Jack Frost had hit the motherload. In his pale hand, the winter guardian held a small, crystal globe, apparently discarded by North’s elves. He tilted it, his blue eyes examining it from every angle. As he did so, the contents shifted, causing a small snow storm within the globe. Over and over again he turned it, inspecting every inch. There was a small crack along the top of the crystal, not quite enough to go all the way though, none of the water was leaking, so it should still be OK right?
One of North’s snow globes would let him pull off an epic prank, Jack was grinning like a jackal just thinking about it. Unknown to Jack, though, the globes’ magic was complicated and fickle; unstable even in the most learned of hands. The white haired spirit could only think of one option, the one place he could never find before: The Warren. Bunnymund was in for the pranking of a lifetime; worse even than the Blizzard of ‘68.
Jack held the cracked globe to his lips.
"The Warren." he whispered. He drew back and threw the globe.
The portal did not act as Jack knew they should. The boy had to shield his eyes, because when the globe vanished, the portal left in its wake flashed purple, then green, and blue, before finally stabilizing. Jack could see The Warren clearly through the other side of the portal, so he gave a small shrug, tugged his staff close to him and jumped through.
He never could have imagined what would greet him on the other side; he never dreamed that the small crack in that globe could do what had been done.