Disclaimer: I still don't own any of Labyrinth's characters. Boo hoo.
Chapter Title: from "Seven Devils" by Florence + The Machine
Step and turn, that was the manner in which Sarah wound her way down the narrow staircase. A sweep of downy cold pervaded the sleeves of her dress, and nipped at her ankles with bitter fangs. She had been following after Arden for what could have been hours or minutes, but what seemed like days. Every step brought with it a heady tension that struck her deep within, rattling her bones. They were steadily winding their way towards the center of the castle, buried deep within the fragrant earth. It was also home to the heart of the labyrinth.
How can a heart still beat when it's this cold? She wondered, rubbing her hands together. Her breath fogged as she blew on them, whooshing away from her like a cloud on a windy day. Legs not quite steady underneath her, Sarah felt much the same.
"Not much longer now." Arden did not turn back as he spoke. He had been giving such assurances for some time now, and she had long ago learned to ignore them. In truth, she was not in much hurry to reach their destination. This task was of her own choosing, but that did not mean she was not worried about it. That did not mean she was not allowed to be afraid.
What would she be facing down in the darkness? What had The Queen of Beasts placed there that gave her such power? And, more important still, what would Sarah do once she encountered it? There were so many questions that she did not have answers for that she chose to ignore them all.
Step and turn, step and turn. That was what she focused on, allowing everything else to fade into the background.
Too soon they arrived at a wooden door overtaken by moss and water damage. Sarah gulped at the sight of it. It was not as menacing as she had feared, but that did not trick her into believing that her task would be any easier.
"Are you sure you wish to do this, My Lady?" Arden asked her with a skeptical brow.
"What, you don't think I can do it?" she countered, her voice sounding more confident than she felt.
"No." His response was not an attempt to wound or mock her. It was sheer, unfiltered honesty. And Sarah was grateful for it. However nervous she was, a lie would do nothing to comfort her. The truth, while equally uncomforting, at least provided a challenge. Arden did not believe she could do this, so she would have to prove him wrong.
"I guess we'll just have to see then." Sarah gazed at the door, unmoving. She was aware that Arden was watching her, probably dissecting her actions, but she could not bring herself to take the next step. Moving beyond that door could very well mean her death. Thinking about it did not make her heart race or her brow sweat. In fact, her whole body was numb. She was removed from herself. A ghost lingering on without its body.
"If you're having second thoughts, it would be best to turn back now," Arden said, annoyed more than anything.
"No, no second thoughts, I just…needed a minute."
"You remember what I told you?"
Sarah nodded, recalling the instructions he had given her. He had explained that he could only take her so far, that she would have to reach the center on her own. Beyond the outer door, she would have to go down a few additionally stories before she reached the red door that led to the center. She was only to go down the staircases, never up, and she was to go through no doors but the red one.
"Very good." Arden said when she recited this back to him. Then he turned back to the door. "You'll need to use a bit of magic to open it."
Sarah bit her lip and stepped forward. The moment had come, and she still did not have anything even remotely resembling a plan. Trying to feel okay about winging it, she raised her hand and placed her palm flat against the door. To her surprise, it was warmer than the air around her; still cool and earthy, but pleasantly so. Her eyes slipped closed as she concentrated on calling forth the necessary power. Through her eyelids, she saw the increasingly familiar glow flaring up around her. She focused on pushing the magic out of pores and into the wood. A flash of light caused her eyes to fly open, and she saw that the entire door was pulsing brightly with magic. She would have smiled with pride had not, at that exact moment, a sharp burst of pain blasted its way through her hand, zinging her wrist.
"Dammit!" she yelped, clutching the wounded extremity to her chest. "Why does that keep happening?"
Arden, bearing witness to it all, frowned heavily in response. "The labyrinth's magic must have realized that someone other than the claimant is tapping into it. It's trying to defend itself. In this case, by causing you as much trouble as possible."
"Of course it is," Sarah sighed, "Why I'd expect anything less from an entity closely entwined with the Goblin King…"
"My Lady, I must insist that you abandon this foolish mission." Arden placed his hand on the door as though he meant to stop her by force.
Sarah was surprised at the gesture, but it did not take her long to work up a fitting glare. "I'm not giving up now. I've come too far." Just saying the words made her inner child leap with joy.
"The labyrinth is much more aware of your presence than I anticipated. It is confused about where its true allegiance lies, and therefore it is likely to react aggressively towards your presence. You won't stand a chance."
