Chapter Twenty-Five: A Dire Mistake
"Sarah!" a voice echoed down the hallway just as she emerged from the haunted
ballroom.
She jumped, slamming the door of the room she had just exited, in the process.
The outline of the man who had called to her was quickly drawing nearer. Sarah was
prompted to run, and leave all these people behind, but found herself face to face with
Jack before she could go through with her plan.
He was only barely winded from the sprinting down the passageway, and flashed
Sarah a smile as he came to stop beside her. She returned it, though did so out of instinct
more than actual thought. Jack didn't seem phased by the lack of conviction in her
response, for he came to stand directly beside her, took her arm into his, and then
immediately led her down the way from which he had come.
Sarah relented a bit, wondering why she should continue to try to leave, when it
was so obvious that she was outnumbered. Still, there was no point in going easy for
anything, especially after seeing the portrait, the shocking, unbelievable portrait! Now she
doubted everything, and was even more suspicious of Peter than before.
"Where are you taking me?" Sarah demanded, tearing her arm from his.
Jack sighed deeply and then flashed his eyes at her. Sarah noted, without much
surprise, that he had placed the lovely blue contact back into his eye. She no longer felt
stunned seeing the odd phenomenon, for it was not near as amazing as Jareth's. A twinge
of pain struck her innermost being at the thought of the Goblin King.
"Rehearsal, Sarah, or did you forget that as well?" Jack inquired, his voice laced
with the usual sarcasm and domineering tones.
Sarah scoffed, briefly lifted a handful of the heavy material that had been
constructed into the dress she now wore. There was really no way she could forget the
play, with the bulky costume weighing her down.
"I'm dressed, aren't I? I needed time to myself," Sarah replied, shuddering a bit as
she realized that she had never truly been by herself.
It hit her quite suddenly, the revelation about Emelia. She had been with a spirit, a
haunt, a ghost, and now acted as normal as if she had only just been with an actual friend.
it did not make sense. Such a frightening sight would surely drive most from the manor
without a thought. Yet, even as she thought about the perplex situation, she still felt not
fright directed towards the haunts in the house.
"That you are... You seem to need quite a lot of time to yourself, Sarah," Jack
stated with a knowing voice.
Sarah ignored the whole direction their conversation had turned and continued the
rest of the way to the theatre in silence. It was no use trying to speak, for her words were
warped into meaning what others thought.
Jack stopped at the doors, and swung them open, allowing Sarah entrance before
him, which was actually the first polite act he had participated in since Sarah had first
arrived at Fontridge. She strolled in, at once met with several greetings, and even more
rushed commands.
"I thought you had decided not to join us, Sarah," a calm voice stated from the
stage.
Sarah turned her deep chocolate eyes upwards, and found herself suddenly cold,
and covered in gooseflesh. Peter leapt down, landing lightly, and gracefully upon his feet.
His emerald eyes flashed, much the same as they had in the portrait, so very catlike, feral
in their quality. There was some sort of power in his gaze, that which she had not noticed
until now.
"I lost track of time," she explained quickly, and hurried past Peter without
another look, fearing that she would begin to believe that it was him in the portrait, some
three hundred years prior.
Sarah took the stairs, rather than attempting to climb upon the stage. The dress
prevented any form of such activities. It was a lovely crimson color, nearly matching the
first gown she had been given by Jareth, but it was, by far, less impressive. It was still
quite a masterpiece, with lovely golden embroidering along the bodice, and a velvet train,
but it was not magical by any means.
She stood off to the side, watching as the set was changed to the appropriate one
for the first act and first scene. In fact, the setting was Fontridge Manor, which seemed
quite odd, since they were performing in the original mansion itself. Sarah shook her head
and tried to ignore the complexities of the play.
A single sheet of yellowed paper slid delicately to the polished floor of the grand
stage. Sarah watched it travel its course, and then turned to see who had dropped the
paper at her feet. A single member of the crew smiled at Sarah, and then continued on his
way, handing out the single piece of paper to everyone.
