Chapter One
* * * * * * * * "There's no time for us. There's no place for us. What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet tips away from us?" * * * * * * * *
"Jareth!" the voice was insistent, though so very weak.
It followed him as he awakened from the dream, the one that had plagued his mind for three long months already, and had driven quite a few hours of sleep away over the course of that time. However, still he continued to push aside the unnerving pictures that his imagination produced, when he dwelled on the strange nightmares for too long.
This time, he awakened with that voice echoing through the simple room, as if someone had been beside him, ready to speak to him. Jareth wiped a shaking hand across his face, drawing off fine beads of sweat that had formed during the duration of the night.
It would have been all right, and perhaps he would have even ignored this one as he had done with countless other strange experiences that presented themselves so very often as of lately. However, there had been something about the voice that was familiar, and yet he could not place it. Jareth knew that one day it would come to him, but as he laid in the sweaty, uncomfortable bed the answer evaded his tired mind.
"Sarah?" Jareth asked carefully, glancing over to the other side of the bed, mostly due to instinct.
He had known already that she was not there. She could not sleep beside him anymore with the constant fits of tossing and turning, and the sudden yells that would burst from him in the midst of a certain horrid aspect of the nightmare. She would be in the nursery, though it could not rightly be called that still. Their baby was nearly six, and approaching his first year in school. The nursery would now, and forever, be labeled as a mere room.
With a deep, drawn out sigh, Jareth rose to shaking legs and managed to stretch out a few of the kinks that had formed over the restless night. Still he placed a warm smile on his face to mask the tired, and worried gleam that he knew she would see in his eyes. Sarah never missed anything.
Already the voice was gnawing at his mind, trying to reach into the black depths that the memory had plummeted into since the last time he had experienced it. Yet, all he received for his pains taken to recall all that was forgotten, was a glimpse of something silver, and liquid in its movements. It was nothing that would aid him in the strange mystery concerning the vaguely familiar voice.
"Sarah?" Jareth asked again, this time directing his voice downstairs, wondering if perhaps she had already opened the shop a bit early that morning.
There was no sound, and no light downstairs to welcome customers to their friendly little antique shop. Jareth casually rubbed a hand across his face, hoping for better times to come. Yet, it almost felt as if a foreboding air had surrounded their humble home, choking off the oxygen along with any pleasant thoughts that could possibly attempt to survive amidst all the threatening feelings.
He shivered despite himself and hurried to their son's room. He could not shake the strange sensation of dread that was very nearly overwhelming in its poignancy. The otherworldly fear rose in his stomach, and bristled the hairs along the back of his neck. Once again a shiver worked its way down his spine, even though the hallway was quite warm, especially for early spring.
"Sarah?" he asked a final time, just outside the door.
Jareth did not wish to wake them, nor did he wish to worry his love with menial things such as his dreams. Nonetheless, he felt he must see them, if only to assure himself that his family was safe and well, even if they were still sleeping soundly.
Sleeping soundly.... That was one thing he had not been able to even wish for for quite some time. If he managed to achieve a light, fitful rest, then he would consider himself lucky. Jareth only dreaded the time when he would lay awake for hours, thinking about the dreams that would come, and find himself unable to sleep even for the shortest amount of minutes.
He touched the door, just enough to allow himself a crack to peer through at the two. Jareth's heart soared at the sight that he beheld. It was true beauty that he witnessed every time he gazed into Sarah's ever youthful face. She was even more radiant with the motherly gleam in her tender chocolate eyes, as she cared for the baby.
They laid together, on their son's small bed. Sarah herself was curled almost in a fetal position, her arms wrapped around the boy's body. His angelic face was cuddled into her rich hair, which she had cut, only recently, to shoulder length. Jareth smiled at the purity that surrounded them, the perfection that they created when asleep, and nearly felt as if he would weep at the happiness that had finally been bestowed upon him.
