Chapter Three: Live Without the Sunlight
His anger fled, abandoning him, leaving him cold.
It was a mistake, a lie. She was so forceful, so strong and full of life. There was no way that body could be her, lying there so silent.
He could not move. Even his heart stilled. He could only stare at her, eyes fixed where she had fallen face-down with her dark hair streaming all around her, mixing with her own blood. He could fix this. How? He had to remember how. Everything around him was still, but time was moving too fast. After a long moment, the strange thought passed through his mind that he was stuck—that he would be frozen watching her equally unmoving form forever.
Their game would never be finished. She would never dance again. So motionless. All her colour was gone. He felt dizzy, disengaged. Maybe he would fall over as well. He might just lie a while next to her—just until she woke.
The Goblin King had never wished his whole life. It would have been a waste of time, because who would have heard? Who would grant his wish? But now he could understand why humans cried out their wishes, even when they did not know if anybody was listening. Everything that he was screamed his one desire: breathe again, my heart!
Suddenly she groaned and stirred.
The numbness left him in a rush, replaced by a relief so sharp that it made him feel sick.
She curled in on herself like a small child. A little later, her eyes half-opened and she struggled to lift her head; heavy and awkward. Her hand moved to touch the place where blood was flowing from a dark patch at her hairline. She moaned groggily.
He shifted, not sure which way to move. Torn with a frenzied need to move closer—to confirm that mortality had not stolen her away. But then, the question loomed large in his mind: once he was closer, what then?
At his slight movement, she looked in his direction and seemed to remember where she was all in a rush. It flicked a switch inside her—fresh adrenaline gave her fresh strength. She threw herself to her knees, still a little off-balance, and frantically hunted around the shadowed stones with her hands, searching for the fallen blade. The one thing that had the power to keep him at a distance.
He saw the knife. It had dropped out of her hand as she fell, tumbling, landing many stairs nearer to him than her. He moved to it, two graceful steps. She was still scrambling, panicked. With his hands on his hips, the King nudged the silvery blade slightly with one boot so that she would hear the metallic scrape against the stone. So that she would look up.
She looked back at him, still on her knees, and saw the knife impossibly out of her reach. In the half-light, he saw a single tear fall out of her right eye, streaking down her cheek and mirroring the dry blood-trail next to it on her face.
Shaky, exhausted, she tried to stand; to launch herself into a run once again. She started strong, but fell as soon as she tried to put weight on her ruined ankle. She caught her tumbling weight jarringly with her hands, scraping them on the hard stone. Her face twisted in a mute scream of pain. Collapsed again, she clutched at her foot and sucked in a jagged breath through clenched teeth.
He wondered what he would do if she lost consciousness.
Trembling, she stretched a hand out in front of her, reaching up the stairs. She started to crawl away from him, leaning most of her weight on her elbows and pushing herself up the stairs with her good foot, dragging herself over the rough stairs. Her clothes caught on snags in the rocks, ripping tiny patches at places. She did not have enough remaining strength to prevent her swollen ankle from making clumsy contact with the steps as she climbed. She started to sob, still crawling.
He frowned. She should not crawl. It was everything he treasured about her—that she would keep going, long after all others had fallen. But she should never crawl. This was not a part of their game.
He looked down at the knife, where it lay next to his boot. Such a small thing. And yet, how easily it could destroy him. He looked back up at Sarah.
The Goblin King slowly bent to pick up the metal, using his gloved hand. He carefully held it away from his body, between his thumb and first finger. He slowly moved up the stairs, carrying the knife as though it had the power to come to life in his hand and sink poisoned fangs into his skin.
It did not take long for him to catch up to her, even moving as tentatively as he was. He moved a few steps ahead of her, blocking the path of her painful crawl.
"The game is over, Sarah," he said, towering over her.
Keep watching for Chapter the Fourth—Wherein the King Gives the Girl Certain Powers and a Tentative Understanding betwixt Light and Darkness Begins to Blossom.
Artemis: I am absolutely honoured that my story is the first Labyfic you've read. And even more pleased that you're enjoying it. Hopefully I can do the fandom justice, and make you want to read more... there are some AMAZING stories here.
kit Kat: Wait, someone told you to read my story?! Wow. That really made my day. Seriously. Nothing could wipe the grin off my face all day. Your review was so good, it made me want to hijack a passing car just so that I could get to the nearest computer and update.