Waking Gods
By Telcontarian
Buckle up, bitches, shit is about to get dark. This chapter is going to fuck harder than Rise of Skywalker. Stay angry, Tari.
No thoughts, just angst.
Two of the D&D characters have been played by myself and the wife, LadyKyridwen. Keytar Riff was LK's Kenku bard who loved to Rick Roll us, while Æther is my current Cthulhu-worshipping Firbolg cleric in my husband's Curse of Strahd campaign, which has been ongoing for over two years now. The mermonk was a hilarious character idea I found while browsing Reddit looking for inspiration. The hydra bearing the faces of Nicolas Cage was a BBEG in a game I never played but heard so much about. The idea to have their heads regenerate into Trump was mine because fuck him.
Sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I had hoped to get the other half written and posted a little sooner, but my husband gave me Covid again, the dickhead. Unbeknownst to me, I managed to crank out the last 2000 words of Chapter One while fighting Covid and off my tits on cold and flu medication. Please get vaccinated! I'm lucky enough to have received my fifth COVID booster and influenza vaccination just recently, and two sore arms were a very small price to pay.
This chapter has not been proofread, and any mistakes you find should be put on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying 'Beware of the Leopard'."
Throwing in a warning for implied regicide.
Chapter Two: The One Where Sarah Williams Really Fucking Wishes She'd Stayed in New York
December 3rd
Sarah was ripped from sleep by the awful sound of someone screaming, however, it took a long time for her to realise that the screams were coming from her own mouth. When she was finally able to wrench herself from her nightmare, gasping for breath, it was to find Lyla sitting on the edge of her bed, pale-faced and shaken.
"Are you okay, what happened? You were screaming and thrashing in your sleep and I couldn't wake you up. I was just about to fetch Martha and Miss Adeline, though they're probably already awake, given that you sounded like you were being murdered."
"I-I'm fine," stammered Sarah, raising a shaking hand to push back the strands of her sweat-soaked hair. The dream pillow remained tightly clutched in her grasp and Sarah frowned down at it, trying to figure out what was wrong as Lyla left to speak with Martha and Miss Adeline, whose concerned faces were just visible through the slightest sliver of moonlight filtering through the open door. "That's funny." Her brow furrowed, Sarah turned the pillow over, squinting down at it in the dim light spilling in from the hallway. "I could have sworn that I was going to get rid of it before turning it for the night."
Lyla pulled the door open wider, allowing Miss Adeline further into the room and Sarah yelped, throwing the offending item as far away from her as possible. It landed almost perfectly at Lyla's feet and she bent to pick up the dream pillow, holding it gingerly between thumb and forefinger, sharp eyes raking over every last inch of it. The once purple material, flecked with gold specks, had faded to a dulled grey, and a small hole appeared to be leaking what suspiciously looked like glitter.
"Sarah," groaned Lyla, her tone surprisingly anxious and sounding somewhat fearful. "Please don't tell me you used this last night."
"I-I didn't mean to," replied Sarah quietly, drawing the warm comforter up under her chin, trying to ignore the way her Mark burned and ached beneath the sleeve of her pyjama shirt. Martha swept into the room carrying a tray laden down with a pot of steaming hot cocoa and four fine bone china mugs. "The last thing I remember is promising to get rid of that blasted dream pillow and the next minute, I'm standing in the middle of the Goblin King's court in my pyjamas, experiencing the most horrific lucid dream."
To Sarah's surprise, the two older women fussed over her, smoothing back her hair and tucking the blankets securely around her to ward off the late-night chill. They left her alone long enough to check the wards that surrounded her bed and the runes around the windows and door, wisely saying nothing while Sarah covertly dabbed at her eyes with the corner of the comforter. She genuinely could not remember her own mother ever soothing her when she had woken up from a particularly bad nightmare, and she had kept Karen at arms' length often enough throughout her childhood and angsty teenage years to ensure that her stepmother had never been able to fulfil a motherly role.
Despite the tentative relationship they had built after her journey through the Labyrinth, there were some things growing up that she would never get back due to stubbornly clinging to the pipedream of a mother who would return to whisk her away and apologise for abandoning her in the first place.
"Glitter gets everywhere," Lyla sighed, sweeping away golden dust from Sarah's bed. "We're going to be cleaning this up for months."
"From the beginning please, Sarah," said Miss Adeline brusquely, pulling her robe tightly against her, silver hair braided and gleaming from the brief flare of the wards after they had been thoroughly checked. Lyla resumed her place on the edge of Sarah's bed, and the two witches perched on Lyla's, their gazes expectant.
Haltingly, Sarah recounted her nightmare in between sips of hot cocoa to her attentive audience but often found herself backtracking to describe specific details when quizzed by the three women before her.
"Well?" said Sarah at long last. "Do you think I'm crazy?"
"No," replied Miss Adeline immediately, getting to her feet and Martha following suit. "But I think we should inform Esther of your dream tomorrow evening. It's late, and you could do with some much-needed rest. We will ensure that the dream pillow is correctly disposed of, and I think it's best that we speak to Rosa and advise against giving any more of these out for the time being. Goodnight, Sarah."
"Don't worry," said Lyla soothingly, climbing back into her own bed. "It was just a dream, Sarah, nothing more. I promise you're safe here."
Sarah smiled weakly. "You're right." It wasn't long before Lyla's soft snores filled the room but Sarah knew that sleep would be hard to come by that night. She pulled her pyjama sleeve down further over her Mark and turned over, her mind racing. There were just two small things that she had failed to mention; two small, inconsequential details that were of little relevance, really, and had no bearing on her dream whatsoever.
Her Mark, which had once been branded into her skin in what looked like golden ink, had now turned black around the edges. And covering it was a large, red handprint, as though someone had grasped her wrist firmly and refused to let go.
True to her word, Sarah had been unable to return to sleep, terrified of being thrust back into the Castle Beyond the Goblin City again the next time she closed her eyes. Through sheer, bloody stubbornness, she had managed to remain awake during the day, supplied with enough of Martha's sock-brewed coffee to knock over a small horse (or maybe even a goat, if there were no small horses available) but she knew that she could not keep this up forever.
Bruises beneath her eyes, she had filled Esther in on everything that had happened to her the previous night over an early dinner, but chose to leave out the crucial change to her Mark that had not faded with the first rays of the morning sun. The handprint, while not as pronounced as it had been, was still visible if she turned her wrist just so. She was just thankful that the weather had cooled enough that her long-sleeved sweaters did not look out of place.