"Jareth!" he heard the voice, but only in the deepest recesses of his troubled mind.
He could not rid himself of the sound, nor of the urgency that was hidden beneath the simple utterance of his name. Something was horribly wrong, but what that something was evaded him. Jareth did not know if he would ever answer the strange call he felt every night, but the sight of Sarah and his child discouraged him from ever trying it. He did not want to be drawn away from this life, no matter the consequences he might be forced to face nightly.
"Sleep soundly," he whispered.
Jareth carefully shut the silent door, and then leaned against the wall beside the room. He had much to think about, and even more to worry about. The dreams would never leave, but the voice could perhaps be driven away by sheer willpower. He had so much to live for, and nothing to win should he drive himself crazy with the pointless worries and fears that circled his mind.
Still, even as he decided to push aside the pestering thoughts, Jareth found himself helpless to not dwell upon the voice, and what it wanted so urgently. He could not rid himself of the sound, and the way it struck a deep memory, that had become clouded over through the years. Time had a way of doing that. Time could undo many things, and cover many others with sands of forgetfulness. Time, that was the name of the enemy, and that was the name of his greatest fear.
* * * * * * * *
Sarah opened her eyes slowly at the sound of her name that she heard somewhere between sleeping and waking. She expected him to be there, in the room, smiling at her as he always did when she tended to oversleep. However, she saw no one, save her son who still slept cradled in her arms. His gentle rhythmic breathing brushed against her face and sent a warm smile to her mouth. Any worries that might have surfaced were quickly pushed aside at the sight of her son.
"Already six?" she asked herself silently as she gazed at his tender little face.
Sarah carefully removed one arm from about his back and touched his tiny, freckled nose. A overjoyed smile broke onto his face and he swatted her hand away with a playful laugh. She returned his laughter with her own and hugged him fiercely, as Jareth often did upon returning home after some business with other antique dealers.
He opened his bright sapphire eyes and gazed up at Sarah with pure adoration and love. Sarah ruffled his golden hair tenderly and then rose from the bed. Her son only laughed a bit more and readied himself to attack her for rubbing his hair. Yet, the time for fun had passed and Sarah quickly rose to her feet and looked down at the grinning child.
"Tommy, there is a time for everything. Now get changed and don't be late for breakfast," she stated and then kissed him on his forehead.
Thomas proceeded to wipe at the place she kissed and then smiled sheepishly at Sarah. She only threw her hands up and opened the door, giving her son a single stern glance, that was entirely laced with a happy teasing grin. She then closed the door behind herself and prayed that he would not become distracted as he very often did.
Sarah allowed the door to return to its frame of its own accord, and turned to hurry into her room, in order to change out of her sweats she had worn to bed the night prior. She stopped in mid stride and gasped, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle the yelp that very nearly flew forth anyway. Her eyes widened and she almost jumped back out of pure startle.
"Jareth! You-you frightened me!" she declared with a deep breath.
Jareth only smiled at his wife and then took her hand from before her trembling lips. His palms caressed her skin, as he had done ever since they had been married and even before that. The magic she had always felt surrounding him was dulled, and had gradually weakened over the years that he had been away from the Underground.
He kissed her hand and then led her from the hallway. Sarah's shock gradually dissipated and she managed a warm, yet entirely suspicious, smile. She never knew what to expect from her King, for she still thought of him as such, no matter where he reigned. He opened their door and then closed it after she had walked within the room that she had not slept in for weeks.
"Has it been that bad?" Jareth questioned ever so gently as he rubbed her hands tenderly with his own.
Sarah was puzzled for a brief time by his mysterious inquiry. However, it came to her mind quickly. What else was there that would worry him, or concern him as this subject obviously did. She had left their bed in order to sleep. She had not even attempted to hide from the fact that his tossing and turning had kept her up, and she could not handle it.
