MARVEL: The Guardian chosen by the Moon

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The silence was almost unreal after the tumult of battle. The air, still charged with electricity and residual magic, vibrated faintly as dust and frost slowly settled onto the cracked floor of the basement. The black tree was nothing more than a vestige of ice, shattered into scattered fragments, its malevolent presence finally eradicated.

I let out a trembling breath, trying to calm the shivers still running through my body. My gaze immediately fell on Liam, still lying down, his breathing irregular but alive. His torn shirt revealed the dark mark spreading across his chest, resembling dead roots embedded in his skin. My stomach tightened at the sight.

Melinda knelt beside him, placing a hand on his forehead while murmuring a silent prayer. A faint glow ran through her fingers, an attempt to probe what had anchored itself in him, but her expression quickly tensed.

"It's deep..." she murmured, her eyes darkened with worry. "This isn't just a physical wound. Pitch's shadow has marked him."

Liam slowly opened his eyes, his gaze tired but lucid. He swallowed with difficulty before whispering, "I'll be okay..."

I forced a smile. "Of course you will. You're tough."

He let out a weak chuckle, but the tremor in his voice didn't escape me. This scar was no ordinary wound, and even though Pitch had fled, he had left a trace we couldn't ignore.

I slowly stood up, surveying the ruins of the fight. Pitch had lost this battle, but his laughter still echoed in my mind. He would return. Maybe stronger, maybe with another plan, but I knew he would never completely disappear.

Melinda rose as well, her gaze scanning the shadows of the walls as if searching for an invisible presence. "We need to go home. Liam must rest... and we have questions to answer."

I nodded, sweeping the room one last time before giving her a determined look. "This isn't over, is it?"

She gave a sad smile. "Nothing ever really is."

---

The Gordon house felt incredibly peaceful after the hell we had just endured. The warmth of the home, the scent of tea steeping in the kitchen, the crackling of the fire in the fireplace... Everything was a stark contrast to the battle fought barely an hour earlier.

Liam sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, his gaze lost in the dancing flames. The little snowman, still perched on the armrest, watched him with quiet concern. He hadn't spoken a word since our return.

I sat down beside him, leaning my staff against the wall. "So, how does it feel to be a hero?"

He shrugged. "It hurts..."

I let out a light laugh. "Yeah… It often does."

"How do you feel, kid?" I finally asked, breaking the silence.

Liam slowly lifted his head toward me. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then shrugged. "I… I don't know. It burns a little, but…" He placed a hand on his chest. "It's like… I feel something else. An echo."

A shiver ran through me. This was what I feared.

Melinda sat across from us, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. Her gaze was serious, but not overwhelmed. "We need to understand what this mark means. What it implies for Liam."

Liam lowered his eyes to his chest, the dark skin marked with sinister lines. "I feel like… something is still there."

I frowned. "Residual magic? Or… a link to Pitch?"

"I think… this scar is more than just a mark."

Melinda lifted her head slightly, attentive. I continued:

"The black tree was tied to the realm of fear and nightmares. When I destroyed it, Liam was inside the circle, directly exposed to its essence. I believe… he is now connected to that world more than he already was."

Melinda clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening slightly around her grandson's arm. "Are you saying Pitch could still come after him?"

I sighed. "It's possible. Maybe not right away—he lost a lot of ground tonight. But one day, he might try to use him in some way."

Liam lowered his gaze to his scar, then looked up at me. "So that means I'll see even more things, right?"

I nodded. "Maybe. But listen to me carefully: that's not necessarily a bad thing."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

I spun my staff lightly before resting it on the floor. "The realm of fear, of nightmares, isn't just about evil. Fear exists to protect, to warn of danger. If you can see that world more clearly, maybe you can also learn to understand it, to influence it. It could be a strength, not just a curse."

Melinda observed her grandson with an unreadable expression, but I saw a glimmer of pride flash in her eyes for a moment. "He would need to learn to control it," she murmured.

Liam clenched his fists, then slowly released them. "I want to try. I want to understand what I've become."

A slight smile formed on my lips. "I knew it."

I conjured a golden snowflake in my palm and let it fall gently to the ground. The snow gathered instantly, taking the shape of a small, round, and cheerful snowman. It shook itself off, raised its arms in the air, and gave Liam an energetic little salute.

"This one's for you. He'll stay with you, permanently. He can alert me if anything changes or if you get into trouble."

Liam observed the creature with curiosity, then a smile lit up his face. "I'm going to call him… Igloo."

The little snowman bounced joyfully, clearly satisfied with his new name. Melinda smirked slightly. "A good name."

I placed a hand on Liam's shoulder. "With him by your side, you'll never be alone. And if Pitch resurfaces… I'll be here in a flash."

Liam nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. I knew this kid had a long road ahead, but he was stronger than he thought. He wasn't the type to let fear break him.

The silence settled. The fire crackled softly, warming the room, but I felt the tension weighing on all of us. We had won this battle, but we hadn't entirely eradicated the threat.

Liam looked up at me, and despite his tired expression, I saw a flame of resolve burning in him. "I'm going to be okay, right?"

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Of course. And whatever happens, we'll find a way."

Melinda nodded in agreement. "We've faced the darkness before. We'll do it again if we must."

Liam gave a timid smile before sinking further into his blanket. "Thank you… both of you."

I smiled back. "Hey, you're the one who let us win, kid."

He shook his head. "No… we won together."

I stood up and took a step toward the door. "Well, it's time for me to go. You guys deserve some rest after tonight."

Melinda got up as well. "Thank you, Jack. For everything."

I gave her a wink. "It's my job, isn't it?"

---

Later that night, while everyone slept, I quietly slipped outside and climbed onto the snowy roof of the house. Toronto was calm, snow gently falling on the city illuminated by streetlights. The storm had passed, and the city lay still beneath its white blanket. But before I could disappear into the northern winds, a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Jack Frost."

I turned sharply.

The Ancient stood there, cloaked in dark fabric, their silhouette blending into the night. Their eyes gleamed with unfathomable wisdom as they observed me in silence.

The Ancient tilted their head slightly. "It is finally time for us to talk."