Seated upon his throne, Jareth surveyed the vast throne room of his castle. Upon his return, he had ordered the goblins away, leaving the space entirely his own. And so he sat alone. The silence pressed in—heavy, almost unnatural.
He lifted his gaze to the vaulted ceiling, struck by its height, as though he were seeing it for the first time. His eyes wandered across the chamber, now stripped of laughter and the goblins’ crude clamor. Even the throne beneath him felt different—dull, lifeless… empty.
Suddenly, his body shivered and his ears tingled.
Someone was in the labyrinth.
But who?
He heard no mystical call for a child to be taken away. Yet someone was there. To his surprise, he sensed that this person had actually completed the labyrinth. They had avoided every trap and misdirection and were now within the castle.
Just then, the clacking of heels echoed through the hall. Jareth’s heart began to race. He wasn’t frightened—at least, not entirely. He was more curious, and waited anxiously to see who had conquered the labyrinth.
“Jareth Veres—King of the Goblins.”
His eyes widened in surprise.
It was a woman.
His gaze traveled slowly over her attire: a black satin corset dress that alluringly hugged the curves of her voluptuous figure. Draped over it was a deep wine-red velvet duster, paired with shining ankle boots. Around her neck hung a black choker, adorned with a rhombus-shaped moonstone. Her long hair was a deep brown, streaked with silver, and her beautiful brown eyes complemented her bronze-and-cream complexion. Her nails were long and metallic silver.
She was like a dream…
But he was not asleep.
“How do you know my name?” he asked, curiosity laced with a hint of superiority.
She smirked.
“I know a great deal,” she replied. “Including the fact that you recently had to release a toddler named Toby after his sister defeated you.” Her tone was slightly mocking, yet undeniably seductive.
Jareth raised an eyebrow as he rose from his throne and approached her, stopping just inches away. Up close, he took in the beauty of her eyes and the sensual curve of her lips. His heart began to race once more.
“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice authoritative despite the faint tremble beneath it.
“I am Damaria La Charmante,” she said.
She brushed her hair back behind her ear, revealing slightly pointed ears—a sign that she belonged to the same Otherworld as the Underground. Jareth continued to look her over. Extending his hand, he summoned his crop. But as it flew toward him, Damaria caught it midair.
This surprised him.
“Who are you to—” he began.
“Uh, uh… let us behave ourselves, shall we?” she said seductively as she slid the crop down his chest.
Jareth was speechless.
Damaria met his gaze. Indeed, his eyes were different shades—one blue, the other dark brown. Slowly, with deliberate and enticing interest, she looked him up and down.
“You want this back?” she asked with a smirk, holding his crop up between them.
Jareth wasn’t sure whether to be angry, amused, or aroused.
He took the crop back.
“What do you want, Damaria La Charmante?” he asked.
“The High Sovereigns of the Otherworld sent me to deliver a message,” she said.
“And what message is that?” he replied.
“No more child-snatching,” she said. “If any foolish girls—or anyone at all—wish away a child, including a child of any age wishing themselves away, you are not to answer.”
“Is that all?” he asked defiantly.
“No,” she said, a faint purr slipping into her voice.
“If any adults wish themselves away, those you may answer. However, they must run the labyrinth in order to avoid being turned into goblins. If they fail…” She leaned closer, her voice low. “They are all yours.”
Her eyes, her lips, her perfume—it was driving him mad. Yet somehow, he managed to keep his composure.
“Very well. I will do as the High Sovereigns have decreed,” he said. His voice carried contempt, threaded unmistakably with desire.
“Done,” she said. “I’ll inform the High Sovereigns.”
As she turned to walk away, Jareth reached out and grabbed her arm—gently, yet firmly. She stopped and turned to face him.
“Yes?” she said.
“How did you defeat my labyrinth?” he asked, curiosity evident in his voice.
Damaria smirked.
“Darling Jareth… you are not the only Otheren who has ruled over the labyrinth and the Goblin City. According to the High Sovereigns, you are merely one of many,” she said, looking directly into his eyes as she placed her hands on her hips.
“But to answer your question,” she continued with a smile,“my fourth great-grandfather built the labyrinth. My family still possesses the blueprints. It doesn’t changed much, regardless of who rules over it.”
The way she spoke—so authoritative, yet so alluring—stirred a rush of unfamiliar emotions within him. Jareth found himself unsettled by how strongly he felt them.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“Very well. I’ll inform the High Sovereigns that you have consented to their decree,” she replied, turning to leave.
Jareth couldn’t let her go.
He wanted to know this woman… Damaria La Charmante.
He hurried to the window, waiting for her to emerge from the castle. As if on cue, she stepped outside—then stopped short.
“I know you’re watching me,” she called out. “Most likely waited for me to exit the castle.”
Jareth settled onto the windowsill, momentarily speechless. Damaria turned and looked up at him, offering a smile that was both seductive and unexpectedly warm.
