Cut, Rewind, Action!

by Ruby Silverstone

Five years after the Labyrinth things turn sour when Irene, Sarah's meddlesome step-mother, meddles too far into the young girls love life and turns the dinner table into a battlefield. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she jokingly wishes Sarah away to the oft referenced Goblin King. It was unfortunate, then, that Irene hadn't factored in the possibility that it would work. Oops.

Cut. Rewind. Action!

"No! No! Sarah stop! I—I can't! Stop!"

"What's the magic word?" Sarah sang, struggling to breath over her exertion but still managing to laugh. In her arms, wrapped up like a human pretzel was a tortured Toby currently suffering the worst tickle-attack in human history. His entire face was pink, the color so high on his cheeks that they looked like apples and his eyes sparkled with unrestrained joy. His body was rocking with spasms, interspersed with squeals and laughs and disjointed demands. "You know the magic word!" He gasped out, frantically trying to twist away. But Sarah's hold was far too strong and instead she just used his newly exposed ribs as her next target. She nearly got a face-full of bony knee his response was so strong, and she let go for only a moment before readjusting her arm. It wouldn't do to have a bloody nose—she still hadn't gotten him to surrender entirely. "I think I've forgotten," she laughed, lowering her head to blow a wet raspberry to his bare stomach. His squeal of delight was worth the slightly wet feeling all around her lips and nose. "No you haven't!" Another raspberry. "I surrender! I surrender! Please, Sarah!"

"Ha!" She gloated, releasing him and flopping down to the floor. She raised her hand and made a fist. "I know victory!"

"Will you two stop making so much noise?" The exasperated voice of Sarah's stepmother, Irene, came from the kitchen. "I'm trying to make dinner." Besides the obvious reprimand, there was warmth in the older woman's voice. The chasm of a relationship between Irene and Sarah had finally been bridged with the victory of the Labyrinth, and even though they still had their differences, particularly in Irene's inability to appreciate anything remotely fictional, there was finally a sense of family.

"Mom," Toby whined, "I don't wanna!"

"What? Be quiet? Didn't anybody ever tell you that silence was golden?"

"That would stink," he offered immediately, scrunching his face into a disgusted expression. "How would anybody hear stories if no one could say them?"

"You could read," Irene smiled, fussing over the stove. Dad was coming home from a business trip, and in true house-keeper fashion Irene decided to pull out all the stops and make an extravagant dinner as a homecoming. Sarah watched the corn on the cob boil and steam next to a skillet full of hamburger and felt her mouth water. As a poor college student, the basis of her diet included instant ramen and extremely cheap take-out if she was feeling fancy. As excited as she was to see her dad in oh-so-many months she had to admit she was mostly looking forward to the meal.

Without warning, Toby launched himself into the air, doing a wonderful imitation of a Kamikaze plane barreling towards her stomach. Her reflexes were lightning quick, sitting up and snatching him out of the air before twisting and making sure the center of balance was shifted appropriately. "Toby!" she hissed, sitting him down in her lap, watching her unaware step-mother putter around the kitchen. "What were you thinking?" Toby, the brat, only laughed. "Nothing, tra-la-la!" Sarah rolled her eyes so hard they could see the inside of her skull. "I'll pitch you headfirst into the Bog if you don't stop," she warned seriously. Toby looked appropriately appalled. "The bog? You wouldn't!"

"Oh, but I would," she cackled evilly, complete with typical villain posture and tapping her fingers together successively. "And right after that I'd throw your stinky butt right into the Pits of Nonsense!"

"NO!"

"Which part was the Nonsense?" Irene interrupted vaguely, making an attempt to join in on the constant fantastical references in order to be closer to the two children. She wasn't fond of fantasy, she'll admit. It was illogical and completely lacking in reason, defying all sorts of natural laws…

…but it was Sarah and now even little Toby was obsessed with it. What could she do but hope to stay included? Toby, though, looked entirely unimpressed. "The Pits of Nonsense aren't part of the Labyrinth, mom," the five year old declared solemnly. "They're in the Desert of Despair and if you fall in all anyone will ever say is nonsense. That's why they're called the Pits of Nonsense 'cause that's all anyone says; you'll never get out!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Sarah added mysteriously. Toby whipped around so quick it looked painful. "What?"

"Every riddle has its answer."

"But," he looked confused. "But all they ever say is gibberish! You've quoted!"

"Who's they?" Irene asked helplessly over a cutting board of onions. Sarah sent a quick wink at her before turning to Toby. "What did the little people say, Toby? Think hard."

"Well…" his brow wrinkled. "First you gotta ask a question."

"Have to," she corrected lightly. "And yes, you have to ask a question."

Ever since she got her precious brother back, she'd dedicated herself to him a hundred and one percent. At first, she hadn't ever planned on telling him anything about the Labyrinth. Because if she did that, then inevitably, she'd have to tell him that she'd wished him away and whether he believed it was real or not the fact still remained. She didn't want to hurt him—hell, her nightmares include Toby saying that he hated her! But…well, one day Toby was bored out of his mind and demanded that she read him a story and was tired of everything on the shelf. Book after book he shook his head at, saying that "mommy already read that one" over and over again until Sarah got frustrated enough to start searching online. But…they were all lacking somehow and there was a tantalizing whisper saying that she should tell him. She needed a confidant, after all. It wasn't healthy to keep it all to herself.

