Chapter Seven: It's Only Forever
"I will find you, Sarah. Wait for me."
The King closed his eyes and, in the space of a breath, he let every rule and restriction fall away. It was like shedding his skin. He was no longer outside of time, for even in that place he was bound by limitations. Instead, he had stretched himself, expanding his entire existence until he belonged to all of time, present in every one of the universe's shifting seconds.
The feeling was something akin to flying. Or perhaps it was more like swooping; in the moment where he dropped from a great height, plummeting through the rush of emptiness in a barely controlled fall. Here, he was free of the weight of reality with all of its physical and magical laws. In this place where so few could survive, there was only the splendour of pure chaos; pure potential.
Outside of reality itself, he waited as the cold nothingness swirled and shifted to create a sequence of doors, sprawling further that the eye could see in both directions. Every door was different; uniquely linked to a different moment that called to him from the other side.
From here, it was as simple as a child's game. All he had to do was choose the right one, and the King had already made his decision—he was uninterested in all of the doors, but one.
He knew, in the same unthinking way he knew the exact distance her mouth would move when she laughed, which door he needed. It was not far to his left, painted in bright red, and complete with a solid brass handle; a stunning vision of simplicity. The door was an unfinished promise, and it spoke to him, enthralling him as surely as if she had been standing there herself. The King strode towards it, moving with feet that existed across all the ages.
He was only a few steps away from it—the key that would lead to her—when the mire of nothingness began to stir violently in the space before him. There was no weather here—no thunder, or wind; but the mists billowed wildly as if they were disturbed by the start of a storm, and the air turned chill with a sudden frost.
From the heart of the disturbance emerged three identical beings, born out of the shifting shadows of time. The colourless creatures were huge, easily dwarfing Jareth, and yet they appeared to have no shape of their own—they were only empty, cowled robes. The King stood in the shade they cast, steadily regarding the creatures whose faceless and formless figures blocked his path.
"Guardians," Jareth said, stopping. "You are in my way."
Yes, whispered one of the creatures, the hood of its robes nodding. We mean to be.
The Beast had been almost patient until now, restlessly waiting for the chase to resume; but now Jareth could feel it curl its upper lip to expose sharp teeth, snapping and snarling. If they meant to keep him from his chosen door, they would soon find that there were consequences to getting in his way. "You have never interfered before. Do you mean to stop me now?"
Yes, whispered one in a loud hiss.
And no, another finished.
The King clenched one fist. "I have no time for your riddles. Explain yourselves."
The three figures looked at each other without faces. We are merely Guardians. We do not seek to keep you from your chosen door.
Another Guardian spoke up. Or it may have even been the same creature—they all sounded exactly alike, and Jareth had no way of keeping track of which one was talking. We come bearing a warning.
"Well?" said the King. "Speak. It must be important, or you would not dare to delay me."
In their emotionless hiss, the Guardians spoke. The particular moment you seek to return to is… important.
It could change everything.
The decisions you make on the other side of that door could have repercussions that echo throughout all of history. The fabric of reality could be altered forever.
The King gazed up at them with a guarded expression. "I fail to see the importance of that particular moment."
The Guardians were silent keepers of time, grown removed from all human emotions. Nonetheless, they seemed to react to this. If you do not see anything special about that door, then why do you desire it so desperately?
Do not think to hide your hunger from us, hissed another.
The King remained silent.
After a pause, the soft voices spoke again. That moment could change everything.
We will allow you passage…
… but it is not a journey without a price.
The faceless voices were starting to irritate Jareth. "Name it," he said.
In the void, the Guardians began to glide softly towards the King, like glass cutting through water. If you choose to walk through that door, we will take something from you.
A part of you will be gone forever.
You will be less than you are.
Incomplete.
The creatures only seemed to grow in size as they moved closer, but Jareth stood straight before them, keeping his gaze fixed on them steadily. "And I suppose you will not inform me beforehand of what you will remove."
You are correct. You will not know until you are on the other side of the door. Perhaps not even after.
We must take something from you to restore the balance, and there is a chance that you may never discover what you have lost.
And remember, King—you have no guarantees that the girl will even choose you in the reality that you remake.
Jareth fought the urge to roll his weight onto the balls of his feet as the Guardians moved within reach, looking down on him from their great height. They paused, only for a moment, before they swept past him in their sluggish glide, parting to stand behind him and at each of his sides. The robes pressed in on him from every side, making the surrounding vastness around him seem too small.
Knowing all this, will you still make the same choice?
The path was now clear, and everything around the red door faded out of focus. Jareth took a few steps forward as though he was transfixed by the door that would lead to her. The huge creatures trailed after him closely, almost touching him on every side, but the King had almost forgotten their existence. He had come to a stop in front of the simple door, and for one sweet moment of madness, he could have sworn that he smelled her scent.
Their price did not matter to him. There was nothing they could carve from him that could compare to the hollowed out space she had left.
"Yes," he said. "I choose the door; I choose her."
From all sides, the robes rustled as six invisible arms reached out to touch him. He could not see them move, but he felt each of their cold fingers stab through his rib cage, piercing him with skeletal precision. A tight, squeezing pain quickly blossomed within his chest. He could not breathe—he was being crushed from the inside.
The swarming fingers moved around inside his chest; exploring. Against his will, Jareth convulsed, his muscles spasming as they searched. Icy tendrils spread from every area they touched, hooking around parts of him to dig deeper.
After what could have been a lifetime, they pulled their icy fingers out of his chest, leaving only pain.
Jareth took heaving breaths as soon as he could, filling his lungs as though he had been drowning. But in his greed for air, something caught in his throat. He was wracked with coughs, and so he covered his mouth with his bandaged hand. It came away covered with blood.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the colourless robes drift away, fading from sight. They had taken what they wanted.
Alone and weak, Jareth stumbled in the void, narrowly managing to catch himself on the door as he collapsed. There was no turning back now. The King pushed down on the brass handle and fell through into the moment that he had risked everything for.
OK, so maybe more than one chapter. Ah, writing is too much fun.
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