Howl's Moving Castle Fan Fiction ❯ Twilight Doom ❯ Chapter 3: The Door ( Chapter 3 )

Twilight Doom: Part III of the Wallmaker Saga

Chapter 3: The Door

Once again Sophie woke to find the ground beneath her hands green and verdant.

As she looked out over the rolling plains the otherwind blew through the window of her soul like a strong northern gale. The otherworld opened up around her like the bowl of heaven, overhead the empty sky was mellow purple velvet.

But this place was not paradise, all the same she could not resist. It was so peaceful and she felt so very tired, so much so that she did not try to sit up and simply lay there staring at her hand in the verge. As she looked at her palm an electric shock shot through her. The cold terror in its wake washed away the false sense of tranquility.

These were not her hands.

The hands she held before her face were old and wrinkled, as they had been a long time ago. As she tried to sit up, the silver haired witch was seized by the most overwhelming weakness. She could barely push herself upright. Panting and wobbling uncertainly managed to sit upright. Running her hands over her face, Sophie found the dry creases and sagging folds that one would expect on the face of an old woman. Another thrill of terror went through her as another realization dawned on her. There was something missing.

Her magic was gone!

It was as though a piece of herself had disappeared, leaving behind only a gaping hole that left her hollow and brittle with indescribable frailty. She slumped in despair and almost fell back into the grass. Without her magic she was powerless in this world. Sophie felt as though she was made of sand and could feel herself crumbling away in the relentless otherwind. She was fading, like mist under a bright sun, and she knew that if she stayed she would eventually disappear. How long had she been here, and furthermore, how did she get here?

The memories came rushing back all at once from the hazy fog that filled her mind. She saw the face of a little girl and remembered the great dark hall in the council chamber of the palace.

My daughter! Her mind called unconsciously to the echoing expanse of the rolling hills. Only the ever present silent wind answered.

Again Sophie struggled to her feet, her joints ached and her back bowed under the enormous weight of the magic in the otherworld. But she managed to stand. As she took a wobbly step forward a constricting vice closed around her neck. The Wallmaker's wife fell to the ground gasping and clawing at something that wound itself around her neck. As she lay prone in the grass once more, the garroting strength receded and the silver sorcerss felt her throat with hesitant hands. Beneath her fingers she felt a smooth cord like spun silk, which wound its way around her neck and away behind her. Dread filled her with nausea as she turned her gaze over her shoulder.

She stared up at the hungry black bricks of the Dull Wall, which loomed over her like death itself.

The sight left her trembling, and she cast her eyes along the black cord, following it through the grass where it met up with the base of the barrier. At the very foot of the Wall she could see that the grass of the rolling plains was turning brown. A swath of dead grass followed the cord halfway back to where Sophie lay. She was sure that if she watched long enough the green would continue to fade as the Wall pulled the magic of the hills through her to feed its ravenous appetite. Sophie knew at once where he magic had gone and she also realized why her strength was seeping way.

If she remained here much longer she would die.

Another person would have given in to desolation and let the winds take them; but not Sophie. The hatter's daughter lay in the grass, fighting the fatigue that tried to rob her of the ability to think. But she could hear Howl's voice clear in her mind from one of their discussions about magic. Her husband and she had been talking about what to do in dire circumstances when even magic was not readily available.

Don't focus on what you can't do; think about what you can do. He had said. First take stock of what is at your disposal. You will be surprised what can be do with very little.

She felt around her neck and knew that the talisman Howl had given her was gone; touching her ears she noticed that so too were her earrings. She wished she had brought Suliman's stick with her to the Palace, and railed against her own stupidity in futile anger. Although the newly old woman quickly calmed herself realizing that being cross would not help her situation.

However, looking at her hands again she trembled under a tiny ray of hope. On her right index finger was the magic ring with the red jewel and on her left was the simply silver band of her wedding ring. She began to spin it on her finger as was her habit and the motion gave her strength. Focusing her inner eye on the red jewel in the other ring, she concentrated with all her might.

Help! Was the faint call she let loose into the otherwind.