“Au revoir, Your Majesty,” she said, bowing gracefully.
As she turned to go, he spoke.
“Will I ever see you again?”
She didn’t answer.
As he watched her walk away, he saw something that startled him. The labyrinth shifted, opening a clear passage before her, allowing her to walk straight through without obstruction.
The sight left him unsettled.
Once she disappeared from view, he returned to the throne room. He stood there for a moment—and then, without warning, he collapsed.
II
He found himself in the room of Endless Stairs. Jareth stood upon one of the steps when he caught sight of a shadowy figure. The mere glimpse of it filled him with rage. Who were they—and how had they gained entry to his castle?
The figure darted across the stairs at a quickened pace, moving almost like a blur. Annoyed, Jareth gave chase.
The pursuit proved futile. No matter how fast he moved, the shadowy figure always seemed several steps ahead.
He stopped and conjured one of his crystal spheres. Spotting the figure again, he hurled the sphere toward it. The enchanted crystal sphere would burst into smoke and blinding light upon impact.
Instead, the figure caught it.
Jareth froze.
“Impressive,” the shadowy figure said, holding up the sphere.
“Catch!” it added, flinging the crystal back.
Jareth leapt aside just as the sphere struck the ground and exploded.
Now he was furious.
“Whoever you are,” he shouted, “once I get my hands on you, I will personally drop you into the Bog of Eternal Stench!”
The shadowy figure laughed.
“You’ve used that threat so often,” it replied, “yet you rarely carry it out.” A pause. “But since you enjoy making empty threats, here’s one for you.”
The figure hurled another crystal sphere. Jareth dodged as it shattered on impact, releasing a stench so vile it surpassed even the bog itself. In that instant, Jareth realized he was facing someone disturbingly similar to himself.
He stepped forward, staring up at the shadowy figure now poised on a distant staircase.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
The shadowy figure offered no reply. Instead, it shimmered—and vanished.
Suddenly, Jareth was falling.
He reached instinctively for his magic, trying to slow himself, to seize the air and stop the descent. Nothing answered his command. His power remained silent.
Something was very, very wrong.
♦♦♦♦
Jareth opened his eyes and realized he was still in the throne room. He slowly sat up, drawing in a steadying breath. As he rose to his feet, a shadowy movement flickered at the edge of his vision. He turned sharply—but nothing was there.
He lifted his hand and conjured a crystal sphere.
“So… my powers remain,” he murmured, releasing a breath of relief.
Without warning, the crystal sphere shattered.
Jareth stared at the fragments, stunned.
“What is going on?” he whispered.
“Fading. Moving on… A new King emerging.”
“I cannot fade,” Jareth shouted into the empty hall. “I am immortal!”
“Fading. Moving on… A new King emerging.”
III
In the land of Fairstose, Damaria stood beside the lake. Three weeks had passed since she had delivered the High Sovereigns’ decree to Jareth Veres. It was her duty—her family had long served as Attendants to the High Sovereigns.
She gazed at her reflection on the lake’s surface. Lovely, she thought… yet alone. Beyond her family and a handful of close friends, she longed to give her heart to someone. But none of the suitors who had come calling had ever been right for her.
She was not an easy woman to love—emotional, stubborn, and complex. Any man who wished to claim her heart would need uncommon patience and understanding, along with quirks intriguing enough to hold her interest. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a crystal sphere rolling toward her.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Hello, Damaria.”
She looked up to see a man leaning casually against a tree. He was tall, with long black hair streaked with blond. His complexion was medium-fair, his lips sensual—but it was his eyes that captured her attention: one blue, the other gold. He wore a long, black iridescent duster over a white ruffled shirt, paired with black leather pants and boots. Black gloves covered his hands, and around his neck hung a necklace bearing a rhombus-shaped stone that shimmered faintly.
Damaria raised an eyebrow.
“Who are you?” she asked cautiously.
“You’ll find out in due time. But for now, know that you made quite an impression on me,” he said with a smirk.
A puzzled expression crossed her face.
“We’ve never met,” she said.
The man pushed himself away from the tree and approached her, stopping just inches from her. He looked her over slowly.
“Oh, but we have,” he replied.
“I don’t remember meeting you,” she said, taking a few steps back.
He chuckled softly.
“How interesting,” he said. “You were so flirtatious with me before, and now you retreat.”
“You speak as if we’ve met,” Damaria said, her voice steady—cautious, and refusing to be intimidated.
His expression shifted to one of genuine intrigue, even admiration.
He lifted his hand, and a crystal sphere appeared.
“A gift,” he said. “Take it.”
“What will it do to me?” she asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” he replied. Then, after a pause, “Except… perhaps reveal whatever it is you wish to know. But be warned—some things are not meant to be known.”
“Is that a warning,” she asked, crossing her arms, “or a threat?”
“Mere advice,” he said smoothly. “Advice I genuinely offer you, Lady Damaria La Charmante.”