While Esther looked troubled, she patted Sarah's arm, glancing at her wristwatch and finishing the last dregs of her coffee. Sarah pushed her plate away, no longer hungry after recounting her tale for the second time in as many hours. "Forgive me," said Esther at long last, with a nod of thanks to Martha when she bustled around the dining room, gathering the dishes. "I should be the one apologising. Perhaps it was unfair of us to make you recount your harrowing tale of your run through the Labyrinth in the wake of Sasha's disappearance. I suspect that we have unintentionally reawakened memories that really ought to have been better left forgotten. Memories that I suspect have lain dormant in the back of your mind for over ten years and are now resurfacing with disastrous consequences."
The older woman smiled, and Sarah was suddenly struck with the realisation that Esther looked as tired as she felt, and she wondered just how heavily the coven leader was burdened with the woes of others. And how much rested on her shoulders. "I really must get going," she said apologetically. "Rest assured, Sarah, we are still working tirelessly to contact Sasha and the Shadow King. With your help, I do believe that luck will now be on our side. I have a little more research to do before I can be absolutely certain, but I believe that your direct relation to Sasha will prove to our advantage."
"Better Esther than me," said Lyla darkly, after the coven leader had left. "Did I ever tell you about all the time I spent in the super-secret magical library beneath the Old Middleton gateway?" Lyla leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "The books fought back. Every last one of them. I barely made it out of there alive."
Sarah burrowed her face in her arms, bones aching with weariness, but too afraid to fall asleep lest she find herself back in the Labyrinth and make the Goblin King aware of her presence once more. Her victory over the Labyrinth had ensured that its sovereign held no power over her for the past fifteen years, and she would be damned if she did anything to jeopardise that. Lyla eyed her friend with pity, silently cursing Old Middleton. Despite her best efforts, she had already lost Sasha to this fairytale bullshit, and she would move heaven and hell before she lost another. Especially with the depressing knowledge that history was repeating itself, and there was a distinct lack of alcohol to help the girls through their latest Ordeal.
Lyla blinked.
Was it really that simple?
"We have to trust in the coven. Unfortunately, we can't do much else until we Summon the Shadow King and find a way to close the Portal once and for all." Lyla's voice cracked at the end, and Sarah had been so busy wallowing in her own misery that she had never even stopped to entertain the notion that they might never see Sasha again.
Sarah and Lyla shared a watery smile before the petite blonde quickly brushed away a stray tear and clapped her hands together. "Right, that's enough moping. Let's go clear out the nearest liquor store and play drunk D&D."
"I can practically taste tomorrow's hangover." The girls stopped by their room to grab their purses, waving goodbye to Miss Adeline who was polishing silverware with such a frenzy that the dust dared not settle back over them, and walked arm-in-arm down Main Street, problems temporarily forgotten.
"This," Sarah hiccoughed from behind her DM screen, pouring them each another healthy measure of tequila, "is the best idea you've ever had."
Though her eyes were glassy, Lyla was faring a dashed sight better than her friend who was already deeply emotionally invested in her chicken-laden adventure, despite only having one physical player at her table who hadn't even chosen her character yet. She clinked her glass gently against Sarah's. "On the count of three: one, two—" Both girls knocked back their shots on two, as they always had.
Lyla still wasn't entirely sure where the chickens came into the game, choosing instead to squint at the character sheets laid out on the table before her, the words blurring slightly around the edges, and wondered if it was finally time to just give in already and book an eye test. "A mermonk who greases themselves up with butter to slip and slide around the battlefield? Nah, done that. Firbolg cleric who sold their soul to the dark lord Cthulhu, became enemies to lovers with their Eldritch god and there was only one bed? That was so Curse of Strahd. Kenku bard who communicates only through the medium of cheesy 80s song lyrics? Bingo!"
Because as fucked up as her life was, Keytar Riff was never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down.
Meanwhile, Sarah was having a marvellous time with the characters she had created to accompany Lyla on her misadventure. So far, the party consisted of an angsty teenage girl bard who only knew how to play My Chemical Romance's greatest hits—poorly—on the bagpipes and alternated between sulking and throwing temper tantrums when no one knew their songs. And a tartan dragonborn sorcerer who somehow found himself imprinted upon by three kobolds in a trenchcoat convinced that he was the reincarnation of Bahamut.
They had already lost their clown barbarian when they rolled a natural one on their attack roll and found themself filled with the need to hone their mime skills when fighting a hydra bearing an uncanny resemblance to Nicolas Cage. Unfortunately for the adventuring party, every time one of the creature's necks had been chopped off and regrown, each new orange face regenerated into Donald Trump. "What a crowd, what a turnout," the monstrosity had crooned, before fumbling their "talk shit" attack and accidentally setting fire to each of their wigs. Pity shit didn't burn.
The party succeeded in finishing Hydra Trump off when the Dragonborn sorcerer used wall of stone to beat the fucker at his own game. The kobolds all but fell over themselves to worship at their master's feet.
"Now that combat's over, you all find yourself walking into a pub that's materialised out of absolutely nowhere. It's filled with goblins, who appear to be tossing chickens—get your mind out of the gutter, Nevaeh-Lynn," she added to the teenaged bard, forgetting that the character was a figment of her rolled a d100 for absolutely no reason whatsoever. "Upon closer inspection, you realise the chickens have turned into Canadian geese. Probably by wild magic, I don't know. And they look fucking raging.
"Hey, Jamie Flamer, do me a favour and roll a perception check," Sarah slurred to the Dragonborn sorcerer, forgetting once again that she was playing the character, and not even bothering to roll a die. "42? Oooh, so close. Unfortunately, your eyes are shut and you can't see a thing." She hugged the half-empty tequila bottle to her chest and yawned. "Speaking of getting some shut-eye, I'm gonna just go ahead and take a short rest." Lyla was already snoring softly by her side. "Same time next week? You can all see yourselves out."
December 4th
Thankfully, Sarah did not dream that night. Truthfully, she would not have been responsible for what might have happened if she had found herself wandering through the Labyrinth while inebriated, clutching the bottle of tequila like a shield.
Unfortunately for the girls, their wretched hangover did not get off to the best start, and they were rudely awoken by Martha barging through the formal dining room, frypan brandished threateningly before her.
"S'happening?" Sarah muttered and immediately regretted speaking out loud when a sharp stab of pain pierced her temple. "Shit."
"Better not let Addy hear you cursing," Martha called over her shoulder, peering out the window and frowning. "But I doubt that even she would notice right now. Looks like the cat's among the fairies."
"Are we getting a cat?" yawned Lyla, raising her head to peer blearily at the other two women. Hangover forgotten, her eyes widened at the frypan in Martha's hands. "Martha? What's going on?"
The older woman grimaced. "We felt the wards flare." She glanced first at Lyla and then at Sarah, her gaze lingering. "The creatures are back, but they're a little…different than the usual cretins we've encountered before."
