Jareth followed the servant down the winding hallways of the palace, jotting the turns down to memory, but having too little sense of direction or place to really make anything of the bits and pieces of the map in his mind's eye. Still, he had to keep his eyes open, for escape was imperative. For his own sanity and for the fate of the world.

He was bitter that he had missed the chance to kill Kaleb. But it was just as well. He might have a chance now to escape with Sarah. He looked down at her eyes, swirling black and purple. She was awake but seemed very unaware of what was happening around her.

Finally they reached a bedchamber with high ceilings and a cozy layout. The bedsheets were ebony satin with silver trim, far too luxurious for Sarah's taste. Or perhaps only too luxurious for the woman she used to be.

He laid her gently down on the bed while the servant stood on vigil in the doorway. He watched her sickly face intently, waiting for some sign that she would snap out of her strange stupor. "Wine wouldn't do this to her," he mumbled thoughtfully. "She was perfectly coherent when she called me to dinner."

He looked to her servant, who seemed not to really care about the condition of his queen. "Why are you just standing there?" he demanded. "Send for someone to help her."

"She doesn't want any help," the man replied shortly. "She has episodes like this from time to time. We've been ordered to let her deal with it alone."

Jareth was dumbstruck. What could make her behave this way?

"So what do we do now?" Jareth asked in frustration as he plopped on the bed. "Back to my prison? Or can I at least stay with her to make sure she comes out of it?"

Sarah's minion shrugged his shoulders ambivalently. "You can do whatever you like. It's not as if you'd be able to find a way out." He grinned evilly. "Besides, only the queen and a select few others can access the elevator. And, as I'm sure you've already noticed... there aren't any windows or doors. Just the one on the throne floor."

"You're awfully chatty," Jareth mused aloud with a frown.

"Doesn't matter what I tell you or don't tell you. You have no hope of escaping." He smiled broadly. "Who knows? If she forgets about you long enough, you might disappear forever. That's what happens, after all."

Jareth didn't enjoy the dooming prophecy. And he instantly knew that the man wasn't exaggerating.

"If it doesn't matter, then leave me alone with her."

The man backed off with a strange grin and started to close the doors. "Very well."

Jareth looked down at Sarah. She was watching him carefully, but had not yet moved. There was something strange about the look in her eye, about the way everyone behaved in her castle. It didn't seem real. It felt skewed the way the worst nightmares always felt—never dangerous on the surface, but twisted into a shape that could drive one mad.

"It's a game, isn't it?" he asked coolly, as he rose from the bed. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

She didn't answer, but instead lolled her head around to stare at herself in a mirror in the ceiling.

He was still wound tightly, still on the verge of breaking inside. He had managed enough composure to get him through part of dinner, but he didn't have anything left. His drug trip left disturbing vestiges of flashbacks on the peripherals.

She started to laugh.

It was all he needed to send him over the edge. He pounced onto the bed, grabbing and shaking her with a passion. "This isn't who you are!" She continued to laugh at him, tears streaming from her eyes. "Stop laughing, god dammit!"

She wouldn't stop. The laughter rolled from her belly fervently. He shook and shook her to no avail. Finally he slapped her.

She stopped immediately and looked at him with hateful eyes. He knew he had gone too far, that he was less in control with each moment. He wasn't all there. The part of him that would have stopped his violence dead in its tracks was disappearing. The part of him that cared was fading fast.

He let her go and crept away, moving to a chair that sat against the wall. "I-I... No, I would never dream of hurting you. I'm sorry."

Sarah rose smoothly into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and took him apart with her eyes. "Of course you might dream it. For you've done it. Dreams are reality in this world."

"You've done something to me," he concluded suddenly, the revelation coming just as he spoke it. The words amazed him.

"You've done it to yourself. You and you alone." She stood over him, heavy with mood and power. He could feel the weight of her presence, it carried the weight of every bit of darkness that had clung to her half-self since the worlds merged.

