School was a distraction in the coming days—my last days, maybe, but I couldn't believe it. But part of me, perhaps unwilling, began to focus on and catalogue the little moments that were so easy to ignore: Karen's honest smile when my father came home, Toby playing in the fall leaves, the shining sun on my papers at my desk. Daylight was so easy to focus on when my dreams had curdled into one endless ocean of white, but something was blossoming in its core. At first it was a single gold line, glinting in the invisible sun, but then it became thicker, growing a bit each night. Unlike dreams, there was no movement; it didn't end. I saw that scene the whole time I slept, as though focused on it, until sleep began to feel not at all like sleep, and more like being smothered. Every night, as that thing in the dream grew, I grew more tired.

Something else happened, too. I began to feel an ache in my chest, like a small hole, like I'd been shot. It growled with something I thought was physical hunger, but eating didn't relieve it. And I felt unfathomably empty, frustrated, like when I arrived at school only to find I'd left my books at home, or when I was halfway through a recipe only to find I had no eggs. I wanted more but it was missing.

The king had been right. I would feel it.

"Bye, Toby. Bye, Karen," I said, giving them each a kiss. I stopped by the fruit bowl and tucked an apple and a banana in my bag.

"Sarah, I packed your lunch already, didn't I?"

"I'm growing," I defended. "I need some extra calories. And I haven't gained any weight, so don't worry."

"Alright," she said, and with Toby singing a song about "calrees," I left for school.

It was a short walk, and the weather was lovely, only just beginning to get cold. I inhaled and focused on how the cool air stung my nose. Did they have seasons Underground? Would I ever feel that again?

It doesn't matter, I told myself. I'm not going Underground.

Our homerooms were sorted by surname, so Ashley, whose last name was Wilkinson, sat right in front of me. She looked tired, but it was she who said, "You don't look so great."

"Gee, thanks, Ash."

"I mean you look like you haven't slept."

"I'm fine." I couldn't bear to burden her with anything else, could I?

Mr. Drew took attendance before we went to our various classes. I didn't see Ashley again until lunchtime, unfortunately, when I laid out my items. I ate the apple while she ate my sandwich, and I watched her in my periphery. Her advice mattered a great deal to me. Maybe I could frame it in such a way that things wouldn't seem so threatening.

She nudged my knee with hers. "Eat your fruit, Williams."

"No, you, Wilkinson," I said, plopping the banana in her lap.

"You're sure?"

I nodded. She dug into the peel and ate it greedily. Around us, the other students were talking, laughing about something, and for a moment I felt, rather judgementally, that it was inane compared to what we were dealing with. I quickly banished the thought; it just felt ugly. I didn't know anyone's story.

I went home—the pile of schoolwork was growing steadily as the quarter continued. But then there came a sudden click, and the Goblin King stood at the edge of my room, as far away from me as possible. I raised my eyebrows at him. "I'm testing the limits of the wish. Here seems safe, surprisingly, considering the word presence."

"You do love loopholes, don't you?" I shook my head. "I never asked you why."

"Why what?"

"Why this is happening. Does it happen to everyone who conquers your Labyrinth? Conquers you?"

He turned his head. "Theoretically," he said. "You're the first."

I waited for the jibe, the smirk, the...something, but it never came. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he repeated. At least it was a bit mocking. "It's only happened to two other kingdoms. One Champion refused and the kingdom was..." He trailed off.

"Was what?"

"Destroyed. Obliterated. To this day, it is a wasteland, a magical void. Make no mistake—that is what will happen to the Goblin Kingdom if you refuse."

"What does it entail? Being the Champion, I mean."

"It's..." He was hesitant, careful. "It's a job. A vocation, really. But it's also a terrible burden, and for that I'm very sorry."

"Is that why you looked so disappointed when I said my right words?"

Rarely in life I'd experienced the sense of having gone too far, of having sliced open an ugly gash in the conversation or relationship. Even though I'd simply been curious to know, the way that he looked at me silently gave me that sense of having damaged something invisible. I looked away, but found myself yawning. I was tired early at night and had been since school had started, as though I'd aged. It felt akin to how I'd feel the day before becoming sick: exhausted, aching, with burning eyes.

"Feeling well?"

"I want to be surprised that you take pleasure in me dying, but I just can't manage it."

"Pleasure in you dying?" His tone was the essence of innocence. "Never, Sarah. But amusement at your stubbornness? Certainly. Allow me at least that."

"But it's harming your kingdom, isn't it? So why be amused? Why be here?"

Once again he was silent, and I tried to breathe deeply. For some reason, that sense of wanting in my chest, like a hole, seemed to throb when I was around him, as if steadily growing. "Oh, what the fuck!" I shouted.

"Sarah—"

"It gets worse around you, doesn't it? This—this feeling—" I gestured at my chest. "—It senses you and grows even faster."

His face was all seriousness, the full strength of his kingship on his face, and for a moment he was again a creature I feared—only a moment, though. "My kingdom needs you, Sarah. So when time is damage, and there is something I can do to get you faster, I hope you trust that it will happen."

