Per aspera ad astra

Invincible, huh? Jareth said, his voice low and gravelly, the words heavy with the weight of unspoken history. Memories surged within him—visions of friends lost to creatures like these, those who had wielded pride and skill far beyond their years, only to be snuffed out like fragile candles in a storm.

The echoes of their screams reverberated in the hollow spaces of his mind, each cry a haunting reminder. Images flickered before his eyes: the brutal, merciless flash of fangs, the sickening sound of flesh tearing, the look of terror on faces that had once gleamed with joy.

With every breath, he could feel the past tightening around him, a vise that threatened to crush him. Yet as he inhaled, the cold air filled his lungs with a burning resolve, igniting a fire deep within his core. He stepped forward, aligning himself with Gabe's stride.

I’ve had my share of run-ins with demons, too, he confessed, his voice rising, each word punctuated by the fury swelling in his chest. The moonlight glinted off his eyes, revealing a fierce glint that spoke of scars earned—both visible and buried deep beneath the surface. And let me tell you, I have no intention of playing nice either.

His fists clenched tightly, knuckles whitening as he embraced the bitterness of his memories. Demons had stolen so much from him.

As he stood there, rooted in determination, he could almost sense the weight of the past shifting. The ghosts of his lost friends pressed in, their whispers a haunting chorus urging him forward. The stakes were higher now, and he refused to lose yet another home to the likes of them.

Jareth's heart raced, not with fear but with an adrenaline-fueled conviction that surged through him like a storm. He was no longer the child who had cowered in the face of terror; he had grown into something sharper, forged by loss and tempered by the fires of struggle. The memories of those he had lost became his armor, and the pain he carried transformed into a weapon.

Let them burn, he said, his voice steady and unwavering, filled with the fierce resolve of a warrior ready to reclaim what had been stolen. The night was dark and fraught with danger, but Jareth was ready to face it head-on.