She could feel the fragile message bounce off of the bricks behind her and chased after the echoes that disappeared over the rolling green plains. She did not know what to expect and half her mind chided her for the foolish waste of energy. Sophie was not sure how long she lay there; it could have been days or it could have been seconds. One could never tell in the otherworld.

Hope began to flee from her as the encompassing silence overwhelmed her. That was until she felt a distant pulse of pressure. There was no sound in the otherworld, but one was able to feel sounds and words as tangibles rather than hear them. They twisted like slippery bits of cobweb that pulsed and throbbed like many colored rainbows within the inner ear of the mind. The distant response tinkled like the tiny bells that hung on chimes in her husband's room. As the vibrating voices drew nearer, Sophie saw lights on the horizon above the green hills.

The points of shimmering light trailed gossamer strands of magic in the velvet sky above. Three of them fell from the indigo veil not far from the witch, tumbling and skipping to a halt as they resolved into human-like forms outlined in silver. The figures rose from their hands and knees and wavered as though they were dancing; a starry sky seemed to fill their dim outlines. Tiny points of light floated up from the green hills in response to the figures presence, and mellow white and blue orbs zipped and floated around them in response to their magic.

Sophie recognized the Star daemons immediately. She had seen them before during the Mardan War when the late Witch Suliman had dragged both her and Howl into the otherworld for a magic confrontation. She shrank from them in fear, knowing not if they meant to harm her or help her. Daemons were fickle things, and although some were good and others were evil, most occupied the fluctuating in between of uncertainty.

The shining figures bowed and waved their arms in placating gestures, and Sophie realized at once that they were trying to put her at ease. They chimed happily and nodded their heads, reading her thoughts as they blinked tiny eyes full of mystery. The star daemons approached, frolicking like the curling eddies of a gentle stream and singing a dappled song of many colors within her mind. They circled Sophie, casting shimmering multi-colored shadows around her as they reached out to pluck at the chocker enclosing her neck. She coughed and gasped as it tightened stubbornly. The star daemons withdrew their hands hastily, wavering and dimming in contrition as they could do nothing to remove it.

The star beings moved beyond her to stoop and pull at the black ribbon that fed the Dull Wall. For a moment they flared up in bright cascades of silver sparkles that crackled like magnesium fire and it seemed to give. The parasitic line snapped taut and dragged hungrily at the beings. They dimmed and flickered as they rallied against the barrier's coercive pull.

All at once they let go and fell back against the green plains, their wails of despair throbbed in Sophie's mind. Pulling themselves to their feet, the daemons encircled her once more. Bowing and trembling like melancholy waves of starlight, they patted and brushed her hair with compassion and consolation. She smiled at them with sad thanks and began to cry.

The brightest among the stars kneeled in front of her, reaching its sparkling arms imploringly to her and then back to itself as it rocked like the tides of the sea. It touched her tears with tendrils of light and lifted her face to meet its gaze. The tiny orbs that blinked at her from the corona that was its head were swirling pools of blue and violet.

Help you. How? Its voice sang in her mind like the sound of a thousand crystals ringing. It was an ancient voice, full of intelligence.

Howl! She replied and sent an image of her husband's face and a memory of their family.

The two younger stars flared up into thin columns of light as they began to fluctuate and cry in terror. They exploded upward in a shower of sparks, fleeing into the distant indigo sky. Sophie cringed from their fire as she could feel a pressure building in her chest; it heralded the use of great magic somewhere in the mortal world. It left her feeling dizzy and she knew that something was coming. The eldest being cast its gaze over its shoulder and wavered in trepidation then turned back to her and clutched at her hands.

Wait. It encouraged her as it sent a thrill of cool magic through her mind. Help you! It cried exultantly as it shot into the sky like a comet and dwindled into nothing. Sophie could only stare after it, filled with desperate hope.

A moment after it left, the ground before her trembled and split into a great vortex. Through it raised a tall woman in a green dress that trailed behind her like cobwebs. Sophie reeled as a shock of recognition fled through her; this was the healer she had met that night six years ago! Next to her was a small girl, about six years in age, who had blue eyes and silver hair.