She could hear the sneer in his voice and narrowed her eyes further. "You know, this isn't the first time I've had to deal with a dangerous labyrinth, and it certainly isn't the first time someone's told me I couldn't do something and later had to eat their words. So I don't really care whether you think I can do this or not."
"I do not think this is impossible. I know it is." He remained impassive, as firm and unmovable as the door itself. Sarah saw that there was no way to convince him that she could do this. She would need to take a bigger risk to get him to stand aside.
"What do you care?" she offered.
"I'm sorry?" Arden squared his jaw; it was disarming how often this girl could turn the tides of conversation.
"You heard me. Why do you care if I live or die? You don't think I stand a chance at rescuing the Goblin King, and you definitely don't want me for a queen. It shouldn't make any difference to you what happens to me beyond this door." Her posture was firm and resolute. She stretched up so that she stood at her tallest, her eyes level with the patch of thinning hair on the top of his head.
Arden considered for a moment, his mouth opening once as if he were going to reply, then he decided against it and stepped aside. He did not meet her eyes, seeming rather determined not ever to look at her again. He only handed her the torch that lit their path and turned away. Sarah nodded in acknowledgement of his decision, shaking off the sting of his nonchalance. It did not matter if he was willing to allow what he thought to be her death. She did not need reassurance from him, nor did she want it. All she wanted now was to prove him wrong. She stepped forward and, with a smooth caress, pushed the door open.
The feeling of springtime that she had experienced when touching the door did not prepare her for what lay beyond. As the door closed behind her, the smell of earth invaded her senses, and there was a satisfying squelch of moss beneath her feet. But that was where the pleasantry ended. The place she had entered felt more like part of a living thing than a room. It was as if she had crawled into the mouth of some giant, comatose beast that was just waiting for her to make a wrong move and disturb its slumber. She half imagined that she could see the walls expanding and contracting like a set of lungs.
What was most disconcerting, though, was that there were no passageways. The room was only the size of a large closet, made up of nothing more than aging walls. And the air was thick and humid, the moisture in it collecting heavily in her lungs and shrinking the light of her torch. I can't stay here, she thought. With the words of a once helpful worm ringing in her ears, she began feeling along the wall to her right to see if it would give way to a hidden passage. She pressed her hands high and low, touching every inch of exposed surface. Grit collected under her fingernails, teasing at the soft flesh there. Teasing because there was no way forward that she could find.
Doubt clutched her. Perhaps there was no way through. The Queen of Beasts could have cast a spell over this part of the castle so that no one could enter and refute her claim. Sarah could have walked right into her trap, and no one would come to help her. Arden would assume she was dead just as he had predicted, and she would be left to starve or suffocate or go mad.
Why did she ever think she could do this alone? Even on her first trip, she had always had help. A friendly face, a word of wisdom, a helping hand…In one way or another there had always been something there to guide her. Now, she had only her wits.
But that's the way it has to be, she realized, and she could have laughed at herself for not understanding sooner. This was not the same labyrinth she had entered three years ago, just as she was not the same person as she was then. Ever since her return she had considered that a negative, but maybe it was just a part of growing up. Maybe this time she was not meant to have someone holding her hand every step of the way. Maybe this time she was meant to take what she had learned the first time and apply it as best she could.
Okay, she coached herself, I've entered a room with no windows and no doors. What have I learned that could help me get through this?
Sarah wove her way through the memories of the labyrinth, grasping for something of use. The worm's previous advice had not done the trick…Maybe something from Hoggle? The thought of the ugly, loveable dwarf was enough to bring a smile to her face, but his reactions to dire situations were not always the most practical. Who else did I meet…?
And then it hit her. The Wise Man with his funny hat. She'd given up one of her rings in exchange for some of his ramshackle wisdom, and he'd told her many things that did not quite make sense to her at the time. But perhaps she was only lacking in context. Now that she was in the proper situation, she saw that what he said could be of great importance. "The way forward is sometimes the way back."
She spun around, turning towards the door through which she had entered. To her amazement, it was gone, replaced by a steep set of stairs that she could not see the end of. A shiver ran up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold, and she reached a tentative foot out to take the first step.