Sarah nodded gravely, if not with a touch of embarrassment as well. She had always adored to fall asleep in Jareth's arms, as if encircled in magic. Yet, now she had left for a bed far too small, in a child's room. Jareth could very well decide for himself that it had been bad, if Sarah had been forced to do all that in order to receive some form of slumber.
"I fear that I must do something shortly," Jareth remarked, his tone unusually serious and almost frightened.
Sarah immediately shook her head and jerked her hands from his. She placed them around his body and hugged him with all the love she felt for him. Jareth allowed it, but still did not relax his stiffened body. He merely waited for her to move away and then stared deeply into her eyes.
Sarah shook her head with a strange abrupt nature that she had not truly allowed out for some time. Her stubbornness had never left, but rather decided to hibernate for a few years as she tried out different attitudes. Now she was determined not to allow any crazy ideas to enter Jareth's mind. He was simply having nightmares, and they could be cured without doing anything that he might have decided to do.
"We'll bring you to a doctor, if worse comes to worse. Right now I want us to have a normal life, and be a family. Please, Jareth," she begged, gazing at him with hope and pleading.
Jareth could not deny her a thing. He relented with a sigh and then offered Sarah another smile. It held more of his true nature, teasing and mischievous. She rolled her eyes and rose from the bed, ready to change and begin breakfast. After all, she expected quite a bit of customers for the big sale planned for the antique shop.
She searched through her packed closet, moving aside blouses, jeans, dresses. As she rummaged through them, Jareth grabbed her about the waist and laid his head against her silken hair. Sarah gasped a bit, but then reached back and stroked his face with a single tender hand.
"I wish only to fix it, so that you are not off sleeping in another man's bed," Jareth chided as he kissed her cheek with a gentleness she had grown to adore in her husband.
Sarah only laughed at his joke and playfully fought her way out of his grasp. She turned and looked at her love, and swatted him with the shirt she had found in the mass of other clothes. Sarah then covered her mouth with the sleeve as she fought back a wave of uncontrollable giggles.
"You, sir, should not be so certain I wish to return to your arms. Why, just today that lovely young man allowed me to kiss him," Sarah remarked and turned back around to fish through the rest of her closet for something else to match what she now held in one hand.
Jareth stepped away and then casually walked out of the door, leaving Sarah alone to finish readying herself for the day that laid ahead of all of them. It was sure to be busy in the store, and what with running around taking care of Thomas, they would have their hands full. She would soon find herself flustered and quite disorganized. He decided that she could at least start the day in some semblance of order.
Yet, the moment he left the room and shut the door behind himself, his head swam with dizziness. Jareth stumbled backwards and slammed against the wall, nearly collapsing to the floor in the progress. Sarah gasped in her room, and nearby he could vaguely hear Tommy's footsteps rush out to the small hallway.
"Daddy!" his son's scream cut through the air as he rushed over to his gasping father.
Jareth did not hear anymore. He only heard the strange, almost familiar voice in his mind. It repeated the same word again and again, and that one word drove straight into his soul. His heart felt as if it was covered with ice, and his mind drugged and slower than normal.
"Trouble," the voice struggled over and over in his mind.
Sarah touched his shoulder, and he could almost feel it, though he knew not who was beside him. He felt like he had been taken out of his home, taken from his family and into some strange oblivion where only he and that voice existed. Yet, he did not fight. He chose to listen to the voice, knowing that this was the only way the endless nightmares would cease. They were trying to tell him something.
Then his mind cleared, and he blinked his wild mis-matched eyes in shock over the whole experience. He could not believe, and so only managed to mutter something incoherent to both Sarah and his son, who waited in frightened silence. At long last Jareth looked at the both of them and allowed himself a single ragged breath.
"Jareth?" Sarah asked carefully, almost fearing that he would attack her in his current state.
Jareth did nothing of the sort. Instead he slid to the ground and then motioned for his family to follow. Tommy quickly crawled into his father's lap, and hugged him about his neck. Jareth could easily feel the warm tears against his skin, and understood that his son had been terribly frightened. He then turned his troubled eyes to Sarah, begging her to help, to aid him in this time of such great need.