He placed the crystal sphere into her hands.
“We will see each other again, lovely Damaria,” he said with a smile.
And then he shimmered away.
As Damaria studied the sphere, she became aware of something unsettlingly familiar about the man she had just met. Yet she could not place why. He had not given her his name—only the promise that they would meet again.
“Why do you feel so familiar?” she murmured.
“In due time, Damaria,” came the echoing reply. “In due time.”
♦♦♦♦
Within a castle high in the skies of the Otherworld, he sat upon a windowsill. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating his unusual eyes—one blue, the other gold—as he idly juggled three crystal spheres in one hand. He turned his head to gaze out across the horizon.
“Life, death, rebirth… all are connected,” he murmured. “The old dies, the new emerges, and life continues forward. All things must move onward. It is the way the universe is designed… the way you designed it...Omnia una.”
The three spheres suddenly merged into one, and an image formed within its depths. It revealed Jareth, seated upon his throne—but he was clearly unwell.
“Life, death, rebirth… all connected,” the man repeated softly. “Fading, moving on. A new king emerges.”
The image of Jareth slowly dissolved.
Rising from the windowsill, the man strode down the hall. As he walked, his attire shifted—the jacket lightened from black to crimson, the pants from black to gold, the gloves from black to dark gray. Only his shirt and boots remained unchanged.
“One falls,” he said quietly. “One rises.”
IV
Jareth sat upon his throne, attended by only four goblins. They watched him with worry etched across their faces.
“Your Majesty, is there anything we can do?” one of them asked.
Jareth did not answer. He remained still, staring out the window at the sky beyond.
“Your Majesty, there must be something we can do,” another goblin pleaded.
“You can do nothing for him.”
The goblins turned to see a man standing behind them, dressed in a crimson jacket, gold pants, a white ruffled shirt, dark gray gloves, and black boots.
“Who you be?” one of the goblins asked.
The man strode toward the throne and regarded Jareth in silence.
“You were asked—who you be!” the goblin repeated, his squeaky voice failing to sound intimidating.
The man turned slowly and fixed the goblin with a cold stare.
“Be gone,” he said icily, “before I turn you from a goblin into a bug and crush you beneath my boot.”
The goblin whimpered and fled the throne room. The remaining three backed away in fear.
The man turned his attention back to Jareth.
“That one should have been sent back from where he came,” the man remarked.
Jareth managed a faint smirk.
“He’s a loyal goblin—perhaps idiotic—but loyal nonetheless,” he said.
“True,” the man replied, “but troublesome.”
Jareth looked up at him.
“It was you… in the Endless Stairs,” he said weakly.
The man nodded.
“You know who I am.”
“What is our name?” Jareth asked.
“Gabryel,” he answered. “Gabryel Rhys Jhones.”
“Fading, moving on. A new king emerges,” Jareth murmured.
“The old dies, the new emerges, and life moves on,” Gabryel replied.
“One question,” Jareth said.
“Ask.”
“What will be different?”
“Only what we were told by Lady Damaria La Charmante,” Gabryel said.
Jareth considered asking more, but he already knew all he needed to know. He slumped back against the throne—and slowly shimmered away.
Gabryel stood alone for a moment. Then an aura of shifting colored light surrounded him. When it faded, he was seated upon the throne.
“You may come forth,” he called. “I have no intention of turning any of you into bugs—unless you choose defiance.”
The goblins rushed forward and bowed deeply.
“You Goblin King now?” one of them asked.
“I always have been,” Gabryel replied calmly. “The same soul—only a different face and point of view.”
“We call you Jareth?” another goblin asked.
“No,” he said. “You will call me *Your Majesty*. And my name is Gabryel.”
The goblins bowed once more.
Gabryel waved his hand, dismissing them, and they obeyed at once. Word would spread quickly throughout Goblin City—but that did not concern him.
Suddenly, the castle itself began to change. The throne room expanded, becoming more open and less cavernous. Everything renewed itself—larger, brighter, more refined, including the throne.
When the transformation was complete, Gabryel raised his hand. A crystal sphere appeared.
“Go,” he commanded softly. “Bring Damaria La Charmante to me.”
♦♦♦♦
Damaria stood by the window of her home. It was early dusk, and the sun was beginning to set. Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over her, and she turned her attention to the crystal sphere she had been given. She reached for it and held it up to the fading light.
“Show me Jareth,” she whispered.
Within the sphere, a ghostly visage appeared—Jareth’s face. He seemed to smile at her before the image faded.
“He’s dead,” she murmured.
“Not dead… moved on. New face, new perspective.”
“Omnia una,” she said softly.
At that moment, another crystal sphere floated into the room.
“Come, Lady Damaria… I invite you to my home,” a voice said.
The sphere transformed into a portal of light. Damaria stepped through.
On the other side, she found herself in a grand throne room. It felt oddly familiar, as though she had been here before. Her gaze drifted to the window, and her eyes widened in surprise.
