The remains of New York City sprawled before Jareth like the blood-red leaves of a maple tree, freshly fallen at the first blow of Autumn. Wind whistled through the cracks in stone and concrete, blustering through the fur of many anthropomorphized creature. The new New Yorkers scurried across the sidewalks, hustling and bustling in a manner not too unlike the usual behavior of the city's dwellers on any normal week day, except that manner was completely disorganized, teetering on insanity, and as far from normal as strange could possibly get.

Jareth leaned in further on the balcony of the third-story roof of Marlena's shop and home, trying to get a closer look at the changes that had occurred during the magical transformation Sarah had set in motion. Skyscrapers, twisted and malformed, looked more like tottering stacks of children's blocks, black and gnarled against a deep purple sky—a grove of misguided, living, and lived-in trees. Irregularly shaped windows glowed from the various buildings at different colors and arrangements. It looked like a Van Gogh painting—pulsing colors and outlines that, if Jareth could discern correctly, had not yet finalized their placements. The more still he became to observe the damage, the better he could see that it was all throbbing, still moving and growing. The change was so demented and perverse that he could hardly imagine that the scene that played before him was part of the workings of the once innocent and vivid mind of Sarah.

He walked the perimeter of the roof, trying to gather his thoughts as he gained a three-sixty perspective of the surroundings. Blond wisps of hair teased his face; he brushed them aside, boyishly scratching at his nose where one tendril had agitated his skin. His mismatched eyes looked lost, his mouth pursed and motionless, saddened. He was still adorned in the high-fashion trench coat that he had purchased with Ashley earlier that day. It had been only the day before, hadn't it? It was at this thought he realized how tired he had become… The evening grew later and later, working its way into the deep misty blue of morning hours.

The shadow of adjoining buildings towered over, and he looked up to see that two former office buildings loomed overhead, teetering as if to fall intentionally upon his head. Slime dripped off a girder and fell on the arm of his jacket. He wiped it off halfheartedly as he moved towards the rear end of the building.

A howling, whistling wind blew between the towering high-rises and over the twelve story building that housed Marlena's shop and a host of other stores and apartments, rattling a few antennas and mini satellite dishes in its wake. Eerie clouds cast a pink haze over the bursting moons, misty portents of doom straight out of the illustration of some child's storybook.

There were still some people remaining in the streets, where they walked by like zombies, trying to come to grips with what had happened to their world. A part of them had an inkling, had some idea of where this change had come from. He had heard voices crying from the streets and open windows that it must be a dream. More specifically that it was their dream, as if they were somehow to blame for it all. It was an odd thing to say, or so one would think, if they didn't know what Jareth knew.

It reminded him of the time he had rendered chalk drawings on the sidewalks to amuse his new friends, and passers-by had miraculously recognized his artful musings as pieces of their subconscious.

Damn, I think about it as if it were centuries ago, yet it was only a day. A day ago there was some semblance of order to this strange city, and now it has become more chaotic than even the Underground.

Signs of bedlam truly abounded. Creatures of all kinds, purely of Underground, purely of Aboveground, crossbreeds between the two, talking and silent, violent and joyous, were all mucking about the streets, driving cabs, picking pockets, goofing around, and even working at jobs—whatever the jobs might be at this point. But Jareth could tell, even this soon, that it wasn't working. It would break down. Without some stabilizing force, it would fall to pieces, and even then security of such an existence was doubtful.

As he looked over the mangled remains of the city, he ticked off facts in his mind in an attempt to get a grasp on what had happened the day before.

In the time that passed since the change there were few signs that anyone found it strange, aside from the scattered people who had mysteriously not been transformed by the spell. Gatherings of these leftover people were held throughout the city, small clusters of artists, writers, and children trying to figure out what had occurred, where their world had gone. All seemed thoroughly alarmed by the changes, yet none of them were wholeheartedly complaining. But where would these unchanged people go? What was their place in this new world? People they had known were now changed to creatures of a kind they only imagined in their wildest dreams, and barely seemed to acknowledge the changes. Sometimes the changed ones didn't even note the presence of the people they had once lived with or loved, those humans who remained as they had been before the spell. These humans were now completely lost and did not even have a home to which they could go.

Jareth had been to such a gathering earlier that day, explaining what he could surmise from events. He revealed that somehow a formidable magic from his world had been brought into this one, and that he did not know how to reverse its malignance. He explained that they were not crazy in thinking that they indeed had dreamed it all, because he felt it was likely that many aspects of this world had been birthed by the subconscious machinations of many individuals in the city. But what that conclusion meant and why it was their dreams in particular that had come true, he could not explain.