Sarah sighed deeply and then retrieved the flyer from the ground. She flipped it
over and caught her breath. It was the cover to the play, the final addition to make the
entire thing complete. Peter had finished it, and had ended by titling his masterpiece...
"Nevermore."
"Are we ready, then?" his voice called from the rows of empty chairs, only a scant
few occupied by Peter and two other people Sarah had never seen before.
Sarah promptly nodded, trying to hide the uneasiness which arose when she looked
at Peter, and met his flashing gaze. She turned at once, overcome by the questions still
raised in her mind, because of that portrait. In the process of escaping direct eye contact,
Sarah very nearly rushed right into Jack, who caught her about her shoulders.
"Sorry," Sarah stated shortly, and backed away, straightening her long dress with a
nervous energy.
Jack shook his head briefly and then placed the golden wig, which he had been
holding in one hand, upon his head. In fact, the actor bore a sudden unnerving
resemblance to Jareth, what with the mismatched eyes and long silvery-golden mane.
Sarah shuddered and backed away a bit more, just to make herself comfortable.
"Let's start up at the beginning, guys," Peter called, flipping open his copy of the
completed play as he lounged back against the cushioned chairs.
Jack flashed Sarah another smile, perhaps to wish her good luck in the first true
full-length rehearsal they had yet to have. However, it appeared more sinister than full of
well-wishes. Sarah did not return the grin, but instead walked off stage, as two other
came on, in the roles of Mr. and Mrs. Fontridge.
It was due to be a long night....
* * * * * * * *
Sarah collapsed to the ground, beside her a flickering lantern. She looked at the
source of light as if mesmerized. The flame danced with the magic of ages, and reflected
against the widened dilation of her black pupils. Her eyes were misted, tears having just
ceased, but she still hitched in struggled breaths.
"Then with this, my life will be no more. Farewell long nights, endless tears,
eternal heartbreak....," she proclaimed, moving as to upturn the lantern, and so set
everything on fire.
However, she paused momentarily, her eyes having been caught upon the lovely
cover of some leather-bound book. Sarah paused, and removed her shivering hand from
the lantern. She reached out to the old novel, grasping it firmly, as if she believed it would
disappear should she dare to loose her grip. She turned it over lovingly, a strained smile
forming on her worn features, and then stroked the cover with her fingertips.
"I remember you well, I recall memories surrounding your purchase, and more
made following that time.... you deceived me with false hopes," she accused and nearly
threw it far away, just to get the accursed thing from her sight.
Still, something forced her to keep the book in her grip, and she looked at it once
more. There was such magic in the red-covered novel, and she had never truly understood
the extent of that aforementioned power. Her mind snapped instantly to a particular
phrase, to a certain passage that had caught her attention some time earlier. Sarah
lowered the book and looked out into the darkness, a single mighty light poured over her
lonely form.
"I remember that you did not want me to take the book, could it be a secret that
needed to remain buried? So, Jareth, this is how it will all end... I suppose it could be no
other way. So I leave this world with a single plea, from the book you gave to me....," she
paused for a moment, allowing the true agony of her plight to sink in.
In the audience Peter sat, riveted by the scene she was acting, and her talent, so
raw and innate. She had nearly driven him to mourning, and he had been the one to right
it all. He watched, the tears upon her face appearing so very real, and waited, breath held
as the silence reigned.
Then, taking a deep breath, Sarah summed up her strength. She turned her eyes
towards the ceiling, as if calling to that great love whom had scorned her, and allowed the
line to come out, before she had thought about the consequences of her actions.
"I wish that the goblins would...
* * * * * * * *
Peter's grin of satisfaction changed upon his handsome face. His emerald eyes
darkened, and narrowed. He held his hands tightly together, thinking of what was to
come, imagining the grand play that would take place, following Sarah's proclamation to
Jareth.