Sarah's blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"
"Whenever Sasha would dream," Lyla began slowly, "she would hold the Portal open, and all sorts of imps, goblins, brownies and drunk unicorns rampaged through Old Middleton until she promised to return to Otherworld and become the Queen of Between." She paused, casting a shrewd look at Martha. "When you say different…?"
"See for yourself," said Martha grimly, glancing down at her weapon. She was going to need a bigger frypan.
Oblivious to Sarah's growing sense of horror, Lyla cautiously approached the window and wondered whether she was still drunk. "Uh, Sarah? You might want to see this."
Every single cell in her body screamed in protest, whether contesting the feeling of existential dread that was getting stronger by the second, or the rush of blood to her head that she was pretty sure was composed of 99% tequila, she wasn't certain. Trepidation pooled low in her belly as she approached the window, squinting out into the first rays of a dying autumn.
Nevertheless, Sarah wished with every fibre of her being that this was nothing more than an alcohol-fuelled nightmare. "Please tell me I'm dreaming," she whimpered, wishing for nothing more than to crawl into bed and bury herself under the thick comforter until the whole sorry affair saw fit to see itself out like a bad one-night stand. She yelped, rubbing her arm and glared daggers at Lyla who had taken it upon herself to helpfully pinch her friend. Hard, because good intentions should never be done under half-assed measures.
She really should have about turned and returned to New York when she had the chance. For outside, in the middle of a once sleepy little village, reigned absolute fucking chaos.
Puzzled villagers, fetching their daily newspaper, putting out the milk bottles, or halfway through their once fairytale-free morning constitutional, suddenly found themselves caught up amid badly behaved creatures. Creatures that were intent on creating as much mayhem as possible before being hauled back through the Portal.
Although she had not been privy to the last time Old Middleton had been accosted by unwelcome inhabitants of Otherworld before Sasha had willingly returned with Hill-Man to take up her mantle as Queen, Lyla had wasted little time in telling Sarah all that she had pieced together from Sasha and the witches. Imps, brownies, drunk unicorns and an honest to God fucking dragon had provided the ultimate entertainment to the Elementary school children before the Shadow King had whisked them all back through the Portal. However, despite never having laid eyes on Between's less-than-savoury population, Sarah knew that the creatures before her waking eyes did not hail from the kingdom of Between.
No, Sarah knew these critters as well as she knew her own reflection.
Because the creatures that were currently terrorising Old Middleton were from the Labyrinth.
Chickens of every colour squawked, clucked and menaced their way through the streets, harassing the early morning risers for their breakfast, heedless to the amused villagers hanging out their windows and doors, cameras clutched in their hands to capture this strange phenomenon.
Chickens, her alcohol-soaked brain helpfully supplied, dreamed into existence during last night's drunk D&D session and were now strutting around the village like they owned the place. Which they did, of course.
Harried-looking witches bustled through Old Middleton, clothes torn and singed and their hair standing on end, gritting their teeth with the dawning realisation that they were unable to use their magic to round up their unwanted visitors.
Wordlessly, uncaring that they were still wearing yesterday's clothing, hair unkempt and nursing hangovers that were steadily growing worse with each strange new minute that passed, Sarah and Lyla hurried from the boarding house to assist the coven, Martha hot on their heels.
By the time they reached Daisy and Violet, the twins had managed to capture what looked like at least five chickens apiece judging by the outraged shrieks from inside the large sack that seemed to have been furtively conjured by two extremely shifty-looking witches.
Knowing the silver-haired women had their little section of the village well in hand, Sarah and Lyla dashed to where the commotion seemed the loudest. Indeed, when they rounded the corner towards a row of quaint little cottages with thatched roofs, Sarah blinked in disbelief at the sight of a small goblin in hot pink stilettos, a grass skirt, Hawaiian print shirt and repurposed red tea cost hat running down the street as fast as his little legs could carry him (which was not very fast), rubber duck tucked securely under one arm.
He was screaming for his life and appeared to be getting chased by a chicken with ebony plumage riding a freezer alligator, if the icicles dripping from its razor-sharp teeth gave any indication. Bringing up the rear, Felicia glanced at the comically small net clutched in her hands, before looking back at the alligator. "I'm going to need a bigger net," she muttered darkly, casting a nasty look at Sarah.
As for the rest of the goblins, well…she genuinely had no idea just how the Old Middleton Women's Historical Society was ever going to explain this one, but it did not take a genius to work out that it was all Sarah's fault. Guilt raked at her with sharp talons as she and Lyla raced through the streets, marvelling at Mrs. Landshome marching past, two goblins trussed up and thrown over one shoulder like a thoroughly unimpressed sack of potatoes.
They helped Esther fend off a horde of rude little cretins who had taken it upon themselves to thoroughly dismantle the Christmas decorations that had been so lovingly hung by the residents of Old Middleton only the day before. Sarah honestly did not know whether to laugh or cry as she and Lyla used the fairy lights that one goblin had actually eaten to tie him up, the inside of his mouth flashing different colours when he parted colourless lips to grin up at them with rather pointy little teeth, amused at his own antics.
With Rosa's help, the women managed to wrangle three more goblins between them who were attempting to deck the halls with boughs of holly but really, had taken the idiom too literally and were just hitting each other. Even though the Goblin King's minions were not putting up much of a fight, Sarah knew that their early morning hijinks were taking a toll on the coven, unable to use their magic in the presence of the rest of the villagers.
Unfortunately for Sarah, the real challenge reared its ugly head when a frazzled Headmistress Dean beckoned them towards Old Middleton Elementary where a foul-mouthed little fairy had taken it upon herself to take over kindergarten in Mrs. Landshome's absence and teach the wide-eyed children some rather creative and colourful curse words that had Mason Barnes grinning from ear to ear. Once the women had finally managed to deal with that unfortunate incident and coaxed the fairy into leaving through the open window, shaking her fist and calling them all prissy bitch crocks of shit (little Katy tried to cover the ears of the class goldfish), they steeled themselves before heading out the classroom to see what fresh horrors awaited them. Thankfully, there was no sign of the fairy, who had presumably set off on her quest to fuck all their fathers and nail their bollocks to her fireplace, as promised.
However, there was the problem of the vertically challenged, drunk unicorn staggering through the school corridors, covered in what appeared to be garlands of holly, tinsel and a Santa hat that had been placed thoughtfully over his horn to stop him from headbutting everything. Sarah cursed, regretting polishing off the bottle of tequila that would have lured the mangy creature through the Portal and back to its own land. Just as she and Lyla started to come up with a plan of attack, Sarah blinked incredulously when the unicorn turned slightly unfocused eyes on her, belched loudly, and sank one leg into an unmistakable bow.
