Yep. Working on it. Mhm. I need more reviews to keep me pumped guys! You need to make me feel warm and fuzzyful. Oh wait, sorry that's what my friends are for. Well, at LEAST review and tell me what you think. I am VERY open to criticism. So tell me what to change, no?

Don't worry I'll warn you.

IOIOIOIOIOIO

Sarah didn't hear the screams, she didn't hear the cries, and she couldn't even hear the calls inside her own head. Everything had been blocked out, everything. Sarah's own fears were shining through her trained mask, and she had broken tradition. The only thing is, she was running for a reason.

Not because of her fears, or anything else, but because something had happened right then and there when she met those golden amber eyes, something that she could not explain. Something had coursed through her, a premonition one could say, of something to come. She had seen Jareth, bloody and bruised, and she had seen herself pale and white, like the Vampire prince himself. As she met amber eyes, her soul began to run from her body, making her fear what lay behind the mask.

And she had not stayed to see.

How simple it had been in the Aboveground. How so amazingly simple it had been, with no plots for crowns, and no magic to mess the world. Nothing to distract her from her make-believe life. How simple it had been to walk to school everyday, headphones on her ears, and not care what went on around her, or even pay attention to it.

Everything was different now. Sarah was different, everything just so different. She couldn't pretend to be naïve anymore; she couldn't even remember what it was like. She felt so old inside, like she had aged a hundred years, and she was all the wiser for it.

Sarah ran still, her feet carrying her wherever they would, she didn't mind at all. Tears came unbidden at her face as the blood red moon rose above the trees. Something inside of her warned her to stop, to turn around and go back, but she couldn't.

The layered skirt she ran it rustled with her movements, but like a snake it twined around her legs and as she fell, time seemed to stand still.

Out of the woods looming head of her came the creatures fondly named vampires, oh no, they were not like Tromlui, oh much worse. These were the exiled, the assumed dead, these were the damnaithe, the damned. Truly damned, they were forced into exile from Rian, the vampire kingdom itself. They were the in betweens, they were left out in the sunlight where they were thought to have died, but when no ashes turned up the next moon rise, suspicions arose. It was happening more often, the taking of the burning ones. These were only a few of their numbers.

Sarah, her beautiful gown torn around her legs and hair a giant tangle, got up out of the mud and turned high tail around and ran faster than she could have ever imagined. She would not be the prey of such vile and despised creatures.

But oh how wrong she was to think she could outrun them.

Now in the lore of humans it is said that one of they (very) few ways to kill a vampire is by stabbing it through the heart with a steak. Here in the underground it worked, mostly, but there was one thing that worked much more effectively.

Iron Sun.

Iarann Grian.

The metal of the sun, forged by hand anew, so hard to forge. It could only be crafted by vastly powerful mages, and fey, and Virgin Half Fey, if they knew.

Now sometimes fey power works in mysterious way. Take an example, you are running for your life from vicious terrifying monsters who want to ravage and kill you, while drinking your blood in the most savage way. Of course you would be scared. Of course you would run. Of course you would try to work some sore of magic.

So Sarah did.

And guess what popped out of her awkward egg shaped crystals?

Iarann Grian.

Of course, she thought, they could not be beautiful and perfect, like the ugly duckling, coming out of something awkward and strange. No it never happened to her, she reminisced morbidly.

Wait! Why am I complaining? I made something happen for once. Maybe these will be useful.

In her hands sat three glass like, fogy shards of fiery metal, that if put into the moonlight hinted at amber and citrine-like particles in it. This was Iarann Grian, of course, but weak, very weak still, and drawing power from Sarah all the time. You see, the longer you held onto the Iron Sun you created, the stronger it became, and for someone as new as Sarah to magic, it was drawing strength out of her fast.

Sarah looked back, eyes wide and the green shining like fire in the night. She was afraid, that was clear, but she would not be afraid to die. If they caught her, then she would go, but not without a fight.

She stopped and turned around.

Much to the surprise of Sarah herself the damnaithe stopped and stared at her in open eyes wonder, particularly looking at the shards she held in her hand.

This was when Sarah knew exactly what to do.