He nearly laughed, but sustained it, by but a scant margin. It would not seem fit
for such a scene that was so stricken with sadness. But the utter paradox of the entire
situation rung in his head again and again.
Those on the side of him were both enrapt with the drama unfolding before their
eyes. Why not be taken by the scene, why not be overwhelmed with the tale of doomed
love, of a scorned woman forever trapped into her room, while her parents took her child?
The child was from a love out of wedlock, which was, quite obviously, frowned upon in
those days.
All the while the lover does not hear his lady's cries. He is too far away, having
left many months prior, to never return. The play did not explain the circumstances
surrounding Jareth's disappearance, but all understood that he was a lowly cretin. That
was the way they were supposed to respond, to side with Emelia, and her innocence lost.
Peter waited....
* * * * * * * *
".....come and take me away,....."
* * * * * * * *
In a darkened castle, lit by but a single candlelight, a King watched the play unfold.
His horror was wrought upon his face, as he gazed into the perfect crystal balanced in his
gloved palm. His changeling eyes glowed with intense mysteries, secrets, incantations yet
to be fulfilled. And in his heart a fear of overwhelming proportions welled.
He could not stop her, could not get through to her mind as she acted out, with all
the reality of the actual tragedy that had occurred centuries earlier. Jareth willed it away,
begging for the horrible scene to end, but it was not to be.
"Sarah, don't, please," he whispered, watching as she paused, her chest heaving
with emotions that were not all put on for the play. Most were of his making, those that
stirred when he left her.
Jareth glanced at his clock, noting the time. A single click, as the hand moved
another minute, and the chimes rung free. The infamous hour of thirteen had come, and
with it echoed the rings, timeless in their quality, ominous in their fate. With Sarah, it
would be midnight, and she would be sealing her own dark destiny.
There was no moment to spare. Already Jareth could sense another presence
approaching. His brother, all knew of the goings on, and there was a lack of tolerance left
for the Goblin King as he continued to break ageless laws. Jareth could almost see
Nicholas' dark, raven mane, and crystalline eyes, so very pale they seemed to be white.
He did not, however, sense the darker figure, that of the true danger. In the
shadowed corner dwelled a soul, more ancient than Jareth himself. A being that had lived
since the dawn of time, and continued to survive as did evil. Something which could not
be named, but lived by many alias' that millions called it. This thing, which had taken
residence under yet another fake persona, watched the king and the crystal, and the scene
within.
All was silent, all was still, as Sarah continued in her final line....
* * * * * * * *
...right now!" she demanded, and then waited, her chest heaving.
She stopped then, realizing just what she had uttered, without knowing exactly
what she was doing. Sarah's face paled, her heart leapt about wildly, and her stomach
swam with knots of unsurity. She had given herself to the Goblin King, and now was
victim to her ill-placed words.
A cry from out in the audience resounded, and Sarah leapt to her feet. She was
blinded by the constant white illumination, offered by the powerful spotlight. She shielded
her eyes, straining to see from where the sound had been produced. No one else had
joined her on stage, despite the obvious accident that had just occurred.
"Cut, stop, everyone, please get out here!" Sarah called, waiting.
She turned around on stage, and tried to see into the back, where all the others
were waiting either to come on, or help in costume changes, or alterations of scenery.
However, not a sound was uttered in the black silence, and Sarah felt her hopes shatter to
the ground. She was already doomed, and knew that, somewhere in the darkness, there
waited a king.
She twirled back about, glaring into the harsh white light. Still no one uttered a
sound. Sarah swallowed, trying to fight back her fear with every last ounce of strength
she found hidden in herself. She forced herself to the very end of the stage, and scanned
the area, now almost able to see the many empty rows of seats. There was no one out
there, not even Peter.
"Sarah, such a mistake. I never thought you would make it, but, one must not
assume now," a voice caressed from behind her.