Beside her, Lyla cocked her head to one side. "Did that unicorn just bow to you?"
Sarah groaned. Great. Looks like it hadn't just been a hallucination created by her dying brain cells. "No," she lied smoothly, patting Lyla's hand for good measure. "You're still drunk."
But to her absolute horror, the unicorn did it again, seemingly just to fuck with her.
"I knew it!" screeched Lyla, and Sarah winced when her head gave a rather unpleasant throb, reminding her of the brutal hangover that awaited her as soon as she gave into it. "I always did wonder what it meant when you proclaimed yourself equal to the Labyrinth's equivalent to Tina Turner." She was thoughtful, turning speculative eyes onto her friend. "I guess now I know," she said, softly.
Sarah froze, swallowing back her rising fear and feeling her blood turn to ice in her veins when she realised exactly what she was implying. "Absolutely fucking not," she hissed, grabbing Lyla's wrist and pulling her friend from the school. To her dismay, the unicorn stumbled along in their wake, content in following the women as they regrouped with the coven, who did not seem at all fazed at their newest Otherworldly companion.
"At least he's better behaved than the rest of his companions," said Esther from between gritted teeth, watching as the goblins who had stolen the wreaths from doors crunched happily on the baubles. "But without the Shadow King's help, I genuinely do not know how on earth we are going to return each and every last one of these creatures back through the Portal. We will be here until next Christmas, at this rate."
"I think I might know of a way," murmured Lyla, quietly, waiting until the coven had turned their eyes to her before continuing. "And it was all thanks to Tractor here." The unicorn whickered at the sound of its name, and she carefully patted his hat-covered head.
"No," said Sarah sharply, eyes flashing with genuine fear when she realised just what Lyla was about to propose. "Please don't say it. I'm just trying to forget that it ever happened."
"Twice," added Lyla, helpfully.
Felicia narrowed her eyes at the pair. "Care to fill the rest of us in on your plan, or do we simply need to take turns at guessing?"
"When Sarah bested the Labyrinth," began Lyla slowly, glaring at Felicia, "and declared herself equal to its monarch, it appears that the land recognised her as its Queen."
Tractor bowed again, nudging Sarah's hand with his soft, velvety nose.
"Which means," continued Lyla, as realisation dawned in Esther's eyes, "that unless I am very much mistaken, Sarah should be able to send her subjects home with a few choice words."
Miss Adeline, looking thoroughly dishevelled and decidedly less than prim and proper for the first time in her life, raised an eyebrow in warning at Sarah, as though she knew the exact choice of words that the younger woman was currently contemplating.
"If they don't follow your command," said Lyla gently, squeezing Sarah's free hand in understanding, "we will know once and for all that I'm wrong and we will find another way to send these miscreants back to the fiery chasm from whence they came. And if I'm wrong, I promise to never bring this matter up again."
"You have been watching too much Lord of the Rings," said Sarah fondly, and she stepped forward, cleared her throat, and addressed the creatures. "Goblins, chickens and other unwanted…guests," she began, lamely. As if by magic, the Labyrinthian creatures with working opposable thumbs all turned to her, snapping their heels smartly together, and acknowledged their wayward monarch with the customary middle finger salute of the Goblin Kingdom. "Well…fuck."
Not even Miss Adeline corrected that particular profanity.
"We're going to need a lot more coffee to deal with this Ordeal," Lyla groaned.
Almost an hour later, Sarah, Lyla and the witches of Old Middleton gathered around the dining table of Miss Adeline's boarding house, each woman ashen-faced and unusually silent, lost in the depths of the drug-free (but not alcohol-free) tea Martha had freshly brewed.
Luckily, after watching the Labyrinthian creatures traipse grudgingly through the Portal at Sarah's command, their fun decidedly ruined, the coven had somehow managed to pass off the Goblin Kingdom infestation as the weirdest flash mob Wisconsin had ever seen. Sarah never thought the villagers would ever fall for such an absurd and far-fetched excuse, but given how they had clapped and cheered for the goblins on their mass exodus, she was certain that this unfortunate incident was one of the least strange things that had befallen Old Middleton. She could only thank her lucky stars (that were probably getting moved for her at this very moment, given her shit luck) that the coven had found Hydra Trump stuck fast, unable to squeeze his fat ass through the Portal.
Well…almost all of the Labyrinthian creatures had returned to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. Tractor the unicorn was currently dreaming by the fire, lying on his back with all four hooves in the air and snoring like a freight train after his own Ordeal. Unable to shake her seemingly loyal subject, Tractor had followed Sarah back to the boarding house, resolutely ignoring all attempts of pleading, cajoling and outright shoving to send him back home.
Unfortunately for Tractor, Miss Adeline refused to allow such a mange-ridden creature to take up precious space in her meticulous home. Together with Martha who seemed to be questioning what little was left of her sanity, the two witches thoroughly doused the unimpressed beast with Dawn dish soap.
And while Sarah knew that Tractor could understand them all perfectly, she sincerely hoped that the words 'veterinarian' and 'castration' were not yet in the unicorn's vocabulary, or else he would not be so openly roasting his chestnuts by the hot fire. Otherwise, the coven had made themselves a mortal enemy. However, she wondered just how on earth they were going to explain to the local vet that they were bringing an honest-to-God unicorn into their surgery, horn and all. And realised with a bitter pang that she might not be around long enough to actually witness that particular debacle, especially after how soon Sasha had to Otherworld after the Portal remained open during her waking hours.
The silence was finally broken by Esther downing the last of her whisky-laced tea (courtesy of Mrs. Landshome's entire hip flask) and grimacing. The coven leader looked as though she had not slept in days. Clearing her throat, she placed her teacup back in its saucer as gently as she could before addressing the gathered women. "Firstly, I would like to thank each and every one of you for your aid in avoiding yet another supernatural catastrophe." Her tired eyes swept over the occupants of the room, lingering just a touch too long on Sarah. "However, I must impress upon you all the precarious situation in which we now find ourselves." She paused, waiting for Martha to finish filling their teacups once more, complete with a dash of brandy from a dusty bottle that looked as though it had been pilfered from her personal stash. After all, Martha had fought in the war; she knew when a drop of alcohol meant the difference between life and death.
"As you all know," Esther continued, "we have been unable to establish a line of communication, magical or otherwise, with Sasha Pierce or the Shadow King after their return to Otherworld a little over a month ago. Although we have not been able to contact either party, we know that Sasha returning to fulfil her duties as the True Queen of Between has ensured that the Portal remained closed, as evidenced by the lack of fairytale creatures leaking through into our world."
"Until now," said Lyla, quietly.
