The dim mists of the forest seemed as if they would never clear up, but the forest itself was having second thoughts. The further along the riverbed they walked, the drier and sparser things became—a fact that obviously concerned the Aborigine men, as neither of them had proven familiar with the territory, which meant that the idea of leaving water behind with no notion of where else they would find more water was more than a little disturbing. Along the way they had discussed their plight amongst themselves in their native language, only further explaining their words to the rest of the group when questioned.

Hoggle was getting very tired from all the walking, and had begun to resent the ease with which the two lean dark-skinned men ambled through the mists. They showed no signs of stopping, and the futility of their journey had finally begun to get to Hoggle. "That's it!" he shouted, stopping in place. It took the crew of twelve a little while to realize that Hoggle had stopped, and everyone looked behind in confusion.

"What is it, Hoggle?" Sarah asked.

He gawked as if she were a woman gone mad. His knobby cheeks rolled around and he clenched his fists. "Ain't no one else tired'a walking? We been walking all day! And there ain't a thing in this stupid, desert'a mist to be found! It's a wild goose chase!" He plopped down ungracefully and pouted at them where he sat. "I'm not goin' another step. Whether we walk some more later and chase some more ghosts is all the same to me, but right now, I needs a rest."

Benedick came to his side and kneeled. "C'mon, chap, let's just go a bit more until Albert and Wonggu tell us where to stop, eh?"

Albert and Wonggu had gone pretty far before they realized the group had stopped for more than just a fleeting concern, so they tracked their way back, and looked down at the dwarf with curious eyes.

"I tell yas, this is worse than the damned Labyrinth," Hoggle muttered, crossing his arms. His eyes peeked out from his eyebrows a little uncertainly as everyone stared at him and started chattering amongst themselves. It was obvious that he didn't expect to have to keep performing beyond the initial act of melodrama, and the continued show made him uncomfortable.

"Why you stoppin' in dis place, small man?" Albert asked him. His hair was short and combed back, albeit caked with sand. He pointed down the river. "We keep going some bit longer. Should be a totem that way. Not too far."

Hoggle obviously wasn't prepared to argue with the gentlemen. Frankly, they scared him a little bit. Maybe because he knew deep down they had survived worse than he ever could. Their elegant sun-baked wrinkles impressed upon him their survival instincts, and he grudgingly got up and brushed himself off. "Ain't much further?" he asked with a slanted brow.

Wonggu shook his head. Dust flew from his tight curls. "Come, we find a totem. If not, we stop for camp."

Another half hour passed in walking, and even Sarah had to admit she was getting tired. She ambled up next to Albert. His sharp nose came into profile as she came up on his side. "Albert, why is it so important that we find a totem? Can't we just stop and set up camp somewhere?"

Albert smiled at her mischievously. She couldn't get over how elfin he was. "Would be easier that way, uh?" He looked ahead with purpose and pointed into the distant haze. "In this place, all things exist outta time. No past nor future. Here nor there. But some things stay the same all ‘cross all lands. The totems mark important places, where the world was created, where great battles took place, but most important, where there is water. There is much water here, but there must be greater water. We find the totem marking the water, we can find our way in the Dreaming."

"If it's not here or there, why does it matter if we find a totem or not?"

Wonggu and Albert looked at Sarah peculiarly then nodded in appreciation. "Ah, you know deeper things," Albert remarked. "It is not really important, you are right. But it is really important, too. Because the land is a marking for the journey of the gods. We see it like totems, but when you do not look, it is the gods again, and the mothers and fathers of the land."

Albert seemed to think the explanation was enough, and Sarah was too tired to question him further.

Before long, they came upon an outcropping of rock that formed a makeshift cave. On its side was illustrated a crude snake in white finger paint, no doubt mixed from clay found somewhere near the riverbed. How long ago was a different issue.

Everyone settled down along the river, Benedick shuffling Sage, Sarah, Vindar and Isabelle along into the cave, as there was only room for a few, and the elements weren't so taxing as to make it necessary for everyone to find shelter.

Until it started to suddenly become cool with the passing of what little sun had remained in the sky.

Albert and Wonggu had already begun digging out bowls in the ground to sleep in while everyone else was chattering away. Hoggle especially seemed out of control in the clacking of his teeth. "Where did this blasted cold come from all of a sudden?" he said while trying to warm his arms.

"Desert gets cold at night," Albert said shortly as he dragged his stick through the somewhat moist dirt.

Eepwot shook the cobwebs out of his orange feathers and jumped up. "What's this all about anyway? What're we freezin' our appendages off for, huh?" He bounced off toward a nearby tree and started grabbing dry twigs. He jumped back, threw them on the ground, and, with a flick of his wrist, they were burning nicely. "There!" he shouted with satisfaction.

The aboriginal men seemed impressed. "Neat trick," Albert said with a wide grin.

Benedick and Granen left with Eepwot to find more dry wood for the fire. An uncomfortable silence was sitting over the large group for most of the journey, and it didn't seem close to abating anytime soon.

