Howl's Moving Castle Fan Fiction ❯ Twilight Doom ❯ Chapter 2: Growing Up ( Chapter 2 )

Twilight Doom: Part III of the Wallmaker Saga

Chapter 2: Growing Up

Late that night Markl lay on the couch in the living room, Heen curled up on his feet. The young wizard stared at the castle's ceiling as he listened to the sounds of Granny Witch's snoring. The young apprentice had given up his room to Theresa. Martha was asleep with Shan in his room. No one had the heat to make use of Sophie's old bedroom at the very top of the stairs. The door, which was normally always open, was now closed.

“Are you awake, Calcifer?” Markl queried softly.

“I am now,” The little flame crackled grumpily.

“Tell me about Mrs. Danna,” he asked abruptly and the fire daemon flickered in surprise, burning brighter as he opened his eyes to regard the apprentice with a dour frown.

“That's some question, kid. What's in your head to make you ask something like that?”

“Don't change the subject, Cal. I need to know.”

The fire daemon seemed hesitant, but spoke begrudgingly, “Witches and wizards are a funny because they can go between the mortal world and the otherworld, right? Well, we daemons aren't so lucky that way. The ones that are strong enough can cross between and the ones that aren't get suck beyond the veil. So sometimes the weak ones hop a ride on a witch or wizard, mostly ones with some inner emotional turmoil or sickness. It makes them easier to control. Once in the mortal world most daemons simply go their own way, but some get used to their new bodies and keep them. That's what happened with Howl's uncle Agyrus.”

“I don't want to talk about Howl right now,” Markl interrupted moodily, “What does this have to do with Mrs. Danna?”

“This is part of the answer to your question, Markl, so shut up and listen,” he crackled irritably, “The majority of daemons that run off into this world can be summoned by witches and wizards. They're beholden to their masters, but they're still separate entities. The sorcerers have to coerce them into doing their bidding, but if the daemons try hard enough they can break away. Think of the blobmen the Witch of the Waste's used to have. Even Heen started life as a daemon, but he turned into a fat useless dog instead of becoming something more interesting,” the fire eyed the old mutt with a sour face.

Markl realized the old creature was regarding them with a single lazy eye. He wheezed softly and snuffled then went back to sleep. The young wizard gazed at him nervously under the new revelation, but the dog had long since proved to be their friend.

“So there are good daemons and bad daemons?” He asked hesitantly.

“Oh course there are! What kind of a question is that? However, the majority of daemons exist somewhere in between good and evil,” Cal popped indignantly and continued somewhat cryptically, “Daemon is just a word, Markl. It's a name that humans gave to the mysteries that leak into this world from the beyond. You like to think you know everything about something just because you've given it a name. It makes you feel in control when the truth is you know squat. Are we talking about Mrs. Danna or not?”

“Sorry,” Markl muttered as the flame hunkered down into the ashes in the grate.

“Okay, so the weird thing about this witch is she's not coercing the daemons nor are they wearing her like a party dress. She is riding daemons, not the other way around. This woman has at least thirteen of some very nasty characters locked up in her soul. It's like she's collecting the most powerful ones she can find, keeping them trapped within her so she can use their magic to make her stronger.”

“To what end?” Markl's brow furrowed in bewilderment.

“Beats me, I've long since given up trying to figure you guys out. Regardless, this lady definitely has it out for our family. I smelled her magic six years ago and it's the same smell on Sophie's necklace. She's responsible for all of this. I know it. But one thing is for sure, next time I see her I'm going to eat her,” Cal burned larger for a moment, his eyes going empty and his mouth filling with point teeth as he colored a blackish purple Markl had never seen the flame turn before. It was a terrifying sight; it made his blood run cold. But it was fleeting a fleeting and the spark returned to a red ember. He continued as though nothing had happened.

“Another thing bothers me,” Cal sizzled as he mused softly, “The witch has no heart, but none of the daemons she has trapped in her have it. That means someone else has it.”