She gave in after little Toby had started to cry out of pure irritation, and so far, life hasn't been the same since. He loved the Labyrinth and ever since the initial telling he wouldn't stop bugging her about it. Asking her questions, begging her to tell it to him again and again, demanding that they act out scenes…it's simply part of life now. She made up what she didn't understand, and eventually, as much as he loved the Labyrinth, he became thirsty for new material.

And so Sarah's life as a free-lance author began. Her own fantastical and extravagant imagination set loose on harmless Word documents and keyboards and school assignments that didn't stand a chance. And with her sudden leap into the written world, Toby and his intense love for his sister soon followed. He couldn't keep his nose out of books and everyday he'd come home holding a new one, imperiously stating that once she finished writing her own, he'd be the first to read it.

Was it any wonder then, that even at five years old he was incredibly literate?

"Have to," he repeated dutifully, committing it to memory. He fell silent then, thinking hard while Sarah took the opportunity to get comfortable, oozing smug satisfaction. "A question, a question," he whispered. Sarah leaned down close, whispering with him. "You're stuck deep, Master Toby," she announced. "Surrounded on all sides by the towering walls of the Pits! No ladders, no handholds—"

"No hope!" He joined in, recognizing the opening line that the adventurer is subject to once falling into the Pits of Nonsense. In honor of her brother, the main character was, of course, named Toby. "Just Nonsense!" she laughed evilly, playing the part of the villain. "Listen hard, boy," she hissed. "And maybe, maybe, you'll hear your freedom!"

"Whoosh!" Toby squealed, imitating the sound of sudden, powerful wind funneling dramatically up the tube of the Pit. "Then the little people come out!"

"And what do you say to them?" Sarah prompted, getting to her feet at Irene's signal. It was time to set the table. Toby stood up with her, his eyes bright with wonderment. "How do I get out of the Pit?"

"Usefully signal even time hobbies eventually demolish over over rewrite."

"That doesn't make sense!"

"That's nonsense!" Toby and Irene said respectively and simultaneously. Sarah just smiled and continued her riddle. "Oops nilly tilly heaven Even fudge lucky over over respectively."

Both Irene and Toby gave her confused, mildly irritate looks while Sarah set out the plates. "What kind of riddle is that?" Irene asked, getting out hot pads for the table while looking at her watch. "Your father should be home soon," she said. Toby scrambled into his seat, watching Sarah go around the table setting out tableware. "Can I have a hint?"

"What's the magic word?" Toby rolled his eyes. "Please?"

"Okay! Here's your hint: Hear with your eyes, not your ears. Listen too hard and you'll lose your head."

For a minute or so, it was silent as Toby thought hard. Irene seemed to have given up entirely, too focused on making sure that the hamburger for their killer, gourmet spaghetti pasta didn't burn to split her attention so dangerously. Finally though, just as Sarah sat the salad on the table, Toby threw his arms into the air. "It's Nonsense!" He declared, pouting but still obviously enjoying himself while his sister laughed. "Sometimes the way up isn't always the way out."

"So you don't have to climb up to get out of the Pit?"

"Good!" Sarah rewarded. "For a five-year-old, you're pretty sharp!" He preened for a moment, pleased with the compliment before all movement stopped at the sound of the door opening. Irene dropped what she was doing to greet her husband.

"Welcome home, Robert!"

"Ah, hello sweetheart," a kissing noise ensued and Toby and Sarah made disgusted faces at each other. As it became apparent that the two adults were perfectly content to whisper softly to each other right there in the entryway, Toby turned his attention back to his beloved older sister. "What do the little people look like, anyway? You never told me."

"I'm so glad you asked, my dear knight! Their appearance is one of the hints to the riddle!"

"What?" Toby cried, borderline offended. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ha!" Sarah crowed snootily, tilting her nose in the air. "You didn't ask!"

"But—But you didn't give me all the infro—infor-ma-tion from the start. That's not fair!"

"Ah, Master Toby!" Sarah waved around the salad tongs like a wand, like she was a helpful companion fairy or something. "How can you expect to get such precious information? And for free? Nonsense! An answer requires a question; you can't have one without the other!"

"Ooh," he said, realization dawning. "I get it! So, what do the little people look like?"

"Letters," Sarah answered shortly, pointing the salad tong at him. "Good work asking the right question."

"What do you mean?" Sarah rolled her eyes and threw the back of her hand over her eyes dramatically. "Oh! For shame! Our hero has such a lot to learn!"

"Hey! I asked!"

"Yes, yes, you did," she chucked the salad tongs back into the pile of green leaves and plopped into the seat next to her Toby. "Rule number one of riddles: always ask questions. Rule number two: always ask the right questions. If your question is answered, the person answering will be vague and only answer exactly what you ask."

"Can I have an example?" Pause. "Please?" She gave him a smug smile which he responded in kind with a stuck out tongue before she complied. "Say you're trapped in a room and there are two hidden doors, one leading to safety, and the other will drop you in a pile of poop." He nodded his head to show he followed. "And you have…a talking spider that's there to answer your questions. Now, say you ask where the way out is. Out is pretty vague. The spider could direct you to the door that leads to a pile of poop because, technically, it's still out."

"O-o-oh."

"In this situation, you should ask the spider which way is safely out instead of just out."

"But what if you don't have a talking spider to answer questions for you?"