The cold woman held Sophie's lost daughter by the hand, a cruel look in her eyes.

xXx

“I'll be right back,” Barimus said quickly before he shut the door.

Mark took in the room and wished he had stayed outside with the daemons.

The circular chamber was much like the library in the royal wizard's academy, but not in the number of books that lined its walls. Markl found himself rooted in place and shrinking in size under the eyes of at least twelve wizard's apprentices. A few faces seemed familiar from the long hours of his punishment, but the snigger that cascaded through the young girls and boys was unmistakably familiar. The sandy haired young man vacillated wildly between abject terror and hot resentment. He realized his uncle had tricked him into thinking he was going to be treated like and adult, and then led him willingly straight to the little kid's table.

The apprentices were gathered like a flock of multicolored birds on a pile of pillows in the center of the room. Beautifully coifed and richly dressed, Markl felt like a homely finch among lovely peacocks. He was distracted for a moment from his dubious situation by the beauty of his surroundings. An ivory pedestal about half the size of a man stood in the middle of the rough circle the young witches and wizard's formed. From its circumference extended sloping gold ribs that sunk into the white marble floor. As they dispersed towards the pearly walls, the ribbons of metal surfaced. Curving upward like supporting buttresses for the domed ceiling, the spokes re-converged as pinnacle high above the white plinth.

“Well,” a boy about his own age with straight long red hair spoke in a condescending tone, distracting Mark from the architecture. As the speaker rose gracefully it became obvious he was the alpha of the group from the way that all eyes went to him. The boy had a thin face that made him look almost sickly, although he was quite striking in his black tunic and hoes, “What do we have here?”

“Nalir, don't start!” A plump little witch with curly blonde hair chided. There were crumbs on the front of her voluminous magenta silk robe.

“Don't be so combative, Hedera. Look at his clothes. He's probably just a servant who got lost,” Another young wizard, who was tall as an oak but thin as a reed commented dismissively.

“He can't be a servant, Ryeth. Lord Councilor Barimus brought him in. Besides, all the common people have gone from the capital,” a horsy black haired witch with large front teeth spoke. The words tumbling out of her mouth with the same abandon that a waterfall threw itself off of a cliff. She was dressed in a teal velvet dress that did not suite her yellowish complexion.

“Not all of the servants have gone, Trissa,” the blonde witch retorted haughtily, “I saw one this morning in the kitchen.”

“Spend much time in the palace pantries, do we Hedera?” The sallow girl replied nastily, a cruel glint in her eyes. The plump girl flushed furiously as she snatched up a cushion and flung it at the dark haired apprentice.

“You horrible little viper!” Hedera shrieked.

Trissa easily dodged the pillow, but went to stand with an eager expression in her dark eyes. Nadir laughed in delight as the girls scrambled at one another. But the reedy young apprentice intervened before the two could fly at each other. The rest of the apprentices shrank inwardly as they tried to ignore the scene, obviously used to such petulant outbursts. Markl was absolutely flabbergasted by the group. He had been intimidated at first by their fancy clothes, but seeing the group bickering like children reminded the young apprentice that they were about his age.

He had forgotten how loud peacocks could squawk.

“Stop it, both of you!” The tall boy shouted angrily, “In case you haven't noticed, there's a war on outside! Daemons are eating people! So stop squabbling like little fools!”

“Oh, let them have at each other, Ryeth,” Nadir chortled as he sank into the velvet cushions and leaned to the side roguishly, “If they tear themselves to pieces at least we won't have to listen to them screech.”

Markl gave a start as the door beside him clicked open without a sound. The red wizard strode into the room holding something in his hands.

“What's all this?” Barimus' voice cut through the din, reducing all the apprentices to silence as they shot to their feet. The red wizard surveyed the room with an icy stare, freezing the hot words that lingered unsaid.

“What's that in your hand, uncle Barimus?” Markl asked quickly to distract the elder wizard from the situation before him.