Markl was silent for a long time, thinking about all that Calcifer had just told him.

“Is she the one letting the daemons into this world?”

“Dunno… Probably,” Cal replied distractedly, tingeing a yellowish color as he began to doze lightly.

“How many are there?” He asked in a troubled voice.

“A lot… Too many perhaps,” the fire daemons was being very blunt in his sleepy state.

“What are we going to do?” Markl asked no one in particular as he stated into the distance.

“What makes you think I know the answer to that?! Honestly, you humans never stop asking questions,” He crackled irritably and Heen wheezed softly. Markl stood staring into the glowing hearth feeling heavy melancholy gather in his heart like icy water. His voice was almost a whisper when he spoke.

“Do you think Sophie is…”

“No! I don't, so don't even say it!” The fire daemon roared up out of his feigned sleep, regarding the apprentice with a ferocious gaze.

“But the ring?” Markl replied meekly.

“Magic is wrong sometimes, Markl! Never forget that!” Cal snapped and popped but dwindled back to his ember-like form in the ash of the grate.

The apprentice did not feel reassured by the fire daemon's words. If anything they made the gaping hole in his chest that was his grief and fear grow larger under the crushing weight of uncertainty. But it galvanized him in the decision he had just made. Markl threw back the blanket and stood quickly, dumping Heen onto the end of the couch. He strode into the kitchen and snagged the patchwork cloak Sophie made for him off of its wall peg. Calcifer started up at the young wizard's sudden movement and watched him with large eyes.

“Hey… Hey, what do you think you are doing?” The flame crackled nosily.

“I'm a wizard, Cal. I may be young but I'm not going to sit here and wait for bad things to keep happening. I have an obligation to protect this family and if Howl can't deal with this problem, then as his apprentice I'm going to deal with it for him!”

The fire daemon regarded him with a stunned expression as the young man swung his cloak around his shoulders and started up the stairs to his foster parent's bedroom. Normally he would have been terrified to knock on his master's door, especially knowing he was in the worst of ways. He stood for a moment staring at the doorknob listening to his heart pound before he entered without knocking.

The gloom filling the wizard Howl's room was not caused by the night alone. In his othersight Markl could see shadows and creeping shapes wandering about the cluttered room, making it cold and clotted with darkness. The lesser daemons of grief and sorrow crowded the corners of his father's room, given entrance by Howl's bereavement. Normally the sight would have filled him with apprehension, but instead it made Markl angry. His eyes sought the dim outline of the wizard on the disheveled bed. Howl's dark hair was spread out on the bare mattress and his back was to the door.

“Master Howl,” Markl spoke in a strong voice but received no reply.

“Father,” he replied in a softer voice filled with sorrow. The wizard did not even move.

“Fine!” Markl shouted finally as he stamped his foot in rage, “Lay there and rot for all I care! Mother would never put up with this. We need you but you don't care. But I care, master Howl and if you won't protect us then I will!”

With that he fled the room, although he shut the door behind him quietly. He hoping his little outburst had not woken the rest of the family. As he walked with slow steps down the hallway, the sullen apprentice paused in front of the silver witch's room. For some reason he felt the need to go in, the squirrelly feeling in his mind urging him on.

Sophie's room was small and peaceful compared to Howl's gloomy chamber. However it had a vacant smell and neat appearance of a place that had gone long without real occupation. The young wizard cast his eyes around the room and the feeling in his mind grew more tangible, almost like an audible buzzing. Markl felt a thrill of insight as his eyes fell upon a thin object leaning against the wall in one of the corners.

Suliman's staff seemed to gleam at him in the moonlight.

Sophie had not taken it with her on the day she had gone to visit Barimus. Perhaps things would be different if she had. The silver haired witch was extremely powerful, but her magic was based in instinct and intuition, not practice and study. She was often at a complete loss for how to use her power without the late Royal Witch's staff.

