing dots that coated the surface of the globe, this one appeared white instead of gold. Strange... He thought, cocking a brow. He looked closer, realizing with intrigue that this dot was placed in the exact spot as the one that had given the Nightmare King so much trouble just a few weeks prior.

A devilish smirk fell upon the charcoal face of Pitch Black, and he took a step away, running his long fingers through his inky dark hair. His gaze fell upon Onyx once more, and he breathed in deep, a renewed sense of purpose filling his soul. "Come girl, I have work to do..." His voice was no more than a hushed whisper. Pitch placed his hand on the horse's reins and lifted himself up to sit on her back. He gripped the reins in both hands and urged the Nightmare toward the nearest unlit hallway.

The Nightmare King was still gaining his strength back, but surely one of his minions would have the energy to teleport out of the palace. And Pitch was right. Within moments, he and his horse were stepping through the trees of the very woods where he had been defeated. A chill ran down the man's spine, but it only served to thrill him even more.

Something was pulling Pitch, but to what location and for what reason, he was unsure. The trot through the forest was slow, Onyx stepping lightly through the shadows that the tall trees had cast across the uneven ground. However, he soon could hear his pet panting, feeling her sides heaving with the effort of carrying him, and the Nightmare King urged the horse to stop. Despite what everyone believed about the Boogeyman, there was some mercy within his soul. He knew his minion would not fare well if she went on like this, and so he dismounted as quickly as possible. A surprisingly gentle hand rested itself on the horse's neck, and Pitch gazed into the glowing yellow eyes of the horse. "Go home." He ordered. The horse reared back, black sand cascading from her mane, and she turned around in a circle. Without a moment's hesitation, she was gone, heading back to the hole they both crawled out of.

Pitch straightened up, satisfied, and began to stroll through the trees, his eyes landing on the road of the nearest neighborhood. A strange feeling swirled inside his stomach, telling him to follow it. Trusting his instincts, he did just that. Whatever was calling out for him was somehow making the Boogeyman stronger. He no longer felt as if he would pass out if he took another step. In fact, the closer he got to the shadows, the easier it was for him to blend into them, one of his powers slowly gaining strength.

Cackling, Pitch Black used this to his advantage, shifting from shadow to shadow as the intrigue of the strange light drew him closer. Suddenly, he was there. Pitch slinked out of the shadows, body practically tingling with excitement, only to cock his head in confusion. There was nothing out of the ordinary, or special, or even remotely interesting occuring in front of him. Jamie Bennett, nor the Guardians, were anywhere in sight. In place of them, Pitch found himself staring at a familiar young woman.

Though her back was to him, the Nightmare King recognized the small stature, the soft brunette hair, and the confident voice of the girl. Her name was Anara Rose, Jamie Bennett's teenage babysitter, and a child Pitch had frequented often within her short life. He hadn't visited her in months, yet for whatever reason, some higher power had compelled him to her at this moment. But whatever could that mean?