Pitch jerks away from the wall. He stands up. "Why must you hold onto hope? Can't you see that you've lost? Look around you, Elsa! There are no heroes left to save you."

I jump to my feet. "But Jack-"

"Jack is not a hero." Pitch's mocking laughter bounces through my room. "He's barely a guardian. He too is trapped in his own dreams."

"Why are you in my dreams then? Are you even real?"

"As real as Santa Claus is." Pitch rolls his eyes.

"If I can talk to you in my dreams, then maybe there is a way for me to reach Jack too."

Pitch shrugs. "You are forgetting one important detail. Jack is not the King of Nightmares."

My eyes widen. An idea sparks inside me, burning against the darkness of hopelessness. "But you are!"

"Is this news to you?" Pitch raises his eyebrows. "I know that you are already asleep, but I think that you might need to lay down."

I ignore his comment and hold out my hands. "Pitch, you are powerful."

"Yes, I do believe a little rest will do you some good. It isn't normal for a queen to compliment her enemies no matter how true the compliment."

"No, listen to me!" I resist the urge to grab his arm. "If you can somehow step into my dreams, then maybe you can also step into Jack's dreams and take me with you."

Pitch scratches his head. "Uh...Elsa?"

"Don't just dismiss my idea!" I throw my hands up into the air. "You have to consider it. Really think about it. Is it possible?"

"Actually..." The slightest hint of admiration shades his eyes. "You might be onto something."

I smile. There might be a way to escape this prison of dreams!

"Don't look so excited. I didn't say I was going to do it." Pitch folds his arms.

"You have to at least try!"

Pitch shakes his head. "I don't have to do anything."

I step away from him. If I still had my powers, my hands would shaking with anger. But now I am just an ordinary human and nothing I say will change his mind. Pitch turned out to be just as selfish as I thought he was.

I turn my back on him and walk to my window. I press my bare hands against the cool pane of glass.

For the first time in my life, ice does not spread from my fingertips.

Only a few weeks ago, Jack and I sat together in my father's study. He told me to trust him.

And I did. I still do.

Pitch says that Jack is not a hero, but at least Jack is brave and kind. He's smart too. Somehow I know that if I can get to him, we will be able to figure a way out of this mess.

I wish that I could make one last snowflake. One last beautiful reminder of who I used to be.

But when I pull my hands away from the glass, nothing is there-except for the faint impression of my fingers.

The moon shines brightly on the other side of the window.

"I can't believe that the moon would call you to be the King of Nightmares. That doesn't make sense."

Pitch steps next to me. His dim yellow eyes stares out of the window.

"I know that you might not believe me, but the moon did choose me. He told me that my name was Pitch Black and he said that I was the King of Night." Pitch jerks his face away from the window, as if the moonlight burns his skin. "That's all he's ever said."

I nod listlessly. Then I spin around. "Wait, what did you just say?"

He takes a step back. "Huh-"

"What name did the moon give you?"

"Pitch Black."

"No, no, he said that you were the 'King of...'"

"King of Night."

"That's it!" I step towards Pitch. "You aren't the King of Nightmares, you are the King of Night!"

"Is there a difference?"

Inexplicably, tears burn my eyes. "Yes, there is."