"Until now," Esther agreed. "With Sarah's arrival to Old Middleton, the Portal is once again being held open by a Dreamer, and our village is being overrun by the inhabitants of the Goblin Kingdom of Otherworld."
"I'm not returning to the Labyrinth," said Sarah hotly, and Lyla's hand reached for hers under the table, giving her friend a reassuring squeeze.
"Nor would we expect you to, Sarah," replied Esther, kindly. "We do not yet know of the cruelty the Goblin King is capable of."
Felicia scoffed. "Have we learned nothing? We all saw what happened when Sasha refused to return to Between. In just over a week, it did not matter that she was awake; the Portal opened of its own accord and there were dragons in Old Middleton."
Rosa frowned. "I think perhaps you are exaggerating. If I recall correctly, there was one dragon, singular. And it was pulled from a hat by a four-Marked sorcerer."
"Were you there?" Felicia sneered.
"No, and neither were you," Rosa argued back, eyes narrowed in what looked suspiciously like dislike.
"Nevertheless," said Esther loudly, breaking up what looked like to be a promising squabble, "we need further guidance on recent events. Guidance that we cannot hope of obtaining from the Goblin King. We must redouble our efforts to Summon the True King and Queen of Between."
"But how?" asked Headmistress Dean at length. "Every attempt so far has been met with failure."
Esther hesitated briefly, before turning her eyes back on Sarah. "By invoking ancient blood rites."
Sarah blanched. "By what now?"
The coven leader gave a wan smile, though it did not quite meet her eyes. "I did not anticipate having to play my hand so soon," she admitted, "but today has shown that we are unable to wait a moment longer. Blood calls to blood, and I am hoping that a few drops of your blood, Sarah, will be sufficient to Summon Sasha. I do not yet know why the Labyrinthian creatures were able to access the Portal into our world, or why Tractor refused to return to the Goblin Kingdom"—she glanced at the snoring unicorn—"but I am worried that the newest developments may bode ill for the fate of Between."
"What do you—?" Sarah began.
"I believe what Esther is trying to say," Lyla finished, grim-faced but determined, taking a deep breath before looking her friend in the eye, and the small sliver of hope that Sarah still stubbornly held on to turned to ash in her mouth. "Is that the Shadow King may have been overthrown."
December 5th
With the threat of the reawakened Portal opening during waking hours once more and the unknown fate of the Shadow King and his Queen looming over their heads, the coven had brooked no argument and unanimously decided to try and establish contact with the Shadow King again tonight.
And this time, they would not fail, not now that the witches had Sarah in their midst.
Sarah was unsure whether it was pity for their rapidly approaching hangovers, or pity for the unfortunate predicament in which she now found herself that had Esther send both her and Lyla off to bed for a few more hours of precious sleep. After much deliberation, the witches decided that it would be the kindest option to leave Tractor to sleep off his own surely debilitating hangover, banking the fire low enough so that he wouldn't accidentally singe what little remained of his coat. Sarah was just thankful that he wouldn't try to follow her and insist on sleeping at the end of her bed.
"I guess now we know why Tractor was so reluctant to return to Otherworld," said Lyla thoughtfully, closing the door on the snoring unicorn before trudging wearily upstairs to their beds. "If Hill-Man really has been deposed, there's no way Tractor would entertain returning there, no matter how much alcohol was involved. I remember Sasha once telling me that he wasn't always from Between. I wonder if that's why he sought refuge in the Goblin Kingdom, perhaps His Nibs has opened his heart and is taking in all those fleeing from war? Maybe when he wakes up, we'll be able to find out if Hill-Man and Sasha are there too."
Sarah shuddered, the sensation not unlike someone walking over her grave. "I'm sure they are," she replied loyally. "But forgive me if I'm not enthusiastic over the prospect; I've had it up to here with that kingdom today. If we can't get any answers tonight and the coven end up contacting His Nibs, I sincerely hope I'm a thousand miles away, safely back in New York again when they do."
Unfortunately, the witching hour happened upon them all too fast, and she found herself being shaken rudely awake by Martha, forcing a cup of the strongest brewed coffee known to man into her hands, before moving on to give Lyla the same treatment. Sarah only hoped her friend put up more of a fight than she did.
Winter was fast approaching, and a bittersweet pang seized her heart when she found herself wrapped in a warm jacket that had once belonged to her cousin. Sasha's familiar scent enveloped her, strengthened her, and Sarah's hands balled into fists at her sides. Don't worry, Sasha. We're coming.
She was thankful, however, for Lyla's forward planning when she found herself unexpectedly ushered from the boarding house—'Really, Sarah?' a snide voice whispered in her ear, the only part of her that was currently very much awake. 'Where did you expect an honest-to-God Portal to be kept?'—and swept down the moonless streets of Old Middleton towards the pink village hall in total darkness. The witches, Sarah noticed belatedly, were cloaked, and unusually solemn as they surrounded the two younger women, Lyla's hand clutched fiercely within her own once more.
Numbly, Sarah watched as the village hall was unlocked, and she allowed herself to be reluctantly led down winding labyrinthian corridors. The passageway seemed to grow colder as they plunged deep underground, her heart racing and her breath coming in short gasps, misting before her. Lyla's fingers threaded reassuringly through her own was the only thing keeping her grounded.
"I won't let anything happen to you," Lyla Vowed as the path beneath their booted feet started to inexplicably climb, and they reached an ancient stone corridor lit only by a solitary lantern. They watched, silently, as Miss Adeline unlocked a comically small door with a small key hanging from a chain around her neck, and the two women were beckoned into the Portal chamber. "Even if I am the one that has to turn the world upside-down this time. And if all else fails," she said sternly, finally letting go of Sarah's hand to duck through the door, "I brought pepper spray."
Sarah froze in the doorway, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, and desperately tried not to listen to that little voice telling her to run far, far away. The circular golden chamber before her was vast, alive and thrumming with wild, ancient magic. The torches lining the walls sputtered under an unseen breeze, the flames twisting into sinister shapes and figures against the cavernous walls that she could have sworn resembled goblins, dwarves, rock trolls…and even a little fox riding his faithful canine steed. But that was impossible; her overactive imagination was simply running away with her, and nothing more. She shook her head once, ignoring the chill in her heart and the gooseflesh that pricked her arms in warning.
"Sarah? A moment, if you please."
Her eyes snapped to Esther who beckoned her further into the Portal chamber, and Sarah had no choice but to reluctantly obey the unusually grim-faced witch. Even if her steps faltered at the sight of the ornate knife clutched in the coven leader's steady hand, the amethysts that had been painstakingly carved into the silver hilt glittering beneath the flickering torchlight.
