Part One: Preparations

In which Sarah gets ready for Jareth to drop by.

Author's Note: My great writerly love to Scarlett Foxie for the suggestion that led to this Koschei-the-Deathless-inspired tale.

It was Tuesday, just before 1pm.

I set the tea kettle up so the water would be at just the right temperature to bring out the frosty bite of the mint tea I'd found. It wasn't nearly as good as the tea I'd had last week, of course, but that particular tea had been an illusory refreshment in the abode of a god emeritus somewhere near the center of the galaxy. Back here on the humble mortal plane of Earth, I'd have to make do.

Besides, Jareth would appreciate the effort. It turned out that in addition to a fine appreciation for lattes, he enjoyed a cup of hot minty goodness as much as I did. The things you learned while drinking other decidedly more alcoholic (if still illusory) beverages in the abodes of gods emeriti and singing impromptu trios were many and varied. Especially if said drunken singing occurred after you'd just kicked the accursed ass of evil, freed an angel, gained a mantle of dragonhood, and made a formal alliance with both the newly named Falchion of the Winter Court (aka Jareth) and a god emeritus called the Blackstar.

It was, shall we say, a very busy Tuesday last week. And that was just the first magic lesson I'd earned by boon of Winter's Queen.

I couldn't wait to see what was in store this week.

I was only half-sarcastic there, too. There was an itch inside me for adventure that used to be much more controllable. I assumed it was a side effect of either the magical pact with the Blackstar or my Blackstar-awakened powers (or likely both). Suffice it to say, such things weren't for the faint of heart.

Good thing I had plenty of heart to go around.

I twirled the silvery ring on my index finger, which had picked up a bit of luster in the last week since I'd been wearing it. It helped cloak my dragon mantle, which I'd been trying to keep a low profile about. That mantle packed a bit of a punch, tied up with a sense of muchness that filled my chest like molten gold in a forge, heavy and waiting. Maybe that's what godhood felt like - the Blackstar was a god emeritus after all. Who knows what went into that binding I'd entered into?

So many questions. I drummed my fingers together, waiting.

Well, Jareth would be here soon. He was terribly punctual.