"Nothing but betrayal," she whispered darkly, black smoke rising all around her. The room was disappearing into nothingness. "Even now, nothing but betrayal. But I am stronger than all of you." A smile slithered across her face, and she raised her arms out to her sides, building up the soothing nothingness that would caress her fears, make the anxiety rise to such a pitch that it was no longer something to run away from, but something that could only be embraced.

The dark nightmare magic was heavy as reality, and Jareth felt like he was slipping into a void. He thought about the last two weeks, the tumultuous momentum they had brought into his life after four years of quiet. Just when he thought he had a grip on who he was again, on what his life could be, it had slipped through his fingers, like dark, formless shadows, ghosts of a self.

But in all of this, the woman who stood before him was a beacon, even in her darkness. Her warm, fiery skin burned heat and dying, and his proximity to her made him able to sense the despair, the hatred she felt for those who had stood in the way of her dreams. Most of all, she hated herself, because, at the end, it had been her who had let the dreams be demolished.

As he felt his self slipping away, he did the only thing that he knew to do. He grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her with a ferocity that matched the emptiness in her anger. She was stricken, surprised, distracted from her purpose. The fire fizzled out of her and she fell into the kiss before long, returning it with an animalistic lack of grace. In her frenzy she bit his lip, and he flinched, remembering himself as he pulled his hand away from his mouth to find it oozing blood.

She remembered herself, too, and sent him back to his prison with not so much as a flick of her wrist.

He surveyed his new surroundings without surprise, expecting he had ruined his only chance of escape.

He needed to find a way out, before he lost himself completely. Or before his presence made her forget the entire world.

"No use pityin' yerself, you old sod." Scotty the gnome waved his legs around where he sat on the edge of the bed, his quieter counterpart Fred sloshing around in the water of a half-full sink, taking a much needed bath.

Jareth's eyes shot open to take in the sight of the little man. "Scotty! How did you get in here?"

Scotty snorted. "Like there's anywhere I can't get if I wants to."

"You sneaky little bastard. Is Toby okay?"

"Sure, don't ask after us," Scotty poked. "Yes, he's fine."

"Y'look like death," Fred said as he poked a sleepy head from behind the door of the bathroom.

"He looks like the scruff of the dog's neck," Scotty added.

"Ah, so nice to be insulted after all this time of... oh, wait. No, it's just more of the same." The corner of Jareth's mouth turned down in deprecation of the little man's poor sense of humor. "How did you find me?"

Fred had by now dried himself off with a wash rag and came sloshing into the room, completely naked. He proceeded to rummage through Jareth's old coat. He smiled widely when he found a nickel.

Jareth noticed the activity and crossed his arms. "I see. Always could smell money from a mile away, couldn't you."

Scotty chuckled uncomfortably and put a hand to his chest in mock indignation. "Now, really, your words hurt."

"Not half as much as I'm going to hurt you if you don't find a way to get me out of here." He plopped down on the couch. "Tell me how the others are doing. Did they ever find Sarah?"

"'at they did!" Scotty shouted joyfully as he proceeded to ignore the gravity of the situation and jump on the bed. Soon Fred joined him, but ended up falling over in a drunken heap and belching loudly. He didn't move, but proceeded to fall asleep.

Jareth rolled his eyes. "Tell him to put some clothes on?"

Scotty kicked his friend in the ribs hard, and Fred jumped up with a yelp. He punched him in the nose. "Oy, try'it again you floppy sod!" he belted.

"I'do it twice as hard if'n'ya don't quit flauntin' yer ugly privates," Scotty shot back. "I seen you naked enough in'me life to go blind."

"Yer a dirty ugly mean ole sod," Fred pouted as he proceeded to look for his clothes. "I hate yer green guts."

"N'ya don't, yer just drunk'es usual."

Jareth sighed. "Oh, what a lovely trek down memory lane this has been." He gave the gnomes a knowing look. "Can we get on to more important matters?"

"Maybe," Scotty answered while examining his nails. "First you gotta tell me why you hadda go an'cut yer hair again."

"Don't make me have to strangle you, too," Jareth said, crossing his arms bitterly.

"Just curious!" the little man shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "Suits ya, really."

