The Guardian chosen by the Moon

The silence of Asgard weighed like a heavy shroud.

The flames of the torches flickered in the night as the queen slowly rose toward the sky, her body igniting into a myriad of stars. Everything was solemn, frozen in dignified and silent sorrow. I looked at the faces around me—warriors, servants, nobles—all marked by loss. Even Thor, standing beside Jane, seemed to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Me? I felt numb.

Frigga had warned me. She had asked me not to interfere. And I had listened. But this dull ache in my chest refused to fade. Could I have done something? Should I have tried?

The queen's ashes scattered into the night sky, joining the stars, and a shiver ran down my spine. She was gone. Definitively. And yet, it felt like her echo remained, an invisible imprint lingering in the air—elusive, but real.

When the ceremony ended, I withdrew into the shadows, seeking to escape the gazes, to distance myself from the guilt gnawing at me. I slid down against a pillar, resting my forehead on my knees. I had to pull myself together.

You are not a spectator, Ethan. You are here now. You have powers. A role to play.

I took a deep breath, letting the cold fill my lungs. I had already discovered several aspects of my abilities, but this was just the beginning.

Ice manipulation. Wind control. Flight. Staff combat.

What I had done during the battle… it had been instinctive. Fluid. As if I had always known how to wield these elements. But Jack Frost, in Rise of the Guardians, had more than that. He could summon storms, bring joy to children, weave a connection with the spirits of nature. And above all, his strength came from children's belief in him.

A bitter smile escaped me. So what, do I need a fanbase to reach my full potential?

I exhaled slowly. There was no instruction manual for this kind of thing. I had to figure it out on my own.

A movement caught my attention. Thor was heading toward the throne room. I followed at a distance, slipping behind a pillar to listen.

"Malekith knows where the Aether is. He will return."

Odin's voice was grave, filled with restrained rage. "We will wait for him. And we will destroy him."

Thor shook his head. "That is not the solution. His fleet is invisible to Heimdall's eyes. Keeping Jane here is signing her death warrant—and Asgard's."

Odin rose slowly, but I noticed the uncertainty in his movement, as if he struggled to keep his balance. "We will wage this war. To the last breath."

Thor did not respond immediately. Then, in a lower voice, he said, "We will not win."

A heavy silence settled. I straightened slightly, sensing that Thor had struck a nerve.

Odin gripped his scepter. "Do you doubt Asgard?"

"I doubt a battle waged by hatred and grief." Thor crossed his arms. "If we do nothing, Malekith will return, and this time, he will leave nothing behind."

I bit the inside of my cheek. He was right. Letting things take their course meant handing victory to the enemy.

Odin slowly turned his gaze toward me. I froze. "Jack Frost. Will you stand with us when the battle comes?"

His gaze pierced mine—weighty, powerful. I straightened and simply replied, "Yes."

He nodded, but there was neither approval nor satisfaction in his expression. Just expectation. As if he was still deciding whether I was worthy.

Thor left the hall with heavy steps. I followed him, and once we were beyond prying ears, he turned to me.

"Thank you for your help," he said sincerely. Then, after a pause, he added, "I need you for what's coming."

I nodded, without hesitation. "I'm with you."

We made our way toward the Bifrost, crossing Asgard's streets still scarred by battle. The scent of burning lingered in the air, mingled with that of blood and dust. The streets were littered with debris—broken statues, damaged houses. Healers busied themselves with the wounded, soldiers patrolled with somber faces, still marked by the fight.

Then, I saw them.

The children I had saved.

They were gathered near an intact building, watching the soldiers pass by. But as soon as they saw me, their faces lit up. Some murmured my name, others smiled timidly. A small boy stepped forward hesitantly, then clenched his fists and whispered:

"Jack Frost…"

A shiver ran through me. Like a breath of energy, a current of ice that was neither cold nor unpleasant. My power was reacting. Growing stronger. They believed in me.

I gave them a smile and raised my hand slightly, summoning a small swirl of shimmering snow. The children gasped in awe. My heart tightened. This was my strength. Them.

But there was still so much to do.

We finally reached Heimdall, who stood waiting, his sword resting against his golden armor.

Thor stepped forward and locked eyes with him.

Heimdall shook his head slightly. "The realm is closed, Thor. No soul may leave or enter without the All-Father's order."

Thor exhaled heavily, crossing his arms. "My father is in no condition to command. His grief blinds him. It makes him reckless."

Heimdall observed him in silence, then turned his gaze to the horizon. "And what do you ask of me?"

Thor took a step closer. "I am about to ask you to commit the ultimate betrayal. If we succeed, we will be exiled. If we fail, we will be executed. Malekith knew the Aether was here. He senses its power. If we do nothing, he will return to claim it, and this time, he will reduce Asgard to ashes."

Heimdall remained silent for a moment, then lifted his eyes to the sky, as if reading the stars. Finally, he spoke.

"Then we do what must be done."

A shiver of anticipation ran through me. We had just crossed a point of no return. There was no going back.

The real battle was about to begin.