Isabelle still seemed cold in her silk dress, and Sarah came close to wrap an arm around the young girl. "Hi there," she said in a soft, friendly voice. "Looks like the guys are going to get some more wood. We'll be warm soon."

Mandelbrot took Sage by the arm and into the forest, talking in hushed tones. "I need to broach a topic with you, my friend."

Sage arched a brow at him.

"Considering how Eberon has betrayed his people, and my duty as advisor for the elves, I wanted to discuss with you what to do with the kingdom if and when we return."

Sage looked uncomfortable. "These might be matters to discuss with Eberon. I don't dare risk inciting his childish wrath again. It hurts everyone I am involved with."

Mandelbrot was taken aback by his reaction. "The Sage I know would never talk of loss in the face of honorable actions."

"This is true. But there is a lot at stake."

"I can tell you now, Eberon will not fight us. His will is broken. He knows he has been a fool. I think you should come back into the fold. You can rule at his side, or even… in his place."

"I'm not in search of power," Sage replied with a shake of his head. "I've come to love my wandering life."

"Your people need you, Sage," Mandelbrot answered quietly.

"You do it. Kingship doesn't suit me."

"Things have changed, Sage. The throne has changed, and the needs of the kingdom have changed. Our people need an elf of honor to show them the way. They need something to dream for. Things will be broken, and you are the clever chap to put them back together."

"Let's talk more of this later. I will consider it."

##

Isabelle smiled up at Sarah and gave her a big hug. She didn't know how much her gentle touch comforted Sarah. So many times in the last couple of days had Sarah felt close to falling apart, and now she knew that a good hug would have done a great deal to quell her nervousness.

Vindar came close to his father, watching Sage's eyes as they peered intently upon the unwitting Eberon who had, by now, removed all the jester's paint that the dark image of Sarah had put upon him in mockery. There were still bits of paint smudged over his large eyes.

"Father, it will be alright," Vindar coaxed, putting a hand on his father's shoulder firmly.

Sage was very quiet, filled with loss and bitter anger, but not wishing to draw attention to himself. "The boy is such a fool. He destroys one family after another for his selfish desires."

"He regrets his actions," Vindar said, explaining how Eberon had apologized to him after he had rescued the elf king from Kaleb's castle. "I believe him, Father. He knows he did something terribly wrong by... taking mother away from us."

Sage looked at his son with a deep tenderness and put a slightly wrinkled hand over the boy's. "You amaze me. You have a greater capacity to forgive, yet I am supposed to be the wise one, the one to let go of the past."

"She was your greatest love, Father," Vindar answered somberly as he stole a glance at Isabelle. "I don't know how you can forgive someone for taking that away." Isabelle pretended that she didn't notice Vindar's soft words or gaze, but she blushed brightly all the same.

Sage too noticed Vindar's loving glances and smiled at the boy. He patted him playfully on the cheek. "You're holding the wrong hand. Get over there."

With that, Sage slowly rose and left the haven of the cave.Vindar scooted next to Isabelle and took her hand from her lap. They smiled surely at each other.

Sarah too decided to leave the young lovers to their own devices, and went to stand next to Mandelbrot, who was examining the markings on the side of the cave. Wonggu was explaining to him the mythos of the Rainbow Snake, and how it created the rivers of his land.

"Interesting culture," he said with an intense gaze. "I never thought that magic still really existed Aboveground."

"It does," Sarah replied. "It's just scattered about, and dismissed as foolish myth by those who would rule the world with heartless economics and absolute science."

"Ah, but economics is the domain of any good queen. And you speak of science with such disdain," Mandelbrot commented with surprise. "Science isn't so far from magic. I consider a study of science integral to my own studies with magic." Mandelbrot cocked a brow at her as if reproaching a student.

Sarah laughed shyly. "Oh, trust me, I don't have any disdain for science. Just the scientists who coldly, blindly follow their path as if nothing can exist outside the realm of absolute proof. Just as I don't really like those skilled in the art of magic to show a lack of appreciation for science." She touched the snake drawing, feeling a strange connection to it, something like a vibration under the stone. She dismissed it as nerves. "There was a time when I wished that the two worlds could accept each other, to combine the science and the magic across the board, to realize our full potential."

The thought sunk in. Mandelbrot looked at her carefully as if he also understood the something important had just been uttered.

"Oh no." Sarah's face dropped. "You don't think?"

"Oh, I more than think. I think this is exactly what the fae sisters were talking about when they gave us their warning before we passed through the gatekeeper's portal."
Sarah almost stumbled back to the campfire. The thought sent her head swimming. The Aborigine men remained silent, not wishing to intrude upon whatever emotional state Sarah was experiencing. Mandelbrot sat next to her, then Hoggle.

"What is it, little Missy?" Hoggle asked, in his concern forgetting all decorum in addressing his queen.

"The sisters... they said that something had been combined, and should be torn asunder. I know what they mean, now," Sarah said with a heavy brow. She looked intensely upon Hoggle, the words falling like a great stone from her lips. "My other self has combined Aboveground and Underground. That is why Albert and Wonggu are here. We're in the Mist of Dreams, somewhere on this new world."

