Three Sentence Ficathon

Oh, do not weep so, little one, a soft voice whispered through Jareth's mind, and he startled, pushing upright, you are not alone . . . not here; do not weep, make a wish by magic and starlight.

Jareth sniffed, wiping his fingers across his face, and wished for- He startled, breath catching, as the tears sparkled like stars and shimmered, blooming into a heavy, round crystal; at its centre was a twisting castle made of impossibilities and angles and wishes, and Jareth watched it, heart singing.

You will never be alone again, my King, the soft voice promised, wrapping around him as the walls and twisting paths around him rose higher, spreading, growing more complex; his Labyrinth, he thought, and she sang in his mind, a whisper becoming a joyous ballad.