She spun on her heals to face the owner of the voice. There was no one to be
seen. Sarah's breath quickened, and she backed away, trying to think of some form of
escape, though her mind seemed to lack the ability to work properly. Her eyes leapt from
one side of the stage to another, waiting for the man to show himself.
"Where are you?" Sarah asked, her voice shaking uncontrollably.
There was no answer, but a sudden wind lifted outside and sent the walls creaking
against its gale-force power. It whistled throughout the old manor, and Sarah shivered,
unnerved by the eerie qualities of the sound. She silently begged for safety, that it was all
a dream, anything to be free from the nightmare.
"Oh Sarah, it seems that your lost again, only this time you aren't in a maze, and
your opponent is not some love-struck King, and this is not a fantasy land. You are in
reality, I must assure you, with deadly consequences for each action. And you have me,
Sarah, as your adversary," the venomous reply came from everywhere around her, and
Sarah found herself spinning in circles to try and follow the voice. It was no use, and she
soon relented.
The sound of footfalls caught her attention. Instantly she spun, to see the black
silhouette of a man walking towards her. Once more she shaded her eyes, in attempt to
see who this maniac was, that wished her dead, or something worse, perhaps. Sarah tried
to back away, but found the stage unrelenting, and her back to a wall.
The light faded, just enough to offer the man's features. He was handsome, with
dark hair and an equally dark outfit. A smug grin, filled with sadistic intent, rested upon
his bowed lips. Yet, it was the eyes that caught and held her attention. They were
emerald, and powerful, filled with the same mesmerizing quality that she had seen in
Jareth's.
Sarah could not utter a word as she realized who this was that now threatened her
very life. She shook her head, not believing what she saw, but unable to deny it, for she
knew now that she was not dreaming. Sarah swallowed deeply, choking down tears
which threatened to spill in her fear.
Then he stopped, a foot, perhaps a bit closer to her. His warm breath brushed
against her face, and she felt sickened by it. She had once found this man attractive, once
had almost loved him... almost. Now, he just stared at her, and she found but one name
resting on her lips.
"Peter."
"Sarah!" a voice echoed down the hallway just as she emerged from the haunted
ballroom.
She jumped, slamming the door of the room she had just exited, in the process.
The outline of the man who had called to her was quickly drawing nearer. Sarah was
prompted to run, and leave all these people behind, but found herself face to face with
Jack before she could go through with her plan.
He was only barely winded from the sprinting down the passageway, and flashed
Sarah a smile as he came to stop beside her. She returned it, though did so out of instinct
more than actual thought. Jack didn't seem phased by the lack of conviction in her
response, for he came to stand directly beside her, took her arm into his, and then
immediately led her down the way from which he had come.
Sarah relented a bit, wondering why she should continue to try to leave, when it
was so obvious that she was outnumbered. Still, there was no point in going easy for
anything, especially after seeing the portrait, the shocking, unbelievable portrait! Now she
doubted everything, and was even more suspicious of Peter than before.
"Where are you taking me?" Sarah demanded, tearing her arm from his.
Jack sighed deeply and then flashed his eyes at her. Sarah noted, without much
surprise, that he had placed the lovely blue contact back into his eye. She no longer felt
stunned seeing the odd phenomenon, for it was not near as amazing as Jareth's. A twinge
of pain struck her innermost being at the thought of the Goblin King.
"Rehearsal, Sarah, or did you forget that as well?" Jack inquired, his voice laced
with the usual sarcasm and domineering tones.
Sarah scoffed, briefly lifted a handful of the heavy material that had been
constructed into the dress she now wore. There was really no way she could forget the
play, with the bulky costume weighing her down.
"I'm dressed, aren't I? I needed time to myself," Sarah replied, shuddering a bit as
she realized that she had never truly been by herself.
It hit her quite suddenly, the revelation about Emelia. She had been with a spirit, a
haunt, a ghost, and now acted as normal as if she had only just been with an actual friend.
it did not make sense. Such a frightening sight would surely drive most from the manor
without a thought. Yet, even as she thought about the perplex situation, she still felt not
fright directed towards the haunts in the house.