Sage had heard her words across from the campfire, where his eyes shot across the flames like hot embers. "What kind of chaos would that create?"

Sarah shook her brown curls from side to side, trancelike.

"All kinds is what I'm guessing," Hoggle remarked with a snort. Sarah looked at him like he had made the most terrible social faux pas. "Um, sorry," he said, beginning to fidget.

Isabelle emerged from the cave, holding her stomach?]-completely clueless to the conversation at hand. "I don't mean to be a bother, but, I'm starving to death. Can't we get some food or something?" The stares that met hers held something heavier than hunger pangs.

Albert and Wonggu, however, were smiling as if this group of crazy adventurers were the best thing that had happened to them in ages. "It's like these soap operas you showed me on your television," Wonggu said to Albert in their native tongue.

Albert nodded appreciatively. "An American soap opera."

##

Damion sat in the mailroom, enraptured with hundreds of envelopes to sort, a million little details to tend. This office, that office, Mr. So and So, Ms. Such and Such, one two three, the envelopes plopped into their plastic bins happily.

He looked up from his work as Fozzie came in the room. He hadn't realized until the intrusion that he had been humming. He stopped awkwardly. "Yes?"

Fozzie fondled his hat nervously, tugged at his tie. "There's gonna be a party, you know, and I came to see if you wanted to join us."

##

Jareth, Jeremiah, Toby, and Sir Didymus arrived at Gail's house without trouble, other than the horrendous traffic that hadn't let up since the two worlds merged. The four climbed the staircase to the fifth floor of a rather cozy, marble-trimmed housing establishment. 503; Jareth turned the key in the lock and was greeted with a spacious, warm condo that probably took up a whole eighth of the floor of the complex. The small foyer opened up into a large living room/dining room combined.

"The lady does have a lovely home," Didymus said in amazement as he stroked a very expensive-looking vase. When he inevitably toppled it over, he pulled a move only equivocated by a football quarterback and caught it, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in relief.

Jareth gave the fox a knowing look, almost startled out of his own wits by Didymus' lack of grace. "I need not remind you, Didymus, that we dare not touch any of Gail's things unless we absolutely have to. I don't think any of us want to be subject to her wrath should any of it get damaged."

Didymus managed to get the vase back up on the table with Toby's help. "I think you are right, Sir," Didymus agreed. "I think I will just stand at the door and keep guard." He ambled abjectly toward the foyer, muttering, "I wish Ambrosius were here," under his breath as he stood at guard. Toby watched him out of the corner of his eye; it wasn't long before the fox fell from his stuff pose, flopping down pitiably into the pose of any dog laying at the door in wait for their master's return. It was very obvious that Didymus' spirits had been so consistently battered that he didn't care if he seemed like an average canine or not, anymore.

The boy would have comforted him, but he knew there were more important matters. While Jeremiah and Jareth looked around, he made a beeline for the other room. He saw the library of books instantly, and was eager to get started on the search for the spell that would help them solve some of their problems.

Jeremiah watched the boy slyly, then motioned to Jareth. "Come, looks like the boy is onto something."

The two men followed Toby into the library.
The library was cozy, books upon books lining the cherry shelving. Most of the books seemed fairly old, with a few modern volumes, such as the colorfully-illustrated "Witch in the City" and small rosy pink volume, "100 Spells for Love." Jareth noted the labeling for this section was "Humor – Or Just Plain Silly."

"Where do we start?" Toby asked with a hearty yawn.

Jareth looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was almost three in the morning. "You, young sir, are going to start with bed."

"Aww, c'mon," Toby pouted. "I'm not tired!" He yawned again in spite of himself. Soon, Jareth and Jeremiah yawned too.

"We all are," Jareth replied. "But only Jeremiah and I have to suffer the night. I promise, we will wake you if we find the spell. We'll have to practice as soon as possible."

Jareth coaxed the boy out of the room with a gentle hand on his back. "Come, we will find the bedroom. I doubt Gail will be needing it tonight."

They found it without trouble. While the library had been a room straight out of Harry Potter's Hogwarts, the rest of the house was decked out in rather modern accoutrements. The bedroom especially had a clean, earthen touch with tan and soil-colored deco. Jareth turned on the adjoining bathroom light for Toby while the boy crawled up onto the high bed and started taking off his shoes.

Jareth looked around the room curiously, greeted with a shelf full of photographs. He picked one up. It was Gail with her guitar, goofing around with a man who looked almost just like Jareth. He inspected it, mesmerized. "I do look just like him."

He noted the rock star apparel and guitar the man held and sneered. "Great, a rock band." He put down the frame and visibly suppressed a shudder.

By the time he turned around, Toby was starting to crawl under the bedspread. Jareth immediately went to help him, holding back the covers, then tucking him in snugly.

"Jareth?"

"Yes?"