I stood. I was shaking in rage, not fear, maybe. "I was foolish. I know that. But you have put me in a terrible position. Don't trust that I won't kill you and your lousy kingdom out of sheer spite, because the worse I feel, the longer I look at you, the more tempting it sounds."

Something in his eyes glimmered. "Oh, won't you, though? You've already wrecked the castle, so I've no doubt of that. And I bet you'd love to see me destroyed. But your friends, the goblins, thousands of innocent creatures live there, and you are so concerned with morality, aren't you? So concerned with doing the right thing. This is the right thing."

"I can't leave them!"

He was quiet for a moment, gaze blazing through me. "You still haven't told me why you were bleeding." He tilted his head at me again. "Or did you just do so?"

"Get the fuck out of my room, Goblin King."

His eyes narrowed and he scowled, but he had the decency to disappear. I abandoned my homework to take Merlin for a walk in the park, too anxious to sit still. Again, I focused on the small things: the friendly panting of his breath; his shaggy, soft fur; the clear autumn sky. This world, my world, the Aboveground, was too beautiful. I couldn't leave it.

By the time we'd circled the park a few times, the sky was dusky and I was calmer, or more tired—I couldn't tell anymore. I began to lead Merlin away, but he suddenly began barking at something. "Hey, hey! Relax," I admonished him, brushing my hand along his head. Maybe an owl, I thought wryly. But it was the siren of a police car; when it cut off, he stopped squirming. I saw the lights on our return route home, the police car parked behind another, and felt nervous—not because of the criminal, either, especially in this small town. I hoped to pass without being noticed, but the chief saw me and said, "Oh, hello. Sarah, is it?"

"Yes, sir. Hello."

He nodded at me, but his eyes were sharp under the brim of his hat—or tried to be; compared to the Goblin King's, they looked rather non-threatening. "I haven't seen you around in a while."

"School's been very busy so far."

I almost thought he'd mention it, if he even knew about it, but instead he said, "Best be getting home now. It gets dark early these days."

"Sure does. Have a good night, sir."

I returned home and tried to encourage Merlin to wipe his paws, but he simply cocked his head at me. "Oh, well," I muttered, and let him inside.

"Sarah, goodness! We were getting worried about you. Dinner's in a few minutes."

"Sorry, Karen. Let me wash up and I'll help you set the table."

"I'll do it!" Toby shouted.

"No," both Karen and I answered. We'd had enough broken cups for one lifetime.

At dinner, I couldn't eat much—every forkful felt like a ton of weight. "Are you alright, Sarah?" Dad asked.

"Just tired. School's been tough this quarter."

"It is senior year, after all," Karen pointed out. "This weekend, the three of us should talk about colleges. It will be time for applications soon."

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Sounds great."

"No," wailed Toby, waving his spoon as if to protest. His eyes were wet, brimming, threatening to spill over—he wasn't yet past the stage where tears came so easily.

"What's wrong, kiddo?" I asked.

"Jenna Michaels' big sister went away to college. She never sees her anymore. Will that happen to you?" he asked.

I leaned closer to him, a hand ruffling his blonde hair. "No way, Tobes. Even if I go away to college, I'll come back to visit you every weekend that I can."

"Promise?" he asked, sniffling the tears back.

"Promise, Tobes. Eat up—you have to stay strong so we can play when I visit."

He nodded, and his spoon returned obediently to his potatoes. I exhaled in relief.

"May I be excused? I think a longer night's sleep would help me."

"Certainly," my father granted.

"Dinner was delicious. Thank you, Karen. Goodnight, guys." I gave them both a kiss before heading to the stairs, but once I was there, I had to climb them on hands and knees. Crap. I made it into bed but couldn't shed my clothes.

I was a monster, a lying, rotten monster. Knowing the king as I did—if I did—Toby would probably be a hundred years old before I could see him again. I would miss every moment of his precious life.

At that moment, I hated the Goblin King more than I knew it was possible to hate anyone.

That night, in my sleep, I grew more gold in that weird white field—more than usual, due to the king, I was sure—and I was finally able to recognize it: a diadem, a simple crown. Judging by its size, how much of it was completed, I guessed it was a timer of sorts. When the crown was completed, so too would my life be.

The next day in homeroom, I approached Ashley. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," she teased.

I rolled my eyes. "C'mon."

"Sure."

"What if you had to make a choice? A choice between what's morally correct, which means giving up on your dreams, or clinging to your dreams but hurting others?"

And the minute I said it like that, I realized that this was so akin to having originally run the Labyrinth that I was unsurprised when she said, brows raised, "It doesn't matter. You still have to do the right thing."

The right thing. Hadn't Jareth said the same? I nodded uncomfortably and looked down, but the bell rang before she could ask questions in return.

In English, I doodled, uninterested in Kate Chopin's proto-feminism. How would Ashley deal with such a task? The same way she dealt with everything, I realized: quiet strength and optimism in the face of hopelessness.

I decided at that moment to hold dear every last drop of life I had left, and hope I could be half as brave as her when it was over.