The Big Four

Chapter 9

We head up to the deck, and Hiccup nods. I start humming; very softly, but loud enough for it to register into everyone’s subconscious.
I imagine Hiccup flying up as we do, zooming away with us.
Hiccup stays behind.
Nobody notices.

---

I’m sitting in my room. I’ve learned to manage without my bow, although the pain is awful.
And there’s nothing to do.
I haven’t seen anyone but guards for days. I’ve been locked in my room, separated from the outside world.
I’ve never been seasick before, but apparently the Hauntedisease, as I call it, does more than just stir up headaches.
Being locked in a small cabin in a boat while seasick is about the worst thing ever.
The door opens. I’m on a boat; there’s nowhere to run, so I’ve wondered why I’ve even been kept cooped up in here this long.
The guard answers my unasked questions. “The girl and the Viking are gone. Your parents say you’re free to go.” He doesn’t mention Jack, probably because he can’t see him.
My heart flips. They’re gone.
I might never see them again.
Even without the seasickness, I would’ve been rushing to the top deck to hurl.

---

The past few weeks have been a confusing blur. I thought that we could just get to the Haunted Island, show the Haunteds who’s boss, and go home. We haven’t even done the first part yet.
I glance at Rapunzel. She is literally sleeping as Wind carries us to Haunted Island. Her hair trails far behind her, flowing free and loose just over the sea.
There are so many questions. Why haven’t the Guardians dealt with this already? Haunteds are allies of Pitch and all of the other forces of darkness. What is Mother Gothel up to? She’s a dark sorceress. Being outwitted once wouldn’t stop her. Will Hiccup and Merida even make it to Haunted Island? How? Even if they do, how long will we have to wait?
I shove them all aside. Right now is not the time for second-guessing.

---

I can’t find her bow anywhere on the ship.
I nearly punch the wall in frustration. If I don’t find it soon, will she even live?
A little part of me is still wondering why on earth I care, but it’s easy enough to shove it away.
I at least need to see her.

---

I take deep breaths. I hold my breath. I try everything in my power from my fetal position on the floor to keep from screaming. I haven’t blacked out; as a matter of fact, I haven’t slept at all. Ever since Mother dumped me here, I’ve barely moved. The same thing thuds through me with every heartbeat: Pain.
Why? All I did was talk to a stupid spirit. So yeah, he showed me some pretty… terrifying stuff. But does that really give my brain the right to react so violently?
I hear some noise outside; almost like a faint scuffle. I allow myself a moment of hope, then squash it. Most likely, some of the guards had a bit too much to drink while they were on break and are taking it out on each other.
Then the door opens, and Hiccup steps inside.
“Hic…” I can’t manage to form another word. He rushes to me and picks me up.
“Sssh, it’s OK. We’re getting out of here.”
I want to ask how, but instead I find myself falling into a deep sleep.

---

We’re alone on Haunted Island. It seems deserted; so much so that I wonder if maybe we are even on the right island.
Rapunzel is braiding her hair. It almost glows in the light of the full moon.
“Jack?”
“What?”
“What if they don’t come?”
I sigh and sit down on the sand. I want to reassure her, but honestly, I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.
“We’ll have to find some other people, I guess.”
“And… I can’t help but wonder. What exactly… are you? The day this all started, I remember you saying something about being a spirit. Exactly what does that mean?”
I glance up at the moon. “It’s like this. Every couple centuries, a hero is chosen. They’re not just randomly picked, though. When they die… Well, if they died saving someone, they usually become a spirit. I died saving my younger sister. I used to be Jack Landon. Now I’m Jack Frost. The whole frost and ice thing… I basically went crashing through a thin layer of ice and into a freezing lake. But yeah.”
She waits a minute, taking it all in. “How old are you?”
I hesitate. It’s kind of weird. “Three centuries or so.”

---

He’s three centuries old.
He looks like a teenager. To think that he’s lived for three hundred years… It makes my head spin.
I shake the thought out of my head. It’s just a number. It doesn’t change who he is.
Then the last thing that I ever expected to happen - ever - happens.
My mother - my real mother - appears out of what seems to me to be an invisible portal.