Toby's eyes darted shyly around the room. "I wanted to tell you somethin'."

Jareth sat on the edge of the bed expectantly. "Okay."

"I remember everything from when I was a little boy. How you took me to your castle, when you were the unicorn."

Jareth was taken aback. He knew from Sage's stories that Toby had been cleared of those memories the moment he returned Aboveground with Leah. The changes must have released the spell's forgetful grip.

Four years ago, when Jareth had pulled Sarah from her home Aboveground to complete a new quest, and he had still been the Goblin King, Jareth also wooed Toby through the use of a unicorn figurine. Knowing from elfin lore that the key to the amethyst would hide itself in some place special to the pure soul that had embarked on the quest, he had used Toby as insurance for the successful completion of Sarah's quest. The lore changed itself based on the person embarking upon the journey to retrieve the Amethyst—in the case of Sarah, it had made mention of a place where Underground and Aboveground met, that was dear to both brother and sister. There were many such places, at the time when Aboveground and Underground were separate, where the worlds had a tender connection—not so much in the sense that one was a staircase to another, but that where one changed, so did the other. Jareth knew that the key to the Amethyst would only reveal itself in the right location, and Sarah had figured it out on her own. She found the key and rode to the hiding place of the amethyst alone, taking it before he could get it from her.

Which was directly connected to the day's events. But, before he had chased Sarah down to get his hands on the amethyst, he had sent Toby back to his home, with his memory of those days erased.

It seemed that those memories had been unlocked.

"So you remember," Jareth answered after some quiet thought.

Toby nodded. "But don't be sad. I'm not." He smiled up at Jareth. "I know that you were different back then. But, even though you were supposed to be the bad king that Sarah used to tell me stories about, I know you weren't really bad."

Jareth was breathless. The boy's words possessed a sort of forgiveness that Jareth now realized he had been longing for, from Sarah or Toby, for the longest time. "Do you really know that, Toby?" Jareth asked ruefully.

Toby's brown hair flopped as he nodded energetically. "I do. You were never really bad. You just loved Sarah so much you just did some silly things." Toby smiled broadly. "My sister did lotsa dumb things for boys when she was younger. It was kinda like that."

A snort surprised its way out of Jareth's throat. "It was a little more complicated than that, but—"

"Not really," Toby said. "You were just trying to make Sarah pay attention." He bent over and whispered confidentially, "She was never good at paying attention."

Jareth began laughing raucously, then bent over to hug the boy. "You are quite a wonder, Toby." He tucked in the last bits of the comforter and ruffled his hair. "I'm glad we had this talk."

Toby had seemed to overcome his shyness, and was sleepily proud of himself. Jareth smiled at him from the doorway. "Good night."

"'night!" Toby snuggled up into the blankets. Jareth closed the door behind him, and didn't see the smile fall from the boy's face as thoughts of worry for his sister crowded into his brain.

He wasn't sure exactly where he had learned that it was important to put on a brave face for other people. Sarah had always done that, and, now he realized, so had Leah.

It was hard for him to grasp that Sarah had sort of been lying to him for four years. But, then, he wasn't really all that mad. She had to do it, he reminded himself. She had important things to do. And Leah was almost like her, I think. We always had fun after... Sarah was gone.

He was still a little saddened. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that all the filial piety that had existed over the last four years was because another person had stepped into the picture. Sarah had left Toby behind again to be queen over a magical land, and she hadn't taken him with her.

He wasn't all that mad, but he still felt left out. And who exactly was Leah? Why did she even care about him? They had said that Leah was Sarah's shadow. What did that mean? Was it like Peter Pan? Was Leah even a real person? Did Sarah just make her up to get Toby off her back?

Toby soon dropped off to sleep, despite his troubled thoughts. Sir Didymus snuck in, taking guard at the foot of the boy's bed. "I know I can't do anything right, Master Tobias," Didymus mumbled sadly as he looked to the boy, "but I will fight to the death to protect thee."

Toby heard the fox's words, even though he himself was still asleep. Dreamily, he replied, "Thanks."

The fox smiled a toothy canine grin in spite of himself.

"Always wanted a dog," the boy mumbled.

Sir Didymus had never been complimented by those words before. Perhaps he wasn't the common dog, but at least it was nice to be wanted. He stood sternly at attention, his staff before him. He looked the part of a true knight.

Rattlebeak flew in through a crack in the door and settled on the pillow next to the sleeping boy.

##

Gail seemed to have more of the cleaning bug than her friend Marlena. The kitchen was spacious and spotless, with green herbs in ceramic pots hanging from the cupboards for easy access. Jareth walked in genteely, his cool face not belying the emotions struggling under the surface. He rummaged through all the cupboards in search of a cup. On the fifth try, he pulled a cobalt blue tumbler from a shelf, then went to the sink to fill it with water. He was still awkward with plumbing Aboveground, and it took him a few moments to get the lever in the right direction for cold water. He put his cup under the water for collection and, instead of water, sludge filled his cup. He gave the faucet a look of complete disgust before turning it off.