He had been on a mission to find a little boy—a seemingly simple mission, a small matter of business on this unfamiliar world. As usual, trouble had followed him. Trouble was apparently his permanent and unruly companion.

Jareth sighed deeply, closing his eyes as a sudden bout of warm wind whipped through his long blonde hair. He tried to imagine for a moment there was nothing to worry about. Then he opened his eyes and was greeted by the warped and twisted shapes of the city around him.

What he did not explain to the people he met earlier that day was that he knew the greatest love of his life was somehow at the center of these troubles. The image of Sarah standing on the tower in Times Square haunted him, her raven-clad dress swirling about her in a dark purple wind, her eyes aglow with evil machinations as her face appeared on every television screen in the Square, in pawn shop windows, in apartments. He had barely noticed the ground moving beneath him as he had been mesmerized by her face and her words.

'Hello my love.'

Could he have asked for a worse circumstance for the confirmation of her love? She wasn't herself, and she was using the same games against him that he had once used in torturing her. It had been during his long past dark times as Goblin King, starting with the moment he kidnapped her little brother Toby.

He could only guess what the coming days would bring. There was already an air of disarray to the city; noisy creatures abounded, running over each other in their once normal affairs. Television proceeded as normal, with not so normal faces and not so normal news. Grocery stores stayed open, selling not so usual food items. Cab drivers were no longer human, and didn't always drive cars, but one way or another, they got you somewhere, though not necessarily where you wanted to go.

And there was a lot more consternation and unanswered questions brewing underneath the surface of the more obvious questions. Where were Sage and the others? Had his world been entirely lost in this transformation? Did anyone really know what was going on? All he knew was that it was probably up to him to answer all these questions, and he did not feel up to the task. He missed Sarah terribly, and their reunion only seemed further and further away. He longed to hold her close to him, feel the warmth of her skin, the flowery scent of her hair … the physical manifestations of a love he was beginning to feel he had suffered long enough to have earned. He was beginning to wonder if the constant struggles that beset him were supposed to be the signs that fate was wholeheartedly against their union. Did he somehow tarnish her greatness? She had grown more powerful since he left. Perhaps she was meant to forge a path separate from him. Most deeply he felt it was his own fault for bringing this chaos upon the city, and uprooting Sarah from everything that had once been safe and familiar. Perhaps she had never been meant to learn of the world of fantasy that was the Underground. Perhaps the doom she was too great a price to pay for having released Jareth and his former minions of the Goblin City from their own dark spell.

Jareth began to sing a tune under light breath. It was one of the many poems he had written whilst thinking of her during his four years in isolation, and as singing it tended to comfort him in times of trouble, he turned to his gift once again for respite.

Two lovers spoke on one fine eve
Girl's eyes did speak of future grieved
Yet left behind a past unspent
To find a future to repent.

"Never shall we meet again
Not in white snow, nor acid rain
Upon the brow of unwashed morn
Or teardrop fall'n from lid forlorn."

"I say not so, but on the 'scape
We'll many rosebuds fondly drape
And once again walk hand in hand
Across this varied, lonely land."

What can be said of woman's blood?
Half human flow'r, half faery mud,
And with a pinch of faint regret
That hangs from hopeful springtime sweat.

"Could it be we'll meet again
In dark skies, or 'mongst light grain
Upon the bark of gnarl-ed tree
On wings surprised, and feather free?"

"I say not so, but in our dreams
For futures hold a fate more green
The life we lead shall be more fair
In our minds reality laid bare.

Lives in pieces, we'll live whole
Living neither here nor there."

Before he could let his thoughts get the best of him, Marlena crawled off the fire escape and onto the roof. Her green eyes were afire with excitement and magic. While the transformation of her city had caught her off guard, she still managed to maintain a childlike amazement. Never had she shown any doubt that she, Jareth, and her coven companions would put things right. Marlena took the events in stride more than Jareth ever could. He had solved many difficult problems in his lifetime, but he could think of little to which he could compare this one. It amazed him that she could be so optimistic about affairs.

"That was beautiful," she said, smiling softly as she approached him.

"You were listening?" Jareth asked with a hint of a blush.

"No need to be embarrassed," she said with a pleasant chuckle. "You have a tremendous singing voice."

He sighed slightly. "Well, it has been a long time since I sang for an audience." He gave her a bit of a smile to assure her he was all right. She had been worrying over him profusely for the last twenty-four hours, seeming to sense quite well the depth to which current affairs troubled him. "Have you seen Jeremiah lately? I came up here looking for him."

