Another World    Sarah felt a sharp prick as the dagger pierced her skin, and was startled to hear her scream cut through the silence. She tensed up her fists in fear...  wait, she could move! Her breathing shallowed and she gave a short laugh in both fear and excitement - her body was her own again!    She looked down at the dagger, expecting to see it fully embedded in her chest, though gave a cry of relief when she saw that only the tip had pierced her skin. Villdon's hand had stopped suddenly - his whole body was rigid, still maintaining it's iron-like grasp on her. His breath no longer warmed her ear - she could not hear it at all. She cast her gaze around the Throne Room - everything, including herself, was covered in strange silvery white dust. There were no colours, only different hues of white and grey, sparkling and flickering in the candlelight.    It reminded her of the snow scenes she used to shake as a child - their figures stood motionless under the blankets of falling glitter, just as everyone was perfectly still before her. The glistening snow in this scene had settled, however, as though begging a child to stir up the torrent of magic dust once more.    As she gazed around the room in amazement, she saw Jareth and Kardallen were motionless too, though she realised that inside the circle of candles, there was relatively little dust. The splash of colour behind their invisible wall was striking against the colourless surroundings of the Throne Room. Sarah suddenly turned her attention once more to Jareth's frozen features - they were no longer still. He blinked, then slowly began to move, Kardallen too, though everyone else in the room remained frozen.    "Jareth!" cried Sarah, forcing Villdon's heavy arm from around her shoulders and carefully moving her body around the blade.    "Sarah, you're alive!" He replied, his voice full of relief. She stumbled over to him, her body responding slowly as if it had just woken from a deep sleep, the dust crunching like snow with every footstep. She ran into the magical wall that was still in place and was thrown back onto the floor. The movement had caused a flurry of the dust to rise around her and she sneezed, grasping her wound as it throbbed with pain. As she got to her feet, drops of blood fell through her hand to the floor.    "You're hurt," said Kardallen, concerned. Jareth's face winced as he saw the red droplets on the white floor. They poured slowly over her hand - their bright red a stark contrast to her silvery white, sparkling skin. "Don't worry, it's just a flesh wound, I'll be fine." She replied, standing to her feet.    "Sarah," hurried Jareth, "You must leave here at once." He looked deeply into her eyes, pleading. "That spell, whatever it was, has worn off on Kardallen and I, and it will lose its control over the others before long. You must go, now."    "No, I won't leave you, Villdon will kill you... " She cried    "You must, Sarah...  I can take care of myself, he won't kill me until he has taken care of you." Jareth told her the truth in order to appeal to her senses - she was in much more danger than he, and if she didn't run, then there was no chance for any of them.    The ball of light whizzed around Sarah like a firefly in a hurricane, and flew over to the steps behind Jareth, hovering.    "I think it wants you to follow it, Sarah," said Kardallen. She looked at Jareth, fighting back tears and desperately trying to think of an alternative to leaving him here. All of a sudden, she heard a groan coming from a troll near the throne, and she gasped in panic. Eyes wide, she turned to Jareth one last time. "Run!" He whispered, the desperation evident in his face. She abandoned her protests, and followed the light up the dark stairs.    Sarah ran through the castle as fast as her legs would carry her, her eyes fixed upon the whizzing ball of light that led the way. The twisting corridors seemed to merge into one as the light took turn after turn. Sarah didn't know where she was, she didn't care, all she wanted to do was put some distance between her and the search party that would inevitably be dispatched.    Running at such a pace was exhausting, with every gasp of breath her wound throbbed, and she clutched even harder in an attempt to find some ease. Her attempts were little rewarding however, and only served to make the blood fall faster between her fingers. Each one of those painful gasps echoed loudly all around her, their rough hoarseness accompanied only by the sound of her uneven, hurried footsteps.    Villdon shook his head slightly as though trying to banish an unwelcome thought, and waved his hand over his face to swat away the strange silvery dust that fell from his skin. Sarah was gone - the realisation hit him suddenly and bluntly. He quickly glanced around the Throne Room to seek her out, though found only his own men standing motionless. Jareth and Kardallen simply stood and smiled at him - their faces full of what looked like conquest or smugness: Villdon didn't appreciate either.    He strode over to Llynton and shook his shoulder violently to wake him from the strange slumber. Silvery white dust fell from his features as life filled them again.    "What happened?" Llynton asked, looking startled at Villdon.    "My guess is that this fiasco was a diversion," he replied. "Sarah has disappeared."    Villdon looked at the dagger in his hand and perused it in the candlelight, a sickly smile creeping to his lips. "She has escaped," he repeated, "though not without a little reminder of me." Llynton saw the blood covering the tip and flashed his eyebrows upward, sharing Villdon's satisfaction.    "Look," said Llynton, walking over to the circle of candles, "here, there is blood on the floor - and spots of it here and here." He followed the trail around the circle and jumped up to the third step with a lively burst of energy. He looked at the red handprint on the wall and studied it with his head to the side. His brow furred and his eyes narrowed predatorily as he smiled at Villdon.    "The blood smells fresh, sire, she has not been gone long," said Llynton, fingers twitching.    "Go to it," commanded Villdon, "Bring her back to me."    The command given, Llynton's eyes flashed in delight before he dashed like lightning up the staircase.    "That man worries me sometimes," smiled Villdon, addressing Jareth and Kardallen. "His mother was bitten by a werewolf, or so I am told, which explains why he has inherited some interesting traits." Villdon strolled over to the throne and sat upon it regally. "Llynton's characteristics are incredibly useful, you know - he has a very keen sense of smell as you might expect, and lives for the thrill of the chase. You should remove that smug look from your face, Jareth, as your precious mortal just became his next prey.    The light's journey seemed never-ending as it led Sarah even deeper into the castle. The stone corridor began to narrow and grow even darker ahead of her, her strange guide did not light the path as well as it had. She grabbed a fire lantern from the wall and held it aloft. Gathering up her dress in her spare hand, she ran again.    There were large sheets of cobwebs adorning the walls, and Sarah felt sick as she ran through them. She had never been to this part of the castle; it seemed that no one had been here in a very long time.    "Sarah... " the voice came echoing down the corridor - it sounded so close it could have tapped her on the shoulder. "Where are you?" asked the voice playfully. Sarah felt her heart beat even faster as she recognised the voice - Villdon had sent Llynton after her. The thought made Sarah's legs carry her even faster.    The corridor began to twist, doubling back on itself and taking sharp turns - it was how she imagined a rabbit warren to be. However, it had no doors in which to hide, no adjoining passages to take to throw Llynton off her scent. She just kept running, hoping that she was faster than Llynton.    The light from her lantern began to fizz - the cobwebs that shrouded it and the speed at which she was running seemed to be too much for it, and the flame spat once more, then died. She looked at the glowing wick, mortified, then threw it angrily to the floor. The corridor seemed darker now than ever - as her eyes adjusted, she focused on the light ahead of her. The darkness surrounding them was so thick that the firefly only just illuminated the width of the narrow corridor, it's beams only just scraping the damp stone walls with their fingertips.    Sarah heard a clattering noise behind her - Llynton had kicked the wooden fire lantern. He was close. "I can see you," he taunted. She gave a quiet yelp of panic, knowing that he was going faster than she was. How could he see with no light? She hadn't seen anything in the straight part of the corridor, and the light that she followed would not illuminate beyond a metre, never mind show him the corners and uncover the path. How could he be running blind through such a twisting corridor and still be gaining on her?    All of a sudden, the light changed direction, shooting off to the right. She ground almost to a halt in order to run round the corner, though tripped over a stone on the floor. As she flung her arms in front of her, she realised that she was at the bottom of a spiral staircase - she jumped to her feet and desperately clambered up the worn steps.    "What goes up, must come down, one way or another," smiled Llynton into the ascending darkness - Sarah heard his footsteps as he too began climbing the stairs. She was almost dizzy from the endless twisting stairs, and ran straight into a heavy wooden door, grazing her cheek against it's rough surface. The light had dodged through the gap and buzzed around in circles in the room beyond. Sarah heaved the door open, slipped inside and slammed the heavy old door shut. Her eyes fell on an old wooden beam propped up beside the door - she awkwardly lifted it and rammed it against the door, dropping it behind the solid iron hooks, making an archaic lock. No sooner had Sarah taken her hands off the beam, it shook violently with the force of someone ramming the door.    "Knock, knock," laughed Llynton as he tapped on the door. Sarah backed away and looked around the room to find another way out. She found none. The stone room was small and circular, with a high cone shaped roof - it looked like a turret. There were no windows or candles, though there was a strange amount of light flooding into the room. Her hurried glance fell to the object before her. It was a mirror, taller than she, it's ornate gold frame blackened with neglect, though her faint reflection was distorted. The glass rippled like a lake, sending beams of blue and silver light into the room.    The firefly that had guided her here whizzed around her head, then flew straight at the mirror. To Sarah's amazement, it was engulfed in a bright light and disappeared from the room. She looked carefully beyond the watery surface, and could still see the firefly hovering before her, though it's image was distorted by the ripples of the mirror. All of a sudden, the light exploded in a ball of shiny dust, and left a small girl standing in it's place. As the girl held her hand out to beckon Sarah through the mirror, light reflected off a translucent pair of wings. 'Come' mouthed the faery desperately, stretching her fingers in earnest. She expected Sarah to take her hand as though she were in the same room, not another world.    Sarah swung round to face the door behind her as she heard the beam fall to the floor. The door swung open, and she saw Llynton standing there, eyes closed and palms upward. He grinned as he opened his eyes to meet hers.    "Hello Sarah," he smiled, and stooped his body as though about to pounce. Sarah was frozen with fear, but she knew inside what she had to do. She gasped a deep breath, turned on her heels and leapt into the mirror.    Llynton shielded his eyes from the light that seemed to splash into the room. As he lowered his hands, he saw that he was now alone. The ripples of light in the frame began to sputter, the watery surface seemed unstable and parts of it began to take on the form of a mirror. Llynton leapt forward to follow Sarah, though before he reached the mirror, the water turned to glass. The frame was filled with nothing but a reflection of Llynton's rage.    Sarah's foot caught on the frame as she leapt through it, and she stumbled forwards. The girl was instantly before her and steadied her, pulling her away from the mirror. Sarah was scared and utterly exhausted - gasping for breath and wincing as each breath opened her wound.    "Hello Sarah," said the girl with a warm smile.    "Who are you?" she struggled, her head beginning to spin. The girl smiled compassionately at Sarah, conveying her friendship.    "Epona," she replied, "And we need your help."