“Uncle?” The words flew unbidden from the red haired boy's lips and the apprentice cowed, dropping his eyes as Barimus cast his cold gaze in his direction. Markl at once regretted calling his uncle by his familial title as Nadir cast a veiled but seething glance in his direction.

“Forgive me, Markl. I forgot to introduce you,” Barimus spoke in a charming voice as he smiled at his nephew, “These are the eldest apprentices studying under the members of the Council. Like you, they have offered to help protect the capital against the daemons outside.”

Here he paused and his face fell stern once more as he swept his eyes over the group of young witches and wizards.

“However, if my ears don't deceive me, I believe that all I hear are kids. Children, my I introduce to you Markl Jenkins, the eldest apprentice of the Wizard Howl the Wallmaker.”

The sandy haired boy knew his uncle meant well by introducing thus, but he could feel the rift between he and the other apprentices widening as the truth of his identity sank in. He had scored some points with the apprentices when he distracted the wizard from the argument. Unfortunately that meant nothing now. They no longer regarded him with lofty dismissal, but instead with wary gazes and guarded eyes. Markl knew in that moment that these witches and wizards would not be his friends. The young apprentice shrank once more under the weight of a different kind of truth, and he found himself wishing he could disappear into his cloak.

He was alone again.

“Now, as for what I have in my hands,” Barimus spoke up briskly. The bright lights in the red wizard's eyes infected the other apprentices with curiosity as he stepped forward holding the velvet shrouded object in his hands reverently, “That too shall be revealed.”

Barimus stepped over the cushions as a few of the quiet apprentices scooted out of the way. He gently drew back the red cloth with a flourish, no doubt having staged the event for the most dramatic effect. As he stepped back from pedestal a large crystal orb sat on its apex. The perfect sphere was completely unclouded, reflecting the room in reverse as it curved endlessly towards some imaginary point. Markl realized he was staring at the orb, the insistent buzzing in the back of his head drowning out all sound.

“Set aside the staff and come sit with us, Markl.”

The sandy haired boy looked at his uncle, who had seated himself on a cushion among the young boys and girls. He hesitantly set aside Suliman's stick and went to sit beside the red wizard, noting that Nadir filled the space next to the blonde man. For some reason the juxtaposition of the three of them felt significant to Markl, and the buzzing in the back of his head agreed. Barimus sat staring at the crystal ball, hunched with anticipation as he placed his palms on his knees.

Instantly he was no longer the Lord Councilor or the Royal Wizard of Ingary, the red wizard insinuated himself into the crowd of apprentices as though he were a peer. As such, he commanded their complete attention and respect while at the same time convincing them that they were one group working as a whole. Markl marveled at his uncle's ability to win over any crowd. Finally anticipation reached its breaking point and one of the quite apprentices spoke up.

“What is it?” The mousy young woman whispered in excitement.

“It's a crystal ball,” Trissa spoke snootily.

“Yes, it is a crystal ball. But not just any one,” Barimus spoke and the apprentices once again hushed at his words.

“Whose is it?” Another of the quiet ones asked.

“It's Suliman's,” Markl spoke softly as he gazed intently at the crystal. Barimus looked sharply at his nephew and for a moment the powerful persuasion he held over the group almost broke.

“Yes, it is the late Royal Witch Suliman's crystal ball. Do you know what to do with it?” Barimus spoke gravely, never taking his eyes off his brother's apprentice. But Markl would not meet his gaze and remained silent.

“If we focus, it will show us anything we want,” Nadir spoke assuredly.

The red haired boy was also staring at the orb with an intense gaze. A fey look crept into his eyes as his hair stirred in the otherwind. The reflections in the orb flickered and the sphere went bright for a moment, showing an ancient wizard. Several apprentices gasped at the vision of the old man in the glass. Almost all the color seemed to have faded from him, like an old painting too long exposed to the sun. His face was creased with an intense look. The image pulsed and disappeared.

“Who was that?” Markl half exclaimed in wonder.

“My master, the great Wizard Tirut, eldest of the Council,” Nadir preened haughtily.

