S

Fortunately, the temperatures were already on the rise. I hadn't packed as much as I would have liked, but I managed to ration the provisions carefully and supplement them with late winter berries, water from brooks, and sundry other edibles I'd discovered during my romps through the lands around the keep.

I used the sun to track my course and hoped I knew what I was doing.

There were villages. Hiding my hair under a hood just in case, I managed to stay in the homes of farmer families here and there. People seemed to welcome me with ease, and that was always a comfort. I also had the opportunity to re-orient myself with each layover, setting out in the morning along the path pointed out to me by my latest host.

By my calculations I was now only a few days from Larutan. My previous host had warned me of a bog filled with trees and caves possessing mysterious properties.

"And all who rest for the night in that place run screaming in the morning. Those who return safely are forever changed. Some never return."

The recollection of his words left my body numb. Especially now that I realized the ground was beginning to give. There was a path to follow, but the soil was clearly transitioning to marshland, and I knew of no other route to Larutan…

J

I have a lot of time to reflect these days. Sometimes I can distract myself with regular duties. Other times I find myself drifting back to those first delicate memories of her arrival in my castle.

That fateful night, I used my magic at the scene of accident. Her body was too broken to transport. The details are fuzzy to even me at this point. I suppose it's the human side blotting out a memory too vivid for my own good. I was frantic, trying everything I could think of. It kept her breathing, but I knew it couldn't fix the real damage done. My hands were covered in blood. Her blood. Then something came over me. I saw in an instant a magic so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed me. It felt like heat exploding from my chest, a pressure so intense I could barely see. I had to steady myself to focus on it. I'm not sure how I knew how to wield the spell, but I wasn't asking questions at that point. A foreign peace settled on me just long enough so I could perform the task.

She was lying unconscious but no longer bloodied on a bed in my castle. The shell of her body—something between a glamour and remnants of what I couldn't bring with me—sat motionless at the scene of the accident. That is what they buried at her funeral. But you see, the energy of the transformation shifted her center from the realm of humans to mine. She is truly a creature of the Underground now, just as much as I am. We both lost fragments of ourselves at that scene, I'm sure of it. At least, I was able to conserve and salvage the important parts of her. When I took on a part of her humanity and gave her some of my fae essence, there must have also been a slight shift in mass. I never went back to check, but the blood lining her crushed car was probably a mixture of hers and mine. Still, I weathered the draining well. I could feel weakness, but it was nothing like hers.

She was unconscious for weeks. And clearly in constant pain. I wrung my hands day after day, sifting through my library, searching for little spells and techniques to ease the raging war inside her body and her psyche. For while I'd managed to grant her a renewed body, the psychic pain of the injury still dwelt within. She had been on the verge of death when I transformed her, and so her spirit was still struggling to return to the world of the living, even as it grappled with all the trauma from the accident. Not only that, but her spirit was reconnecting with a new body and altered nature. But she was a fighter. Just like when she beat my Labyrinth all those years ago, she never gave up.

And one beautiful day, I saw peace returning to her strained brow. Hope lit in me, and I prayed to who knows what deity that the healing process might continue. Soon she began to stir in response to my presence. I'll never forget the first time she turned her head to come closer to me. At last her eyes grew strong enough to open. I couldn't have felt a greater joy.

There came a day when she was conscious enough to realize she did not remember anything from before. I wasn't surprised at her lack of orientation, but I hadn't realized how much the transformation had cost her. You see, I had used her name and she seemed to recognize it, so I thought maybe she remembered some things. But that was only because she trusted me. I realized soon enough she could remember nothing of the accident and her life preceding it. Guilt rushed in with a vengeance the moment the extent of her psychological trauma became apparent to me. Guilt—a very human emotion.

"Tell me your name," she murmured sweetly. Despite the affection in her voice, I couldn't hide my shock at her request. So you don't remember me at all? Admittedly, at first I thought she'd forgotten our time in the Labyrinth from before, but it didn't take long for me to understand the memory loss was far more extensive.

"Jareth. I'm Jareth. I'm your friend," I added carefully.

"You're my angel," she corrected. I was taken aback.

"I assure you, I am no angel. I am king of this castle, but to you I am merely a friend."

"Castle…oh, you mean this place is large?"

"Large and complicated, I'm afraid."

"Is that why you go away and then come back? You have a large castle?"

"What, do you miss me when I'm gone?" I cursed my pulse as it began to race.

"You're my world. Of course I miss you. You were the light I saw when…" she fell silent.

I took her hand and squeezed it.

"Sarah…" I tried to bring her back to me.

She nodded and squeezed my hand in return.

"Do you remember anything before this castle?" I held my breath, knowing I'd probably asked too soon.

She lay for a moment with her eyes searching the ceiling as if for a clue. Finally she moved her head lightly as if to say 'no.' A wave of compassion propelled my lips to her forehead. Withdrawing, I caught her wondrous green eyes staring at me with unspeakable innocence.

"Don't worry, I'll be back." I reassured her. Emotions were too strong. I had to get away and think things over.

"I know you will," she stated with absolute trust. My heart clenched.

From that day on, I knew it wouldn't be easy. But for some reason her trust made me forget all the pitfalls and the tragedy of her condition. I lived in sweet denial. My only thought was not to disappoint her…