"That you are... You seem to need quite a lot of time to yourself, Sarah," Jack
stated with a knowing voice.
Sarah ignored the whole direction their conversation had turned and continued the
rest of the way to the theatre in silence. It was no use trying to speak, for her words were
warped into meaning what others thought.
Jack stopped at the doors, and swung them open, allowing Sarah entrance before
him, which was actually the first polite act he had participated in since Sarah had first
arrived at Fontridge. She strolled in, at once met with several greetings, and even more
rushed commands.
"I thought you had decided not to join us, Sarah," a calm voice stated from the
stage.
Sarah turned her deep chocolate eyes upwards, and found herself suddenly cold,
and covered in gooseflesh. Peter leapt down, landing lightly, and gracefully upon his feet.
His emerald eyes flashed, much the same as they had in the portrait, so very catlike, feral
in their quality. There was some sort of power in his gaze, that which she had not noticed
until now.
"I lost track of time," she explained quickly, and hurried past Peter without
another look, fearing that she would begin to believe that it was him in the portrait, some
three hundred years prior.
Sarah took the stairs, rather than attempting to climb upon the stage. The dress
prevented any form of such activities. It was a lovely crimson color, nearly matching the
first gown she had been given by Jareth, but it was, by far, less impressive. It was still
quite a masterpiece, with lovely golden embroidering along the bodice, and a velvet train,
but it was not magical by any means.
She stood off to the side, watching as the set was changed to the appropriate one
for the first act and first scene. In fact, the setting was Fontridge Manor, which seemed
quite odd, since they were performing in the original mansion itself. Sarah shook her head
and tried to ignore the complexities of the play.
A single sheet of yellowed paper slid delicately to the polished floor of the grand
stage. Sarah watched it travel its course, and then turned to see who had dropped the
paper at her feet. A single member of the crew smiled at Sarah, and then continued on his
way, handing out the single piece of paper to everyone.
Sarah sighed deeply and then retrieved the flyer from the ground. She flipped it
over and caught her breath. It was the cover to the play, the final addition to make the
entire thing complete. Peter had finished it, and had ended by titling his masterpiece...
"Nevermore."
"Are we ready, then?" his voice called from the rows of empty chairs, only a scant
few occupied by Peter and two other people Sarah had never seen before.
Sarah promptly nodded, trying to hide the uneasiness which arose when she looked
at Peter, and met his flashing gaze. She turned at once, overcome by the questions still
raised in her mind, because of that portrait. In the process of escaping direct eye contact,
Sarah very nearly rushed right into Jack, who caught her about her shoulders.
"Sorry," Sarah stated shortly, and backed away, straightening her long dress with a
nervous energy.
Jack shook his head briefly and then placed the golden wig, which he had been
holding in one hand, upon his head. In fact, the actor bore a sudden unnerving
resemblance to Jareth, what with the mismatched eyes and long silvery-golden mane.
Sarah shuddered and backed away a bit more, just to make herself comfortable.
"Let's start up at the beginning, guys," Peter called, flipping open his copy of the
completed play as he lounged back against the cushioned chairs.
Jack flashed Sarah another smile, perhaps to wish her good luck in the first true
full-length rehearsal they had yet to have. However, it appeared more sinister than full of
well-wishes. Sarah did not return the grin, but instead walked off stage, as two other
came on, in the roles of Mr. and Mrs. Fontridge.
It was due to be a long night....
* * * * * * * *
Sarah collapsed to the ground, beside her a flickering lantern. She looked at the
source of light as if mesmerized. The flame danced with the magic of ages, and reflected
against the widened dilation of her black pupils. Her eyes were misted, tears having just
ceased, but she still hitched in struggled breaths.
"Then with this, my life will be no more. Farewell long nights, endless tears,
eternal heartbreak....," she proclaimed, moving as to upturn the lantern, and so set
everything on fire.