“Very good, Nadir, that's exactly right,” Barimus complimented the young apprentice, obviously impressed in spite of the boy's ego trip. The red wizard leaned back as he gazed at the crystal as though deep in through. Then he shifted his gaze to meet the eyes of each of the young witches and wizards around the pillar.

“The sphere will show you anything you want if you think hard enough. It relatively easy to find and see something that you know is already there. However, it is very hard, near impossible, to see anything at all if you don't know what you're looking for or where to find it.

“That's why we need your help. The witches and wizards on the Council are currently doing everything in their power to keep the city's shields up. Although the sword we wield against the daemons is a double edged. The barrier keeps the daemons in, but it also keeps reinforcements out. We can't risk opening a portal or lowering even a portion of the shield lest the daemons try to force their way through.

“That leaves the Wizard's Guard alone to hunt down the bits of dark that have somehow gotten past the Wall. But we're at a disadvantage. The daemons can see us, but we can't see them. Up until now we've been using ourselves as bait to draw them out into the open. But the consequences…”

Barimus paused as melancholy seeped into his eyes, but only for a moment. The red wizard shot to his feet and made a sweeping gesture toward the sphere, his face alive with enthusiasm.

“That is where you all come in, my young apprentices! With your help we will be able to track down the daemons so we no longer send our forces into the fray with blind eyes. What say you, eh?”

“But, you said it was impossible,” one of the more timid apprentices spoke up.

“Not if you work together,” Barimus grinned at her and the little girl blushed, a hopefully look replacing the doubt in her eyes. “Besides,” he continued, “You'll have help.”

Suddenly there was a brisk knock on the door to the chamber and all the apprentices jumped. Markl smirked at the sly look in his uncle's eyes. The Royal Wizard had probably planned this little event down to the very second.

“Ah! Here she is,” Barimus beamed as he strode to the door and threw it open. Cyanine entered in a very business-like manner and saluted the red wizard. The Lord Councilor drew backwards, indicating the crimson uniformed witch with an upturned palm.

“Dear, apprentices. May I present Lady Cyanine, Captain of the Royal Wizard's Guard and my personal messenger. She will relay directly to her troops what it is you see in Suliman's crystal ball.”

With that he strode past the blonde woman, who blinked with surprise as the red wizard. Barimus paused in the threshold as he cast a radiant smile over all the occupants in the room.

“We're counting on you. But don't worry; I have complete faith in all of you.”

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Cyanine with an uncertain expression on her face. She turned and looked at the apprentices with apprehension. Markl wilted slightly at the expression on the poor messenger's face. The red garbed woman fidgeted for a moment, then came over and sat on the cushion the Royal Wizard had occupied a moment ago.

“What are we doing?” She whispered to Markl as the rest of the apprentices squinted or frowned at the crystal ball with dubious expressions.

“Looking for daemons,” Markl replied equally furtively, although their conversation was not missed by Nalir.

The haughty young man regarded Markl with a snarky smile as he shifted his gaze to the sphere. The colors within it swirled and shifted to reveal the dark streets of Kingsbury. Several of the other apprentices gasped and twittered and Tirut's apprentice straightened smugly. Cyanine regarded the orb mildly and then snorted dismissively.

“That's not going to get you anywhere,” the captain of the wizard's guard spoke plainly.

Nalir seemed shocked and as he flicked his green eyes to the blonde witch the orb went clear. His dismay quickly melted into irritability as he glowered at the red garbed woman, crossing his arms.

“And what is that?” Nalir asked haughtily.

“Because you're looking for daemons, not streetlamps; keep that up and that's all you'll see. Have you ever seen a daemon from beyond The Dull Wall?” Cyanine asked in the same manner that a person would ask someone if they had seen a goat or a bird.

“No,” The red haired apprentice flushed in humiliation as he replied begrudgingly. Markl loved Cyanine in that moment.

“You can't scry something without first knowing what you're looking for,” she pronounced evenly.

“But Barimus said…” Nalir began.