Sarah rubbed sweaty palms against her denim-clad leg. "I-I thought you only needed a few drops of my blood," she stammered, bravado having long fled. "I didn't realise that you intended on sacrificing me to the Eldritch gods."
Esther gave her a withering look. "Hold out your hand, Sarah."
"Is a dagger really necessary? I thought you might have pricked my finger with a needle. You know, fairytale style, like Sleeping Beauty? This is already giving me serious horror movie vibes, which my car crash of a life is fast becoming, thank you very much."
"Talk about over dramatic," sneered Felicia with a roll of her eyes and the muttered words, unfortunately for her, amplified throughout the breathless hush that had fallen over the Portal chamber.
"Hey, when you're already having one of the top five worst days of your life, and a figure in a robe comes at you wielding a fucking knife in a murder chamber plucked from an occultist's wet dream, then you can complain all you want," Sarah snapped, a hint of hysteria colouring her panicked voice. "If you fancy getting stabbed in my place and having your spiltpilled to summon the supernatural entity who lay claim to my cousin, knock yourself out. Maybe literally, if you fancy doing us all a favour but until then, bye Felicia. So, if you don't mind—hey, what are you doing? What the fu—oww!" Eyes wide and tirade forgotten, Sarah sucked her thumb into her mouth, glaring at Lyla who had taken it upon herself to stick her friend with the pointy end of the knife. "Traitor."
Lyla shrugged unapologetically, passing the bloodied knife over to the coven leader, who positioned herself in the middle of an intricately carved compass set into the cracked stone floor and carefully spilled a few drops onto the archaic runes, before sheathing the blade and tucking it securely away. Esther eyed the two younger women critically, fishing out a gold, door-shaped pendant from beneath her crimson velvet robe. "Perhaps it would be best if you both remained towards the back of the chamber. Summoning can get a little…theatrical, as Lyla is no doubt aware, and a hasty exit may prove useful if things were to go awry."
"No need to tell me twice," Sarah muttered under her breath, staring at the curved door at the far end of the Portal chamber with trepidation. It looked terribly out of place, battered and almost shoddily made; the last thing that she would have considered magical. If it wasn't for Lyla standing loyally by her side, patting her arm in sympathy and tugging her friend back in the direction of the small door from which they entered, she would have run screaming from the room. After shying away from magic following her run through the Labyrinth that fateful night, finding herself suddenly plunged head-first into yet another fucked up fairytale was just a little more than her rational mind could handle. Her breathing came a little faster, her heart racing, and she tried to swallow back her fear, telling herself that she was doing this for Sasha.
Oblivious to her rising panic, the coven positioned themselves around the points of the compass corresponding to their Marks, each woman facing the door expectantly. Esther stepped into their midst and carefully opened her necklace, causing light to radiate from the centre and out towards the Portal. Around her, the witches dutifully raised their hands, Marks extended, and the coven leader called in a clear, ringing voice:
"Lorn, Shadow King of Between, we Summon thee."
An unseen bell echoed ominously throughout the cavernous chamber, and a sudden gust of wind extinguished the torches, plunging the room into almost complete darkness. The compass beneath the witches' feet flared to life, and the back of Sarah's neck prickled in warning as the Portal opened. A figure stepped forward, limned in bright, golden light from the doorway at his back.
Sarah sucked in a shaky breath. "That's…not the Shadow King."
"Ladies," the Goblin King purred, brushing gold dust from his armour with a long-suffering sigh, summoning a crystal ball to hand and weaving it through long, clever fingers. To Sarah's dismay, she recognised his armour as the very same that he had worn that fateful night she had wished away Toby, so very long ago. At the sound of his sinful voice, the glass of drugged lemonade that Felicia had so thoughtfully prepared fell from her limp grasp, smashing against the stone floor and into a thousand pieces. "Alas, my cousin is—ah—currently preoccupied and has sent me to deal with matters concerning Between in his stead."
Sarah's blood ran cold, and she used the distraction caused by the coven to step closer to Lyla, taking her arm and pulling the more petite woman in front of her like a shield. She doubted that Lyla realised just who the Shadow King had sent in his place, but she very much looked forward to watching her friend give the Goblin King a piece of her mind.
"Occupied with his crotch?" Mrs. Landshome supplied helpfully and if Sarah wasn't too busy wondering just how the hell she was going to get herself out of this predicament, she would have realised that the sly witch's gaze had dropped to the Goblin King's pants.
Esther closed her eyes, exasperated. "Gussie, do try to contain yourself in front of our esteemed…guest."
Whether Mrs. Landshome heard the coven leader's remark or whether she had elected to ignore it entirely, Sarah was not certain. "Do you also have a crystal ball in your pants?"
The Goblin King smirked, humouring the incorrigible old witch. "And if you turn it this way, it will show you your dreams."
"What 'matters' could he possibly be tending to that is more important than answering a Summons?" Rosa hummed thoughtfully, though the small smile tugging at her lips indicated that she already had a fairly shrewd idea of what had detained the Shadow King.
"He bade me to tell you all that he is 'wretchedly exhausted.' Possibly from living up to the Queen's expectations." His smile turned sinister and a hint of something flashed in his sharp gaze, causing Sarah's blood to run cold. She was met with the curious realisation that the Goblin King wasn't quite telling the truth.
Lyla snorted, seemingly oblivious to Sarah's panic spiralling out of control, and nudged the other woman conspiratorially. "You mean Sasha hasn't worn this one out? Finally, a pretty one that can keep up with her sexual prowess. Hey—"
She stilled, and Sarah could practically see the cogs turning in Lyla's clever mind as she fitted all the pieces of the puzzle together. "You have got to be kidding me. That's him, isn't it? The Goblin King? And he's the Shadow King's cousin?" At Sarah's tiny nod, Lyla groaned, nudging her toward the door and trying not to draw attention to the pair as they attempted to quietly leave the room. "Is this a family thing? You know, most people have a type, but you and Sasha have both managed to capture the attention of fairytale kings. This is a f—dash it—a nightmare."
Lyla cast a critical eye at the Goblin King from over her shoulder, sizing him up, and—against her better judgement—gave a low whistle when her gaze came to rest on his crotch. "Damn, Sarah, you never told me his pants were that tight."
Unfortunately for the girls, Lyla's voice echoed just a little too loudly in the chamber. The Goblin King's head whipped quickly to the side, and his eyes fixed, unblinking, on Sarah. He became deathly still and his nostrils flared—a predator scenting its prey.
Esther frowned, noticing her discomfort for the first time, and stepped closer to the younger woman in concern. "Sarah?" The coven leader's eyes flickered between the Champion of the Labyrinth and the Goblin King and, with a subtle motion of her hand, the witches formed a circle around the two women. Shielding them. Protecting them. Sarah felt a warm rush of gratitude towards the coven. Although she had only been in Old Middleton mere days, the witches had accepted her as one of their own, and she instinctively knew that they would never let anything—or anyone—harm her, fairytale king or no.