The stairs were slick, narrow, and crafted of unbearably sharp angles. This made for slow going. Sarah found that it was best to descend sideways, as only the tips of her feet fit on the steps otherwise. And she was careful about her movements. She inspected the stair below before placing her foot there, certain that if she missed a step she would tumble down the endless flight and crack open her skull. This image was also what kept one of her hands permanently attached to the wall. Her fingers gripped it fiercely, searching for any additional means of balance.
All the while she kept thinking: This is a terrible idea. I am an actual, real-life, complete idiot who is one slip away from a broken neck. But at last she saw a swell of torchlight a few feet below and, feeling bold, jumped the last few stairs to land at the bottom.
Now she found herself in a hallway, lined on both sides with flaming torches that were each set above a splintering door. Glancing up and down the aisle, she registered that none of these were red in color. Frowning, she moved down the hall, searching for some other exit. It was about halfway down the stretch when she first heard it, a faint scratching coming from behind one of the closed doors. Instinctually, she leaned towards the sound, coming just shy of pressing her ear to the wood. It was there, she was certain of it. A faint and shallow breathing.
"Hello?" she called softly. No answer. She took a half step closer, and heard the light sound of someone crying. There was a strong pull in her heart telling her that, no matter the circumstances, she should try to help someone in trouble. Her head was less pleased with this thought, but it did not stop her from reaching out and grasping the door handle.
As soon as her hand made contact, there came a terrible screeching from within, loud enough that Sarah's heart stopped, and she immediately recoiled. These were not the shrieks of some wounded thing, but of a creature hell-bent on escaping its confines to tear her to shreds. She could hear claws being raked down the wood, and she said a silent prayer that the door was strong enough to withhold whatever battled against it.
Continuing down the hall proved a much more trying endeavor. Whatever spell that had been placed on the doors was broken the moment she touched the first handle. Now as she passed by the endless procession, there was always a growl or snarl or a snapping of jaws to greet her. Sarah kept to the center of the hall, wrapping her arms around herself in spite of the fact that the chill from earlier was mostly gone. But that did not stop the shiver that coursed through her when, out of the blackness ahead, there came a soft voice.
"Sarah…" it breathed, echoing through the passageway and through her mind. It was smooth as silk and dark as sin; a voice she would know anywhere. It caused her to hesitate for a moment, unsure if she wanted to move towards it or away from it. Her first instinct was to take a step back, but when she did, she found that she was met with a brick wall. She turned fully, then, pushing against it to test its sturdiness.
How am I ever going to get out of here? She wondered for the first time. All of the rooms she had passed through were blocked off after she was finished there. Even the first door she had come through was disappeared. Arden had told her only to descend a set of stairs, but did that pertain to when she was leaving too? How could she get back to the castle level if she never climbed back up?
"Sarah…" His voice beckoned again, and she did not know if it brought with it fear or safety. But, pressing against the wall behind her once more, she knew that she had no other choice. She had to keep moving, no matter what her doubts might be.
The more she walked, the more incessant the voice became. It strung her name together like pearls on a necklace, sometimes speaking it as a caress, other times as a slap. And, though it was rare, there were times when it sounded almost like a song. But whatever the intonation, it pulled her forward by the strings of an invisible rope. Sarah found that the sensation was not at all unpleasant. Even as the torches lining the walls grew fewer and the darkness around her grew more complete, she was never still long enough to be afraid.
"Sarah…Sarah…Sarah…" The passage was curving up ahead. There was something waiting at the end of it, that much she could tell. But in the dim light she had to squint to make it out.
No, it can't be…But it was. Waiting for her at the end of the hall was her own front door. The double set stood side by side as always, gleaming whiter than ever before. And beneath the sculpted paneling, at the very center, were the gold doorknobs that she had turned more times than any other. Whatever reservations she'd had were put aside. She approached and reached out for the knob, but before she could grasp it, the door vanished, her hand passing through the place where it had once been as if it were smoke.
A faint dizziness overtook her then, the illusion just powerful enough the muddle her brain. Shaking her head to clear it, she continued down the hall. But the farther forward she walked, the more things began to change. Soon it was not stone beneath her feet, but polished wood flooring. And the walls around her were covered by the vaguely floral wallpaper that Karen had spent weeks deciding upon. Then, all at once, she found herself standing in the front room of her house. Dropping her torch, she rushed forward and embraced the feeling of being home again. "Sarah Sarah Sarah…"
"Sarah!" She looked up just in time to see the little blonde mop of hair running down the stairs before he hurtled into her, hugging her around the middle.