There were three of them .She threw the three shards. The shards hit, and as gently as the wind blew on that night, the damnaithe began to crumble and float away in the air like ashes from a fire.

It was as simple as that.

Sarah turned around, unfazed, and walked back to where she thought the palace was.

Sarah was wrong again though. She walked farther and farther. Still came upon nothing, but she thought, maybe I am going the right way, maybe if I keep on walking I will find the palace. Had she known, she would have laughed.

Her feet had begun to hurt long ago, for the shoes she wore were like slippers, and were thin. The ground was rocky, and somewhat hard to handle. She slipped them off and threw them, for they had holes worn in them.

Sarah kept her head down most of the walk, hair hanging limply in her face. Sarah couldn't help but miss her old violin at this point.

Yes, Sarah did indeed play the violin, she also danced ballet, but she had stopped all that the year after the labyrinth. They were what helped her get to her fantasy world, the music, the movement, the love of each. Her love of books was the only thing that was greater than them.

And was the only thing she had kept of her old life.

Her bare feet hit the ground, nothing in between them and the rough terrain. She was, naturally, a nature girl. At home she had always been without shoes; she felt that when she wore them she lost touch with the earth. And it was true.

She missed her life, and she only wished that Jareth would look at her how she looked at him, how Tromlui looked at her.

Sarah sat, immobile, on the ground. She didn't know when she had arrived at this point, but being there now opened her eyes to her surroundings.

She was sitting in a deep green glade, surrounded by flowers and in the center sat a small pillar with something sitting in the middle. She couldn't help but be awed by the beauty of the simple object, the pillar of shining marble. Streaked with silver gold and green, it was simply amazing, and it seemed to just grow out of the ground.

Sarah stood, her dress in tatters, her hair a tangled mess, and walked to the pillar. On top of it sat a ring. Nothing more. It looked to be made of silver vines and irises. It was simple in its beauty, but gorgeous. The irises were made of some sort of purple stone, nothing at all like amethyst

Sarah picked it up and put it on. At first it was too big to fit her finger, but then, as if by magic, it shrunk and fit her finger perfectly. The ring radiated a low glow from the violet irises and a low hum thrummed through her body. There was something definitely strong and magical about this ring.

Sarah looked up eyes wide suddenly. A long time ago when had still lived in the Aboveground she has read about this ring. It gave life to those near death, it matched fertile couples and it gave warning to those in danger, it was Danu in a Sidhe artifact. She had forged the ring.

The only problem was there was a ritual for this ring to work, and it only chose very special recipients.

Sarah let down the walls Jareth had given her, and pain assaulted her. She was intoned with the magic of the land, and it was screaming for her to go back.

Sarah turned, and ran back. For some reason, she was wishing she would make it in time.

IOIOIOIOIOIO

Jareth lay on a bed basked in maroon and black sheet and comforters. His temperature had risen.

Tromlui hadn't just struck him with any blade, it was a blade infused with some of Cromm Cruac's magic, the king of the crooked hill. He was once a great death god, the greatest there was and homage had been paid to him every year, but two thousand years ago when the weirding struck he had lost most of his power. He was also one of the greatest death gods. It could kill any, even the immortal Sidhe. No one had known how he had received such a timeless artifact, for it had disappeared centuries ago, like many of the most powerful artifacts.

Jareth's skin had faded to white, his eyes no longer to stay open by themselves.

"Jareth, my Jareth, what have they done to you?" Alainn cooed, her face glowing with the sorrows she felt, tinged with a pale blue. The sadness shimmered across her skin like raindrops, beading on the surface then disappearing to somewhere else, the blue rain mesmerized those not fey.

In a dungeon in the main halls of Tír ná nÓg Caisleán, The Land of The Eternal Young's Castle, or Caisleán ná Taibhreamh, in Solás ná Tír, the capitol of all faeriedom, was Tromlui, waiting for trial. It was the worst offence in the Land of the Eternal Young to try to kill one another, kin slaying, besides in war, especially since they were both Unseelie Court. Pure. (Castle of Dreams, in the Land of Light)

"He will be punished mother, as I am sure father will make sure to see. It is a sad day when a Fae kills another for a woman, when so many rest out in the world out there. Jealousy is an overbearing tool used to fire the most hellish of intentions, whether it be foolery or love, it can turn even the sweetest of thoughts foul with its rancid odors." Gwen said her face stone hard.