Her fingers returned Lyla's reassuring squeeze and, taking a deep breath, raised her chin in reluctant defiance to meet the Goblin King's eyes. The rest of the cavernous chamber faded away into soft shades of black and grey as Sarah and her childhood nemesis came face-to-face for the first time in more than a decade.
For my will is as strong and my kingdom as great.
"Sarah Catherine Williams. My my, Precious, all grown up and no baby to save."
Words have power; names have power.
Her fingernails bit into her palms, and she swallowed back her rising trepidation.
You have no power over me.
"Jareth."
A slow smirk tugged at the Goblin King's mouth, lips pulling back to reveal sharp, pointed teeth, which he traced with the tip of his tongue.
Sarah found herself pushed further towards the exit. "Lyla." A lesser being would have cowered under Lyla's icy tone, but the Goblin King merely turned to the smaller woman with an amused smirk. Sarah noted with pride that she did not give her full name. "Great. Now that the introductions are out of the way, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Lyla!"
"Right, right, sorry, Miss Adeline," she said sheepishly. "I mean, what are you doing here, dash it?"
The Goblin King raised an eyebrow, his gaze darting between Sarah and the protective hold Lyla maintained on her elbow. "Unless I am very much mistaken, you Summoned me."
"We Summoned the Shadow King," Lyla hissed, "Not his court jester."
The temperature in the chamber dropped harshly, and the hair on Sarah's arms stood on end when Jareth became deathly still. The air within the room grew charged, crackling with magic and barely suppressed anger. "Excuse me?"
Esther shot Lyla a warning look. "Your Majesty," she said soothingly, placating, attempting to smooth over the tension with gentle words. "Please excuse Lyla's manners. Or lack thereof. She is not accustomed to our ways, and did not mean to be so rude."
"No, no, I meant every word," Lyla replied cheerily.
"As you are no doubt aware," Esther continued loudly, as though Lyla had not spoken at all. "We have urgent matters to discuss with the Shadow King concerning the Portal, and the less-than-savoury individuals lurking around Old Middleton." The coven leader glanced at Sarah and Lyla once more. "Matters that would best be discussed in private," she emphasised, "and preferably with the Shadow King in attendance." Esther winced, remembering one of the many reasons why the monarch of Between might find himself otherwise occupied. "May I suggest postponing this meeting to a more suitable time?"
To Sarah's annoyance, Jareth appeared merely amused, eyes sparkling with mirth and head tilted owlishly to one side as he regarded the woman before him who dared address him as an equal. He swept his tongue over a pointed canine, eyes leaving Esther's face to fix, unblinking, on Sarah. The Goblin King's voice was soft, and the echo of a cruel smile ghosted across his lips. "I think not."
"Enough of your games," Sarah snapped, in her anger-fuelled haze heedless to the coven forming around her once more and trying desperately to keep both her and Lyla securely in their midst in case things were to go awry. "I'm only going to ask you once more: where is Sasha? And what the hell have you done with the Shadow King?"
The Goblin King, shadow-spun and ancient, gave a low, cold laugh that echoed throughout the cavernous chamber, and Sarah refused to quail under the appreciative glance that Jareth cast over her soft curves. "I regret that Lorn is…indisposed."
Unfortunately, the witches did not know Jareth as intimately as Sarah and the women failed to notice the minute clench of his jaw and the almost imperceptible curl of gloved fingers against the palm of his hand. Or the brief flash of pain across Jareth's face at the cost of the lie that he had just told.
A lie, thankfully, that had not gone unnoticed by Esther's shrewd gaze. Though still infallibly polite to their unexpected Otherworldly guest, the coven leader cleared her throat to gain his attention, and Jareth's calculating gaze flickered to her, perhaps for the first time realising that a worthy opponent stood in his presence. "Indisposed, or…incapacitated, Your Majesty?"
The Goblin King pondered his words carefully, mismatched eyes sweeping over Esther, and an unkind smile passed over his ageless face. "What's a little regicide between friends?"
Lyla sneered. "And here I thought the Fey were incapable of lying."
Sarah's heart swelled with pride, and she squeezed her friend's hand. She should have known that Lyla would be watching Jareth's face intently, analysing any minute changes to his facial expressions.
To Sarah's surprise, Jareth did not look angry at finally being called out on his bullshit by someone other than herself. "Clever girl," he growled, tearing his eyes away from his Champion and fixing them on Lyla, before summoning another crystal ball to hand. Eyes narrowed, Sarah took a half step closer towards the Goblin King before the bite of Lyla's fingernails against her arm stopped her. Instead of the curling tendrils of smoke and shadow that she had grown accustomed to seeing, she could have sworn that there was something…or someone…moving within the depths of the orb Jareth was now twisting between long, elegant fingers.
Although the coven had initially seemed quite taken with the Goblin King's obvious…charms, entertained by his sleight of hand and cheap parlour tricks, the witches of Old Middleton now stood grim-faced and solemn, silent sentinels to all they witnessed here tonight. Surrounded by magic and cloaked in folklore, it was easy for the women to forget that the Fey they were currently dealing with was capable of being ruthless, cunning and cruel, and would prove a most formidable adversary to the , Sarah realised that they were preparing for a battle they had no hope of ever winning. How many of them would die here tonight, trying to protect her?
There would be no bloodshed, not in this accursed place. Not on her account.
"What do you want, Jareth?"
His smile widened, and he beckoned Sarah towards him with his free hand, challenging her.
Esther's hand landed on her shoulder in warning, and Sarah turned her head enough to see the coven leader, white-faced and ashen, shaking her head fiercely. "You don't have to do this, Sarah," she said quietly, as though she had guessed the wild, half-formed thoughts tumbling through the younger woman's head. "We will protect you."
Sarah placed her hand over Esther's and squeezed. "I know." She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and moved to stand toe-to-toe with the Goblin King.
"It is curious, he murmured softly, and his eyes burned with hunger as they swept over her body, as though committing her to memory. "Why do you concern yourself so deeply over the Shadow King?" He raised a gloved hand, whether to brush fingers against Sarah's cheek or tuck a lock of hair behind her ear she did not know, but she refused to find out. Her eyes flashed with fury and she made to bite him, but alas his reflexes were excellent and he jerked his arm swiftly away. "Such ferocity," he crooned and to Sarah's disgust, his tone was triumphant, proud even. "My arbitrary Queen."
"I am not your anything," she snarled. "Touch me again without my permission and I will bite your hand off."