"Hey, Tobes," she responded automatically, reaching down to smooth down his curls. The gesture seemed confused somehow, unnatural, but she could not remember why. She glanced around the house. Everything was the same, from the flowers placed on the center table down to the moldings on the stair railings, but it didn't quite feel the same.
Am I dreaming? She pondered, looking down at her hands as though they might fly away. Her thoughts were flustered even more than before, and she had to fight to remember where she was. What am I supposed to be doing here?
"Sarah, look, I drew you a picture." Toby thrust the paper into her hands, his rosy cheeks beaming with pride. An expression she could not help but return.
"This is a beautiful picture," she praised and knelt down beside him so that they could both look at the same time. It showed the two of them, hand in hand, as they walked through the park. "But you forgot to sign your name," she reminded him. He had just learned the proper lettering last week in pre-school, and he'd been eager to write his name whenever and wherever possible. Much to the chagrin of Karen and the walls.
Excited at the prospect of yet another opportunity to inscribe his signature, Toby pulled out a crayon. His distraction gave her the opportunity to collect herself. Something definitely felt off, but she could not figure out why. A distant part of her understood that she was not supposed to be here, that she had something much more important to accomplish, but she could not remember what it was.
Come on, Sarah, think. Think! She worried her lip with her teeth and stroked a hand through Toby's hair once more to soothe herself. As she did, her eyes flicked down to glance at his progress. What she saw there made her hand freeze. He was writing his name in the typical wonky handwriting of most four-year-olds, but he was doing so with his right hand. Toby, her sweet, angel faced, lovable baby brother was left handed.
"Toby?" she all but whimpered. She did not dare draw a breath, and the lack of oxygen only made her heart thump harder. The child turned to look at her, an eerie smile plastered on his inhumanly perfect face. It was not a Toby smile. Not goofy or warm in the slightest. This was the empty, mocking smile of a living doll.
She scampered away from him, desperate to put as much distance between herself and the not-Toby as possible. His smile faded as his wide blue eyes filled with hurt. "Where you going, Sarah?"
"Stay away from me," she ordered, but her voice was weak. Blood pounded through her ears as she continued to crawl away, not trusting her shaking legs to carry her. She remembered now. She was as far from her real home as she could be, fighting her way to the heart of the labyrinth where things were not always what they seemed. And the not-Toby running playfully after her was definitely not as he seemed. There was something dangerous lurking behind that innocent face, something that she needed to get away from as soon as possible. But where could she go?
The back door of the house was just within her line of sight. She could make it there if she ran, but it would mean turning her back on the not-Toby, a prospect that sent fear through her every extremity. She was halfway towards taking the risk when she remembered: Don't go through any doors but the red one.
Sarah was becoming frantic now. The back door was the only way out of the house. She did not doubt that the way she had come was already sealed off, which meant she had to find some other way. Think, think, think. There has to be another way!
"Sarah, come and play," the not-Toby whined, tugging at her dress. His pupils were the size of pinpricks, unseeing and unfeeling. She wrenched away from him and, not knowing what else to do, ran towards the back of the house. The backdoor was steps away when the not-Toby materialized in front of her, holding a rubber ball out to her. "Stay with me."
Unable to help herself, she let out a short scream and ran away from him once more. The back of the house blocked off, she raced back towards the front. Okay, what do I do? What do I do? You can't go through any doors, so you'll need to go down—
"Stairs!" she realized, and broke towards the kitchen, to the only downward leading stairs the Williamses had in their home. It was only a few steps leading down to a wine cellar, but it would be enough. And better still, they had yet to install a door. All that blocked the room off was a baby gate placed so that the real Toby would not be tempted to fool around in there. Barreling around the final turn, she leapt over the gate and shuffled down the few feet of stairs.
To her delight and immense relief, the stairway stretched on as predicted. Less delightful was the fact that she no longer had any source of light. She could not even make out the outline of her hand against the growing darkness. Half hoping she could retrieve a flashlight from the kitchen's junk drawer, she looked back over her shoulder.
Standing at the top of the stairs, outlined by the light of the doorway, was the not-Toby, his ball still held under one arm. But worse than seeing his tiny, terrifying form was the figure that stood beside him. Holding the boy's hand within her own, was a not-Sarah.