He decided to try the refrigerator. When he opened it, he was greeted by shelf after shelf of food—and creatures. It looked like an army of hamsters had infiltrated by means of a roughly-chewed hole in the back of the machine, and were happily feasting on a variety of leftovers. They stopped mid-chew to look at him disdainfully.

"Would you mind, we're having dinner here," a buck-toothed rodent remarked.

Jareth doubled the efficacy of his earlier look of disgust, where it now qualified as a look of murderous intent. "Well, of course I wouldn't dream of interrupting." He slammed the door with no lack of frustration.

Then he noticed there was a water dispensing device on the front of the refrigerator, gathered another tumbler, and managed to find the correct button for water only after getting pelted with ice. He filled the cup without further incident, sniffed the water to make sure it was healthy to drink, then took a large swig that was only half as satisfying as it would have been had he been able to get it without trouble in the first place.

He drifted aimlessly into the studio that adjoined the kitchen. It was pitch dark, except for the light that streamed in through the doorway from the other room. The angles of the doorways lined up in such a way that a slice of the library was visible. He could see Jeremiah bent over a heavy book on the desk, and, in the silence, his frustrated grumbling traveled throughout the house. The older man slammed the book shut and slid another volume over, opening and flipping through it with a total lack of grace.

It could have been that the old man was in a hurry, but Jareth never remebered him to be so rash. Whenever anyone was around Jeremiah he put on the expected face of the sagely old man. But it appeared to Jareth that, when he was left alone, his true face emerged.

He was looking for something, but Jareth really wondered if it was the same thing for which Jareth was looking. Something told him that he was really trying to find a new cage for Jareth, that he never felt his student had paid adequately for thwarting the wishes of his master. The suffering Jareth experienced was greater than any he felt he deserved. It had indeed taught him a number of lessons, but it had completely stripped him of a joyful life. Jareth found a saving grace in the deep eyes of his beloved Sarah—he felt sparked anew with a will to live. He had satisfied himself until then with toying with lives for amusement, wrecking homes, doing all the dastardly things one does when one has lost hope for living.

This was the real lesson Jeremiah had taught him by trapping him in that castle with goblins for several decades. That a rat in a cage can only find amusement by tormenting his fellow rats. Jareth was the head rat, the one who had found the cheese and stashed it in his treasury to taunt the other rats. There was nothing else to do. Goblin jokes only amused other goblins. He was a king over a race he could not understand or respect.

Sarah had taught him a new lesson. He knew how his affection for the woman looked on the outside. How ridiculous he was. She had crossed his path at the tender age of sixteen, and even in the beginning he found her alluring, even though she was too nieve to appreciate the affections of an older man. He had felt attached to her from the very beginning, spotting her as he flew over the lands above as he often did for brief amusement. Weekend after weekend she would go to the park near her house and practice the lines from different plays her mother had sent her. He watched her constantly, enchanted, for he had seen very few girls in his journeys that had been so enamored with worlds of fantasy at that age. Often their walls were plastered with posters of teenage pop icons and movie stars, and they flailed around on their beds in their little meaningless universes on the phone with friends, discussing crushes and clothing. Not to say that Jareth only watched teenagers hopefully for someone to toy with, for there were plenty of adults ready to make a deal with the Goblin King to rid themselves of some annoying co-worker, sibling, or lawyer. These cases were more infrequent, though, since most adults had lost touch with a belief in beings of magic, and didn't usually seek magic—let alone a man like the Goblin King—for recourse.

But adolescents did have something that neither adults nor young children had—a remaining belief in magic combined with an impatient and often petulant desire to rid themselves of some person who troubled them. They were the most fertile ground for kidnappings, and they almost always had some baby sibling they were itching to be rid of. He would give them some kind of inspiration to make a wish to ask his assistance in becoming rid of the sibling; sometimes it was a flash of something on television, or a slip of paper tucked under their door, a story, a dream. He had to give them the idea somehow, but it was entirely their choosing to utilize his services in getting rid of the person in question. Jareth doubted Sarah had ever considered the depth of his diabolical actions prior to his experience with her. She probably would have despised him much more deeply had she known. So would have Toby.

Jareth had been quite an evil man, with Kaleb's help. His hunger to taunt and toy with people could never be sated. It was an elaborate game, and he constantly sought pawns to play. Sometimes people would regret their decision, as Sarah had, not realizing in the world of magic that the intent is just as bad as the action. Some would journey his Labyrinth, but many gave up quickly, not creative enough to find a way around the obstacles, unwilling to bend their thinking to the new laws of his playground. Underwritten in their failure was that they too would become goblins, and thus he had many goblins who were unwittingly related to one another. This wasn't entirely his choosing, for it was his curse that anyone he brought to stay in his Labyrinth for more than thirteen hours would be transformed, unless they had solved the labyrinth. Sometimes he could make the time stretch and re-order itself, but it would always sap a great deal of his power to do such a thing.