"He went out into the city to try to find out where Sarah is settling," Marlena said as she brushed a bit of curly red hair from her face. "How is he going to get around in this mess?" She looked over the edge and was greeted with a view of back-to-back traffic. It was eight o'clock at night, and it hadn't let up since the transformation two days prior.

"I suspect he still has his fellwit companion," Jareth replied, musing absently as he lifted his laurels up onto the daunting precipice of the roof to sit. It seemed to make Marlena a little nervous, but she didn't say anything.

"Fellwit?"

Jareth smiled wanly. "Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget where I am." He started playing self-consciously with the lapels on his smart black coat. "It's a sort of flying creature. Much like a dragon… or a giant cat. He found her a long time ago, and they live a very long time. Her name is… Ingeborg? I think."

Marlena smiled at the notion, resting her elbows on the roof and gazing dreamily over the city. "Hmm. I'd like to have my own fellwit. People always think witches can fly, but it is an old myth." She sighed deeply. "If only we could. All I can manage is a little astral projection. Which is of course exciting, but nothing like feeling the wind through your hair."

Jareth gazed at Marlena, a little sadly. She was a dreamer, like Sarah. Everything reminded him of Sarah at the moment. Everything except for Sarah herself.

"I suppose power would be limited here," Jareth answered, shooing his uncomfortable thoughts away. "Or would have been, at least. I studied magic myself as a lad, but of course flying is not out of the question if you can master shape-changing. My mother taught me a bit herself. She couldn't do much, but she was an excellent shape-changer. She was quite good at birds."

"Oh, that's lovely," Marlena replied. "Sometime you'll have to teach me that."

"I'd be more than happy to. I can't do it myself these days… but I can try to explain it to you." Jareth looked up at the starry night sky, its new constellations unfamiliar to him. How he missed flying on the wings of an owl. He hadn't been able to do it since the four years ago when he gave up his kingdom to Sarah. All of his magic had left him, except for the little bits that slowly creeped in on him, improving with time. Most of his redeveloping skills centered around manipulating his artwork. Perhaps he was paying for unearned magic, and now he had to learn it again slowly, rightfully. Paying his dues.

Marlena spoke up again, breaking through his thoughts. "Though we'd have to go to your world, as I'm sure it won't work here once we get everything sorted out." She scratched her nose as a stray hair flew across her face.

"You seem so sure about that," Jareth answered, hopping down.

"Well, we have to, so we will," she answered with a big smile.

"I wish Sage were here. He'd help us."

Marlena looked at him in confusion. "That's your friend, right? You told me you had an elf friend yesterday."

"Yes, that's his name, Sage."

She was quiet a moment. Jareth watched her a few moments before prodding her. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, just, well, I feel like I know someone by that name, but I can't remember where. Maybe it's just… I don't know, all the herbs I use for my spells." She laughed suddenly. She seemed discomforted by her own lack of remembrance, at all she had lost at the hands of her amnesia. "I get so acquainted with them all, I am personifying them!"

Jareth laughed too. "They could easily be people by now, so be careful what you say."

Jareth's comment prodded Marlena to laugh even harder. "Oh, you really missed it. Downstairs, earlier, the girls tried to brew a pot of tea, and when it was fully rehydrated, these little worms jumped out! They ran out the window screaming because they were determined Ashley was going to squash them! They kept asking for 'soda beverages' and before Ashley could bring them any, they had left."

Jareth shook his head and laughed. "Par for the course, I suppose. Might as well get used to a lot more of that."

They walked the length of the roof together. After a few moments of silence, Marlena switched topics with a brutal sense of reality. "Isn't it odd that Sarah is doing this? From how you described her, she didn't strike me as one to be easily swayed by dark powers."

Her words were like a heavy weight on Jareth's shoulders. "No, it's not at all like her. I fear she is being manipulated by Kaleb, my shadow, somehow."

Marlena nodded somberly. They stopped and looked over the east edge of the building, just a sliver of a view of Times Square visible, bringing back ominous images from the day before.

Jareth feared a great deal more at work. There was something greatly disturbing about the appearance of his old master, Jeremiah. They hadn't parted on good terms. It was in fact Jeremiah who had cursed Jareth to seventy-four years as a king of goblins. A harsh sentence for adolescent stupidity, one that Jareth, even in his adult wisdom, had not yet found the strength to forgive the man for.

Marlena looked up at him and smiled through harshly squinting eyes. "Your aura is a lot bigger. Maybe you had left some of it back Underground."

Jareth cocked his head to the side, strangely interested in this thread of conversation. He looked at Marlena carefully, trying to bring forth enough concentration to see her own aura. He walked a semi-circle about her, trying to block the glare of the lamp sitting over the door to the rooftop.

