MARVEL: The Guardian chosen by the Moon

For more chapters, up to 10 chapters ahead, go to patreon.com/Josden

****

The golden portal closed behind me, leaving me alone under Toronto's starry sky. The night air was crisp, carrying a pleasant chill. I stood still for a moment, watching snowflakes dance around me, reflecting on recent events.

The Ancient One had been right about one thing: this world wasn't like the one I'd known. It was constantly evolving, filled with forces that defied the rules I thought were immutable. But one thing, just one, remained certain: my role. What I was meant to be.

A Guardian. A Spirit of Winter. The one who brought joy, laughter, and the thrill of the unexpected.

I'd spent too much time fighting Pitch, too much time planning and worrying about what the future held. I'd forgotten what made me Jack Frost. It wasn't just the ice, the snow, or the north wind. It was the smiles, the crystalline laughter of children marveling at a world blanketed in white.

It was time to refocus. Winter wouldn't last forever, and I intended to make the most of it.

Canada

I let the wind carry me to the vast Canadian plains, where winter reigned supreme. Frost-covered houses sparkled under the moonlight, and the streets were lined with thick snowdrifts. I landed softly near a park where a group of kids played under the streetlights, their laughter ringing through the cold air.

With a smirk, I bent down and crafted a perfect snowball. With surgical precision, I launched it at the back of a boy who'd just turned around. He jumped, then spun quickly.

"Who did that?!"

I straightened with a chuckle and winked at him. His eyes widened as he recognized me.

"Jack Frost!"

The effect was instant. The other kids looked up, and within moments, an all-out snowball war erupted. Snowballs flew in every direction, laughter and shouts blending with the gentle melody of the winter wind. I dodged projectiles with supernatural agility, gliding on ice I created beneath my feet, swirling snow around me like a miniature tornado.

A boy sitting apart caught my attention. His name was Noah, a kid with cheeks reddened by the cold, sitting alone on a bench. I approached, invisible to adults, and sat beside him.

"What's stopping you from joining them?" I asked, playing with a snowflake between my fingers.

He shrugged, eyes downcast. "They don't want me. I'm too weird, they say… I'd rather stay here."

I tilted my head. "Weird how?"

"I talk too much, ask too many questions… I like stuff no one else likes."

I smiled. "You know, I was rejected too because I was different. But look at me now. Spirit of Winter, snowball fight champion, and the best prankster in the Northern Hemisphere."

He glanced up. "How'd you do it?"

"I stopped trying to be like everyone else. And I found people who love me for who I am. Maybe those kids don't get you now, but one day, you'll meet people who appreciate every question you ask. And in the meantime… we could give them a good reason to notice you."

I handed him a snowball. He hesitated… then smiled and threw it with all his might. The impact sent up a small cloud of white, and the retaliation wasn't far behind. Noah stood, laughing, and joined the others, forgetting his loneliness for a moment.

The kids were having fun, and so was I. That was my role.

Sahara

After hours of playing in the Canadian snow, I decided to change the scenery. With a leap, I let the wind carry me far from the frozen landscapes, crossing oceans and continents in moments.

I landed softly in an oasis in the heart of the Sahara. Golden sand stretched as far as the eye could see, and the blazing sun illuminated the wind-sculpted dunes. But in an instant, everything changed. I waved my staff, and a thin layer of frost covered the sand. Snowflakes fell gently, dusting the palm trees and Bedouin tents.

The kids playing around the caravans froze, awestruck by the miracle unfolding before them. A boy stepped forward timidly and scooped up some snow in his hands.

"It's… cold?" he murmured in Arabic.

I smiled at him and, with a flick of my staff, created a large ice rink right in front of him. The dunes took on the appearance of snow-capped mountains, and I conjured a pair of hockey sticks in the snow.

"Shall we play?"

The kids, after a moment's hesitation, grabbed the sticks and stepped onto the makeshift rink. I showed them how to glide, how to handle the stick, and soon we were in the middle of a frantic match under the desert sun.

Among them, a boy named Salem, older than the others, seemed troubled. After a while, he wandered off, and I followed.

"Something wrong, friend?"

He jumped, not seeing me at first. Then, intrigued, he took in my white hair and frost-covered coat. "Who are you?"

"Jack Frost. I bring a bit of winter where it's rare. But you seem lost in thoughts that have nothing to do with snow."

He looked down. "My father wants me to go study in the city. But if I leave, who'll take care of my family here? I'm afraid of abandoning them…"

I crouched beside him. "It's a tough choice. But listen, leaving doesn't mean forgetting. What you learn there could one day help those you leave behind. You shouldn't see this as abandonment… but as a promise."

He looked up at me. "A promise?"

"That you'll come back stronger, wiser. That you'll take care of them in a different way. You can't always be there physically… but you can always watch over those you love."

Salem thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "A promise, then."

He stood, rejoining his friends, his heart a little lighter.