She fell beside him, and even in her eyes there were tears of fear. She swiped them away, but still several slipped gently down her silken cheeks. Jareth reached over and drew her closer, so that she leaned against his shoulder.
"Do you recall the time I told you that one day we would have to return?" Jareth asked Sarah as he ran a trembling hand through her hair.
Sarah nodded, though she did not want to remember. She yearned to have forgotten everything. She wanted simply to tell Jareth to go to the doctor, and that they would fix everything. She had a normal life, and wished to remain that way, with Jareth here beside her. However, she did not state any of her arguments, for she knew that this time would come.
Tommy only watched his parents through a fog of tears. His child's mind formed a thousand possible meanings to his father's words, but none correct. He knew only that Daddy was frightened and Mommy was sad. That was all that really mattered at that time to him.
Jareth carefully took her hand into his, trying to calm her in this time of such turmoil. The day had not seemed to be one to become so horrid all at once. He offered her a smile, and then rubbed Tommy's back to encourage his son to not worry. He would take care of both of them, forever.
"That time is now," Jareth whispered, and then looked out the nearby window at the blue sky and the lovely day.
Chapter Two
* * * * * * * * There's no chance for us. It's all decided for us. This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us. * * * * * * * *
Sarah could recall very little as she felt herself torn between worlds, her hands tightening inside of Jareth's. Yet, thoughts of their life, their store, and the sale she had planned, continued to roll about within her mind. It was as if they were not destined to have a normal life, but instead to try to hold together amidst chaos such as this.
Thomas whimpered at her side, for he was clutched in Jareth's embrace, shielded from the sights that would certainly terrorize such a young boy. Already she could see the familiar surroundings of the Goblin City form before her widened eyes, and cries of joy erupted from all around as the three drew into view.
Sarah gasped and attempted to ignore the unnerving feeling that had clenched her stomach in a knot. Jareth only draped his arm around her shoulders, and balanced their son carefully in the other. She dared a glance towards her husband, and once again was left to stutter in shock at what she saw.
Jareth was home, and that was obvious. He had become king the moment he entered into the Underground. His proud and regal features arched elegantly and were only highlighted by the caresses of warm sun overhead. Even in the less than noble attire, he was royal, which left Sarah feeling almost left out of the entire picture.
"Jareth!" a strange croaking voice, filled with love and pain, overjoyed and despaired.
The crowds of loyal subjects silenced at the rough voice. They turned in unison towards the shadowed shape, who remained beside the iron gates leading into the massive castle. The scores of figures moved like a wave as they bowed in respect towards this obvious royal leader.
For the first time Sarah actually looked at the crowd, and understood why she had felt so strange. They had been away only a scant seven years, and already the changes seemed overwhelming. Not a single grotesque, deformed goblin resided in the crowd. All that met her wondering gaze were peasant faces, ranging from all ages. There were now only people inhabiting the Goblin City.
The next instant Jareth dropped her hand, and she was left alone, with Thomas hiding against her leg. She placed a tender hand on her son's trembling back, but could not speak a word to comfort him. For her eyes remained upon Jareth, as he strode defiantly up the stone steps, and towards the person who had addressed him a short time earlier.
"You are the King again," Sarah muttered beneath her breath, and wiped a single tear away from her shimmering chestnut eyes.
Jareth paused before the shadows that blocked his view of the Queen. Yet, he did not hesitate in a show of respect, for she was his superior at that moment. Jareth dropped to one knee and bowed deeply in her presence, feeling humbled and slightly hurt for being a guest at his own castle.
Yet, there was no laughter from the crowd, no jeers towards this man who seemed so entirely proud of himself. Instead there was a shocked gasp that echoed through the multitude and swept even to the very woman he had bowed before. They were all awed that the legendary Goblin King should be so meek. It was not as they had learned.
