Prologue:

I am the night.

...

Okay, I'm sorry, that was a little dramatic, even for me, but that really is the best way to try and describe me. I have many names; none of them are my real name; none of them are even particularly nice names.

I have been called a Grim Reaper, The Dark Angel, Bringer of Death, Monster of Darkness, Blackest Night, Ruler of Fear, The Screaming Banshee, Bringer and Protector of Hallows Eve... you get the picture. Truth is, none of these names really do me justice. In reality, I am a Guardian. Obviously I wasn't always a Guardian, but I was always misunderstood.

I bet you can guess why.

I was human once, a long time ago. I used to argue that I still am human, but I know better now. Now I am something else. A decidedly dark creature with a dark personality and a dark purpose, but, in the end, a light heart.

I have to have a light heart if I am to be the Guardian of Life.

Surprised? You should be. Don't believe me? You wouldn't be the first. That isn't my name though. When I was born over a thousand years ago, my mother called me Nadine. That isn't my name any more though. It hasn't been since the day I died and was reborn exactly 1003 years and 8 months ago. But who's counting?

I died when I was only 19 years old. Back then, I was considered old enough to wed and should have already been raising at least five children. And I did want kids (wasn't to fond about the husband part at the time, and I wasn't sure I wanted so many, but I did love children); but no-one wanted to marry the barren woman. The irony, right? For that, I was an outcast, seen as cursed by my family and friends alike. Infertility was seen as a curse from the gods- a bad omen. So my life was kind of miserable. 

And then I died. 

I don't remember how, so don't ask me. After that the Moon found me and put me back together. Something must have gone terribly wrong though. He named me, told me I had some glorious purpose, and told me to find my new home and start my new life. Then he never spoke to me again. It doesn't bother me too much though, he seemed kind of bossy anyway.

...

Okay, so it bothered me a lot. Why waste so much energy and magic doing the impossible ("It's... ALIVE!") and then abandon me completely with nothing but a name and a friendly suggestion? For 5 years I lived in the fear that I was a mistake and that the Man in the Moon would, I don't know, hurl a lightning bolt at me and thus snuff me from existence. Eventually I learned to harden myself against such fears. I followed his advice and learned how to control the "gifts" he had bestowed upon me.

My gifts. They're rather... strange in themselves. Very much supernatural, definitely paranormal, and very.... What did Bunny call me?

Oh yeah. Bloody Creepy.

I found a new home for myself just like he told me to. It was a small cobblestone palace that I had built all by myself (and it only took me 53 years to finish). I also became the founder of a very peculiar town. At first the... people... who lived there called it the Hollow. Now we call it Halloween Town.

Bet that struck a chord with you, didn't it? You wouldn't by chance know anything about "The Pumpkin King" would you? Goes by the name Jack Skellington? I created him. Sort of. Not in the way that the Man in the Moon created me (I accidentally turned him into a giant skeleton for crying out loud), but similar in a way. I simply returned his soul to his body.

I know that sounds really bad, but it was an accident, I swear! I had only been 97 years old at the time, trying out my somewhat new and still mostly uncontrollable powers, most of which I don't even understand to this day. I was trying to contact his Wandering spirit, guide him to the Bright Light or what ever the deceased called it these days. I apparently pulled a little to hard and shoved his soul right back into his decomposing body. He was pretty cool about it though. Unbelievably so actually.

He almost seemed happy with the way he was. No longer dead and wandering, but not quite alive either. Somethings strange, and new, and in-between. I remember apologizing over and over, and he assured me that it was all right. He and I became inseparable almost over night. He told me about his life and I told him about mine. Then I told him about my afterlife. He listened and he comforted me. He became my best friend. We're still pretty close, and when it comes down to it, we'd do anything for each other, but we don't see each other so much anymore...

Anyway, back on topic. Halloween Town. It started as just a secret little sanctuary that I could escape to when I wasn't leading the deceased to their afterlives. Then some of the Wandering and Forsaken spirits of Earth started following me there. Among the first were Oogie Boogie, Pitch Black (who I eventually had to resort to banishing), Vlad Dracula, and Jack Skellington. At first I thought I was failing at my new job (Your Friendly Guide to the Afterlife, ready to help you on your final journey!), but these spirits where different. Some of them where Cursed spirits, doomed to stay forever chained to this world, while others where simply Immortal. I also found out there were spirits like me. Spirits that only others like me or mortals who believed in our existence could see. We were apparently creations of the Moon, but when I asked Pitch about this he refused to share his backstory with me, so I can only make hesitant assumptions.