It was the labyrinth.
Turning back to the throne room, she asked, “How?”
“Very simple… Lady Damaria,” a voice replied.
She turned and saw the man she had met by the lake. His attire was different now—regal, commanding.
“What’s your name, and how are you here?” she asked.
“I am King of the Goblins. This is my castle. My name is Gabryel. Gabryel Rhys Jhones,” he said, striding toward her.
“Where’s Jareth?” she asked, bewildered.
“I am Jareth,” he replied.
Damaria stared at him, perplexed. But a subtle, otherworldly nudge urged her to use her empathic sight. When she did, she realized he was speaking the truth.
“Before you ask… I will explain,” he said. “I am a Soulfract—an Otheren who lives many lives. One soul, many faces and personalities. Every hundred years, the King of Goblins assumes a new face, a new perspective, and a new name. I was once Jareth… I am now Gabryel.”
Hearing this, everything began to click for Damaria. She remembered her flirtations with him, the High Sovereigns’ decree, and why they had made it.
“Do not worry,” he said, his gaze traveling over her approvingly. “I will not break the decree the High Sovereigns set.”
Her ankle-length, fitted column dress in deep purple, with long sheer sleeves, hugged her figure perfectly. The scent of her perfume, the curve of her lips, the depth of her eyes—it all aroused him as it had the first time they met. Damaria smirked, fully aware that Gabryel was captivated by her.
She crossed her arms and stepped closer to him.
“So… now what, Your Majesty?” she asked, her voice soft and seductive.
Gabryel stretched out his hand, summoning his crop. Damaria reached for it—but he snatched it away before she could.
“Not this time, my lady,” he said with a teasing smirk.
“And what are you going to do?” she countered, smirking back.
“I could do many things,” he said, his eyes glinting. “But let us begin simply… with me courting you.”
“Courtship leads to marriage,” she replied. “At least, that is the intent.”
“You don’t say,” he said with a knowing smile.
Damaria smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes.
“Fair warning—I’m not the easiest woman to deal with,” she sad.
“And your point?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “I’ve known that from the moment we met… once again, that is.”
“You must like a challenge,” she teased, her tone flirtatious.
“As I can be one as well. We won’t be bored, now, will we?” he said, his smile both mysterious and dangerous—in the best way.
“No, we won’t,” she replied, her heart quickening.
Gabryel wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer.
“Thus begins the courtship,” he murmured.
“Yes… indeed it does,” she said, and they kissed—deeply, passionately, as if no time had passed between them.
Epilogue
The courtship grew into a marriage—one filled with playful challenges, profound love, and unwavering respect. The goblins warmly welcomed their queen: Damaria La Charmante Jhones.
As promised, Gabryel did not respond to those who wished away children. But he did answer the wishes of adults. Those who could successfully navigate the labyrinth were rewarded with whatever their hearts desired. Those who failed… became goblins.
And so life in the Underground – Otherworld continued. The King and Queen of Goblins, rulers of the labyrinth, carried on.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A typical day for Gabryel and Damaria—King and Queen of the Goblins—found them in their private study, poring over ancient manuscripts. Suddenly, both of their ears began to tingle. They looked at one another.
“Who?” Damaria asked.
“Let’s have a look-see,” Gabryel replied as he conjured a crystal sphere.
What he and Damaria saw within it surprised them both.
“Sarah Williams… how interesting,” Damaria said.
“My exact thoughts,” Gabryel agreed as the sphere shimmered away.
“Darling, why don’t you go and greet her?” he suggested.
Damaria raised a curious eyebrow, resting her hands on her hips.
“You want *me* to greet her? To inform her of the labyrinth’s new rules?” she asked.
Gabryel smiled. “Yes.”
“As you said, the labyrinth has new rules,” he continued. “It’s only fitting that she learn them from the Queen.”
“Especially since *you* and I the *new* aspect,” Damaria added with a smirk.
Gabryel looked her up and down, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes filled with unmistakable fondness. Damaria giggled and crossed her arms.
“Naughty thoughts, Gabryel, darling,” she teased.
“Not entirely,” he replied. “Only partially.”
“More than partially,” she said seductively, her smile lingering.
Gabryel held out his gloved hand. Damaria stepped closer and placed her hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently.
“I have complete confidence in you, my love,” he said warmly.
“Thank you, darling,” she replied.
♦♦♦♦
Sarah Williams was no longer the sixteen-year-old girl who had once run the labyrinth to rescue her baby brother, Toby. She now stood in the Underground Otherworld as a thirty-two-year-old woman—with a purpose.
In the distance, the castle loomed. Memories surged back: the horrors she had endured, and the friends she had made along the way.
“You can do this, Sarah,” she whispered to herself.
“Sarah Williams.”