She was dressed the same as the day she had first run the labyrinth, the loose sleeves of her poet's shirt billowing slightly. Unlike her counterpart, she was not smiling. But her eyes did penetrate the dark, and all at once Sarah knew what the Goblin King had meant when he said her eyes could be cruel. She watched, unable to turn away, as the not-Sarah opened her mouth to speak.
"You should have stayed," she said. Her voice seemed to hone its way into Sarah's core, hitting her like a pinched nerve. Then the passage sealed itself off, locking Sarah in total darkness. Sight suspended, she was forced to rely on her other senses. The only sound was her breathing, coming in ragged gasps. There was a slight saline taste in the air, as though she were near the sea. She used that thought to propel herself forward.
She placed her hands on the walls on either side of her and guided herself onward. Down she plunged into the earth, focusing on how close she must be, even though she had no evidence to confirm or deny it. Hope was enough to keep her going.
After a while, her descent became less frightening. No disturbing sounds came forth, nothing reached out to touch her. By labyrinthine standards, that was about the best she could ask for. Eventually, her confidence became great enough that she dropped her left hand back to her side, and she found herself humming out a song she'd never heard.
The moment her fear dissipated, a light flared up ahead. It was low to the ground and cast only enough light for Sarah to see what she was looking at, but when she did, a smile seemed insufficient to convey her happiness. The red door loomed ahead like the great beacon of a lighthouse on a foggy night. Sarah reached for the handle, but at the last moment a smidge of uncertainty worked its way in. After having ignored all other doors throughout her journey, it felt odd to be going through one now. And all of the questions she had pushed aside, all of her uncertainties, came flooding back. It made her realize how drastically unprepared she was.
Recognizing her fear for what it was, the labyrinth responded, the red door disappearing from sight. So this is how it works, she thought, unsurprised somehow. The labyrinth had never been a place for the faint of heart. It went along naturally that only the most courageous would be able to reach its true center. So she tucked away her reservations once more, not quite ready, but willing to face whatever it was that waited for her. As soon as this was done, the red door appeared again.
It swung open of its own accord this time, beckoning her forth with the grandness of a gentle bowing before a lady. Sarah accepted its invitation, holding her head loftily so that her commitment would never be in question. Though fear was no longer an issue, Sarah could not help the wave of awe that washed over her when she saw the heart of the labyrinth for the first time.
It was a tree. A tree more mighty and majestic than she had ever seen before or would again. It stretched towards the vaulted ceiling, reaching for the highest point in the heavens like a hand grasping for life's mysteries. And it breathed. Rhythmically, calmingly, it absorbed all the energy in the room, converted it, and released it back with more power than it had had in the first place.
Sarah approached with the esteemed reverence of a small child faced for the first time with the wonders of the world. The beauty of this tree, so ancient and yet so alive, made her own heart want to weep. As she drew nearer to the trunk, the coils of roots beneath her feet awoke, glowing with the golden light of magic. She watched as tiny particles—no larger than dust mites, but infinitely more beautiful—floated up to her and clustered at her fingertips. She held her hand to her face in sheer amazement, marveling at how the magic flexed with her movements.
Curious as to what would happen, she blew on the palm of her hand. The beads of light burst away from her then, caught on the tide of her breath just as the seeds of a dandelion would. And as they did, their light pulsed through the roots of the tree, spreading out in all directions. Sarah knew, unequivocally, that these roots ran through every corner of the labyrinth, bringing magic wherever it was needed.
That was what made her remember the true purpose of her presence there, and she had to swallow the lump of fear that rose in her throat. Something as colossal as this tree would never deign to allow fear in its presence, she saw that now. To quell what was left of her nerves, she circled the tree, noting the thickness of its trunk and the way its branches curled like the arms of a dancer leaping through the air.
Okay, Sarah, focus. Don't get too caught up, it's just a tree. Now, look for a place to put your token.
She walked around the base of the trunk several times, but did not find anything that looked promising. This would be just her luck. She had finally gotten to where she needed to be, but she did not know how to proceed. Once again, she found herself wondering what the Goblin King would do in this situation. It was an unhelpful train of thought, but it nagged at her nonetheless. She decided that, as the unquestioned ruler of the Goblin Kingdom, he probably had some secret connection to this tree that she did not.
Then she began to wonder how the Queen of Beasts had gone about planting her token. She did not have any more power over this entity than Sarah did. She would have had to face the same trials if she wanted to gain control.