"Rise, Jareth. I did not ask you here to grovel at my feet," the voice strained in a hoarse whisper.
His flashing gaze fixed on the emerald sparkle that had shone within the darkness. Those eyes, strange and feral, were so very different from what he had remembered. They were no longer strong, powerful, nor did they belong to a woman who had nearly bested him in the skills of magic. His entire body went cold as she was brought into the harsh sunlight.
Her hair, the lovely mane of liquid silver, had all but disappeared. All that remained was drawn up into a tight bun to disguise the loss. Robes of the finest material could not hide her emaciated body, that seemed so very old when compared to the youthful woman he had seen first emerge from the enchanted garden. Even her cat-like eyes were nearing death. They no longer shone, and he could see that the magic that once rushed through her very veins, was now gone. It was Cyria who stood before him, but it was not.
"My God," he remarked as he dared a single step closer to the ancient queen.
She walked only with the help of two servants. They were both sturdy young men, and both considered quite a catch in the city. Yet, the eyes of all, including those that had admired these men, were fixed on the two royal legends, finally face to face. Cyria, and Jareth the Goblin King, stood speechless.
Cyria raised one shaking hand out from the folds of her loveliest robe, she had chosen just for the occasion, and gradually brought it to the King's shoulder. Jareth watched it all, still too much in shock to attempt to speak to this woman. Instead she chose to state his own surprise, and added a trembling smile to ease his nerves.
"Jareth, there is much to say, and my time is so very short," with that said Cyria commanded the men to lead her back inside and pointed at the royal guards to disperse the crowd.
Jareth found that he could not move to follow his old friend. Instead he looked back towards Sarah, and to his son. Both were struck with the same silence that had plagued Jareth, and both could not manage to move to allow the crowd to pass by. Yet, in their gaze they shared the most profound speech, one that passed their thoughts to each other's mind. All feared the worst.
* * * * * * * *
"I took the liberties of reversing the spell upon all the goblins. Life amongst the cretins was quite unbearable, especially at my old age," Cyria allowed a dry cackle to escape her cracked lips.
Jareth did not find the mirth in her statement, but managed an attempt at a smile, just for Cyria's expense. However, the queen easily saw through his false front and waved a shaking hand to dismiss the act. She did not have time for such pleasantries. This was a time to speak, and learn, and tell Jareth what she knew would soon happen.
Cyria simply folded her wrinkled, old hands in her lap and then fixed her dulled eyes on the still youthful king. She had planned this meeting for some time. She had gone over what to say, and what to do, and when to break the overwhelming news that still circled around within her aged mind. However, it all seemed far too rehearsed, and she threw aside the script before continuing.
"I will first ask you a simple question, both of you," Cyria turned to acknowledge Sarah and then looked back to Jareth, "Who wants to live forever?"
The inquiry startled Sarah and she found that she could not answer. Yet, it was not a question that was directed to the woman, but rather to the King. Jareth seemed not touched by it, and he took a deep breath in thought. Cyria urged him silently to hurry with his debate, for time was very precious at that moment.
"You and I shall live forever, Cyria. Within the Underground Sarah and my son shall do so, as well," he remarked, though it was not quite an answer to the original question.
This response brought a slight smile to the old queen's face. She nodded and then turned to look at Sarah. Obviously she meant to address Jareth's significant other at that point. She fixed Sarah with her gaze and then flicked her green eyes back over to Jareth, but only momentarily.
At long last Cyria pointed to herself, and her aged appearance. A sarcastic laugh, dry as the other had been, burst from her weak body, and she doubled over slightly afterwards. Sarah leapt from her seat in an attempt to help the woman, but Cyria pushed her aside. She simply straightened herself and then pointed again at her own old body.
"Do I appear as if I am going to live forever?" Cyria asked, and then folded her hands on her lap once again, waiting for the reality to sink in.