"See?" Sarah smiled. "You're getting better at this already. Some riddles are like that, and in that case you just have to answer them yourself. Take in every detail, think out loud—sometimes the answer is right in front of you."

"What's right in front of you?" The adults seemed to have deigned to join them. Robert came bustling into the kitchen, shooed lovingly into his chair at the table by Irene. His jacket had been abandoned somewhere along the way from the front door to the kitchen and he was in the process of loosening his tie around his neck. Toby beamed up at his dad. "Sarah's teaching me how to solve riddles!"

"Riddles, huh? Well," he smiled. "I hope you have better luck than me! I was always terrible at riddles."

"Tricksy, tricksy," Sarah added from her side of the table, ruffling Toby's hair. "Welcome home, dad."

"Oh, good to be home! How's the college life, kiddo? You aren't sneaking off with any boys are you?"

"Oh, how exciting!"

"Irene!"

"Oh, hush, Robert! The girl needs a man in her life. Heaven knows she didn't have one in high school!"

"That's why I'm worried," Robert grumbled, distracted by the steaming pasta being piled onto his plate. Beside her, Toby obstinately folded his arms and huffed. "Boys don't deserve Sarah!"

"Oh-ho!" Robert cried amongst the disbelieving laughter coming from Irene and Sarah. "You've got yourself your own knight in shining armor, Princess." Toby grinned. "I'm a Hero! Battling against Scorpio-dragons in the Desert of Despair to save the people of Maderia!"

"Oh—okay—umm…sweetheart be a dear and translate?"

"Other sweetheart, Robert," Irene said, tilting her head to Sarah. "I can't keep up those two."

"Maderia is a village from my book," Sarah offered a little sheepishly. It was always hard to talk to her dad about these kinds of things because it was obvious he didn't have much interest in them. He was always more attentive when she talked about her degree or the people she met. "They rely on a special gem to support their way of life and it was stolen. A Hero," she flicked Toby's head. "Is chosen to go after merry band of thieves, but he has to cross a vast desert and more, currently unknown perils." Robert had long since gained that glazed look in his eyes that showed he wasn't listening, but Toby gasped with delight. "There's going to be more?"

"I do believe you mentioned something about pirates a few weeks ago, or was that just my imagination?"

"There's going to be pirates?!"

"And ships and cannons, and swashbuckling buccaneers!" Sarah stage whispered to her step-mom. "Don't tell Master Toby but he's going to meet a very important wise man that might give him powers."

Toby nearly flew out of his seat he was so excited. "Who?"

"Hmm?" Sarah drew back, casually rearranging her silverware and turning an innocent gaze to her brother. "Who what?"

"All right, all right," Robert interrupted, diffusing the explosion that was gearing up inside of Toby. "Let's eat."

And with that, they tucked into their meal. Sarah with especial gusto as she tried to savor every morsel of the delicious pasta melting in her mouth. Oh, it had been so long! Of course, it had to be ruined the instant it started by Irene.

"So," she started delicately, but obviously in a way that made Toby and Sarah look at each other out of the corner of their eyes. That tone of voice was only used when Irene wanted information, and if not information, then action. "Have there been any boys, Sarah?"

"Irene," Sarah whined softly, but with an undertone of warning that was sure to fly over Toby's head. Through the years, Irene had always been trying to mettle in her somewhat-daughter's love life, specifically trying to revoke its nonexistent status. "I'm just worried," the woman defended, sending a very pointed look at the younger girl. "You're nearly twenty dear, and well, you don't seem to be looking to settle down."

"I'm not," Sarah grumbled lightly. "I have a job, an apartment to keep, and an education to win…I'm almost twenty. I've got time."

"What about that boy…what was his name? James? Jerry?"

"John," Sarah regretfully informed, noting how Irene just ignored Sarah's perfectly valid argument. The other woman snapped her fingers. "Yes, yes, John. What happened with him? I thought you two had hit it off for sure!"

"It was one date—"

"A nice date, though," Irene added innocently and suggestively all at once, hinting at a greater scheme. Sarah shot her a look. "Yes, a nice date. Just one nice date. I haven't seen him in a couple of months."

"Probably broke his poor heart," Robert threw in, oblivious to the undercurrent of messages being thrown across the dinner table. "A beauty like Sarah? Pfft! Betcha you have to beat them off with sticks!"

If only, Sarah thought, amused. There were certainly a few boys she'd enjoy beating, not because they were interested, but because they were rude and needed a good smacking.

"Well," Irene said, passing the salad to her husband. "If that's the case then I think she should choose one. It's about time that you started looking for a life partner…find true happiness…love…it'll pass you by with your nose buried in your books."

"Love?" Sarah's lips twitched into a sarcastic smile, but no one seemed to notice.

Just love me, fear me, do as I say and I will be your slave…

That hauntingly familiar voice...after all this time it was still as vividly cruel and tantalizing as ever. And still, after all this time, his words were an ever familiar memory that she couldn't quite shake.

It's only forever, not long at all.

"Yes, love," Irene continued, sliding her hand into Roberts and smiling. "Don't you wish you could find something so wonderful?"

I move the stars for no one…

That inflection of the voice, that angry but gentle voice that spoke of frustration and pain—he said he wouldn't, but at the same time it was like he was offering that he could. Just at a great and terrible price.

What a pity.