He had changed the rules for Sarah. He did reorder time, because, deep down, he wanted her to win. He felt tied inexorably to her from the moment he flew into her magical grove. Something in him knew that it was she who had created him, like he was just a dream from her fertile imagination. Though he knew he had lived much longer than her, he knew also that time is meaningless in the mystical gates of the fae, and that such a thing was very possible. Perhaps, even, they had created one another. It had taken him nine years to be able to verbalize the sensation he had felt when first seeing her, but now he knew that what had happened was that he had found his soul mate. His long life had brought him to strange places and opened up deep channels in his spirit, places of understanding that few were able to tap. He had been to the edge of the gateway into the world of fae, having some fae blood via a great-grandfather on his mother's side. Sometimes still, despite the loss of his power, he could sense large powers at work, could unravel a bit of the mystical fabric of the universe for his own perusal.

Sarah was deeply connected to this fabric. He had always assumed that the connection was just to him, but now he knew that the only way she would have been able to pull off the merging of the worlds would be if she was connected more intimately to the fabric of the universe. Perhaps she was a reincarnated being of great power, completely unwitting to her own roots. While Jareth suspected she created him, he did not think he was her slave, but that she had blown a breath of life on his soul in her dreams.

One day in the Dark Ages of men Aboveground, a cleric from a small monastery in Scotland called Jareth to him, asking to have one of his brothers to be taken away. Jareth appeared to find the young cleric all alone, the brother in question non-existent.

Jareth remembered the day with a smile, the young man's cleverness still imprinted on his mind.

"Well, here I am," Jareth had said with a playful smile, in perfect Gaelic.

The young cleric gaped at him from over the codec he had been illuminating. "You're real!" he whispered, carelessly dripping red ink all over the Celtic knots on the page. He dropped the pen, destroying many days worth of work.

"It would seem that way," Jareth replied coyly. "I am here to help you with a troublesome cleric?"

The young man stuttered, trying to find his voice, "I, uh, I lied. There are no brothers troubling me at this time. The one I named does not exist."

Jareth was intrigued. "I knew lying monks existed, but you are the first I have met personally."

The monk was hypnotized by Jareth's apparel, which was more elaborate than any nobleman he had seen ride past his monastery. "Are you the dark angel?"

"What, Lucifer?" Jareth let out an intimidating chuckle. "He spends more time whispering into ears than darkening doorsteps." Jareth casually walked around the room, analyzing various open manuscripts and admiring the detail of the illustrations. One illustrated the angel Lucifer falling from the sky into the fires of Hell. "Ah, Lucifer, poor misunderstood soul."

The monk watched from afar, too nervous to offer speech to the mysterious man that had flown into his quiet, damp cloister.

Jareth spun on his heel and looked carefully at the man. The monk looked like he thought the Goblin King's mere glare would make him disappear in a puff of smoke.

"What shall we do with you?" Jareth asked with a glint of mischief in his eye. "So, do you wish to become a goblin, my good Brother Gimley?"

The monk, though shy, seemed just as sparked by the words of the Goblin King as he was intimidated. "Not necessarily. I was just calling you to test the words of the old bard who told me about you."

"Oh yes, William the Bard. We did have an... exchange."

"I didn't believe him. I thought he was surely possessed by the Devil to be saying such things," Brother Gimley said, overcoming his shyness and becoming increasingly excited over the results of his wish. "But he obviously wasn't. I always knew there was more to the world than the Lord's book."

"Well, you were right, weren't you?" Jareth remarked with a smile. He was starting to like this boy. It brought a little glimmer of genuine respect out of his increasingly darkening opinion of humanity Aboveground. "What do you propose we do, now, Gimley? You don't wish to be a goblin, but I must have someone to take with me. Shall you find a brother who you do indeed find distasteful, and have me take him off your hands?" The corner of his mouth turned up slyly. Jareth was very curious about what the young man's answer would be.

Brother Gimley wrung his ink-stained hands in turmoil. "I could never do such a thing. Is there any other option?"

"Well, you could travel through my Labyrinth, and should you unravel its mystery, I will render you free of your debt. However, should you become lost in the time allotted, you will be doomed to remain in my castle as a goblin."

Brother Gimley looked down at the maze of Celtic knots on the illuminated page of the Bible he had been copying, and a large smile spread on his face. "A labyrinth, you say? Well, then, I accept your challenge."

##

Brother Gimley solved the Labyrinth in half the time he was given. Jareth threw many obstacles in his path in an attempt to make a challenge suitable for the imaginative young cleric, but nothing seemed to phase him. Usually Jareth knew more about those who traveled his labyrinth, but Brother Gimley had come out of nowhere to Jareth, through word of mouth, and he therefore had too little knowledge to use as a means for increasing the challenge. He was sure, however, that Gimley would have solved the labyrinth nonetheless.

When it was time to send the man back to his cloister, Gimley bowed down before Jareth and begged to stay.

"As a goblin?" Jareth inquired, surprised.