"That's what it is," he said, as if coming to an amazing revelation.

"What?" Marlena said, surprised by his level of interest.

"That's what has changed about you. I couldn't put my finger on it."

Marlena's eyes grew big with great interest. "What!"

"Your aura. You have one now. You didn't before. Or you didn't seem to." Jareth seemed dumbfounded by the notion. He hadn't been in the habit of deliberately exploring auras, but it was something that he registered subconsciously by habit. It was simply unheard of for someone to not possess an aura.

Marlena cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "Hmph. Gail was always telling me that. I never believed her."

Jareth looked at her intently. "Perhaps we will solve the mystery of you after we get a grip on current affairs."

She looked away from him uncomfortably before climbing over the banister and onto the fire escape. "Don't expect much," she muttered under her breath. "I've been trying to figure myself out for a long time now."

Toby moped in a corner of the storeroom, tossing a ball against the facing wall, catching it as it rebounded, then throwing it again. His face was a mass of despair and confusion when Sir Didymus came rustling through the curtains.

"There you are, Master Toby!" he exclaimed as he bounced toward the boy.

Toby didn't answer, but kept at his current distraction.

Sir Didymus seemed perplexed by the boy's behavior. "Are you feeling well?"

"Not really," was Toby's short reply. Just as Sir Didymus seemed like he was going to offer some sort of condolence, the boy burst out, "Why did my sister do this? What's wrong with her?"

He stopped his bouncing of the ball and rested his head on his knees and looked forlornly into the corner, away from Didymus. He didn't seem to expect an answer.

The knighted fox, at a loss for words, worked his jaw from side to side in an effort to find some. "I do not know, Master Toby," was what he finally managed. He sashayed over to the boy's side and hunched next to him. The air creaked a few moments before the fox continued, "Does it disturb you so to see your world changed? I would think a young boy such as yourself would relish in his world finding magic."

"Not like this!" Toby started out with passion. "This… this isn't right at all. The magic should stay Underground! I mean, it's nice and all, but…" He got up and looked out the window, over the alley. "This is just wrong. Everything is mixed up. It's too crazy. Sarah would know better." He propped his head on the sill and gazed into the sky and its two moons. One was full, and the other was half waxing. "I don't understand. Now we'll never fix things."

Didymus sat uncharacteristically still as he pondered events. "This Kaleb is most definitely the cause of the Queen's behavior," he growled softly. "I didst not like the smell of him since the first time I laid mine keen eyes upon him."

Toby had to agree that he thought Kaleb had caused all of this somehow. He had seen Sarah closely the night before, through magic he guessed, and she had addressed him directly. 'Hello brother. Now we have what we always wanted. I'll be coming for you.'

Most of all he remembered the purple tinge to her eyes. They bore deep into him, leaving him with the uncomfortable thought that she wasn't really his sister. But at the same time, she was his sister. And if she had changed so much, it was a little frightening to him to think she would come for him. Never in his life could he imagine a time when he was ever scared to see her. It made him a little angry, to be put in such a position.

"They thought I was crazy," Toby spat out a little disgustedly.

"Who did?" Didymus inquired.

"My parents," Toby explained. "They wanted to send me to a person who tries to make you not crazy. But I wasn't crazy, just because I could see magic things."

He picked up the ball again, then furrowed his brow, concentrating hard in an effort to make it float. Within a few moments, it was hovering a couple of inches above his hand. He bit his lip, and it turned into a tiny little goblin figure.

The boy's face exploded into happy surprise, until the little goblin moved then proceeded to bite him. Toby dropped it like a hot potato, and it scuttled somewhere behind a shelf.

He shook his hand in reflex. "That smarted! What is it with goblins and faeries anyway?" He slouched down again, deflated.

Didymus' mouth hung agape in a characteristic, slack-tongued canine grin. "That was rather impressive. I always knew you would be a great sorcerer someday, Master Toby."

Toby turned a corner of his mouth up in disbelief. "Don't know about that. Really, I don't know why Jareth came to get me in the first place. I'm not good enough to help him, really." He pulled a little book out of his jacket pocket. He had snuck it off of one of Marlena's shelves. "A Simple Guide to Visualization in Magik" was laid in silver leaf on the cover.

He opened to a chapter on fae guides. It was a little difficult for him to read in places, but he found it surprisingly easy to understand overall.

If one be greatly skilled or naturally inclined toward the Magikal arts, the witch or warlock may find her or himself followed by fae guides. This guide may not be of any predefined form of the practitioner, but may choose its own form, as the guide sees the true needs of the practitioner. These fae appearances are often frequent in the youth of an adept, but wane with age as the mind becomes less inclined toward the naive acceptance of a child.