She turned to see a woman standing before her—average height, but with a full and shapely figure. Long, wavy dark-brown hair streaked with silver. Her otherworldly brown eyes shone against a light bronze-and-cream complexion. She wore a beautiful deep-purple dress with a sculpted waistband, gathered sleeves, and a plunging V-neckline. Black boots and a black choker adorned with a rhombus-shaped stone completed her ethereal presence.
“Who are you?” Sarah asked.
“You may call me Lady La Charmante,” Damaria said.
“Sarah—why are you here?” she asked gently.
“I have a request,” Sarah said. “My brother Toby is dying. He has cancer, and it’s terminal. I want to ask the Goblin King to save his life.”
Silence followed.
“Sarah, while your cause is noble,” Damaria said at last, “there is something you must know. Things have changed.” Her voice carried sympathy, concern… and a trace of menace. “If you run the labyrinth and succeed, you will be granted what you desire. If you fail… you will be turned into a goblin.”
“How long do I have?” Sarah asked.
“Twelve hours,” Damaria replied.
Sarah’s eyes widened. “I thought it was thirteen.”
“I did say things have changed,” Damaria said, a flicker of irritation in her tone.
“What else has changed?” Sarah asked.
“A great deal,” Damaria said softly.
Sarah swallowed, then exhaled slowly.
“Sarah, hear me out,” Damaria continued. “You *can* run the labyrinth. If you succeed, your wish will be granted. But if you fail, you will become a goblin. You will never see Toby again—and he will die regardless.”
She paused.
“Instead of running the labyrinth, I can send you home. You can spend whatever time Toby has left with him—make it a joyful celebration of his life.”
Sarah met Damaria’s gaze. In her eyes, Damaria saw unwavering resolve.
“I’m going,” Sarah said. “I defeated the labyrinth once. I can do it again.”
“Very well,” Damaria said. She raised her hand, and a phantasmal hourglass appeared, its sands already falling.
“Twelve hours, Sarah,” Damaria said.
Sarah turned and began walking toward the labyrinth.
“Know this,” Damaria called after her. “If at any time you wish to reconsider, all you need say is *‘I concede,’* and you will be sent home.”
Sarah did not look back.
“Sarah Williams,” Damaria murmured, sadness threading her voice, “you will not be so fortunate this time.”
With that, she shimmered away.
II
When Sarah arrived at the entrance to the labyrinth, she half-expected to see Hoggle waiting for her. But he was nowhere in sight.
“I wonder if Jareth…” she murmured.
“Jareth did nothing. Hoggle simply died,” snapped a cranky female dwarf.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. The dwarf bore a striking resemblance to Hoggle—same eyes, same nose, and very much the same temperament.
“Who are you?” Sarah asked.
“I am Beagloia—Hoggle’s sister,” the dwarf replied.
Sarah blinked. “Hoggle had a sister?”
“Well, yes. Clearly he never mentioned me—though that’s hardly surprising. He was never one to be close to family,” Beagloia said gruffly.
Like Hoggle before her, Beagloia was spraying a chemical mist at the fairies fluttering nearby. Remembering the one that had bitten her years ago, Sarah was careful not to pick up any of the creatures Beagloia had sprayed.
“What happened to Hoggle?” Sarah asked. “How did he die?”
“Old age,” Beagloia replied. “Simple as that.”
“Beagloia, I need to enter the labyrinth,” Sarah said
.
Beagloia turned to face her fully.
“Much has changed since you were last here,” she said. “The entrance to the labyrinth has changed.”
Sarah frowned. “Changed?”
“Yes—changed,” Beagloia snapped. “Everything changes. Not everything can stay the same forever.”
Sarah studied the stone wall, remembering that not everything was as it seemed. Carefully, she ran her hand along the surface and gave it a gentle tap. At once, the wall parted like double doors.
“You remember,” Beagloia said grudgingly, “that things are not always what they appear to be.”
Sarah turned back to her.
“What did Hoggle ever say about me?” she asked.
Beagloia huffed. “That you were spoiled and stubborn—but also brave and kind-hearted.”
Sarah smiled.
“Now go on!” Beagloia barked.
“Yes—thank you,” Sarah said, stepping into the labyrinth as the stone doors closed behind her.
Beagloia sighed.
“She won’t make it… will she?”
“Beagloia!”
She jumped.
“Y-Your Majesty,” Beagloia stammered.
“Stay alert. I may need you,” came the disembodied voice of Gabryel.
“Yes, Sire,” Beagloia said, trembling.
“And Beagloia!”
She trembled harder, silently praying to Omnia Una that he would not threaten to toss her into the Bog of Eternal Stench.
“First of all,” Gabryel said calmly, “I wouldn’t do that.”
Beagloia exhaled in relief.
“I would do much worse.”
Her relief vanished instantly.
“Secondly,” Gabryel continued, “make certain she does not find the headstone of the Rock Caller. The Queen and I wish to spare Sarah that grief.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Beagloia said, bowing low.
Left alone once more, Beagloia clasped her hands and whispered a prayer.