So to clear things up, I am a Lunar spirit. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy,  the Leprechaun, and all those jolly fellows are Lunar spirits. We were reincarnated by the Moon.

Wanderers are the deceased spirits who are a little lost and need a little help finding the big Bright Light or whatever. Kind of like mortals who died, then couldn't find their way on to the next life by themselves.

The Forsaken are the spirits who where sort of dead but are still alive like Jack Skellington, Zombies, Frankenstein's Monster (goes by Frank these days simply because it's easier), etcetera, etcetera.

Immortals are a classification all their own, but I'm not getting into that today.

Over the years, Halloween Town turned into a thriving city of the undead, but it just wasn't home to me. After 500 years of being an outcast among my own people, I became... distant; cold even. I found it harder and harder to laugh; harder to find joy in life, harder to keep myself going about life like it was fine when it really wasn't. The Man in the Moon had said that I had a this "glorious purpose" but this just didn't feel like what he meant. I became more and more secluded, turning into less than a ghost; less than a shadow. Jack tried to help, but I felt like I was dragging him down with me, so I distracted him by making a new holiday (can you guess what one I'm talking about?) and put him in charge of it.

It worked beautifully. He became the Pumpkin King, the true ruler of Hallows Eve. A night to honor the dead and scare the bejeezums out of misbehaving little kids. I gave Jack specific instructions not to harm any children in any way then... I left.

Sure I would check up on them every once in a while (I just had to see Vlad's baby boy), but I couldn't bring myself to appear to them. They forgot about me soon enough anyway.

So, by this time you must have a lot of questions. Who am I really? What are these dark powers I keep speaking of? What is my true purpose and intent? Now we're getting down to the knitty-gritty of things, and I'm going to take this opportunity to do a bit a boastful self-promotion.

I am Vera Night. It is my job to find the Wandering spirits of the deceased and lead them on to their afterlives. Where that might be, I do not know. I try not to get too tangled up in the thousands of complicated religions of the world, even if they are pretty fascinating. Unfortunately, many people jump to conclusions about my job and assume that I myself bring or cause death.

This. Is. Not. True.

If I was not around to do what I do, there would be a whole lot more Wandering spirits around here. Some mortals go on to their afterlives by themselves, but I need to be there for the ones who get lost along the way. Most of the time, those lost Wanderers are children.

So no, I am not the Grim Reaper. Yes, I do admit that I went through a strange faze in my life where I walked around wearing a tattered cloak and carried a scythe around with me (simply for protection purposes— you wouldn't believe how many hostile spirits are out there), but I have never killed anyone and I certainly am not a child slayer. Don't ever ask if I am. If you do, I'll never speak to you. and I'll make sure that your nightlight never works again.

I can also manipulate darkness. Not like Pitch, but I can change it. Really to anyone who is not involved in the "Dark Arts", darkness is darkness. You can't see your hand in front of your face, you feel you might have wet your pants, you scream for your mommy, case closed.

I know better. There is a good kind of Darkness too. The kind that brings rest to the world. If the sun was out all the time, the world would burn to a shriveling crisp pretty. Day time creatures would use the brightness to busy themselves with mundane tasks rather than allowing their bodies the peace that comes with dreams and rejuvenation of energy. Nocturnal beings would be forced way out of their comfort zones. Vampires would not exist (no, for heaven's sake they do not sparkle- they start smoking and burning up until they turn into a pile of ashes in a coffin).

Without darkness, you could not see the moon smiling down on you almost every night.

Don't get me wrong, I know very well that Darkness can be used for many evil purposes, but there is such thing Darkness without evil.

Back on topic. Let's see, I can also make minuscule alterations to my appearance, but I don't do it very often because it hurts, takes a lot of concentration, and gives me a headache. I can cast spells of some sorts (simple stuff like conjuring bats and creating lots of fog), and I can fly. You want to know why they called me "The Angel of Death?" Because I look like a freaking Angel of Death.

In addition to an impossibly pale complexion, long black hair, glowing amber eyes, a black cloak (okay, so I still wear a cloak—sue me) and fangs (on occasion), I have two huge beautiful black feathery wings. I have a staggering wingspan of 20 feet across and each and every feather is always preened to perfection. I'm very proud.

So now for the final question. How did dear dark me become Guardian of Life? It's a long story, and I know as well as you do that you want to hear it.

It all started with a little boy named Christopher Robin.

****I DO NOT OWN DREAMWORKS, RISE OF THE GUARDIANS, NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS, DISNEY, WINNIE THE POOH, SLENDERMAN, HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA OR ANYTHING ELSE!!!!! JUST THE STORY PLOT!****

Edited 2/28/19