However, she paused momentarily, her eyes having been caught upon the lovely
cover of some leather-bound book. Sarah paused, and removed her shivering hand from
the lantern. She reached out to the old novel, grasping it firmly, as if she believed it would
disappear should she dare to loose her grip. She turned it over lovingly, a strained smile
forming on her worn features, and then stroked the cover with her fingertips.
"I remember you well, I recall memories surrounding your purchase, and more
made following that time.... you deceived me with false hopes," she accused and nearly
threw it far away, just to get the accursed thing from her sight.
Still, something forced her to keep the book in her grip, and she looked at it once
more. There was such magic in the red-covered novel, and she had never truly understood
the extent of that aforementioned power. Her mind snapped instantly to a particular
phrase, to a certain passage that had caught her attention some time earlier. Sarah
lowered the book and looked out into the darkness, a single mighty light poured over her
lonely form.
"I remember that you did not want me to take the book, could it be a secret that
needed to remain buried? So, Jareth, this is how it will all end... I suppose it could be no
other way. So I leave this world with a single plea, from the book you gave to me....," she
paused for a moment, allowing the true agony of her plight to sink in.
In the audience Peter sat, riveted by the scene she was acting, and her talent, so
raw and innate. She had nearly driven him to mourning, and he had been the one to right
it all. He watched, the tears upon her face appearing so very real, and waited, breath held
as the silence reigned.
Then, taking a deep breath, Sarah summed up her strength. She turned her eyes
towards the ceiling, as if calling to that great love whom had scorned her, and allowed the
line to come out, before she had thought about the consequences of her actions.
"I wish that the goblins would...
* * * * * * * *
Peter's grin of satisfaction changed upon his handsome face. His emerald eyes
darkened, and narrowed. He held his hands tightly together, thinking of what was to
come, imagining the grand play that would take place, following Sarah's proclamation to
Jareth.
He nearly laughed, but sustained it, by but a scant margin. It would not seem fit
for such a scene that was so stricken with sadness. But the utter paradox of the entire
situation rung in his head again and again.
Those on the side of him were both enrapt with the drama unfolding before their
eyes. Why not be taken by the scene, why not be overwhelmed with the tale of doomed
love, of a scorned woman forever trapped into her room, while her parents took her child?
The child was from a love out of wedlock, which was, quite obviously, frowned upon in
those days.
All the while the lover does not hear his lady's cries. He is too far away, having
left many months prior, to never return. The play did not explain the circumstances
surrounding Jareth's disappearance, but all understood that he was a lowly cretin. That
was the way they were supposed to respond, to side with Emelia, and her innocence lost.
Peter waited....
* * * * * * * *
".....come and take me away,....."
* * * * * * * *
In a darkened castle, lit by but a single candlelight, a King watched the play unfold.
His horror was wrought upon his face, as he gazed into the perfect crystal balanced in his
gloved palm. His changeling eyes glowed with intense mysteries, secrets, incantations yet
to be fulfilled. And in his heart a fear of overwhelming proportions welled.
He could not stop her, could not get through to her mind as she acted out, with all
the reality of the actual tragedy that had occurred centuries earlier. Jareth willed it away,
begging for the horrible scene to end, but it was not to be.
"Sarah, don't, please," he whispered, watching as she paused, her chest heaving
with emotions that were not all put on for the play. Most were of his making, those that
stirred when he left her.
Jareth glanced at his clock, noting the time. A single click, as the hand moved
another minute, and the chimes rung free. The infamous hour of thirteen had come, and
with it echoed the rings, timeless in their quality, ominous in their fate. With Sarah, it
would be midnight, and she would be sealing her own dark destiny.
There was no moment to spare. Already Jareth could sense another presence
approaching. His brother, all knew of the goings on, and there was a lack of tolerance left
for the Goblin King as he continued to break ageless laws. Jareth could almost see
Nicholas' dark, raven mane, and crystalline eyes, so very pale they seemed to be white.