“Omnia Una, be with Sarah. And if it is your will… let her abandon this path and return home.”
“So let it be.”
♦♦♦♦
In the throne room, Gabryel and Damaria watched through a crystal sphere as Sarah navigated the labyrinth.
“Can’t we just bring baby Toby here and turn him into a goblin too, since Sarah’s going to become one anyway?” one of the goblins asked.
Gabryel and Damaria stared at the foolish creature in silence. Gabryel turned slowly to Damaria.
“Darling,” he said mildly, “would you like to handle this, or shall I?”
“I’ll do it,” Damaria replied, her tone making it clear she was not amused. She fixed the goblin with a steady gaze.
“How about I toss you into the Marsh of Never-Ending Itch?” she said in pleasantly. “A lovely place—crystal-clear water, beautiful plants, and a rash so horrible you’ll wish for the Bog of Eternal Stench instead.”
The goblin gulped and said nothing more, backing away quickly.
Gabryel chuckled softly as his attention returned to the sphere. Damaria’s did as well.
“Isn’t that the same one you threatened to turn into a bug when you first returned?” she asked.
Gabryel laughed.
“Unfortunately,” he said. “But despite his idiocy, he is loyal. So let's not throw him into the marsh… yet.”
Damaria giggled. “As you say, darling.”
They continued watching Sarah. Both of them knew that heartbreak awaited her.
“Do you think she’ll give up?” Damaria asked quietly.
“For her sake—and for Toby’s,” Gabryel said, “I pray to Omnia Una that she does.”
He paused, then raised his hand.
“In the meantime…”
Gabryel waved his hand over the crystal sphere. Within it, he and Damaria watched as two grotesque creatures emerged from the moss of the labyrinth.
♦♦♦♦
Unfortunately, Sarah encountered the creatures.
She ran as fast as she could. When she finally escaped them, she found herself lost once again.
She almost blurted out *It’s not fair*, but bit her tongue. She was no longer that foolish teenage girl. Life itself wasn’t fair—so why should the Otherworld Underground be any different? She pressed on, her thoughts fixed on one thing.
Toby.
Little Toby… who wasn’t so little anymore.
He was eighteen now, dying of cancer. Unsurprisingly, Toby remembered nothing of being kidnapped because of Sarah’s reckless wish all those years ago. She had once considered telling him the truth, but she knew he wouldn't believe her. As she imagined him lying in that hospital bed, guilt gnawed at her. She had wished him away—though she had saved him in the end.
That experience had changed her. Helped her to mature.
But it had also awakened an over-protectiveness that nearly drove a wedge between her and Toby.
And now here she was—running the labyrinth again, hoping Jareth might help her.
Which only raised more questions.
Why hadn’t Jareth greeted her when she arrived? And who was this Lady La Charmante? It was becoming painfully clear that much had changed since her last visit.
Lost in thought, Sarah collided with something—no, *someone*.
Beagloia.
“Beagloia!” Sarah exclaimed.
“Watch where you’re going!” the dwarf snapped.
“Sorry,” Sarah said quietly. “My mind is elsewhere.”
“If your mind is elsewhere,” Beagloia replied curtly, “then perhaps you shouldn’t be here at all.”
Sarah studied her suspiciously.
“Where’s Jareth?” she asked.
“H-he’s here,” Beagloia stammered. “In the castle. As usual.”
Sarah shook her head.
“No. Something’s wrong,” she said. “Jareth used to be smug. He *enjoyed* taunting me—making things difficult. He confronted me in the oubliette and asked if I was enjoying his labyrinth.”
“Yes,” Beagloia said dryly, “and you told him it was a piece of cake—prompting him to fast-forward time and unleash the cleaners.”
Sarah stared at her.
“What? Hoggle told me a lot.”
“Tell me, Sarah,” Damaria said, “is the labyrinth still a piece of cake?”
Sarah turned and saw Damaria standing there. Sarah marched right up to her.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Sarah said, “but know this—I *will* solve the labyrinth, Lady La Charmante.”
Beagloia gulped.
Damaria smiled—a slow, dangerous smile.
“Good to know you still have that brave fire within you,” she said.
Something in Damaria’s eyes made Sarah uneasy.
“Are you going to call the cleaners?” Sarah asked.
Damaria laughed.
“One of Jareth’s old tricks,” she said. “No. I have something far better in mind.”
She waved her hand slightly. Thunder cracked overhead, and rain began to pour. Damaria conjured an umbrella for herself as the downpour intensified.
“Not fair!” Sarah shouted as she stood in the rain.
Damaria raised an eyebrow. “Mind what was said to you the last time you uttered those words,” she warned softly—then shimmered away.
Beagloia grabbed Sarah’s hand and pulled her into an abandoned guard post for shelter.
Sarah collapsed to the floor and burst into tears. Beagloia found a blanket and draped it over her shoulders.
“Toby’s dying,” Sarah sobbed.