"No, in the lands beyond your kingdom," he said, looking out the window. "Just as there was more to life than the cloister, I know there is more to this world than your labyrinth. I wish to stay here, I've never felt more at home."

Jareth looked at the man in amazement. There was no reason he could not have his wish, for he had succeeded in averting the curse by solving the labyrinth. Usually Jareth would use such an incident as a means to gain more power over a person, forcing them to indebt themselves to him for such a transaction, but he was enchanted by the young monk with the fertile imagination.

"Certainly. Normally I charge, but you can consider it payment for convincing me of the necessity of making my labyrinth more difficult."

Brother Gimley chose to live in the Valley of the Worjamonga in the East, the stomping grounds of a rare gazelle-like beast that had the same mystical rareness of the Unicorn. Jareth had heard legends since then that Gimley had become known as the only man who could call the Worjamonga, and had created a small village inhabited by other Abovegrounders who had accidentally stumbled upon portals, and could not return. He even started his own family. Some of them found ways to return Aboveground, including his first son. For his son, Aboveground was the mystery to be explored, as Underground had been for Gimley. The boy settled in Germany eventually, where he became good friends with the famous Brothers Grimm, and wrote his own tale of a King of Goblins who lived in the center of a labyrinth in the world Underground.

In the twentieth century a playwright came across this tale and converted it into a play, unbeknownst sometime for Jareth. The circumstances under which he discovered the play were rather extraodinary, as the playwright had never found publication for this little red volume, nor had found a stage willing to perform it.

Jareth found it one day sitting on a desk in one of his studies. He wasn't sure how it had gotten there. It faithfully rendered the tale that was to be Sarah's first journey to the labyrinth.

The written word had a funny little personality of its own in Jareth's realm. It was a sort of case of the chicken and the egg. Sometimes words made things happen, like self-fulfilling prophecies. Sometimes words were written after things had happened. But very rarely were words carelessly jotted down Underground. They had a funny way of making themselves manifest. That is why books were carefully guarded by those who could keep their mischief at bay, like Hoggle's father, the Bookkeeper. Words had consequences. There were some Aboveground who believed that their lives were too unreal to be anything but the work of a mischievous author, and most of those individuals were probably right.

For Jareth to find this volume sitting on his desk, as if carelessly left there, was anything but a happenstance occasion. Jareth immediately read the little book, fearing the worst. He was perplexed greatly by the story's existence, until he came across Sarah in the little glade on the east coast of America. He knew what he was supposed to do.

Jareth always suspected in the back of his mind that Sarah had indeed imagined the book into existence, had called some spirit to create a fairy tale for her to act out. In this way he felt like she had created him, that he was meant as the perfect villain to test her psyche. Were he born Aboveground, such notions might seem to him simple whimsy, but he knew better. Stranger things had happened.

He supposed he could have kept the book, but he wanted to see how the predestined story would play out. He might have known how it ended, but the book was remarkable in that no ending had been written. Like most readers, he had to know how the book ended, and it seemed that it would only come about by playing the game. So he wrapped the little book up in brown paper and sent it by carrier to Sarah's house. On the inside cover he inscribed, "To Sarah—All my love, Mom."

After that he watched month after month as she rehearsed the lines of the tale, filled with a combined obsession for the story and her devotion to her biological mother. Jareth waited patiently for the girl to call him, and was ready for her on that day. He had kept his own copy of the volume, as well, and had memorized it by then. He was to offer the girl her dreams in return for the baby. She would travel his labyrinth, and would probably win.

And Sarah did beat his labyrinth. He waited for her in graceful expectation, trying to hide his anxiety over the conclusion. Over the time he had watched her, Jareth had indeed fallen in love with her. He knew that she had always seen the end of the book, though he had not. It would be a declaration of freedom, a denial of him. He knew this, but his own volume had remained unwritten, and thus he hoped beyond hope that she would see the spark in him that he saw in her. But she was young, and had a different journey. Though he knew by then what the ending was to be, he was still shocked when she told him to take his dreams back and return her brother.

Had she done any less, she would not have been the woman he loved to this day.

So he had been a fool, and fallen in love with a young girl. Over the five years after her first journey, Jareth had become increasingly despondent, denying to himself that he had ever loved her. The more withdrawn he became, the more Kaleb took over. He found himself acting more rashly than ever before, more willing to go to dire extremes. He became obsessed with the amethyst, and studied endlessly to find a way to gain access to its powers. It was at this moment when he found an excuse to bring Sarah back into the picture.

Every time she encountered him, she seemed surprised, and it had always amused Jareth, for he had always been in the background. Humans Aboveground were always amazed when encountered by beings of other realms, and though many of them would admit to believing in some sort of deity watching over them, they always yelped with surprise when confronted by beings of that other realm. Didn't they know that there were many spirits and beings watching them the way Jareth had watched Sarah? They said they did, but their constant surprise revealed their true beliefs.