Sarah thought back to what she had read about the Queen in the book that Mable had given her. It was a book of lineages, not particularly eloquent, but it had included a brief description. She recalled that Delicia had inherited the Kingdom of Beasts after her husband's untimely death. It was unusual for a Queen to inherit a kingdom after her husband's passing, the seat of power typically passing to his closest male relative, but the book made it clear that she had been determined to rule over the land she believed belonged to her.
Determined, Sarah mused. It was a word she had never taken lightly. Determined people were willing to do whatever it took to get what they wanted. And the labyrinth would know that, omniscient as it was. It would want to test the determination of all who sought to control it.
Okay, if I was the labyrinth, and I wanted to test someone's determination, what would I have them do?
Climbing was the first thing that came to mind. Trying to reach the canopy of this tree would certainly be an adequate test of character. But as Sarah craned her neck, she saw that there were not branches within her reach, no way for her to even begin an ascent to the top. She hoped this was a sign that climbing was the wrong course of action. But what else was there?
I can't go up, so I must have to go…
Her eyes flicked to the base of tree. Looking closely, she could just make it out—a small opening where the roots broke away from the trunk. Sarah gulped; it looked just big enough to crawl through, but it would take every last ounce of her willpower to do it. This was no mere staircase. This hole in the earth was not constructed by any conventional means, and it could swallow her if it so chose. But she knew in her bones that she had to do this. Whether it was because she had no were else to go or because she was desperate to prove that she could, she got down on her knees and wedged her way beneath the heart of the labyrinth.
She could see. That was what she was most grateful for. The slim passage was paved with smaller roots, each of them glowing with a bit of magic. They lit her way well enough. What she was less content with was the thick mud that she was forced to trudge her way through. It covered her all the way up to the elbow, and her hands were completely sunk in the slop. The skirt of her dress was ruined, dragging behind her in a pitiful heap. Sarah said a silent apology to Mable for destroying her hard work, and was about to thank her for having insisted on pinning her hair back when a clump of the stuff dropped from above and oozed its way down the side of her face.
"You owe me big time, Goblin King," she said aloud, clenching her teeth. The path curved up ahead, leading her to a small alcove off to the left. There, Sarah saw what could only be the Queen's token.
It was a single, perfect rose carved entirely of ice. Planted amongst the thickest cluster of roots yet, it stood tall and proud, daring anyone to dethrone it. Sarah licked her quivering lips and pulled her own token from the purse tied around her waist. She had been excited about her token before, thinking herself rather clever for choosing it, but compared to the rose it looked rather paltry. It was too late to worry about that, though. Now was the time to fret over how to get it where it need to be.
Sarah crawled closer to the rose, inspecting it from various angles to come up with the best way of removing it. There was nothing around that would help her cut through the stem, nor was she foolish enough to think that that would do the trick. After another minute of troubling over the matter, she resigned herself.
It's going to try to kill you either way, she reasoned. And so, she clasped the stem in her fist and started to pull.
The icy coating did nothing to dull the pain of the biting thorns as they buried themselves deep into her palm. Sarah bit into her tongue to distract herself from the sting, but there was no relief. Tears streamed down her face, cutting through the grime that had collected there and making her cheeks shine. She pulled with all her might, but for all her effort, the rose did not budge an inch. It did, however, take notice of her attempts.
"Ah-hah!" she cried out as the stem lengthened and began wrapping itself around her arm. Points of blood dotted her dress now, the sight of the crimson splotches enough to make her head spin. She wanted nothing more than to get away, to escape the pain. Screw the Goblin King and her stupid pride.
But the Queen's token cared not for her surrender; it moved from her arm to around her neck faster than Sarah could jerk away. Panic set in as her air supply was cut off. Her token slipped from her fingers as she used her free hand to claw at the noose-like stem. She succeeded only in driving the thorns in deeper. Sarah was amazed at how quickly she was fading. Already her vision was starting to go dark around the edges, her ethereal green eyes—her mother's eyes—beginning to roll back in her head. She was wheezing like a throat-soar donkey, thin streams of oxygen all that was making its way to her lungs. It was not enough. She could feel herself slipping…slipping…slipping.
"There's such a sad love deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel opened and closed within your eyes."