"If wishes were fishes," Sarah muttered, her mind elsewhere. Toby poked her with his fork. "What fishes?" Brought back into reality, she stared down at him uncomprehending for moment, and then smiled. Even at the tender age of five, Toby could tell that it didn't reach her eyes. "Nothing Toby," she said, leaning down and kissing his head. "I just think that they'd be easier to catch is all."

But she wouldn't catch a wish because there wasn't one to catch. Jareth…was temptation. He was everything that she had ever truly wanted and more, standing in front of her like the last hurdle the hero had to clear before claiming victory. But there…in that room…they had been so much more than the roles they had played. She hadn't fully comprehended it at the time. At fifteen, all her mind could process was how little time she had to save her brother and Jareth's words were spinning snares around her neck. He was a riddle, the room was a riddle, the Labyrinth was a riddle and she only had a few precious seconds to solve them all.

But now, an older, wiser, more experienced Sarah could look back into that room with new eyes. He was offering his heart to her, whole-hearted and genuine but offered with the words of the adversary. And she, naïve, opinionated and single-minded Sarah couldn't see past the surface. To her defense, he hadn't made it easy on her. In fact she wondered why he never just came out and said it, since it would have been easier, but she supposed a king had his reasons. And for good or for the bad, it was over. She had made her unknowing choice and said those powerful six words. She beat him, she had finished and gotten her brother back, she had won that hollow victory.

So why didn't it feel like it was truly over?

"Sarah?"

"Hm?" Green eyes flicked up to meet Irene's and she came back to herself. She was eating dinner with her family. Now was not the time to think about the past, no matter how often it snuck up on her. "Sorry," she picked up her fork and twirled it in the spaghetti noodles. "I got distracted."

"I'm sure you did," Irene stated and Sarah couldn't figure out if it was an insult or an honest-to-goodness statement. "But anyways, I have been leading up to something."

"You have?" Robert asked, surprised. Sarah resisted the urge to laugh. She loved her dad, she really did, but when it came to hidden messages and hidden intent, he was almost pitiably slow. Irene seemed to share this sentiment, but instead of irritation, she gave a look that was half exasperation half adoration. "Yes," the look she leveled Sarah with was anything but. Those eyes were like a hawks, sharp and completely unforgiving in the face of their prey. "I've been going to lunch with the community women," She stated. Sarah instantly knew that whatever she was about to say wouldn't bode well for her. Irene had been involved with the "community women" even before the entire Labyrinth fiasco, doing this and that for their little town. They were always the one organizing things and their grape-vine was extensive and scarily accurate. If there was one shred of gossip, they would know, and to Sarah's teenage horror, Irene had been dead set on getting her inducted. Fortunately, that particular pipe dream went up in smoke. She only managed to finagle Sarah into one meeting before she decided a second would be like winning the third world war. Or trying to get Sarah to wear a white, frilly dress. The two were interchangeable.

"And," Irene drew out. "It turns out that one of the older women have a grandson." Sarah, who was about to put the ball of rolled spaghetti her mouth dropped the fork down and started to spin it again. She'd need a bigger ball to stave off her answer as long as possible. "Lovely gentlemen," her step-mom continued. "Young, single, and looking for someone to share his life with. He runs the bookstore down the street, Sarah. You like books, don't you?" Sarah had already shoved the spaghetti in her mouth, and held up a finger, gesturing to her mouth with the other. "Goodness, child," Irene reprimanded. "You should take smaller bites. But here," she turned in her seat and reached out to the counter, snagging a small rectangle of paper. "This is his picture. Tell us what you think."

Sarah hesitated for a moment before deciding that refusing would be futile. Maybe if she saw how uninterested she was, Irene would let it drop. She took the picture after whipping her hands and sat back in her chair, chewing as she took him in. There wasn't a lot to it. The man was young like she said, maybe only a few years older than her. Dark hair, dark eyes and a charming smile with dimples. He was lounging on the couch, a book in hand a pair of glasses on the tip of his nose when the picture was taken. It looked like a candid, like whoever had the camera had just snapped it right when the punch line of a joke had been delivered and he just happened to be looking at the thing.

He looked…sweet.

"Well? What do you think?" Sarah shrugged. "He's okay."

Unfortunately, sweet wasn't really her thing.

"Okay? That's all you've got to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" Sarah snapped, a little irritated with everything. How long was it going to take for her to realize that she just…wasn't happy with normal men?!

Normal? She questioned herself. What's wrong with normal? Nothing. Nothing's wrong with normal men, what was she thinking?

They aren't him.

They direction of her thoughts made her even more cross. She didn't like where they were going, and liked the idea of the comparison even less. If she compared every man she met with Jareth, then she'd die an old maid. Not that she was a virgin but…

"Oh for goodness sake's Sarah!" Irene seemed to have lost her patience as well. "George is lovely young man. What? What don't you like about him? Is it the shirt? Or the way he's sitting?"

"No," Sarah rubbed her eyes. Honestly she hadn't even paid attention to what he was wearing, but now that she mentioned it he did look kind of like a wuss. He didn't quite hold himself like a man. Maybe that's what it was. He still looked like a boy.

"Then what?"

"Irene I didn't say I didn't like him. I just said he was okay!"

"Yes, well, we all know what that really means." Irene's eyes were icy, and she folded her arms in the classical position of anger and disappointment. "Just what are you waiting for, Sarah? A prince?"

