A/N - Not every chapter will be this short, they will likely be about twice this length. This is simply the prologue :) Review, fav, follow, shoot me your opinions :)

It had been some deal of time since the events of The Labyrinth, and in fact, the events had long since drifted into the back of the memory of all who held the ability to recall such a tale. Over three years had passed, and a fair deal had transpired, in the slow, yet creeping manner in which life so often held itself.

As it had turned out, the purpose of the date all those years ago that had started the whole mess had been on the subject of a certain fastly growing biological bump. In truth, Sarah supposed she should have suspected such, after all, her stepmother had grown quite accustomed to raiding the refrigerator for pickles, as random as that had been. And indeed, such pregnancy had been responsible for the quick increase of the date nights, escalating them from rarely occurring, to obnoxiously appearing on the tail end of every single weekend.

Thus, Crystal had been born barely nine months after Sarah had run the Labyrinth and escaped triumphantly alive, brother in hand. Crystal was a handful in a bustling, sweet way, a rather bright blonde little girl with bare feet and a fluffy pink dress decadent in flowers of every nature. She was quite adventurous, not taking no for an answer, and charming in every manner a two and a half year old could be.

She was also the bane of Toby's existence.

Toby was a sweet boy, but a rambunctious one, only being egged on by his mother in his loud nature. His jealousy of his younger sister was plain for all to see, resulting in stomped toes, cut hair, and ruined dresses. All of which, he explained away with a childishly wide sort of grin, and stealing the hand of his mother, who happily apologized and repaired his damage.

He idealized his older sister, Sarah, who had recently turned the age of eighteen, much to the surprise of the adults about her. Regardless, she remained as childish as ever in the eyes of the 'adults', despite her supposed coming of age. Truly, she didn't feel much different, her room soon became cluttered with scripts and novels in which she played varying roles in. Often, the novels would lie open upon her bed, with both her and Toby curled up in the blankets, him listening contently to her tales.

She could after all, pick all of the best ones, and such activities made the boy feel closer to his older sibling through an unspoken bond.

No one could understand why Sarah could calm the rambunctious boy when everyone else couldn't, including his own mother, much to Sarah's silent smugness. Often times, when the day had tensely calm and Irene had been caught up with Crystal the whole day, Toby could be found asleep in Sarah's sheets, words still being read aloud despite the soft snoring.

His thirst for the novels, however, was insatiable.

That was the start of the trouble.

Sarah attended the nearby high school, and as such, could not defend the peace of her room at all regards. In truth, the toys and novels meant so little to her, nothing but weight and clutter in the end, really, but there was one book in which she desired the boy to have no part in.

Labyrinth.

She'd long since given up on destroying the book, it simply appeared once more, in a rather discerning manner, mind you, back in the drawer it had once been placed. Hiding places proved ineffective, as it merely plonked itself back to the drawer, determinedly lying atop of the exam study papers, clear for any eye to see the red leather work and golden lettering.

As much as she despised admitting defeat, Sarah couldn't argue with facts, and the fact was, she couldn't destroy the novel. Instead, she took a black piece of wire, and twisted the knob of the drawer shut in a basic, locked fashion, and informed the household that her exam papers were within, and she'd really rather not have crayon all over them.

Sarah's stepmother, Irene, had not stopped her intruding ways over the three years that had transpired. Rather, when she couldn't get Toby to remain calm for any certain length of time, she would retrieve a random novel from Sarah's room to soothe the child. As time passed, this came to be a habit, but rather than a wide array of different books being read, only one was read, appreciated, and replaced in it's supposedly secure hiding place.

The book, Labyrinth, was Toby's favorite, and very soon, he desired to hear no other tale. It was a dark enough story, with a woman that lost her brother to the Goblin King of the Labyrinth, unable to retrieve him before the clock struck the thirteenth hour. In time, Irene declined to read such a tale, unsure of its affect on such a new mind, instead directing a rather sulking Toby to brighter, fairer fairy tales.

But not, of course, before he'd memorized nearly every line.