The young apprentice knew from his master and his uncle that the staff was a powerful magical artifact. It was exceedingly old and brimmed with magic, which gave it a sentient quality. The staff was very particular about who wielded it and caused great discomfort to anyone it rejected. Both his master and the red wizard refused under most conditions to even touch the thing. Reaching out Markl picked up the staff.

Nothing happened.

He waited but no demonic voice glowered in his head, nor did he burst into flames, or turn into a newt. The staff just felt like a bit of wood in his hands. He was disappointed for a moment until a fey thrill passed through him, sounding very familiar to the insistent buzz that had goaded him into the room. He stared at the staff in aversion as he held it at arms length, but kept it in his grasp. It was anything but a bit of wood.

Turning, he fled down the stairs and listened to the soft thunk the staff made on the floor as he walked. Both Heen and Calcifer stared at him, one from the couch and the other from the fireplace.

“That's Suliman's staff!” Cal piped in surprise, “Hey! Hey, where do you think you're going?”

“To the capital; Barimus is going to need help whether he asks for it or not,” Markl replied as he paused on the landing at the top of the front stairs.

Cal flared up in trepidation, “Let me come with you!”

“If you leave you'll need to land the castle and that will put our family in more danger. Martha can take care of Shan and Theresa, but I'm counting on you to stay and keep Howl safe,” Markl replied convincingly.

“But you can't go out there! Not at night! Not alone!” Cal wavered fearfully, coloring blue and green as he dwindled smaller.

 

“I'm not afraid,” Markl lied smoothly, doing his best to sound brave.

 

Turning the young apprentice fled down the stairs, turned the magic knob to red and fled out into the night before the fire daemon could argue with him.

 

xXx

Kingsbury had never before felt this terrifying.

Markl stood outside his master's storefront in the capital city and stared into the dark streets. All of the houses were dark and the only light came from large gas lamps, which shed pools of orange illumination on the street corners. The stark contrast between the light and the shadows made the streets seem more sinister.

Suddenly the young wizard deeply regretted his hasty decision to leave the castle in the middle of the night. However, the sandy-haired young man knew for certain that had he tried to leave during the day Aunt Martha would have surely pursued him. She would have dragged him home by the ear and locked him into his room. She even might have swallowed the key.

No, he had to get to the Palace and help his uncle; the buzzing in his mind told him that with complete certainty. And so he shot off along the dimly lit streets, Suliman's staff held tightly in his hands. His heart hammering in his chest in spite of the fact that he melted into the surroundings, thanks to his patchwork cloak. Markl had been to the capital several times in his life, but invariably he always got lost.

Indeed, he was lost again.

Coming to a stop in the middle of a well lit intersection, Markl phased back into visibility as he stared down each crossroad. They all looked the same and none looked familiar.

“Damnit!” The apprentice cursed loudly, and clamped his hand over his mouth. His voice seemed to echo through the streets explosively.

Somewhere in the darkness something stirred, sending rippled through Markl's othersight. He felt faint with terror for a moment then turned and fled down one of the streets. He was moving too quickly and having too much trouble thinking to be able to fade into the background.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the shadows bending and stretching towards him in the wrong direction for the way the light was being cast on the street. As Markl rounded a corner blindly, a dead end full of black shadows reared up in front of him. Turning back the way he came, the apprentice came up short as he watched three shadows stretch long into the street. They became tangible as they rose from the ground like thin mists.

The shadow daemons fluttered into the air like bits of cobweb, regarding him with ruby eyes. Their filmy hands solidified into long claws and one split through the middle to reveal needled fangs. As in Martha's shop, the sight of the daemon's petrified him and all he could do was stand and tremble. With a hiss like escaping steam, they rushed him all at once.

“No!” Markl screamed and thrust Suliman's staff before him.