"Is Sarah well? Has she been found out by anyone?" Jareth was intent, trying his best to ignore the gnomes' usual antics.

"Not that I know of," Scotty said. "She's hidin' out in—"

"Quiet! I don't want to know!" His eyes were frantic. "I'm just glad to know she is well."

"The troupe of witches are helpin' her to plan the war—"

"War?!" Jareth stared at the little man, wide-eyed. "They have declared war against her?"

"Leah, the shadow did so," Scotty replied. "She has access to a lot'o crazy nuts."

"Look, you can't stay long" Jareth said quickly. "I never know when she will come next. Do you know a way out?"

The gnomes looked at each other, then back to him. "I don' think so, not yet. Give us some time."

"Very well, that's more hope than I've had in awhile." He eyed them suspiciously, as if not trusting them to take the task very seriously. "Just don't get caught, I doubt she'd have any trouble in making you two into dinner. She does know who you are, after all."

"Ah, yes," Scotty said, wincing at the thought of being skewered.

##

The hour was late and dinner had been finished for two hours, but that did not stop the camp in the midlands from regular training. Vindar had just finished teaching another group of humans, guinea pigs, and mice some basic lessons in sword fighting and was somewhat worse for the wear. He had been teaching lessons regularly for several days, only breaking for food, water, and brief rest. They were finally beginning to show some improvement, and he had been able to pass some training duties off to other troops, but there was always some void he could fill.

He walked to the front of the bonfire outside of his tent and dipped his metal cup into a keg of water, drinking from it eagerly. It went down cool, washing the sand from his dry throat.

Just as he went for another cup, he saw Isabelle running toward him from across the camp, her brown hair glowing orange in the ambient firelight, her dirty dress flowing behind her. In her eagerness she thrust right into him, grabbing his arm firmly, her eyes afire with excitement. "Oh Vindar," her words rasped out, "you must come, right now!"

"What is it?"

She didn't allow him a moment of delay, forcing him to match her speed, which she managed to keep up despite obvious exhaustion. Once they had reached Sarah's tent she finally let go of his arm, pulling back the curtain so that he could enter ahead of her. A mix of curiosity and confusion swept across his face as he looked to her, then to the group gathered around the mirror. Sarah, Leah, and Granen turned suddenly at Vindar's arrival, a sort of vibrating expectation surrounding them. They stepped away from the mirror to make way for Vindar's approach. He followed their signals and walked closer to the mirror, where his father was reflected, with a smile brighter than any Vindar could recall ever seeing from him. He stepped to the side and made room for a beautiful redheaded woman to stand.

"Vindar, my son, I want you to meet your mother."

##

Claw led Kaleb up the secret staircase that led to the top floor of the palace. In fact, it went all the way up to the ceiling of the top floor, where it seemed to continue on through the concrete above. "I can never remember where the button is," the bird remarked absently as examined the decorative trim on the railing, which was inset with stones.

A purple stone stood out from the rest, more vibrant and dazzling than the others, catching Kaleb's eye. He pressed it and the ceiling melted away.

"Ah, I guess it was rather obvious. Then again, you were always attuned to the more remarkable baubles."

"You're losing your touch, Claw," Kaleb answered in a sarcastic tone.

"This coming from the man who has been chained up for more than a week."

"No thanks to you."

"I was working for our interests all along, Kaleb."

"I should kill myself the day I begin to believe that." The man's soft, black hair fluttered across his face in the brisk winds that weaved through ramparts high over the city. He looked out over the eerie, sparkling lights rolling through Times Square and Broadway and had the urge to take on the wings of the raven and go for a flight, but he couldn't afford to keep Sarah out of his sight for that long. "So, who is it I am to be meeting, Claw?"

"Behind you."

Kaleb turned from his analysis of the city to see a hawkish-looking old man stepping down from the back of a fellwit.

"This is who you can thank for arranging your escape," Claw introduced as he approached the men. "He calls himself Crouch."

Kaleb smirked as he approached Jeremiah, regarding him silently.

"Hello, Kaleb," Jeremiah answered, returning Kaleb's thoughtful glare with a Cheshire grin.

