Author's Note: The Labyrinth isn't mine, and neither is Jareth...(darn!). Kirash is mine, though. Here is installment number two of Kirash's plot to overtake Jareth. I know there's no dialogue and it is rather transitional, but I've put in some interesting theories on the workings of magic in the Underground.


The Fall of the King

Two

Dim morning light invaded Kirash's sleep, a keen knife intent on tearing his deep slumber to shreds. He opened his eyes slowly. His magic required plenty of rest, and in the last few weeks, he had been exerting himself far past his usual limits in order to absorb the power of different highly magical objects scattered throughout the Underground. Of course, his power had increased tenfold, but that also signified that he felt exhaustion acutely, and often he felt weighed down by the magnitude of his power.

Though he was still bogged down by morning grogginess, Kirash quickly threw back his emerald sheets and was out of bed with the rapidity of a leaping predator. His mind began whirring into action - he had one last item of power to acquire before the new runner arrived in the Labyrinth. Over the course of the last few weeks, he had trekked across all of the Underground's regions to collect the 'heart' of each region, a magical orb that sustained and provided magic for each being that inhabited the area. Most of the regions, especially the completely Fae-inhabited Quilark and Everwooden, the home of the elves, contained enough magic on their own that the absence of their 'hearts' would not be sorely missed nor noticed.

Ironically enough, it was the Heart of Temeril that he had yet to obtain. This particular orb sustained any and all life in the region. Without it, the conditions would become so extreme that the area would wither and die completely, and along with it, any exiles or creatures that still inhabited the rocky landscape. Kirash smirked at the thought. What an exile location it would be when he ruled the Underground! His enemies would have no hope of surviving.

Kirash peeked through his heavy velvet curtains with alert eyes. It was sunny, but clouds were threatening to overtake the skyscape. He smirked again. The weather of the Labyrinth often tended to reflect the mood and preferences of its Master. Jareth's Labyrinth was usually bright and sunny. Kirash knew his Labyrinth would be under the perpetual darkness of thick storm clouds. The Labyrinth was already bending to his will; it was ready for a new Ruler. He would have laughed, but he believed that it was unseemly when by oneself. It was better for the object of your mirth to be present before letting loose a good cackle.

Letting the curtains fall closed with a soft whisper, Kirash crossed his small chamber until he reached a tall, very simply constructed wardrobe. He held out his pale hand and made a beckoning gesture as he regarded the closed doors of the wardrobe. His staff raised itself from the floor next to his bed and obediently settled into his waiting palm. He then tapped it once on the black stones of his floor and the wardrobe doors opened. Hanging within were several versions of the only clothing he permitted himself to wear: black robes of a flowing material and length that could swirl around him menacingly when he chose for them to do so. They made for surprisingly easy mobility, perhaps because the material he had conjured was so light. Black was his favourite colour, it had been even when he used to be Kevin, aspiring Aboveground actor. But black also had the advantage of reflecting no light whatsoever, and with a hood pulled up, his pale skin, abnormal eyes, and eerie hair would give no sign of his presence.

Kirash chose a fresh robe and quickly pulled it on. He had work to do today, and he could not afford to waste time enjoying using his magic for every little chore in the morning. He would need it to obtain the Heart of Temeril. He grabbed an extra cloak. The conditions in Temeril were tempestuous and tumultuous; he never could predict when it would be hot or cold. No one could, not even glittery Jareth. With that settled Kirash exited his sparse room immediately and ascended another level to his study at the top of his tower. It was crammed neatly with every magic book he had managed to collect throughout his travels in the Underground, including a few he had stolen from Jareth himself.

The book he needed was already sitting on his massive, ornate mahogany desk, the only indulgence he really had in his tower. A powerful mage needed an impressive desk. The book was open to the page Kirash needed to look at, a sign of his ever-increasing obsession. The yellow, crinkly pages were brittle and smelled extremely musty, so Kirash had to be overly-careful as he leant over the massive tome to observe the illustration.

In spidery penmanship with deep scarlet ink was a portrayal of the Heart of Temeril, and some vague instructions as to how Kirash should go about finding it. He could feel irritation creeping up his spine as he reviewed the instructions for the thousandth time. How could the author have been so imbecilic as to avoid visiting the location of the orb? How could the author have even endured being so thoroughly non-specific? Sighing, he memorised the picture: an orb very similar to Jareth's blasted crystals, though black in colour, and radiating a dull brown light. At least, that was the vague author's description.