He did not, however, sense the darker figure, that of the true danger. In the
shadowed corner dwelled a soul, more ancient than Jareth himself. A being that had lived
since the dawn of time, and continued to survive as did evil. Something which could not
be named, but lived by many alias' that millions called it. This thing, which had taken
residence under yet another fake persona, watched the king and the crystal, and the scene
within.
All was silent, all was still, as Sarah continued in her final line....
* * * * * * * *
...right now!" she demanded, and then waited, her chest heaving.
She stopped then, realizing just what she had uttered, without knowing exactly
what she was doing. Sarah's face paled, her heart leapt about wildly, and her stomach
swam with knots of unsurity. She had given herself to the Goblin King, and now was
victim to her ill-placed words.
A cry from out in the audience resounded, and Sarah leapt to her feet. She was
blinded by the constant white illumination, offered by the powerful spotlight. She shielded
her eyes, straining to see from where the sound had been produced. No one else had
joined her on stage, despite the obvious accident that had just occurred.
"Cut, stop, everyone, please get out here!" Sarah called, waiting.
She turned around on stage, and tried to see into the back, where all the others
were waiting either to come on, or help in costume changes, or alterations of scenery.
However, not a sound was uttered in the black silence, and Sarah felt her hopes shatter to
the ground. She was already doomed, and knew that, somewhere in the darkness, there
waited a king.
She twirled back about, glaring into the harsh white light. Still no one uttered a
sound. Sarah swallowed, trying to fight back her fear with every last ounce of strength
she found hidden in herself. She forced herself to the very end of the stage, and scanned
the area, now almost able to see the many empty rows of seats. There was no one out
there, not even Peter.
"Sarah, such a mistake. I never thought you would make it, but, one must not
assume now," a voice caressed from behind her.
She spun on her heals to face the owner of the voice. There was no one to be
seen. Sarah's breath quickened, and she backed away, trying to think of some form of
escape, though her mind seemed to lack the ability to work properly. Her eyes leapt from
one side of the stage to another, waiting for the man to show himself.
"Where are you?" Sarah asked, her voice shaking uncontrollably.
There was no answer, but a sudden wind lifted outside and sent the walls creaking
against its gale-force power. It whistled throughout the old manor, and Sarah shivered,
unnerved by the eerie qualities of the sound. She silently begged for safety, that it was all
a dream, anything to be free from the nightmare.
"Oh Sarah, it seems that your lost again, only this time you aren't in a maze, and
your opponent is not some love-struck King, and this is not a fantasy land. You are in
reality, I must assure you, with deadly consequences for each action. And you have me,
Sarah, as your adversary," the venomous reply came from everywhere around her, and
Sarah found herself spinning in circles to try and follow the voice. It was no use, and she
soon relented.
The sound of footfalls caught her attention. Instantly she spun, to see the black
silhouette of a man walking towards her. Once more she shaded her eyes, in attempt to
see who this maniac was, that wished her dead, or something worse, perhaps. Sarah tried
to back away, but found the stage unrelenting, and her back to a wall.
The light faded, just enough to offer the man's features. He was handsome, with
dark hair and an equally dark outfit. A smug grin, filled with sadistic intent, rested upon
his bowed lips. Yet, it was the eyes that caught and held her attention. They were
emerald, and powerful, filled with the same mesmerizing quality that she had seen in
Jareth's.
Sarah could not utter a word as she realized who this was that now threatened her
very life. She shook her head, not believing what she saw, but unable to deny it, for she
knew now that she was not dreaming. Sarah swallowed deeply, choking down tears
which threatened to spill in her fear.
Then he stopped, a foot, perhaps a bit closer to her. His warm breath brushed
against her face, and she felt sickened by it. She had once found this man attractive, once
had almost loved him... almost. Now, he just stared at her, and she found but one name
resting on her lips.
"Peter."
