The Goblin Kings

"You have thirteen hours to solve my labyrinth"

Legend and myth are often what is left after history has rolled a good story 'round in its mouths and minds for a few generations.

As the tales are told, bits and pieces get substituted, facts erode, and fancies are added on like little shiny baubles to fill in the spaces. Pretty soon, the story looks nothing like it started, but at its core, there's a pearl of truth that always remains.

This story is about a king, who lived in a castle which lay at the center of a city filled with all manner of ugly little goblins with bulging eyes, bulbous noses, crooked teeth, and hairy feet.

Though the city was itself quite sizable, having a twenty foot tall gate, complete with its own clockwork guard built right in - it became smaller as the labyrinth that surrounded it grew ever larger.

The king was quite paranoid about people getting to the castle at the center of the city at the center of the labyrinth; especially so about one person - A woman.

She was young and beautiful, with hair the color of burnished oak that fell over her shoulders in enviable lengths. Her eyes were a bright blue - He'd never forget them, they stared back at him whenever he closed his eyes, and every time he looked into the eyes of the baby, cradled in his arm.

She would come for him, the dance begun anew. Such were the ways of this place. She would fling herself at his labyrinth, striving to reclaim the baby, but she would never reach it in time. They never did.

New walls were added, new twists and turns, new paths and passages with hidden doors and turn-rounds, some of the walls even re-arranged themselves after they'd been passed through.

The woman was now coming upon a set of doors, one of which lead to yet another winding, endless corridor, and the other, a quick slide to one of the many dark oubliettes scattered throughout the labyrinth.

The king turned his wrist with a flick, and the crystal ball winked away obediently.

The baby sleeping in the crook of his arm stirred, but did not wake.

"Soon," the king cooed softly. "Soon, you will be mine."

The baby settled again.

"And soon, little Jareth, this will all be yours."