Both Sarah and Jareth glanced at each other, wondering what the other was thinking at that very moment. However, only the shortest glimpse did they allow themselves. The next instant Jareth turned back to Cyria and caught the queen's attention. There was something that she was not telling them, and he was curious as to what this all had to do with them.
Cyria coughed a few times, doubling over in her chair as she did so. Once again the two were given quite a fright, for the queen appeared as frail as a dried twig, and near her breaking point. Her face reappeared from behind her hands as an ashen shade of gray, devoid of all hues of life. She could only look from one to the other, her entire aura sickly and old.
"I grow tired, but I wish to introduce someone that will answer so much more," Cyria stated with another series of coughs.
A man cleared his throat from the entrance to the queen's sitting room. All eyes turned to this mysterious guest, dressed entirely in a brilliant navy robe, that shone as moondust would, if anyone was able to hold a sample of the amazing substance in one's hands. The guest seemed almost to float above the ground, only scant centimeters, for the illusion of walking was near to perfect, yet there was never a single hitch to his movement. It was all too liquid to include steps. The robe barely dragged over the stone floor, hiding his feet altogether.
Cyria smiled and reached out with a single withered hand. She had suffered from the 'shaking disease', one that all the healers, and mystics in the Underground knew not how to cure. She had simply accepted it as old age, though she had never experienced such inconvenience before. Her hand barely obeyed her forceful mind, shivering like a dry leaf blowing in a powerful wind the whole time she held it out for the unknown man to take upon entering.
He was trained well, and took her trembling hand into his own, and kissed it out of respect for his queen. He then bowed, doing so with surprising grace, despite the bulky robe that he wore. The man then stood, and observed the other two in the room with a scrutinizing glance.
"Jareth, Sarah, meet my most trusted advisor, and the eldest mystic in the Underground. He has educated me about what shall befall me, as well as you, in the years to come," Cyria remarked.
She truly seemed tired, for her voice had only barely been over a murmur. Her emerald eyes fluttered between half open, and entirely shut, before she managed to pull the velveteen, ruby ribbon that was strung down from directly beside her throne. Cyria leaned her head back and closed her worn eyes, waiting for her servants to guide her to her room.
Jareth stood from the luxuriant plush chair that had been brought to him and quickly bowed before the queen. Whether she appreciated it or not, he had been taught time and again to show respect, and would always be a nobleman, no matter if he was king or not.
Cyria did not even see, or perhaps simply did not notice the handsome Goblin King as he genuflected before her. For her eyes only briefly flipped open, and that one time they fixed on Sarah, and held her gaze for a few scant moments. It was as if she was trying to console her. Even in the short time Sarah was able to see the supreme sadness that had overtaken the Queen's eyes, and understood that there were very few days remaining in which Cyria would be part of the living.
Then the two young men, nobles perhaps, guided the Queen from the splendid sitting room. The door closed behind them, though none made a move to close it, and Jareth had yet to use magic since coming to the Underground. All eyes turned to the stranger, who still regarded them with the same faceless stare.
Sarah fidgeted in her chair, suffering under the unnerving gaze of this ancient mystic. She turned her eyes to Jareth, begging him to break the spell that seemed to hold the entire room in the grip of nervous silence.
"I fear that I do not know you, sir, and if I did...my memory escapes me," Jareth stated, trying to sound as he did when he had been king and was to address his minions.
The robed man turned to look at Jareth and then moved his pale, ageless hands to the rim of his wide hood. It seemed as if time stood still for years, just as this strange figure made as to show himself. Sarah's breath caught in her throat, and she would have surely gasped to regain her breathing, had it not been for the flick of movement as the man pulled the hood away to reveal his face.
"Does my name still evade you, King Jareth?" the ancient voice inquired.