Kirash closed the book gingerly and replaced it on one of the teeming shelves that circled the room. He then proceeded to the roof of his tower. He enjoyed travelling from his rooftop. It was much more stimulating than from the ground. As he emerged outside, he noticed that the wind was picking up, the clouds moving faster, and they were gravitating towards his tower. Kirash knew it could be a potential problem, but he doubted Jareth would suspect his presence. He stood absolutely still for a moment, allowing the wind to surround him, enjoying the sensation of the wind's caress on his face before pulling his hood up and holding out his staff horizontally.

He closed his eyes and began to focus on the small particles of magic that were floating all around him. Magic was everywhere: it just took the incredibly gifted to realize it, the same way only a truly gifted musician could add emotion and soul to a piece when a perfect technician could not. The particles condensed around him, realizing his ability to command them, silently asking him what the nature of his bidding was. Focusing on the wind again, Kirash ordered the particles to allow him to become like the wind. Once he felt his body breaking up into the lightness of air, he forced the magic particles to fling him towards Temeril.

Kirash always enjoyed the sensation of travelling, particularly when he transformed himself into the wind. It was exhilarating, to know he had that power over nature, and to feel how quickly he was moving. He also had the ability to deconstruct himself into particles and reconstruct them where he wished to go, but that took considerably more energy, and if he was venturing to Temeril, he would need all of his stores of power.

All too quickly, he felt his body reforming and solidifying, becoming heavier, racing towards the ground. He landed lightly on his feet, his felt boots making little noise upon the dry, compact earth of Temeril. Kirash opened his eyes and surveyed the landscape. Not much had changed in the years since he had escaped this barren wasteland. It was still dry, rocky, and at every turn, every landmark looked exactly the same. That was why exiles rarely made their way out of Temeril; it was so confusing that oftentimes, an exile would go insane before reaching his destination. But Kirash had had magic on his side, and he had forced himself to remain calm.

There were still small cacti and Temerilian tomatoes scattered across the dry earth. Kirash nearly gagged at the memory of forcing down the dry tomatoes and sucking moisture out of the cacti to survive. Never again, he had promised himself that the moment he had reached the outer limits of Temeril. Fortunately, now that his power was so much stronger, he could conjure himself food and drink when he needed it during this particular voyage.

Kirash took a few steps forwards, clouds of dust swirling up around him with each footfall. Sighing, he tapped his staff twice on the dry ground, and an invisible bubble surrounded him, protecting him from the choking dust. Then he threw a cloak around his shoulders; the wind was bitingly cold here today, and it was picking up in severity. Kirash made it towards the rocky outcropping where his former home had been. He was surprised to see the ramshackle hut was still standing, though it looked as though one more gust of wind would cause its demise. He knew that he had to head west from the spot of his former hut, and after that, he would have to clear his mind and focus upon the energy of the magic particles: the more frantic they grew, the closer he would be to the Heart of Temeril.

As he continued westward, he saw little sign of intelligent life. The exiles kept to themselves, for they knew that their fellows would attack for food or water, clothing or shelter. And they would most definitely keep away from Kirash. A powerful mage was always dangerous, and in their weakened state, exiles could not afford to attack a sorcerer. Kirash wondered if there were any exiles still living in Temeril. He knew that a few of them had probably had enough ingenuity to prolong their lives in Temeril, but the conditions were still nearly uninhabitable.

Every time he strayed from his straight westward path, he used a charm which coaxed the area's magical particles to nudge him back in the correct direction. The magical particles in Temeril were weak. They barely resisted an unfamiliar force, which was why the weather here was so dangerous and unpredictable. Any force of nature or magic could control them. At approximately midday (though he couldn't really tell as the sun was wreathed in writhing clouds), Kirash paused to drink some water he had conjured and eat a bit of bread. Since living in Temeril, he had never regained a full appetite, and so did not need much more than some bread before trekking onwards, his mind bent on the Heart of Temeril.

Finally, as the sky was growing dark, he reached another rocky outcropping, where a small opening was hidden. The magical particles were bouncing around erratically, their energy going wild; this was the place. Kirash took a deep breath, removed his shielding bubble, and took a step into the darkness.

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