It was dead silent. Not because she had said something necessarily wrong, but simply because Sarah didn't feel like answering the question. She was so done with talking to Irene about her love life. The woman always took it too far and by now Sarah was exhausted by it. It didn't even matter for heaven's sake! She was nineteen! It's not like she had to get married tomorrow or something. It's not like she was going into menopause next week, dammit!

Some of her thoughts must have showed on her face because Irene's eyes got colder even though her position slumped. She looked at the picture in her hands, and then turned in her seat and set it back onto the counter top with a definitive slap. "Fine," she said gently. "I get it. I won't try and help anymore."

"Oh for the love of—"

"Language, Williams," Robert interrupted sharply, cutting off the tangent before it even got going.

It got quiet again, but now it was the fault of the tension flowing through the air and twisting like a snake around them.

They ate in complete silence, clearing their plates bit by bit. The clocked ticked behind them, clicking the seconds by. Outside the wind rattled the window a little bit, an oncoming storm finally noticed by the inhabitants of the home. Finally, as if he couldn't bear it anymore, Toby piped up meekly from his seat.

"Sarah doesn't want a prince, mommy." He said softly, pushing the spaghetti around his plate in dejected movements. He looked up in time to watch the gentle, loving smile bloom across his mother's face at the childish name. "And what does she want, sweetheart?"

All at once it was as if a pressure gauge had been opened. The entire room relaxed, they became more animated, and breathing became ten times easier. Encouraged by the shift in the air and his mom's still smiling face, Toby straightened in his seat and waved his fork around. "Sarah wants a king, mommy!" He gasped suddenly, as if coming to an epic realization. "The Goblin King!"

Sarah choked on her noodle, reaching for the water glass while lighthearted chuckles surrounded her. It was as if the spell had been broken entirely now. With those short, eager words, Toby had succeeded in steering the family into familiar territory; into extravagant fictional stories and tales of bravery and epics.

Irene relaxed, seeming to give up on her anger entirely. "Well," she sighed deeply. And then, as if inspired by her fragmented knowledge of the stories of the Labyrinth and the urge to be closer to her children, she said half jokingly and half serious, the magic words. "I wish the Goblin King would come and take her away right now!"

The flash of lightning was so close to their house that it white-washed the room with its light, the thunder booming over their head so loud it rattled. The windows shook in their frames and the dishes shivered together, as if terrified. Power, dark and oppressive flooded the room, creeping into corners and suffocating every crevice while shadows writhed. The lights blew out in a fantastic shower of sparks as the storm outside continued to rage like a caged animal, lightning streaking across the sky and lighting up the room for short, choppy snap shots of visibility. "It's okay, it's okay!" Robert cried, trying to calm his terrified son. He reached blindly for a moment and found his wife's hands. He directed her towards the child. "Don't worry! It's just a storm!"

Things were calming down now. The thunder outside continued to rumble, but now only grumbled like a grumpy old man. The lighting did not make another appearance, and for a moment, they just sat there in the darkness and waited. "Mom," Toby whispered. "I'm scared."

"Shh, Shh," she hushed gently, clasping him to her chest and rocking him. Behind her, she could hear Robert rummaging around the kitchen. The room was all darkness, and after the magnificent display of nature's terrible power, the sudden silence was all too eerie. "It's okay, Toby. It's just a lightning storm. Nothing to be afraid of."

"We're safe inside the house, Tobe," Robert added, the sound of a drawer opening. "And lucky for you we've prepared for something like this. Ah-ha!" there was the sound of something being lifted from the drawer. "Found it." With a click, the flashlight came to life, flitting a golden colored circle all over the room. A quick sweep showed that there wasn't any danger, no glass had broken and nothing was on fire…but something was quite right.

"Sarah?" the light lingered on her place on the table, the chair knocked over and empty. Robert frowned, then called louder. "Sarah?"

"Mom," Toby wailed, shaking against his mother's neck. "Mom why'd you say the words?"

"Sarah? Where are you?"

"What are you talking about honey?"

"Did she run? Silly girl. Sarah!"

Toby pulled away far enough so that he could see the dim features of his mother's face. "You—you wished her away mom! You wished her away to the Goblin King!"

"Oh Toby," Irene sighed. She tried to pull him back into her arms, but he was having none of it. She settled for clasping his shoulders. "It's just a story honey. The Goblin King isn't real."

"She's right, Tobes," Robert called, peering up the stairs. "She probably just ran because she was scared. I'm going to go check the power box. See if I can't kick start it back on."

"No! No, you don't understand! He took her, mom! You said the words! He took her!"

"Toby! There is no Goblin King!"

"Yes there is!" He screamed, ripping away from his mother only to be snatched back. "Tobias! Listen to me!" If anything, the sheer volume that she had used seemed to have shocked the poor boy into a stupor. Feeling bad, Irene quieted her voice to a gentler, soothing tone. "No one took Sarah, honey," she cooed, quickly beginning to talk when he opened his mouth in protest. "There is no Goblin King."

In the darkness, somewhere close, something cackled.

The two of them froze.

"Oh no," Toby whimpered. "Goblins."

"There are no such thing as goblins," Irene said sharply. Behind her, a cabinet opened, and slammed closed. She whipped around, but the wood was still. Standing quickly, she hauled Toby into her arms. "Robert!" She called, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. Something else laughed, high-pitched like nails across chalk board and she turned so that Toby was the farthest thing from it. "Robert!"