The man that stood before him bore a face that was so entirely beautiful, but also indiscernible. The moment one would turn away it seemed as if the features were entirely forgotten. He had jet black hair, swept back in a ponytail that cascaded down his back, and under the robe. His eyes were as green as Cyria's, but appeared almost changing in the light of the afternoon sun. The features were very feline, like it was a panther that had revealed himself and not a magician.
Jareth looked at the man, and tried to recall where this face had shown itself before. There had been a time, and there had been a place, but now he simply drew a blank. Jareth shook his regal head in response to the question and waited patiently for the answer. All the while the handsome mystic regarded Jareth with a kind of scorn, and perhaps respect as well.
"It does not matter, for my business here is brief. I come to tell you simply what my Queen requires and then shall away to my chambers. She had requested my presence here upon her passing," the man responded and then turned to look out the window.
Jareth reached over and caught Sarah's hand, as they waited to hear the bit of news that would most certainly change their lives. The wait seemed unbearable, as if the mere stress that it caused would inflict more harm than the actual revelation. Sarah gripped Jareth's hand as if it where a lifesaver, and she was drowning in a sea of the unknown.
At long last the man turned, and his eyes flashed to those as black as jet. He seemed as if he had become the cat he looked so very much like, and soon the panther within his soul would jump forth and rip Sarah and Jareth, treating them as his prey. However, he simply smiled, showing canines that seemed very much like those of a cat, and the grin itself held a predatory menace.
"The Queen will die shortly. She has not another day in her. Then the kingdom will require a ruler, one that it has already chosen, one that will be granted with eternal life," the man's eyes flashed again, as if lightning had begun and a storm would soon rage in his emotions.
The look only succeeded in frightening Sarah to a greater extent. Yet, also, she recalled Cyria asking a certain question that had to do with eternal life, or eternal youth. Now she herself had an inquiry as to Jareth's age, or perhaps Cyria's. The entire course of events had taken a surprising turn.
Jareth dropped her hand, and left his wife to flounder helplessly in her dreadful sea. Yet, he had to confront this being, and prove that no matter what was said he would face it like a king, and proudly. He had royal blood, and had ruled many a year in the Underground. He stopped before the magician, standing a good foot taller than this mysterious stranger.
"Who has been chosen as the new ruler. Surely you did not come merely to tell us that Cyria is dying," Jareth urged him to hurry along with his news.
The magician smiled once again, showing rows of white, yet pointed teeth. The glint of sunlight flashed across them, and sparkled in his eyes, which had now changed to a strange gray shade. He gestured and produced a perfect crystal in his hands, spinning it much the same as Jareth once had.
"The crystals shall chose the next ruler of the Underground!" the magician stated as he tossed the lovely orb into the air.
Sarah watched as it floated there for the shortest amount of time and then fell, but rather floated, to a level even with Jareth's waist. It then hovered there, spinning like a top to produce a misty picture within it's magical depths. Jareth bent down beside it, in awe at the perfection that had been displayed with this magical performance.
The ancient magician only grinned and turned from the scene to gaze out into the Underground. He had only a few short minutes to wait for the final figure to form inside the orb. Only then there would be gasps, surprise, horror, emotions ranging to each side of the spectrum. It would be a lovely display, and he would be there for it all. One thing he knew, the Underground chose as it wanted, not as others would wish. It was unfortunate.
"What is this trickery?" Jareth asked, tearing his eyes away from the crystal and straightened up to his full height.
The magician did not turn, but allowed his smile to broaden. He would not be foolish enough to insight Jareth's rage, for there had been tales told of the raw power that flowed through the legendary king's veins. With enough anger it was said that even the most ancient and powerful sorcerers would fall victim to his magic. This time was not an acceptation, even though the old King had dwelled on mortal soil for so very long.
Jareth very well might have forced an answer from the magician, had it not been for the shrill scream that rocked his very soul. Sarah had leapt from her chair, amidst muttering groans and sobs of uncontrollable fear. Jareth paused in his anger, and turned, to grab his love as she rushed to his arms, all the while pointing in hysterics at the floating crystal only inches away from the couple.
