"That was incredible!"
You had just performed the hardest solo of your entire career. Throughout rehearsals, you had sobbed and cried that the vocals were too much, that you'd strain your voice. The directors had insisted that they wanted you and nobody else, that you were the very embodiment of the character.
And now, you had successfully outperformed yourself. It was closing night, and you were beginning to mourn the end. You felt teary and emotional; you greeted friends and members of the audience an hour or so after the musical had ended, exhaustion sweeping through you from the numerous late nights you had endured to perfect yourself.
"Thank you, Harry," you said with a loving smile. He wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close. You leaned your head into shoulder, casting an adoring gaze up at him. "What was your favourite part?"
Harry looked away, his eyes locking onto something at the back of the room. His lips twitched, and you were so tired that you hadn't even registered that he wasn't looking at you. Rather, at someone else.
"I couldn't say, it was all magical," he replied breathlessly.
You should have known from that moment.
You used to think back to that moment with fondness, considering you had completed one of the toughest shows of your career. It was a year that made you feel undefeated. But, directly under your nose, directly behind your back, Harry had already begun his journey of a cheat.
You shook your head softly, ridding those thoughts from your mind. You scolded yourself. You couldn't keep reflecting on what Harry had done—you needed to focus on saving him. You needed to continue onwards towards the castle.
The unicorn and the Goblin King had vanished. You were disappointed at being left alone again, being such a social butterfly pinning against you. However, you tried to not take it to heart, and instead fuelled yourself by drinking some water and continuing onwards. You could see the Goblin City just up ahead, and the castle loomed with grandeur beyond it. The sight and closeness encouraged you to push forwards, to ignore your aching feet and exhausted, weary bones.
I'm coming, Harry, you thought, trying to push away the bitterness that brewed within. What would happen once you did rescue him? He might see this rescue as you forgiving him, which you most certainly did not. You just didn't want to leave him in such a place, stripped from his life like this. Cheating on you was a horrible thing to do—if he was unhappy, you wished he'd have just told you instead of stringing you along, giving you the false sense that everything was perfectly fine.
You wanted to abandon him on your own terms. You wanted him to know and realise that he'd lost something so incredibly precious. Harry would never be able to win you back, he'd lost you the moment he looked at another woman in interest. You couldn't ever forgive him for it. You never would.
You approached two unsuspecting doors. Both beheld two knockers, each grumpy and frowning; one had the knocker looped through its ears, and the other had it hanging from its mouth. You hummed in thought, considering both doors carefully. Neither had any indications as to where they would lead, as to whether or not danger lurked behind them. You rubbed your healed arm for comfort, mind thinking back to the Goblin King and his advice.
He didn't have to tell you that the water had healing properties. He could have just mocked you and left, but instead he engaged in a conversation that left you feeling... conflicted. Maybe that was his goal, to throw you off your firm emotions to make you reconsider saving Harry. By being nice, it made out that whisking Harry away was a good thing. While it served as a lesson for Harry, you didn't agree with kidnapping people at all.
"What're ye starin' at?!"
You jumped back in horror as the knocker barked harshly at you. You blinked rapidly, holding your hands up in defence, watching in bewilderment as its eyes opened and glared at you.
"My apologies, I didn't mean to be so rude," you quickly said, feeling a strangeness about conversing with door knockers. You approached it again, curiosity taking over. "I don't suppose you know what's behind this door? Is it the one leading to the castle?"
A muffled, strained response came from the knocker on the other door. You turned to look at it, watching its metallic cheeks puffing out in an attempt to speak, but finding it tricky with a circular knocker hanging from its mouth. You hurried over, taking the knocker into your hands and slipping it from its mouth. It released a satisfied breath, appreciating your kindness.
It licked its lips, moving them freely without the weight of its knocker. "That's better," it sighed happily, and you couldn't help but giggle at its relief. You wondered how long it had been since he was forced to securely hold a knocker inside his mouth. "Much better."
"Happy to be of service," you said cheerfully. "Could you tell me what's behind these doors?" You wanted an answer to your question before proceeding. You didn't want to pick the wrong door and end up somewhere dangerous. You had stamina to run, but for how long? And what if you couldn't outrun the danger? You didn't want to risk it.