To call a guide, one must only imagine a need for guidance, and, if the guide perceives the need as strong enough or in the guide's own interest, and the visualization is coherent or powerful enough, the guide will appear. This does not necessarily mean it will appear at the moment of calling; as with all things fae, time is relative, except for when time is of the essence. As fae can see beyond constraints of time and space, the guide will know the truly appropriate time to manifest.

However, sometimes fae are known to appear just to cause mischief. See the next chapter on "Discouraging Fae Visitation" for these instances.

Toby was about to close the book when another line appeared beneath the last paragraph.

Note: It is much harder to make a fae leave than it is to make it manifest. Be very sure you are truly in need of your guide before calling. And we mean really sure.

What Toby didn't realize was that he had been subconsciously calling to the guides as he read the book. Well, he did realize it as soon as he put it down. For sitting right in front of him were two gnomish leprechauns. One had a beard and was staring intently, and perhaps a little precociously, up at Toby, while the other, clean-shaven except for a bit of bristle, was snoring soundly while nestling an empty jug that once held some kind of liquor under his arm.

"'Allo Toby m'lad," said the bearded leprechaun.

Sir Didymus stood to attention and growled at the intruders. "Get thee back you villainous… villains!"

Toby jumped up in shock and horror. "You're the stupid gnome who put blue paint in Susy's hair at school! And everyone blamed me!" He crossed his arms indignantly.

"And thou art the gnomes that set the castle kitchens on fire three days ago!" Didymus cried, poking each of them with his staff.

The little man jumped up with equal indignation, touching the staff and turning it into a spaghetti noodle to Didymus' bafflement. "I be half leprechaun, I'll have'ya know!" Then he grinned evilly. "And, aye, that were us, it was a lotto fun, huh Toby m'boy?"

"No! No it wasn't!" Toby exclaimed. Before Toby could ask Didymus more about his own encounter with the small fellows, the fox was trying to strangle the leprechaun. "Didymus! It's okay, put him down! It's my own stupid fault he's here in the first place."

Didymus grudgingly did as he was told. "You are lucky, little man," the fox growled under his breath. "I have it in my mind to give you a good throttling!"

Scotty dusted himself off petulantly. "Not jest in yer mind, huh?" he grumbled.

Toby turned away in exasperation with a pouty look on his face. "These are my guides?" he asked to no one in particular.

Scotty jumped a little too bouncily to the shelf that Toby was staring at. "And what's so wrong with that, Lad? We shall guide you to good times galore!"

"You're sorry excuses for leprechauns," Toby replied, giving the drunken Fred a once-over. "What's wrong with him?"

"He been drinkin' too much dandelion wine, I'm afraid. But then, he's always been drinkin' too much dandelion wine."

"And what's your stupid problem?" Toby demanded.

"Touchy, touchy!" exclaimed the leprechaun. "Ain't me fault me ex-wife took me whole pot of gold in alimony payments! Ain't me fault she caught me with another woman!"

Toby rolled his eyes. "Great. Leprechauns who've spent all their gold. With emotional problems, too." He said the last bit as if rehearsing the line from a conversation between his parents. "You're really no use to me."

Didymus looked up at Toby pleadingly. "Please, sir, let me take care of these mongrels for you."

Toby frowned sulkily. "No. The book says they're here for a reason." He glowered at the two. "Though I can't really guess what good they'll do."

Rattlebeak popped up from behind a stack of books where he had been napping most of the day. "What's goin' on? Couldja be a little louder please?" His beak twitched petulantly as his little eyes furrowed sleepily with frustration.

"Sorry, Rattlebeak," Toby answered with a frown.

The bird jumped onto the boy's shoulder and shook his feathers. "I'll forgive ya if you get me some food." His little tongue lapped about his beak expectantly.

Didymus rolled his eyes. "Figures. You, my friend, are no better than Ambrosius." The dog sighed sadly, the mention of his steed alone causing him great consternation.

"Where'd they go?" Toby spun around to observe the storage room anxiously, ducking from aisle to aisle of boxes and statues to find it completely bereft of noisy, obnoxious gnomes.

"Who cares? I'm hungry." Rattlebeak's stomach growled loudly in conjunction with his declaration. He didn't even seem mildly concerned about why Toby was looking for a pair of gnomes.

Toby frowned fitfully. "Probably up to no good. I hope they don't get me into any trouble."

Didymus snorted. "Don't get thine hopes of, Master Tobias. That is what they do best."