Simply her reaction and the horrified glint in her eyes offered him enough proof to understand that what he would see within the crystal would not be anything enjoyable. Nonetheless, he turned his mis-matched eyes to gaze upon the magical orb, and the new-found king that was shown at long last.
"It cannot be!" Jareth exclaimed, dread seeping into his near dead voice.
Behind him Jareth knew that the ancient one was smiling, and would seem like some beast ready to attack at any moment. However, the magician was the least of his worries at that instant. Sarah still wept uncontrollably into his shoulder, and now he was forced to face the truth that the crystal held.
"It is the way the Underground has chosen. You know as well, if not better, my lord, that one must not question the decision of the land," the magician stated as he approached the sombre couple.
Sarah reached out with one shaking hand, almost the same as Cyria's had been, and grabbed the crystal from the air. It shone a brilliant blue, as if angered that she had disturbed it while it hovered in the air. Yet, Sarah did not care, nor did she truly notice the awesome color change. With a cry as primal as that of the tiger, she threw the orb against the stone wall, and watched the pieces shatter and disappear into nothingness.
She then pushed away from Jareth, her eyes flitting around the throne room, and then finally finding those of the ageless magician. Sarah pointed one trembling finger in his direction and then dared a few frightened steps forward.
"Change this! I will not accept it! You cannot have him!" Sarah demanded, though her voice held the tell-tale signs of oncoming tears.
The magician could only shrug in response to her commands. He had nothing to do with the newly found king, only was called upon to present it. Cyria very well could have done it herself, had the three come maybe even a few months earlier. Yet, they had finally happened into the Underground on the day when the queen would most certainly pass to the otherworld.
Sarah placed her accusing hand over her mouth and turned to Jareth. He could only nod in solemn silence, confirming her most horrid thoughts. Sarah's eyes shone with tears that soon trickled down her lovely cheeks. She looked from one man to the other, suddenly not able to discern either of them. Sarah shook her head in absolute horror and backed away.
"Sarah, please," Jareth called after her, breaking his silence.
"I will not have my son placed in this land! I will not have him face the same trials and damned existence as you did! We're going home!" Sarah responded in a determined yet weakened voice.
With that she rushed from the room, in search of her beloved son. The crystal had shone him, perhaps ten years older, but Sarah could easily distinguish the face. Now she could only think of what the magician had told them about eternal life. Could it be that her son would live forever in this land where fantasies live, but dreams die?
Jareth watched his wife rush from his sight, and then turned to look at the ancient mystic who still remained in the room. There was nothing to say, for he knew the law of the Underground all too well. There was no way to argue, and no point to fight. It was best to accept and move on with life. However, he could not tell Sarah that without inciting her rage. She still had so much more to learn, and there were countless things left to understand.
"I believe you should visit the queen, Jareth. You and your family should see her. I fear that Cyria has declined quite rapidly, and shall be here for only a short time," the man stated and then pulled his hood back over his face.
Immediately the magician's features were bathed in shadows, and he seemed faceless as before. Jareth only nodded in response, and turned to leave the throne room. There was much to do, and even more to prepare. As Cyria had said, time was short. He had never felt more pressure, and never heard the constant tick of the clock quite so loudly.
Jareth paused in midstride and turned to face the mysterious man, whose name had since then avoided his mind. A peculiar smile crossed his features as the past came back in the form of a wave, crashing down upon him.
"Flagg. I remember you at long last, and shall not forget again. Do not doubt the knowledge and strength of my son, for he shall know you as well, and understand the true beast that hides behind the mask of man," Jareth said ominously, and turned to leave once again.
Flagg only watched the old king with a twinkle touching his dead eyes. They knew much, but understood little. Time would soon run out, as sand through the hourglass. Shortly the old reign would be gone, as the old blood faded to oblivion, leaving fresh meat for him to prey upon.