A screech like nails on a chalkboard drew forth from the closest shade as a blinding arc of white light lanced from the staff and split the daemon in two. It crumbled into ash. The two remaining shades hovered backwards, regarding Markl with guarded red eyes. Suddenly balls of green and yellow flame shot from above as two red uniformed wizards dropped from the sky.

The creatures hissed and boiled as they dogged the missiles, shrieking as they were singed by the mage fire. Two more of the royal wizard's guard rounded the corner on foot, blocking the daemon's retreat. One with short blonde hair reached into her pocket and chucked a glass orb into the midst of the shadows. As it shattered a red magic circle erupted from the ground beneath the daemons. The shades disintegrated.

“Are you alright?” A tall sorcerer with dark skin asked as he bent to peer at Markl. The two wizards that had fallen from the air drew near curiously, their merry green eyes sparkling in the night. They were twins in every way, down to the unruly curls of their red hair and the matching smirks they wore on their faces.

“What in the name of hell do you think you're doing?” The blonde witch yelled at the apprentice as she got in his face. Markl realized she had one blue eye and one brown eye.

“Cyanine! It's me, Markl. Wizard Howl's apprentice,” he managed to blurt out as he swept back his hood.

“Markl? What are you…“

But the tall wizard cut her off, his dark eyes intent as he peered into the gloom. Without warning he pushed both she and Markl out of the way of a long tendril that shot out of the dark behind them. They tumbled to the ground in a pile as the arm missed them by a hair's breadth.

“Look out!” His shout was cut off with a gurgle as the tendril wrapped itself around his neck.

“Terath!” Cyanine cried in anguish as the Wizard was yanked back into the dark. His blood curdling screams were audible beyond the shadows and every hair on Markl's body stood on end as they ceased abruptly.

Great yellow eyes as large as the gas lamps overhead blinked into existence. An oozing blob of black muck three times the size of a horse tottered forward on spidery limbs. It surveyed them with the blank reflective eyes of an insect as it chewed slowly. Bone crutching noises filled Markl's ears and he almost retched.

“Greed daemon!” The twins called in unison. They stepped into the air like larks and began lobbing handfuls of fire at the enormous creature.

“Run!” The messenger screamed.

She pulled Markl to his feet. The young wizard barely had time to snatch up Suliman's staff before the blond witch pulled him into a run at breakneck speed. The daemon absorbed the handfuls of flame, tottering to the side as it lost its balance. It let out a gurgling moan that sounded much like a pig's squeal, but a hundred times deeper. The two wizards dodged and wove through the air, distracting the daemon from the fleeing pair. The oozing thing tore to reveal its gaping maw and ejected a frog-like tongue, which it lashed out towards its fleeing prey.

“Can you fly!?” Cyanine yelled as they dashed around the corner into the yellow lamp light.

“Barely!” Markl called back, his voice sounding high and foreign to his ears.

Behind them the corner of the building shattered into a great cloud of bricks and mortar as the daemon chased after them. It squealed and wove madly as the twin wizards harried it from above with fire. However, the thing moved with surprising speed and the ground trembled under the impact of its clawed feet.

“Try!” Cyanine shrieked as she leapt into the air, barely avoiding the black tendril which smashed the cobblestones where she had been moments previously.

Fueled by desperation, Markl shot vertically into the air. However, the young apprentice floundered twenty feet up as he attempted unsuccessfully to redirect his flight to a horizontal path. The greed daemon shuddered to a halt just below him, tearing great gouges into the brick street. It thrummed deeply and swiveled its yellow eyes to fix upon him. Again it split to reveal its jaws and shot the black tendril into the sky, but this time it separated into six reaching arms, all aimed at him.

The wind was knocked from him as he was yanked by the elbows into an eye-watering flight by the twin wizards. They grinned at him grimly as they shot over the city.

“You need some flying lessons little brother” One wizard began and the other finished in identical burnished copper voices.