"How're we suppos'd to know?!" The other knocker snapped. You looked back at him, sensing that he was rather hostile no matter what. Perhaps he was bitter that his knocker ran painfully through his ears. It's not like you could remove it, either.
You shrugged your shoulders, though you felt a slight disappointment at this. "I just thought I'd ask—"
"What?! Speak up! Yer mumblin'!"
Well. You certainly weren't mumbling. You frowned at the rudeness of him and turned to look at the other knocker, who's knocker you held in your hand. He was much calmer, much more willing to answer your questions for the kindness you had shown.
"Which door should I take?" You asked gently, now spinning the knocker slowly in your hands. It was very heavy, and you could easily see why the knocker didn't want it in its mouth. You'd be miserable too if you had to have something like this. Perhaps this is what would become of Harry if you failed to complete the labyrinth? Would he be forced to remain as a puzzle piece forever?
"They always pick me," the knocker grumbled. You could sense the resentment behind his tone. "Always shovin' that thing back in my mouth." It licked its lips again.
"They always pick you?" You repeated back. There must be a reason for their decisions. Lots of people had come to the conclusion that this was the door to take, but what evidence did you have to say that they picked the right one? You frowned. "Did any of them succeed the labyrinth by picking you?"
If the knocker could move more than it's eyes and mouth, it would have surely shaken its head in denial. "Only one girl, but she had outside help assisting her."
Only one.
"What happened to the others?"
"Their journey ended," the knocker concluded plainly, as if the information didn't upset him. It probably didn't matter; he was merely a puzzle piece within the labyrinth. Only the knocker being returned to his mouth could hurt him.
"Your door must lead to something dangerous," you readily suggested, piecing the puzzle together aloud. "Thank you for your help."
You leaned down and rested the knocker at the bottom of the door. The knocker seemed surprised by your actions, by your lack of persistence in returning it to his mouth. But he didn't say anything. He wanted to believe that you had forgotten to give it back. Even though you saw the pain he went through with it in his mouth.
You turned to the other door, with the grumpy knocker who seemed to be brewing up the desire to shout at you again. You reached up, your fingers brushing against the knocker gently. There were a few cobwebs that had strung against his knocker, meaning that he hadn't been used in a very long time. You raised back the knocker and pounded it three rhythmic times into the door. It creaked open, and you stepped through after whispering a 'thank you'.
As you took a few steps through to the other side, you heard the door slam shut behind you. You turned to face it, frowning at the realisation that you wouldn't be able to back track if needed. You'd have to remain here, even if it turned out the be the wrong direction. You would have to face whatever danger lay in wait, regardless of escape.
You inhaled and exhaled deeply, using calming breaths to soothe your nerves. It would be of no use to remain anxious of the unknown. It would only serve to exhaust and tire you. You couldn't risk that. You needed your energy to succeed.
The door had led you into a labyrinth of mirrors. You stared at your reflection curiously, then turned to look in another mirror. You continued this action before spotting a space without your face; you began walking and following this same manner of thinking. If you couldn't see yourself, then that's the direction you'd take.
And as you walked, you grew lonely with the lack of noise. So you started to sing. A classic 80's song that reminded you of your mother on a Sunday morning, as she cleaned and gutted the house, baking delicious treats in the kitchen to last the week.
"It doesn't hurt me, do you wanna feel how it feels?"
You embodied Kate Bush. You listened as your own voice sung back to you in gentle echoes. It reassured you that nothing else was there, giving you the freedom to stretch your voice again. Walking in silence was... certainly strange.
"Do you wanna hear about the deal that I'm making?"
You paused, chuckling wildly to yourself as you'd almost walked directly into the mirror. You eyed yourself cautiously, feeling as though something was definitely off about the mirrors. You blinked slowly, carefully, leaning closer to the mirror, as if it's secrets would be revealed like this.
Your reflection titled it's head to the side.
You shrieked and stumbled back.
"You moved!" You shouted accusingly, pointing a shaking finger at the reflection. She snickered at your shock, a mocking smile playing on her face. She placed her hands on her hips, pouting and rolling her eyes.