"I know you from somewhere," Kaleb said after some thought.

"Well, I don't think we've met. Are you sure about that?"

Kaleb performed a small hand gesture, which resulted in a shifting of the features of Jeremiah's face—as if a shadow had passed over his countenance. It revealed black, inky skin, glistening maroon eyes, and sharp, yellowed teeth. Even a fleeting glimpse of horns and black wings phased in and out around him.

"Ah, yes." Kaleb nodded. "We met a long time back. My secret benefactor reveals himself."

"My son, you've done well." Jeremiah put a firm hand on Kaleb's shoulder. "How did you know who I was?"

"Your voice. I could never forget that voice. It was the voice that gave me self-awareness. It called to me from the darkness of the caves of the Shadow Mountains and led me to Jareth as he was passing through, so that I might escape. How could I forget the voice of someone who gave me so much?" His tone was sarcastic.

"Stop, you're making me all misty-eyed."

"Very well. What do you want? You've come to claim your debt I'm sure."

Jeremiah smiled evilly. "He who keeps honest about the ways of the world may rule it," he philosophized. "But I am actually here to help you to be rid of Jareth. You have put up with him long enough."

"What do you hope to gain from helping me?" Kaleb asked. "Moreover, why would you wait until now to help me? I have been stuck with Jareth for this many centuries, and I am sure you have had past opportunity to help me."

"This is true. But you do not understand how I have helped to strengthen you from the shadows, Kaleb. I paved the way in the spirit realm for you to turn the amethyst to your purposes. I allowed you to get to this point. I have been the writer of this story all along, and the magic that has built this moment took tremendous crafting on the sidelines. I have been working to your purposes all along." He frowned. "I only regret that I was unable to get a certain spell from Jareth. He says he has memorized it and burned the source, and I wanted to warn you."

Kaleb's mouth turned up smugly as he pulled a folded piece of paper out of his inner pocket. "What, you mean this spell?"

Jeremiah reached out for the piece of paper, and Kaleb slowly handed it over, as if calculating whether or not the man would take it. As the man's fellwit was yards away and completely inattentive, he figured the risk was small.

Jeremiah reviewed the spell and smiled. "This is the spell. Well done, my boy." He handed it back and nodded. "It seems you will need some things to make this work. Can you get a lock of Jareth's hair as it requires? I have word that he is trapped within the castle."

"No, I cannot. Sarah has kept him closely under guard and won't let me near him. I have tried several times and have failed. But I will find a way."

"Very good. I am sure you will." Jeremiah nodded to Ingeborg from across the roof, and she bent low to the ground in preparation for her rider. "Speak my name if you should ever need my assistance," Jeremiah said before turning away. "Our work is near its fruition."

Kaleb nodded solemnly. "We will speak again."

"That we will."

With that, Jeremiah returned to Ingeborg and climbed onto her back.

##

"You were listening, I presume?" Jeremiah asked as they lifted off.

"Naturally. I have the hearing of a cat with the ears of an elephant. So he had the spell?"

"Emphasis on ‘had,'" Jeremiah chuckled. "I swapped it out with a slightly adjusted one. He won't even know the difference."

"But I thought we were on his side," she questioned.

"We're on the side of no one, Darling. I may have a personal attachment to Kaleb, but he is still a despicable, self-centered fool, and as much as I love that in a human, it just begs for a bit of troublemaking."

Ingeborg frowned. "You know, Jeremiah, this may be too much. It is all so out of control, and I am afraid of the havoc you have created."

"Me? We, my love. It is a work of art. Soon there will be no world, the chaos will consume everything and the gods will be forced to start over again. It's beautiful."

"That is precisely my point, Jeremiah. You will create a void and I will cease to exist. As much of an ass as you are, I do not wish to live without you… Or, more to the point, for you to live without me. You may be able to live in a void, but I am flesh and bone."

"Don't you fret, furry frauline. I shall find a way for you."

"So you say, now."

"You worry over nothing."

She sighed. "I worry that you love only yourself," she whispered under her breath, quietly into the night air.