Cyanine rose to fly just beneath them. Her face was severe as she watched the greed daemon lumber after them, screeching and crashing through buildings to keep up pursuit.

“Don't fly to fast boys, we don't want it to loose us,” her voice was hard.

“Can you banish it like the shades?” Markl called as he caught sight of the large glowing dome of the palace greenhouse not far ahead.

“No, it's too strong,” Cyanine shouted over the wind.

“Won't it follow us to the palace?”

“That's the point, little brother,” one of the twins grinned in to his right as the other finished the sentence on his left.

“The Council has created a huge banishing circle in the center of the royal courtyard. We're bait for the trap,” Cyanine explained.

The wizards began a dizzying downward spiral as they wheeled over the palace's steps. Indeed, Markl could see the enormous red circle in his othersight, and he was distracted from his nausea by marveling over the amount of skill necessary to create such a thing. As they landed on the grand staircase in front of the citadel, the greed daemon squeezed through the main gate and shambled into the courtyard towards them. Markl was seized by the irrational urge to flee, but the twin wizard's still had hold of his elbows.

The daemon let out an ear-splitting squeal as it crossed into the circle, which erupted into red fire. The being thrashed and spun as it became trapped behind a crimson barrier; it tottered on wobbling legs and fell to the ground with a shudder. As it let loose a long gurgling moan, it burst into flames and faded into ash as the circle went dark.

“Back beyond the Dull Wall, you vile thing,” Cyanine mumbled fiercely then turned and started up the steps.

“Bring him!” She called back and the twins ushered Markl forward.

xXx

Markl sat on the very same couch outside his uncle's office where he had overheard the red wizard and his master arguing. However, this time it was King Ferdinand of Ingary that was yelling at the Royal Wizard Barimus.

Cyanine and the twin wizards, who she had briskly introduced as Peoter and Deiter without specifying who was which, sat waiting with him as well. Whereas the royal Wizard's messenger stared off into a corner gloomily, the twins regarded Markl with open curiosity and stared brazenly.

Their grins intensified as the young wizard colored and fiddled with Suliman's stick. Their green eyes shifted to the staff in his hands and remained there for some time, much to Markl's relief. To distract himself from their unnerving scrutiny, he focused his inner ear on the conversation in his uncle's office.

“Your majesty, I'm sorry but you are no longer safe here,” Barimus replied smoothly, his voice placating.

“I will not abandon my city! What about the Mardan and Tyrnian reinforcements?” The king sputtered indignantly.

“We're not going to abandon the city, my lord. But you must understand that guns and mortal soldiers are helpless before these creatures. If we let down the shield to allow new witches and wizards in we risk letting daemons out. The same goes for using magic portals. Do you want monsters rampaging in the countryside, your majesty?”

“No,” King Ferdinand replied irritably and the young wizard could hear his moustache bristle, “Bah! I'm used to fighting wars against a known enemy that is flesh and blood. All this magic makes me itchy.”

“The Council is working on locating the source of these daemons, my liege. You will be the first to known when we find out who is responsible,” the red wizard spoke smoothly.

“I know, Barimus. You're a damn good wizard and I have faith in your abilities. But I'm staying and that's final!”

With that the king stood and strode from the Royal Wizard's office. The occupants of the adjoining chamber shot to their feet and bowed deeply as the ruler of Ingary bustled through waving a dismissive hand. Through the open door Markl caught a glimpse of Barimus, who was wearily resting his face in his hands.

Cyanine sent Markl a sour glance and disappeared into the room, leaving a crack in the door through which the young wizard had to crane his neck to see. Peoter and Deiter, or Dieter and Peoter grinned at his brazen display of nosiness, but said nothing. Markl pricked up his inner ear, entering into the middle of their conversation.

“We banished another greed daemon and two shades, Lord Councilor,” the blonde witch replied.

“And Terath?”

“Eaten, Lord Councilor.”

“How terrible,” Barimus muttered despondently.