“Then why aren’t you with him?” Beagloia asked gently.
“Because I want to save him,” Sarah said through tears. “That’s why I wished myself here—to ask Jareth to save him, even if it costs me my life.”
Beagloia sighed.
“Jareth… he cannot save Toby.”
“Why not?” Sarah demanded. “Is all he ever did turn children into goblins?”
“He doesn’t do that anymore,” Beagloia said.
She froze as she realized her slip.
Sarah’s head snapped up. “What do you mean—*anymore*? Why? What’s happened?”
Beagloia fell silent.
“Beagloia,” Sarah pressed. “What’s going on? What’s happened to Jareth?”
“N-nothing,” Beagloia stammered. “Nothing’s happened. He just… doesn’t do that anymore.”
Sarah didn’t believe her.
Beagloia was hiding something.
III
“A rainstorm,” Gabryel said as he watched through the crystal sphere. “Very impressive.”
“She actually thought I might use one of your old tricks,” Damaria replied.
A small smile curved Gabryel’s lips. “Much has changed, however.”
Damaria crossed her arms. “Were you truly in love with her—or merely fascinated?”
Gabryel turned to her, amusement flickering in his mismatched eyes.
“Jealous?” he asked.
Damaria shrugged. “Perhaps.”
Gabryel laughed softly.
“My lovely Damaria… it is true that, in my former life, I was fascinated by her. Despite her immaturity, she possessed a tenacity that intrigued me.”
“Didn’t you offer to give her what she wanted?” Damaria pressed. “Or rather—how did you phrase it? ‘Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave?’”
There was a sharp edge to her voice.
The image within the sphere faded as Gabryel stepped closer to her. His blue-and-gold eyes held nothing but devotion now.
“Fascination,” he said gently. “Not love. She intrigued me, yes. Did I desire her? Yes. But she never held my heart. I spoke those words to make her surrender her brother. I wanted dominion over her—not union.”
He slipped an arm around Damaria’s waist and drew her close. Her heart quickened at his touch. Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“Only a woman bold enough to snatch my crop from my grasp could ever win my heart,” he said with a knowing smirk.
Damaria laughed.
“Clearly that caught your attention,” she said, her tone teasing and seductive.
“That wasn't the only thing,” he replied with a smile.
“Forgive my jealousy?” she asked softly.
“Of course,” Gabryel said. “It’s understandable—my fascination with her was never a secret.”
Gabryel—so unlike his former self, Jareth.
Though he still possessed his signature ruthlessness and chilling intelligence, they were now tempered by genuine love, kindness, understanding, and care. He was, in every sense, Damaria’s equal.
Just as Omnia Una had intended.
♦♦♦♦
The rain soon ceased, and Sarah and Beagloia emerged from the abandoned guard post. Sarah’s thoughts were fixed on Toby. Beagloia, walking ahead of her, realized where they were headed and abruptly stopped.
“Beagloia, why have we stopped?” Sarah asked.
“This is the wrong way,” Beagloia said. “In fact… why don’t you just walk away from all of this? Go home. Be with Toby.”
Sarah’s irritation flared.
“You’re hiding something,” she said sharply. “And I will find out what it is—starting with whatever lies beyond this path.”
She marched past Beagloia. Startled, Beagloia hurried after her.
Sarah continued forward until she came upon something that stopped her cold.
A headstone.
Ludo’s.
She fell to her knees and broke down.
Beagloia’s face tightened with fear.
“How did he die?” Sarah asked through her tears.
“Like Hoggle,” Beagloia said quietly. “Old age.”
“And Sir Didymus?” Sarah asked.
“The same.”
Sarah wept openly now. All of her friends were gone. Toby was dying. Her father was gone as well. And though her relationship with her stepmother was no longer openly hostile, it remained fragile.
“Say the words, Sarah,” Beagloia urged softly.
Sarah shook her head. “No. I will not concede.”
Beagloia sighed as Sarah rose to her feet and turned to face her.
“So,” Sarah said bitterly, “are you going to offer me an enchanted fruit—or something of that sort?”
Beagloia shook her head.
Sarah lifted her gaze to the sky. “Jareth, I know you can hear me! Show yourself, you coward!”
A crystal sphere suddenly rolled toward her and came to a stop at her feet. Sarah bent down and picked it up. Inside the sphere, she saw Toby lying in a hospital bed, his body frail and pale. The sight stole her breath. With a cry of anguish, she hurled the sphere away from her.
“I will not concede!”
“And if you fail,” a voice replied, “you will remain here as a goblin—and Toby will die anyway.”
The voice was not Jareth’s. It was different. There was kindness in it, tempered by an edge of authority.
“Where is Jareth?” Sarah demanded.
“My love, be compassionate this time,” came the gentle voice of Damaria.
Sarah raised an eyebrow in confusion.
Suddenly, she and Beagloia were engulfed in a brilliant aura of light. In an instant, they vanished—only to reappear inside a vast and magnificent throne room. Sarah looked around, bewildered.