Footsteps, heavy and frantic came tumbling down the stairs. "Irene!" He rounded the corner, the flashlight beaming bright in his hands. She couldn't see his face because the beam was right in her eyes, but she could hear the fear in his voice clear as day. "Sarah's not upstairs."

All at once, the room erupted into laughter. Shadows leapt from the kitchen sink, and formless, black shapes poured from the pantry. All laughing madly and bustling around each other, knocking down the rest of the chairs and scurrying up the counters to break the plates. "Robert!"

"Stay back!"

"NO!" Toby screamed, the terror in his voice evident. "No! Let me down!" Irene only clasped him harder. "Where's Sarah!" the boy demanded. "Where's my sister!"

More laughter, but this time, there were voices too. "Sarah?" Movement stopped for a moment before the cackles began again and chaos resumed. Irene didn't know what to do or what was going on, but whatever these things were, they weren't friendly. She felt a clawed…something on her leg and she screamed, kicking it off. As a whole though, she was ignored. "The Champion?" Another voice chimed in, gravelly and sinister. "You wished her away!" Came the cheerful reply, the owner throwing a plate across the room to watch it shatter. The other's seemed to find this incredibly amusing and once again the room was filled to the brim with horrible laughter. "You won't get her back now! She belongs to the Goblin King!"

"NO!" Toby shrieked, ripping himself away from his mother and falling to the floor. "Toby!" She managed to catch him before he hit the kitchen tile but he still was frantically trying to get away from her. "No! She didn't mean it! We want to talk to the Goblin King! Where are you! I want to talk to you! I WANT MY SISTER BACK!"

Lightning flashed once again, and suddenly, the lights clicked on.

And…it was as if it never happened. The chairs were all righted, the plates were still stacked and whole, sitting innocently next to the sink, there weren't any cackling, shapeless creatures running around the kitchen. Irene blinked, slightly blinded by the brightness of the lights and while silence reined, she hauled Toby back up into her arms.

"My…my…my,"

As one, they all whipped around. There, lounging in the living room on the armchair like it was a throne, was the strangest man they'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was so blond it was nearly white in the light and stuck up all around him, as if weightless. Features were sharp, with high cheekbones and thin, smiling lips stretched into a mockery of a smile. Spiked armor rose from both shoulders, and his black plated chest was broad and strong, long legs were draped over an armrest that ensured he would tower. Out of everything though, his eyes were what caught Irene's attention. One green, one blue, that peered out of a dusting of lashes with cruel amusement.

She could tell just by looking at him. He was dangerous. He was a threat. She held Toby tighter as Robert stepped in front of them. All he did was laugh. "How dramatic!" He held up a gloved hand, his expression twisting into something of an apology, but it never lost its venom. "Not that I don't appreciate it! No, no. I've always loved theater."

"Who are you?" Robert demanded, the line of his shoulders stretched taught and he clenched the still shining flashlight until it creaked. He should have grabbed a knife. The man though, only looked exasperated. "Really? You wish me here and you claim you don't know who I am? Truly, I'm hurt."

"Goblin King," Toby whispered loudly from Irene's hip. Those strange eyes landed on the boy, and a flicker of…of affection passed through them. "Toby! Goodness you've grown!" he tilted his head, as if in thought. "The last I saw you…" he smiled. "…you were crawling across the ceiling."

"How do you know his name," Irene whispered, terrified. The man's face was schooled into something gentle, or the perversion of it. He still looked horrid. "Has he not told you? Toby and I go way back," he waved his hand aimlessly. "Something like four, five years I think? You'll have to forgive me, I lose track of time since I have so much of it." He smiled a smile that was all teeth. "That happens when you're immortal."

It was silent for a moment before Toby started to wriggle again. "Where's Sarah?"

Whoever, whatever, this man was, he seemed incredibly pleased that Toby had asked that question. "She's safe, you don't have to worry about a thing, Toby. I've ensured that she'll be comfortable."

"Where is she?" The five-year-old demanded again, uncharacteristically bitter. The man gave him an assessing glance for a moment, as if sizing him up, before that strange smile crawled across his face again. "What is this?" He asked, though it didn't seem like he was addressing anyone in the room. "Champion training camp? My precious has been busy."

"Where is my daughter?" Robert demanded roughly, and for the first time since knowing him, Irene was born witness to his darker side. Her husband was by no means a tall man, but now he loomed, seeming to fill up the room with his stance and fury. "You're going to tell me where she is you sick sonava—" He never got to finish. A strangled gasp left his throat and he dropped the flashlight, stumbling into the wall. "Robert!"

"Dad!"

"It would not do," the stranger said, deceptively casual in the chair. "To insult me." For a moment, it seemed like whatever he had done to Robert would stay, but after a sardonic smile and a dramatic (and Irene suspected it was also unnecessary) wave of his hand, Robert could breath and easily regained his balance, face red and chest heaving. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing permanent, unfortunately," the man sighed, almost wistful. "What a pity."

"Where's Sarah?" Toby demanded again, his voice wobbling with tell-tale tears. The man, if she could even call him that, seemed almost perversely concerned. "Tsk, tsk, Toby." He leaned, adjusted his position and gently resting both feet on the floor to lean his elbows on his knees. "You already know the answer to that question." Toby began to cry, fat tears welling in his bright blue eyes before rolling down his blotchy cheeks. "Oh, don't cry!" the man got to his feet and Irene's earlier suspicions were confirmed. He was indeed tall, and somehow that entire super-villain getup only helped in making him look ferocious, flowing black cape and all.