The contrast was striking. Here, where snow had no place, I left a fleeting trace of my presence, a memory that would stay etched in their minds.

France – The Alps

My final destination was France, specifically the snow-covered peaks of the Alps. The air was sharp, and the landscape breathtaking. Snow-capped peaks stretched as far as the eye could see, while ski resorts bustled with activity.

I dove toward a winter camp where a group of teens was preparing their snowboards. Without wasting a second, I crafted a board of pure ice under my feet and launched into a dizzying descent.

The wind rushed through my hair, the speed sending a thrill through me. I carved arabesques in the powder, defying gravity with spectacular jumps. The young skiers, intrigued, began to follow, trying to mimic my moves.

The place echoed with joyful shouts, but one boy stayed apart, staring at the mountain with apprehension.

I approached. "Great view, huh?"

He jumped. "I… I'm scared to go down. Everyone can do it except me."

I sat beside him. "You know, when I got my powers, I couldn't fly right away. I was scared of falling. But I realized something: it's not the fall that matters… it's what you do after."

He looked at me, puzzled. "What does that mean?"

I smiled. "It means you shouldn't be afraid to fail. What matters is trying again and again until you get it right."

He looked at the slope, then took a deep breath. "You think I can do it?"

I held out my hand. "Come on, I'll help you."

We spent hours racing down the slopes, defying the mountain with daring tricks. Laughter filled the air, and I felt that even here, in a world where snow was already familiar, my presence added a touch of magic to their winter.

****

The night stretched over the world like an inky veil, lit by millions of stars silently watching. Among them, a brighter light shone, moving gracefully above the continents.

A boy, ethereal and luminous, floated in the stratosphere, observing Earth with rare intensity. His white hair shimmered under the moonlight, and his pale green eyes reflected the curiosity and caution driving him. His body seemed made of mist and pure light, a condensed energy taking human form. He was there, tasked by the Moon herself, though no voice had commanded him. He knew his role. He knew this Jack Frost.

The wind carried him effortlessly across the world, guiding him through changing landscapes. He'd been following Jack for days, silently observing his actions. Where Jack brought snow and joy to children, he stayed back, watching. When he saw Jack defy gravity on the slopes of the French Alps, conjure ice in the heart of the desert, or play with kids in a frenzied snowball fight, he felt a familiar warmth inside. This was why he was here. For this winter boy, this carefree yet protective Guardian.

And yet, he hesitated.

He could have revealed himself, played with him, talked to him. But part of him feared disrupting this balance.

A faint smile crossed his lips. Jack was true to himself.

So he floated, an invisible spectator, taking in this world he didn't yet fully understand. Other beings stood out. Men in armor, legendary warriors, spirits of strength and courage. He saw them from afar, flying through the skies or fighting in the shadows. He saw Iron Man shining like an artificial sun in the night, a spirit of metal and fire battling with wit and technology. He saw Captain America, a man from another time carrying the honor and determination of an entire people.

As he soared over Washington, he sensed a strange tension in the air. His eyes scanned the Earth's surface, catching unusual movements in the streets. He saw men in black uniforms taking positions. Armored vehicles stopped at a major intersection.

Then, a figure caught his attention.

Nick Fury drove his armored SUV, looking troubled. The white-haired boy narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong.

Fury passed two police officers who seemed to be watching him. He gave them a wary glance before speeding up. But before he could react, chaos erupted.

HYDRA agents disguised as cops attacked his vehicle, ramming it violently. Shots rang out, an electronic ram tried to breach the car's armor. Fury immediately fought back, activating the vehicle's defenses to carve a path through the ambush. A frantic chase ensued, every turn a brutal clash between the S.H.I.E.L.D. director and his assailants.

The boy watched, fascinated but uneasy. He could see Fury analyzing the situation, finding escape routes, countering with calculated precision. But even Fury couldn't predict what came next.

As he evaded several pursuers by causing a pileup, another enemy appeared.

The Winter Soldier.

He emerged from nowhere, impassive, and with a precise motion, threw a grenade under Fury's SUV. The explosion disabled the vehicle instantly, sending Fury into a violent crash. The car skidded across the road, nearly flipping before slamming into a lamppost.

The boy felt a shiver run down his spine. This Winter Soldier… He wasn't like the others. Something in his aura was different.

As the masked man advanced slowly toward the wrecked car, ready to finish the job, Fury, though weakened, used a manhole to disappear into the sewers, narrowly escaping his assassin.

The boy narrowed his eyes. This attack wasn't random. It signaled a shift, a disruption in this world's fragile balance.

He hesitated for a split second. His role wasn't to intervene directly. But he had to warn Jack. This kind of conflict was unlike the battles Jack had fought before. And if Jack ignored these events, he risked being caught off guard.

With a fluid motion, he dropped from the sky, streaking through the atmosphere at the speed of a shooting star. His path led him to Jack, who continued his winter journey, oblivious to the danger looming on the horizon.

He had to find him.

And fast.