Jareth smirked. "I digress. I believe you wished to know the fate of the Shadow King?" He held the crystal ball aloft until it was level with Sarah's eyes. "Why don't you see for yourself, my precious thing?"
She cast him one last wary look before reluctantly tearing her gaze away and gasping when she realised that the answer to her question had been hidden in plain sight all this time.
"Sasha!" Sarah moaned, snatching the crystal ball away without thinking. To her surprise, the Goblin King made no move to stop her. She felt a presence beside her, and a quick glance to her left showed that Lyla—headstrong, steadfast Lyla—had broken free from the coven and rushed to her side.
"I can assure you that it was nothing personal," said the Goblin King quietly, as though his words were meant for Sarah's ears alone. The women watched, heartsick, as Sasha Evangeline Pierce beat her fists against the inside of the glass orb, tears cascading silently down her face. Beside her, a figure who could only be the Shadow King stood despondently, fathomless gaze hopeless and resigned. "Lorn had grown too powerful, too cunning, and it was the High King's wish that he be removed from office." He tapped a small silver badge pinned just above his heart, depicting a hand that appeared to be holding a wand encased within a circle. "And as the Left Hand of the King, who am I to refuse his whims?"
"It was you," sneered Lyla, her eyes wet and shining in the light from the doorway that still stood ajar at the Goblin King's back. "You were the one opening the Portals into our world to try and kidnap Sasha."
"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid," he replied with a mocking bow. "And now, I find myself in quite the conundrum. The High King would be most displeased if he learned of a mortal who defeated my Labyrinth in thirteen hours—"
"Ten," retorted Sarah stubbornly, folding her arms across her chest. "You stole three from me."
"—And declared herself the equal of a king," Jareth continued, as though he had not heard her. "Which in itself presents a problem. As the newly-instated Left Hand, to hold power over me is to hold power over the High King. And Dresden certainly would not take kindly to anyone who sought to challenge his rule. But as the Goblin King, it is my duty to collect my wayward Queen and protect her from those who would wish to harm her. I seem to find myself precariously balanced on the precipice of a double-edged sword."
Jareth paused, and gave a loud, exaggerated sigh, as though he had grown bored. "You ran far from me, Sarah, and whether by your will or no, you made it impossible to find you. And yet, by a stroke of pure luck or a divine twist of fate, I find you here. Waiting for me at the ancient gateway." His dark eyes flickered briefly to the coven standing behind his Champion, an amused smile curling his lips at the flames crackling from Mrs. Landshome's open palm. "And immersing yourself in the supernatural once more by cavorting with witches, no less.
"Tell me," he purred, addressing the coven for the first time in as many minutes, his smirk turning cruel. "Have you found a way to break your streak of own misfortune? Have your menfolk returned to warm your beds?"
"How dare you," Esther gritted out from between clenched teeth, a splash of red colouring her pale cheeks, all diplomacy gone in the wake of the Goblin King's spitefulness. Around her, the witches bristled, anger pouring off of them.
"Unfortunately for you, Sarah-mine," Jareth said quietly, turning back to Sarah, either oblivious to or uncaring of the charged atmosphere of the room, of the women he had slighted preparing their mastered elements, ready to strike and defend against the Goblin King at Esther's word. "I cannot allow you to remain here. And rest assured, I will do everything within my power to ensure your prompt return to my kingdom. Even if I must drag you back through the Portal kicking and screaming. In fact," he paused, eyes wicked as they swept over Sarah's body once more, "I may even enjoy the struggle."
"I would rather die," Sarah snapped. Beside her, Lyla hissed like an angry cat and looked as though she would quite like to strike the Goblin King.
Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Such a pity," he sighed, and in Sarah's distraction, he wrested the crystal ball from her unresisting grasp and vanished it into the aether with a twist of his hand. "But would you risk the life of your dear Shadow King? Of his consort? I can be cruel, Precious, but I can also be generous. Return to my castle and I will ensure Lorn and Sasha's freedom. Refuse and they will never again see the light of day and will remain trapped inside this crystal for all eternity. After all: it's only forever, it's not long at all."
"Don't even think about it," said Lyla urgently, pressing herself between Sarah and the Goblin King, missing how Jareth's eyes flashed with fury at her interference. "We will find another way of freeing them. I was unable to save Sasha, but there is no way in hell that I am going to lose you too. I won't allow it."
"Ahh, I see now that you have found another to accompany you on your noble ventures," sneered Jareth. "Does she also dress up and play at being the hero?"
"I'm right here, buddy," snarled Lyla, glancing back over her shoulder at the Goblin King before taking Sarah's hand in her own and tugging her back towards the safety of the coven. To her dismay, Jareth followed closely behind.
"Have you informed your little friend about what happened to the last companions who accompanied you on your adventure? Or did you also leave them behind when you tried so hard to eradicate all memories of your run through the Labyrinth?"
Sarah stopped dead in her tracks, pulling Lyla to a halt. She sucked in a breath, trepidation cutting deep into her bones. Stopping all contact with Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus was something that she had always regretted, but the thought of using her mirror to contact the trio had filled her with dread for the fear Jareth managed to intercept any communication between them and twist it to his advantage. "What the hell did you do to them?"
"I disposed of the treacherous little scabs," said Jareth coolly, suddenly interested in examining his gloves, his face the picture of perfect nonchalance. Although she could not see his expression, Sarah had the heart-wrenching suspicion that he wasn't lying. Not this time. Not about this. "Just as I will dispose of all those who attempt to aid you, or shield you from me. I will not hesitate to raze this village to the ground and destroy every last man, woman and child if any one of you attempts to defy me."
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I prefer his cousin," Lyla growled, teeth bared and eyes never leaving Jareth's face as she pushed Sarah safely behind her, and out of sight of the Goblin King. The fact that she was a good head shorter than Sarah never seemed to cross Lyla's mind.
Once the two women had put enough distance between themselves and the Goblin King, the witches hurried forward, folding Sarah and Lyla into their midst.
Esther stepped forward to face the Goblin King, water cradled in the palm of her left hand and a raging crescendo of airin the right. "I very much doubt that the High King will be pleased when he learns that his Left Hand has taken it upon himself to wage war on the mortal world without his permission."
Jareth's eyes burned into Sarah's. "To reclaim what was stolen from me," he mused, head cocked to one side. "I would turn the world upside-down. I moved the stars for you, and you alone. Did you honestly think I would relinquish my hold so easily?"
"Then I am afraid that we find ourselves at a most unfortunate impasse, Your Majesty," said Esther evenly, though her eyes burned with fury. Barely contained tendrils of magic crackled between the coven and the Goblin King as they teetered on the brink of war.
Jareth's resounding laughter was high and cruel. "So it begins."
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