And then he did something truly extraordinary. He rolled his hand, a graceful entrapping movement, and in his gloved hand a crystal appeared. Incredibly smooth and clear, like a perfect ball of glass. He began to play with it, rolling it across his arms and across his shoulders, balancing it on the tips of his fingers and giving the appearance that it could float. "Precious Sarah is safe, Toby," he murmured gently, slowing his movements but still allowing the crystal to flow, as if buoyed by some kind of invisible water. "See for yourself," and with that, he rolled his fingers outwards, letting go of the glass orb entirely. Irene thought her eyes would fall out of her skull they bulged so much. The glass was floating! Floating mid air and steadily making its way towards them like some kind of zero gravity astronaut move. She took an instinctive step backwards at the otherworldly sight, and the man chuckled in twisted amusement in her fear. Toby though, had his eyes set on it as if entranced.

Despite Irene's move, the crystal was still fairly close and with an almost frantic movement, Toby leaned out of the cradle of his mother's arms and snatched the crystal out of the air. He brought it close to him greedily, wiping away his tears and snot on a sleeve so he could see better. He could see her there, sprawled out across an extravagant bed, her dark hair spread around her head like an inky halo. She looked fine. She was okay.

But no. She wasn't okay. "Sarah," Toby moaned pitifully, and let his father grab the crystal out of his hands. "Where is this?" Robert demanded, flashlight back in his hand. He'd beat this man to death with it if it came down to it. As he was staring into it though, it disappeared entirely. He only got a glimpse, and he didn't like what he saw. "My castle," the man replied shortly. "The castle beyond the Goblin City."

"This…this can't be happening," Irene whispered shakily. "It was…an accident. A joke! I didn't mean it!"

"Didn't you?"

"I didn't! Oh, please bring her back. Please!" He tilted his head at her, as if memorizing her expression. And then he smiled, and this smile wasn't like the other smiles. It was cold and darkly amused and cruel, an omen of terrible things to come and yet all the same, it was almost disconcertingly mesmerizing. "Do you really want her back?"

"Yes!"

"Then you'll have to run my Labyrinth."

"The Lab—oh God."

"You know of it," He looked surprised, but then again she didn't think he was. She couldn't seem to trust any of his expressions. "Then let me impart some advice." He stepped closer to her, ignoring the way that Robert tugged her behind him, his strange eyes locked to hers and for the life of her, she couldn't seem to break away. "Give up, Irene," he whispered softly. "The Labyrinth is not kind."

"But—"

"Look!" Another crystal, larger, and filled with things meant to dazzle. He held it out to her, and even though he was across the room, she felt like that crystal was right in front of her face. She…she saw her! She was dancing…dancing and spinning in a wonderful white leotard and tutu, the fabric stiff and yet flowing. The dainty, pointed shoes of a ballerina the only speck of feminine color on her. She…she hadn't danced in years. Ever since the accident and the doctor told her that her feet wouldn't support that kind of strain. It had broke her. Dancing was her dream! And yet, there she was, bowing gracefully before a crowd in uproarious applause. "Forget about Sarah, Irene. Forget about running the Labyrinth. You already have everything you've wanted."

"…but…" she couldn't finish the thought. The vision was too distracting, too tantalizing. His voice continued, oddly lilting. "Sarah isn't even your real daughter. She isn't wanted here, an outcast, the unwanted bit of the family. You won't miss her."

"Irene!"

She snapped out of it, tearing her eyes away from the crystal and right into the bi-colored eyes of her enemy. That's right, he was her enemy. He…he had taken Sarah! And it was her fault! She let Toby slide to the ground, pushing him behind her. "Where is Sarah?"

The crystal disappeared again, but in a violent explosion of noise. "I have answered that question," he snapped, a scowl marring his features and highlighting the sharply winged brows of his. Irene swallowed. He only sounded irritated and she was shaking in her boots—she dared not think what he would be like when he was angry.

"Wait," Robert snarled. "Your story—you only took children. Infants! Why have you taken Sarah? She's an adult."

"Ah," He held a single finger and touched his nose with it. "You noticed. I must say I'm impressed." Robert seemed to rage for a moment, but the man's words stopped him short. "You could say I'm fond of my Sarah."

"Your Sarah," Irene added incredulously. He grinned at her, and for a moment, she was surprised that his teeth were normal. She expected fangs. "Yes, my Sarah. My Champion. The one person in over three thousand years that has bested my Labyrinth. Didn't you know, my dear? She wished away little Toby to me five years ago." Irene gasped in horror, clutching her son tighter to her legs, as if to reassure herself that he was there. Sarah had wished away her Toby to…to that? "Oh don't sound so horrified," the man laughed. "She regretted it immediately, and despite my best efforts she was dead set on winning." The smile here was almost fond, but still poison lurked beneath the surface. "Quite the game we played."

"Game?" Robert hissed. "You think this is a game?" The Goblin King, for that was what Irene was beginning to realize he actually was, turned his eyes almost lazily to face her husband. "Perhaps a game isn't the best term for our interactions," he grinned. "More like a dance. But for you, my fat friend? For you and your delicate wife, yes. Yes, it is most certainly a game. Child's play actually."

He turned to Irene before Robert could explode. "I've said it before, Irene. Give up. The Labyrinth is not a place for housewives." He swept her appearance rather pointedly and for once, she felt a bubble of indignation spark before the upwelling of terror crushed it entirely. "I…I have to get Sarah back."