“Sir, we also picked up your nephew.”

“What!?” Barimus' shouted in absolute surprise.

“Sir, he was wandering the streets alone.”

The doors to the red wizard's office flew open and his uncle stared him. Barimus loomed in such a way that could have dwarfed his wife in the worst of her silent rages. Markl could say he had seen his uncle angrier, but it was a close call.

“Out! All of you!” Barimus thundered and the guards fled the room.

“Are you MAD?”

His uncle boomed and Markl cringed as the chandelier overhead tinkled. He did his best to stand straight as he gathered himself up and held forth Suliman's staff. In his rage Barimus had not noticed his late master's stick and the sight of it in his nephew's hand gave him quite a fright. Markl was privy to another of his uncle's rare moments of speechlessness. As the Royal Wizard of Ingary recovered, the apprentice noticed that his uncle's nose was quite straight; although there was a greenish bruising at either side of his bridge.

“Where did you get that?” Barimus managed to say finally.

“I took it from Sophie's room. It let me bring it here. I'm going to help you, uncle,” Markl announced in a voice that was much stronger than he felt.

The apprentice was still quite shaken from his earlier encounter. Much to his relief his uncle sat heavily in one of the antechamber's cushy chairs, sprawling backwards in exhaustion as he threw a hand over his face with a sigh. The movement reminded Markl so much of something that his master would do that he almost lost the iron grip he held on his frazzled emotions.

“Markl, you could have been killed,” Barimus spoke softly from under his hand.

“People are already dying, uncle. And I refuse to stay locked up in the castle being lied to and coddled like a baby. I can help you, I know it. Please.” Markl replied quickly.

“Does Howl know you're here?” Barimus asked evasively.

“No.” The apprentice did not trust himself to say more about his foster father. The red wizard straightened and regarded him with a cryptic expression. His features softened slightly.

“How is Martha?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“Sad. She misses you terribly and worries a lot. But she and Calcifer are getting a long really well since she refused to let Aunt Lettie take us to stay at Grandmother Hatter's shop.”

“Well, that's not something I expected to hear,” Barimus smiled weakly, and then cast a sideways glance at Suliman's staff.

“How is Howl?” He asked hesitantly after a moment.

“Dead to the world,” Markl replied nastily and then flushed in embarrassment as his uncle regarded him mildly.

“Howl is very complicated, Markl. Now that Sophie is gone it is…” Barimus began.

“I don't want to talk about that!” He half shouted.

The young man stood and paced the room feeling not at all as sure of himself as he had been when he left home. He continued quickly to mask his emotional turmoil.

“Martha is going to take care of Shan, Theresa, and Granny witch. Calcifer will take care of all of them, including Howl. But you need me, Uncle Barimus. I just heard you telling King Ferdinand that you needed wizard reinforcements!”

“It's not polite to eavesdrop, Markl,” Barimus replied evenly, regarding him again with the cryptic look.

“Are you going to let me help or not?” The young wizard replied stalwartly.

“How old are you Markl?” Barimus asked suddenly.

The young apprentice blinked at the random question, but replied defiantly, “I just had my thirteenth birthday.”

The red wizard sighed heavily and stood regarding his nephew. The apprentice finally figured out the meaning behind the look. It was acceptance. As his uncle walked to the door of the antechamber and opened it for Markl, the sandy haired boy felt his heart soar.

“Thirteen... That's man enough as far as I'm concerned. Come with me,” his uncle spoke absently, “I'll brief you on the situation as we walk.”

xXx

Howl was dreaming and he wished he would never wake up.

Sophie lay against him as he last remembered her, tucked into the crook of his arm. She was asleep and he watched her peaceful face. He had never known love until this woman, nor had he truly lived until she came into his life. As Howl lingered on the boarder between the waking world and his dream, Sophie began to fade in his arms. He felt as though his heart was being torn from his chest. It was just a dream, but its cruelty was unspeakable. The wizard opened his eyes for a moment and stared at the ceiling of their room. The cold hand of grief constricted within him, causing him to curl into a tight ball. He hugged himself against the wracking shudders that seized him.