“Is this the same castle?” she asked.
“Yes,” Damaria said as she stepped into the room, “only… different.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she fixed her gaze on Damaria.
“Where’s Jareth? What have you done to him? You—you… witch!”
Damaria lifted an eyebrow. “Slightly insulting,” she said calmly, “but I won’t take it personally.”
“My, my,” a voice drawled, “must you use such an ugly word to describe my wife?”
Sarah turned sharply.
A man strode into the throne room—clearly not Jareth, yet unmistakably connected to him. His hair was dark, streaked with blond; his features were subtly different, and his eyes—one blue, the other gold—gleamed with quiet power. He was dressed in a familiar style: a dark green duster jacket, a light gray ruffled shirt, black leather pants, and boots. Only his dark gray gloves set him apart.
Sarah stared at him, stunned.
“Where is Jareth?” she asked.
“Right in front of you,” he said.
Sarah raised an eyebrow, confused by his words.
“Seriously—where is he?” she demanded.
Gabryel stepped closer. “As I said… right in front of you.”
Sarah studied him more carefully. Slowly, the truth began to settle in. He wasn’t lying.
Gabryel spoke again, his voice steady.
“I am a Soulfract—one soul, many faces and personalities. The one you knew as Jareth Veres is now Gabryel Rhys Jhones.”
He turned to Damaria and extended his hand. She stepped forward and took it, standing at his side.
“This is my wife, Damaria La Charmante,” he said.
Damaria offered Sarah a gentle smile, though sadness lingered in her eyes.
“Why do you look so sad?” Sarah asked.
“Because we can’t save Toby,” Damaria replied softly.
Sarah turned back to Gabryel.
“What she says is true,” he said. “Neither she nor I can save him. Even if I had remained the man you once knew, I would not have been able to save him.”
“But why?” Sarah asked, her voice breaking.
“Because there is a presence more powerful than I,” Gabryel said. “A presence that exists everywhere—your world, this realm, and all others. Here, he is known as Omnia Una.”
“You mean… God,” Sarah whispered.
Damaria and Gabryel nodded.
“What happened here?” Sarah asked.
“Time,” Gabryel replied. “Despite my limited ability to influence it, time continues to move forward. Even I am not immune. As Jareth, my time was up… and the one who stands before you now is who I truly am.”
“So that’s why you didn’t greet me when I wished myself here?” Sarah asked.
“No,” Gabryel said gently. “It’s because I wanted my wife to greet you—to warn you that things had changed and to try to convince you to return home. We are equals: King and Queen of the Goblins and the Labyrinth.”
Sarah studied them and saw the depth of their bond. Their love was unmistakable. It made her reflect on Jareth’s former fascination with her—something she had only fully understood after she and Toby returned home all those years ago.
“Were you ever in love with me when you made your offer?” Sarah asked.
“No,” Gabryel said plainly.
“So… you wanted dominion over me?”
“Yes.”
Sarah exhaled slowly. A part of her felt disappointed, but another part felt relieved. Gabryel and Damaria noticed, but said nothing.
“Is there anything you can do?” Sarah asked, her voice cracking.
Damaria hurried to her and wrapped her in a warm embrace.
“We can send you home,” Damaria said softly. “And we can give you a token of strength to give to Toby. It won’t save him, but it will grant him a little more time. That is all we can offer.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Sarah nodded. “I concede. Send me home so I can be with Toby.”
Damaria returned to Gabryel’s side. Together, they opened a shimmering portal. Before Sarah stepped through, Damaria pressed a rhombus-shaped crystal into her hand. Then they watched as Sarah returned to her world.
“Your Majesties?” Beagloia said quietly.
“Yes, Beagloia,” Gabryel replied.
“If you don’t mind, I would like to join her—to be there for her,” Beagloia said.
“We’re already ahead of you,” Damaria said, and another portal opened.
“Know that you can never return,” Damaria added gently.
“I understand,” Beagloia said.
“May it all be well,” Gabryel said.
Beagloia bowed deeply and stepped through the portal.
Damaria turned to Gabryel. “Any thoughts, my love?”
“Sarah will be fine, and so will Beagloia,” he said. “As for Toby… I believe Omnia Una will bring him here one day. Not as a goblin, but as an Otheren—into a new life.”
Damaria smiled.
“May it all be well.”
Epilogue
Before Toby’s passing, Sarah had become friends with a slightly cranky but good-hearted nurse named Beatrice. From that chance meeting, an enduring friendship bloomed.
After Toby’s funeral, he arrived in the land of Fairstose—a young boy with slightly pointed ears. Gabryel and Damaria took him in as their ward. You see, when Toby arrived, he came as a child—the part of him that had never truly left the Otherworld–Underground.
There, he would make friends and grow up, and when the time came, he would be allowed to become one of Omnia Una’s Aions—an angel.
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