"Not really," he tossed casually, turning and walking towards the window. Rain had long since been falling as he watched it while he spoke. "You don't have to do anything. Just walk away. Forget this ever happened and accept that Sarah is in a better place. She'd be happy, you know," he looked at her over his shoulder, a quirk to his lips. "She always did like the fantasy world. Can you honestly say your pitiable excuse of a tip-toe relationship can be worth salvaging?"

"I don't think I like what you're saying," Robert interrupted, his voice suspicious. For all his slowness, he seemed to be the first to come to a realization. "Your Sarah, she'll be happy, she'll be safe…" he quoted. "Just what are your intentions?" He didn't even give the chance for the being to respond before he was advancing on him. "If you so much as touch her I'll—!"

Robert was suddenly thrown backwards by some kind of force, clear across the room and into the couch. The furniture rocked with the impact before setting back down with a bang!

Fear blossomed like a two-ton flower inside of her, sinking deep in her stomach and stretching outwards to every limb and finger. Her face drained of its color and went lax entirely and on the couch Robert looked too stunned to have the ability to be speak. "I admit this wasn't how I expected our meeting to go," the king said icily. "But I suppose I can't have everything in this world," he sighed, folding his arms and tapping his finger against his arm. "The only thing you need to know is that Sarah won't be returning to you," If it was possible, Irene got even paler. "But that really is none of your concern now," he smiled beneficially at them all. "You've wished her away and there's no chance of getting her back. Now if you'll excuse me…" he turned, and suddenly very afraid he'd disappear, Irene screamed. "NO!" he came up short, turning towards her with cold, cruel eyes. "No! No, I'll do it! I want Sarah back. She's…she's my daughter. I…I'll run the Labyrinth."

It was quiet, like the Goblin King couldn't quite decide whether or not to grant her request, and then suddenly they weren't in the living room anymore. Instead, her sensible, feminine white heels were sunk slightly in sand. Next to her stood a mangled, dead black tree that supported a massive clock. A clock with the number thirteen at its head. But what really caught her attention was the view: spanning across the horizon was an absolutely leviathan labyrinth, twist and turns and sharp angles, patches of forest and dark spots that warned of danger. And at the center, almost the size of a quarter from this distance, was a towering, looming castle where the land swelled. It was a foreboding sight and something inside of her shriveled in despair at the mere thought of entering that mess. "Oh," she whimpered softly, clutching her arms as she gazed onwards. Sarah was there, stuck in that horrible castle, and it was all her fault.

"Truly, Irene," the king murmured, his eyes gentling. "I swear I won't hurt Sarah. She'll want for nothing and live her days happy and content," he stood closer to her, waving his hand elegantly over the expanse of his Kingdom. "The Labyrinth is my creation, made to keep enemies out and its horrors are everlasting and ever-changing. Even I don't always know what happens within its confines. It is wild, untamed, and heartless. Would you really cast away your life for the delusion of misplaced cruelty to dear Sarah?"

She understood what he was saying completely. If she went in there…there was a good chance she'd never come back out again. But she also knew that he was lying. Sarah couldn't possibly be happy with this…madman. He would rape her, force himself upon her because of his delusional fantasies. He'd said that Sarah bested him before. He was after revenge and he would torture her inside that castle for however long he fancied. She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't. For Toby, for Robert, for Sarah, for her she would do this. She had to.

She had to.

Swallowing the lump that had lodged itself at the back of her throat, she gathered her courage. "I will run your Labyrinth," she said shakily, dropping her arms and trying to straighten her spine. If Sarah could do this at fifteen, then she could too. She was a grown woman…

…and yet the simple act of dropping her arms seemed like tearing down her last line of defense in front of this man. His eyes pierced her like knives poisoned with fear and she was helpless to their effects. She couldn't help it; the terror was nearly tangible.

The feeling of being prey intensified when he smiled a devastating smile, all teeth and that never reached his fierce, glinting eyes. "You have thirteen hours Irene," he gestured towards the massive clock. If you do not solve the Labyrinth in that time," to her astonishment, he began to fade before her eyes. "Then Sarah will be mine…forever." He laughed suddenly, and the sound sent shivers skittering up and down her spine. "Tell you what, when you fail I'll erase any memory of Sarah from the earth as you know it. It won't be so painful then." His ever fading face was nearly gone now, but she could still catch his rakish grin. "If you don't die, that is."

He disappeared entirely, the last thing she knew of him was his darkly amused laughter that was carried on the wind and seemed to echo somewhere deep within her soul. Desolation wasn't something that she was used to feeling, and being so suddenly alone in the face of something so incredibly dangerous was like a bath in ice-water. Shocked and shivering out of fear, she turned her head to look behind her. Sand strewn with decaying foliage met her sights, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see the minute hand of the mighty clock move. Already a minute had passed, and she hadn't even moved. Her eyes widened at the realization, and with one last swallow, she set her foot forward.

She lost her balance immediately, tumbling down the steep sandy slope before her, sand following her like dancing streamers after her flailing limbs. She regained her balance quickly, but it was as if she couldn't stop. Despite the heels and the pencil skirt and the blouse and her pearl jewelry, she was running as if her life depended on it. Running and running towards that castle, heedless of her own safety but still very much afraid for it. But it didn't matter.

Because it wasn't her life she was running for, it was Sarah's.