"Of course I did. How else would you have figured me out?" She answered lamely, her voice sounding as an exact copy of yours. She raised her hand and twirled some hair around her finger, a strand that had fallen loose from the bun on her head.
You held your hands close to your chest, as if this action would bring you comfort. "How are you doing that? Are you a real person trapped in the mirrors?" You asked, overwhelmed by the idea. You spared a glance at the other mirrors surrounding you, now taking note of how the various reflections seemed to depict many personalities, all of them starting to do their own thing—sitting on the floor, admiring their nails, kicking invisible dirt out of boredom.
"I'm you," the reflection answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And you're making a major mistake."
You frowned, hands lowering to your sides. "A mistake? What mistake am I making?"
The reflection sighed irritably, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Saving Harry," she answered, rolling her eyes as his name rolled off her tongue. She placed a steady hand over her heart, a look of hurt crossing her features. "Think about what he did to us. Doesn't he deserve to spend the rest of his life here, under the rule of our beloved Goblin King?"
Beloved?
"No," you said sternly. "He'll be treated as vermin."
The reflection moved closer, her hands pressed onto the glass that separated yourself and her. She drummed her nails into the glass, seeming impatient and unamused with your morality. "He'll be treated as he deserves," she corrected, "our King doesn't treat those wished away as terrible as you believe. Harry won't have any memory once he's turned into a goblin."
You gasped at this new piece of information. Turned into a goblin. You'd never considered that as a possibility. You'd just assumed that being trapped in this realm meant he'd be a slave of sorts; he'd become a door knocker, or a statue, or maybe a personal slave of the Goblin Kings. But to have his humanity permanently stripped away from him, with no recollection of you?
"I won't allow it," you argued.
"Won't allow what?" She mused, sensing your rising anger.
"Having his memory snatched is an easy way out!" You continued, furious. Harry wouldn't remember the pain he'd caused you. He'd go on to live a different life, one free of the heartache and infidelity. Whereas you'd be the one to suffer for the rest of your life—you'd be cursed with the knowledge that he'd cheated, picked another woman over you, and that you'd wished him away in the heat of the moment. You'd be tormented and he'd be free.
How was that fair?
You glared at your reflection, and she continued to stare back at you, fully entertained. "I won't let him forget. I'll be the one suffering if he does. Haven't I had enough heartache for one day?"
"Swap places with him," she urged finally, and now she appeared to desperately claw away at the glass wall separating you two. A hungry glimmer was in her eyes. You blinked at her, waiting for further clarification. "If you save him, he'll think you've forgiven him. Make a deal with the Goblin King and have Harry run the labyrinth."
That...
A part of you liked that idea. You'd never forgive Harry for what he had done, and you didn't want to forgive him. But maybe having him run through the labyrinth would teach him a greater lesson?
Though, would he be given the same conditions as you were? That he'd have 13 hours to complete the labyrinth and confront the Goblin King, and would you be turned into a goblin if he didn't succeed? You didn't want to become a goblin, but you figured you'd at least be spared the memory of heartache and betrayal.
"Would the Goblin King even allow that?" You muttered in thought, seriously considering the idea. "Why would he want to swap one human for the other? He'd have to have a reason to do so."
The reflection grinned widely at this. "You don't know, do you?" She teased.
You shot her a confused stare. What didn't you know? Had you missed something? What was she not telling you?
"I don't... I don't understand. What do you mean?"
The reflection started to fade. She placed a finger to her lip, creating a 'shushing' motion. You felt offended that she'd treat you like a noisy child, and you were about to protest against her before the glass panel morphed into a door.
You glanced around at the other mirrors, now realising each of your reflections had vanished in sync, and all that was left were hand crafted paintings of the Goblin King. You eyed them skeptically, wondering deeply if the Goblin King had used some sort of magic in pretending to be your reflection, just to rile you up and prevent you from truly saving Harry.
But what would be to gain from that? You instead of Harry? Why on Earth would he do that?
You huffed in frustration. You couldn't make sense of the Goblin King at all. He really was the trickster he swore himself to be.
You turned to face the door, now resolved within yourself. You reached for the handle and twisted it to the side, and you stepped through to the unknown.