She could hear it, faint though it was. She could hear it, and it was the most beautiful sound to ever grace her eardrums. It brought comfort and immediate relief, that soft, tinkling melody. When her eyes peeled open, she was back in that very ballroom, everything swaying and swirling around her. The party-goers had frightened her then, as they did now with their gaudy masks and lewd advances. There was but one familiar face in this crowd, one person who could make her feel less afraid. And she had to find him.
The room tilted as she searched for him, swinging as though it were the weighted point of a giant pendulum. Sarah did not know if she was reliving the moment or not. It did not feel like a memory. It felt like she had entered some nonlinear plane of time and space where two moments could occur simultaneously. She was both wandering the ballroom and being strangled to death in the mud.
"Uh…uh…" The part of her that was still present within the heart of the labyrinth continued to struggle for air, but she was losing quickly.
"I'll paint you mornings of gold, I'll spin you valentine evenings, though we're strangers til now, we're choosing the path between the stars."
She found him. He was standing right in front of her, like he had been there the whole time just waiting for her to look up. And he took her in his arms once more, guiding her around the room with perfect ease. Sarah could not take her eyes off of him any more than she could the first time. His wild hair, his sharp features, his curiously disproportioned pupils—everything about him drew her in. She would have been content to stay in his arms for all time. But things were beginning to fade, even in this dream world.
"But I'll be there for you... as the world falls down…"
A tear dropped from her eye and landed amongst the bustle of her gown. He had promised he would be there, so where was he? Where was he as she lay dying, fighting for every breath? It was her fairytale; he was supposed to be the one to rescue her. She pressed her face into his velvet coat, angry with him, yet desperate for his comfort.
I am dying, she told herself as he stroked her hair. I am dying, and he is not going to rescue me. This is not a fairytale. This is the real world where you have to save yourself. But she was tired. So, so tired. What did it matter if she died down here? So what if Arden was right; it was too difficult to care about any of it. She would much rather stay here, in his arms, where she was safe, and carefree, and warm…
Too warm. Uncomfortably warm. Sarah's eyelids fluttered. What was going on? All around her there was an all-consuming heat. And it was becoming easier…easier to breath! She sat up, all at once awake and alert. Her eyes immediately fell upon the rose. The stem was still clenched in her hand, but it no longer had the advantage. Now it was wilting, writhing in any direction to try to escape. But she held fast, a blinding light coming from her hand as she squeezed. That was where the heat was coming from. It blazed over her knuckles and singed her palm, but more importantly, it was melting the rose.
The frozen petals peeled back, curling in on themselves until they were no more than pale husks. One by one they fell off, dropping to the floor where they formed tiny puddles. A minute passed, and only the stem was left. It fought her, fought for its very life, and Sarah dared not unclench her fist. It had impressive vigor for a dying thing. Her arm had become sore when, at last, the stem shuddered and dissolved completely.
The deed done, Sarah took a moment to catch her breath. Shock was hitting her in waves. She had almost died. Really and truly almost died. If it hadn't been for her waking dream, she would never have found enough fire to destroy the rose. She would be food for insects to pick clean until her bones become part of the tree. Her stomach hallowed at the thought.
Distracting herself, she felt through the mud for her abandoned token, finally finding it half sunken in the slosh. She did her best to clean it off on the few clean sections of her dress that were left. Only so much could be done, and after a while she was forced to relent and call it good enough.
Maybe it's not so measly after all, she thought, placing it on the mound of roots where the rose had once stood. As she turned to begin her climb out of the hole, the roots began to shift, growing a bit so that they could display the new token of command with pride. Sarah turned back once to smile at her perfectly chosen token.
It was a peach.
A/N: *wins award for how many times the word "door" is used in a single chapter* Well, here it is. This is one of the chapters that I was most excited to right while I was outlining. And I'm quite happy with how it turned out. There were a few things that I wasn't originally planning on having that made their way in there (i.e. the whole "not-Toby" thing.)
I also wanted to take a moment to address the two film allusions that I included in this chapter. The first being from Jennifer Connelly's 2005 film "Dark Water," which inspired the scene with not-Toby. The second is from my other favorite film involving a labyrinth, that of course being Guillermo Del Toro's "Pan's Labyrinth," which is an excellent film and should be seen by all. In case you didn't catch it, Sarah having to crawl beneath the tree is a direct reference to Ophelia's first task in the film.
Okay, I think that's it for this week. Leave me a review to let me know what you think; I love hearing from you all. And see you next Wednesday.