Alainn turned to Gwen. "Do you know any cures for this?" she asked, face almost as pale as Jareth's. "There has to be one."

"There is a way. It hasn't been seen since the Sidhe lost grace with Danu almost a Millennia and fifty years ago." Chimed a voice from one of the book shelves. All heads turned to the familiar but not places voice.

Erini sat there looking down on the room with sad deep eyes.

"Oh ereni please tell me the cure! I would give you anything! A bady, a lover, my own magic, please!" begged Alainn. "Please…" she sobbed. Silvery-blue hue absorbed into her skin like water on a sponge.

"Crooked one

Locked away

Don't let your face

See the day

You give away curses

You hold onto the past

Give a sword

Make it last

A vine of silver

A flower of violet

The rest you know

So have not your heart set

For it is a band of silver

With a heart of gold

That will save you now

Your soul be told"

Erini looked so sad sitting there, head down. "The ring of Life has been long gone from out society Ma'am. It is said to never return."

Alainn looked at Jareth, eyes sparkling. What have they done to you my son? Why are you the only one they look to kill? What are you hiding? Alainn looked at Erini.

"What are the chances?"

"There aren't any chances."

"That's not true! You are a liar Erini! There is a way!"

"I am sorry mistress, there is not. Only the ring."

A single tear trickled down Alainn's face. Gwen sat stone faced and dead calm. Sarah had run like; she knew this would happen. Gwen hated her now, for the hospitality and sisterly love she had shown Sarah, and all she wanted to do was help to kill Jareth.

What had he done to her but play with her heart? Nothing.

The starlight filtered in through the windows at the hour. It fell like a ribbon across Jareth face as tears turned to sobs, and calm retreated to unreadable and cold. The moonlight was falling through the windows like water upon the shore, gentle and searching at the same time.

Even though time meant nothing to these people, a life was more precious than anything. The fey were disgusted about how humans treated the Earth, and how they killed it every day! What kind of race is that savage?

A fey child is rarer than anything, to ascend the throne to Faeriedom you must be first pregnant with a child, and Alainn had two children nonetheless. Jareth, as the older child, was entitled to the throne, but Gwen had more chance of inheriting it. Most of the time the throne is inherited by males, but when women rule the land fares better because they are a copy of the Great Mother.

IOIOIO

Margery looked down on the scene, her face gently conveying emotions that passed through her. Tears streaked her face, and her mouth moved in silent prayer.

Sarah, to the dismay of Brenna and Marge, was veiled from sight by a force not even they knew, and they were in the Farbeyond. It hurt so much to watch Jareth slip gently out of the hands of the living, one foot already in their land. He was going to b e the greatest King the Fey had ever had, and would bring peace to warring lands, so it was said among the higher ranks, but if this kept going how it was, there would be no peace in the lands in the Underground.

"Jareth hold on. Please you have to, for everyone. Hold on."

IOIOIOIOIO

Words echoed in Sarah's head like the faraway memories of smiles through tears.

"Jareth hold on. Please you have to, for everyone. Hold on."

"Margie?" Sarah's eyes widened. Jareth was dying.

Yes Jareth, hold on, for a little longer still. Please…

I need you.

IOIOIO

"Sarah?" Jareth murmured, deep in his comatose state.

"Mother, he spoke!" Gwen looked wildly about the room, only to find Alainn sleeping on the couch near the fire.

Tears streaked down Gwen's face.

Sarah's and Gwen's thoughts rang in Jareth's fiercly vivid dreams.

I need you.

IOIOIO

I AM SO SORRY! I AM SUCH A HORRIBLE AUTHORESS! I haven't been able to update for so long, because alas, I did lose interest for a little while, and then school, and work, and now band, took over, AND FINALS DAMNIT! No excuses I know. But please, please, please, don't hate me. I've been trying really hard the past few weeks to write this, I'm sorry, and please leave a review, it would greatly make me feel better. Please don't hate me.

Sorry for the short chapter, I will try to write more, this is just a hold over.

AlainnAnam (Tornshadows)