It was just a dream.

Was it possible to love someone so much you were lost without them? Howl believed that desperately as he tried to cling to the dream form of his wife, which threatened to flee him under the crushing weight of his grief. The frayed tendrils of Howl's memories seemed to slip through his fingers like insubstantial mists. How easy it was to take for granted the presence of another. How quickly the mind forgot the details of their face, like the shape of their nose or the scent of their hair. Howl hugged Sophie's pillow and crushed his face into it. It still smelled like her, a mix of clean laundry and fresh bread.

How fragile, and yet how strong? How complete and yet so flawed?

They were a perfect contradiction, proof that even fates were blind before the powerful love of fools. He was vain and selfish and she was practical and selfless. Sophie had the ability to incite in him the most potent of rages, so complete he could not even breathe lest he burst into flames. But all it took was one look from her and he would shatter and fall like cool rain to sooth her pain. Over the years of their marriage they had become each other. He would hurt and she would feel. She would think and he would hear it. They were one being and Howl felt as though he would die from the wretchedness of being only half a soul. She was the mother of his children and the queen of his heart. She ruled him like the moon pulls the tides of the sea. How could he live without her?

He wasn't strong enough. Not without her.

How could he get up and leave this room knowing that Sophie would not be there when he reached the bottom of the stairs? How could he wake up every morning knowing that her loving brown eyes would not be the first thing he saw in morning? How could he raise their children without having Sophie there to tell him when he was right or wrong, or being too harsh, or to carefree? Sophie was the only one who did any real magic in this family. She held them together with her love and that was the most powerful spell he had ever encountered.

Could a man with half a soul be anywhere near as strong?

The one thing he thought he could do was protect them. He had fought for them in the Mardan war. He had turned back the Dark and rebuilt the wall to keep them safe. He taught them magic so that they could be formidable. But magic was fallible and ever spell ended eventually. Barimus was right. He had not listened to Markl because he was afraid. It had been six years, but he was still terrified of the truth. He had not been there to protect his family. He had tried to keep them out of politics and away from the capital. In the end it was not nearly enough.

His failure was complete. It was infinite. It was his fault.

Howl plunged once more into the darkness and misery he pulled around himself like a great smothering cloak. But a ray of light pierced his consuming melancholy as a single thought rose unbidden in his mind.

What about his sons?

The thought roused him as though he had been touched by an electric wire. What kind of father was he to lie in bed and wallow in his own misery, ignoring the suffering the rest of his family. If Sophie were here she would never had put up with him acting like this. True, she would have let him have some time to himself, but then she would have barged in and dragged him out of his stupor. With endless fortitude she would have ignored him as he kicked and screamed the entire way down the stairs. Then she would have explained to him with patience, and a good kick or two if necessary, exactly what he needed to hear.

But Sophie wasn't here. He was on his own now.

How long had he been like this? How long had he let Sophie do all the work so he could run away from his responsibilities? He hadn't changed at all, the wizard realized. Howl remembered vaguely that Markl had come in earlier. He had not listened to a word his eldest son had said. Again he was running, ignoring problems hoping they would just go away. But at what cost? In that moment he recognized how desperately he needed his boys and was sure that they needed him right now as well.

The raven haired man threw off his blanket and sat up in bed. Listening to the sounds of the house he marveled over how quiet it was. Howl wobbled slightly as he stood, his legs stiff from his bedridden state. As he stood in front of the bedroom door he stared at the latch, a paralyzing fear rooting him in place. What if he failed again? But he crushed that thought with an iron first. The wizard made a promise to himself right there that he would not run anymore. They were going to work together from now; they were going to be a family once more. As he reached down and opened the door, Howl thought of his wife

Sophie would be proud.