Sarah's second journey led to Jareth's transformation back to his true self, and to Sarah's permanent residency Underground. The little red book called The Labyrinth had led to a lot more than its own story. Its story continued to unfold invisibly, leading to this moment in time where it was time for Jareth to save Sarah. He felt to blame, but he also felt inexorably tied to fate, or perhaps tied to the mischievous soul writing the story they were living at that moment.

It was no use trying to question the source of the circumstances, because the possible sources were too numerous to even consider. Jareth decided to return to the old theory that he was a stupid fool who had consistently brought on trouble to others all throughout his life. He was paying in spades, having to watch the slow disintegration of the one woman he loved more than anyone in all his life. Yesterday she hated him, and today she was out of reach. And like her, he was doomed by his connection to Kaleb. The man had changed him long ago, and now, knowing his biggest weakness, he had changed Sarah. He would kill the man, if it weren't for the fact that their connection would cause him to die in the process. It wasn't so much that he worried over his own life, because if he thought he could end Sarah's misery through his own suicide, he would do it instantly. However, were he to die, he might not be able to help unravel the mess that Kaleb had begun. The evil magic of any sorcerer did not die with them—it usually required the cooperation of the caster to undo.

##

The thoughts were intense, but remembered within a matter of minutes. Jareth looked down at his water, almost completely forgotten. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, where he saw several guitars and amps spread about. Jeremiah was still rummaging through books, a constant wrinkled reminder of Jareth's stupidity.

A whole lifetime of mistakes sat in Jareth's brain like dead weight, and he sank deeper into the chair. He was lonely. How many years had he coveted the woman who now must be his enemy, as he had been hers at one time? How long was he to go on in unrequited love? He felt blown about in a vortex of chaos and mischief, and he felt bitterly angry at himself and whatever deity had chosen to place such unfair challenges in his path.

'I know that you were different back then. But, even though you were supposed to be the bad king that Sarah used to tell me stories about, I know you weren't really bad.' Jareth remembered Toby's words with a heavy heart. The look of complete innocence on the boy's face came to mind, and filled Jareth with deep sadness. The boy had no concept of what Jareth had actually done. While Toby had meant to console Jareth with his words, it had only served to put a mirror in front of his eyes. All men started in the world with innocent eyes, and it was their own fault when that innocent vision was lost.

It meant a great deal to Jareth that the boy would try so hard to absolve an old, foolish man of his sins. Jareth was amazed at how flattered he was by the little boy's approval. And, yet, it filled him with a deeper sorrow, a sorrow for all things he had lost. He had lost the innocence that Toby took for granted. He had lost his chance to find love with Sarah. He had squandered a lifetime.

His eyes watered, and he felt tears falling from his eyes in small drops. His chest tightened in the grips of his sorrow. He hadn't cried in over twenty years. Never had he been filled with enough remorse to warrant tears, nor had he been one for self pity.

He dropped his head into his hands and let the tears fall. His sobs were quiet, but pained.

It wasn't all too surprising to Jareth when Jeremiah took this awkward moment to stick his head into the door and address him. "Jareth, what are you doing? We have work."

Jareth looked up at the old man, bitterly angry to be caught by him in a moment of such vulnerability. The silence creaked as Jeremiah noted the tears on Jareth's face. Noted them, then moved toward the study. "Come," he said with his back turned. "We don't have time."

Jareth rose slowly, bitter on more levels than he could register. It was at that moment when Jareth knew beyond a doubt that he needed to keep a close eye on his former master. The coldness he saw in Jeremiah's eyes registered more than dedication to an important task.

The former Goblin King pulled a handkerchief from his pockets and dried his eyes, then went to join Jeremiah in the study. First he would find the spell to separate Kaleb and himself, then he would tend to the task of finding out what Jeremiah was really here to do. As they found their seats in the small library, Jeremiah took on a cool calm that he had not possessed earlier while Jareth had watched him from the studio.

Jareth just as coolly opened a book for perusal, but under the surface he was seething with troubling questions over how exactly Jeremiah was involved in the goings on of the last days.

He had a whole evening ahead of him to confront the man with sneaky conversation. For the moment he contented himself with the daunting task of finding the perfect spell to solve all their troubles.

Before he could read a line, Jeremiah broke the silence. "We've got a very big problem."

Jareth looked at him quizzically.

"Go ahead, read the first line of your book."

Jareth looked down at the volume with dread. "Eepnay, bozlqyat nizwhat peggle dekot do." He looked back up at his teacher. "What language is this?"

"My experience would suggest gibberish," Jeremiah said with dark sarcasm.

Jareth looked over the desk to all the books Jeremiah had opened. They all were filled with the same nonsensical words. Like the faucet in the kitchen, they had been rendered useless.

"Lovely," Jareth blurted acidly.

##

Claw wandered the streets of the city, on his way to the base camp of the army, looking out for suspicious activity. He noticed something moving in against the brick walls. It was a bit of shadow. The darkness crawled up the red brick and onto a ledge, where it made the shape of a raven.

"She's looking for enemies," it squawked. "She knows the queen is coming for her."

Claw nodded at the bird then waved him off with his wing. It melted back into the shadows and went on its way.