“Lord Councilor Barimus,” Cyanine corrected, making the young boy color dark enough to match his hair.

“Fine! You do it!” He snapped nastily as he stood and went to sit somewhere else in the circle.

It was the captain's turn to flush in consternation as she eyes the crystal ball hesitantly.

“I can't,” she replied in a grim voice. Out of the corner of his eye Markl could see Nalir, a gloating expression on his face.

“What do you mean you can't? Haven't you been fighting the daemons?” Trissa demanded in a tumult of words that barely separated into a sentence.

“Surely you must have seen one,” Ryeth asked as he easily looked over the horsy girl's head to regard the red garbed soldier.

“I can't scry.” Cyanine replied shortly, “As you shall soon learn, not every apprentice has the ability to become a full-fledged witch or wizard. Those with singular strengths often join the Wizard's Guard. My talents for magic lie in communication. That's why Barimus sent me here, to relay the location of the daemons you find to our troops on the streets.”

“We can't do it without a real wizard's help,” Hedera half screeched, a bit of hysteria creeping into her voice, “What good are you to us if you can't scry?”

The captain of the Ingarian Wizard's Guard went pale with rage and was about to give the blonde apprentice a piece of her mind when Markl spoke up.

“I can find them,” his voice sounded loud and confident in his ears, like the voice of a stranger. Suddenly the whole room was looking at him and he no longer felt nearly so sure of himself. Markl had scryed for things before; it was a lot like listening for conversations with his inner ear. But he had never tried something like this before.

“What makes you think you can scry daemons it if Captain Cyanine can't?” The anonymous apprentice with a mousy appearance quipped.

“I bet you've never even seen a daemon,” Someone snapped nastily from across the room. Markl was inclined to believe it was a certain red haired someone.

“On the contrary, he has. Why else would Lord Councilor Barimus have brought him here?” The Royal Wizard's messenger's reply silenced the room. But by that time Markl was ignoring them.

The adopted son of the Wallmaker stared at the sphere on the pillar and the world around him grayed. He experienced a most disconcerting feeling of being pulled inside out as he felt his mind separate from his body. The insubstantial feeling was terrifying, making him feel helpless since only the power of his inner eye remained within his control. Regardless, Howl's apprentice bent the full force of his will on drawing forth the vile memories of the daemons he had encountered. The visions oozed like abhorrent slugs through the corridors of his mind, slipping beyond the grasp of his magic as he tried to force them into the crystal sphere.

The room's occupants snapped their attention once more to the orb as the topsy-turvy reflection of the room was suddenly replaced by twisting images. Unlike before, the pictures were not clear. They faded and morphed like a kaleidoscope turned on an unfamiliar world, distorting through hundreds of colors and unrecognizable shapes. But the brighter colors turned to night as a clouded darkness seemed to fill the orb.

Markl shuddered in revulsion as the being in his memory brushed past his inner sight, he felt like he was being coated in filth. Suddenly, an unexpected stab of red and black fire exploded from the dim shapes in the crystal like the lance of evil. Several of the apprentices in the room jumped; one even shrieked, probably Hedera, who was notoriously high strung. An enormous pressure settled over Markl, it pulled at his mind with such a compelling force that he let go of his hold on the image.

“There's one!” Cyanine shouted fiercely as she pointed at the spiral of black that dwindled into a lazy miasma, “Quick! Focus on that. Pull with the power of your mind and force it to come back.”

It felt as though a weight had been lifted from Markl's mind as twelve sets of eyes fixed on the crystal ball. The russet haired apprentice could feel the influence their magic as though it were a tangible thing. The group of young witches and wizards caught hold of the daemon's presence and hauled out of obscurity. The image in the orb snapped into clarity and it showed the grassy lawn of a park somewhere in the capital. At the foot of a tree a disembodied shadow circled impatiently; suddenly it was joined by another, and then a third and a fourth. From time to time the insubstantial shades leapt up into a twisting fury of red flame as they searched hungrily for something living to destroy.

“Wrath daemons,” the Royal Wizard's messenger spoke sharply, “Don't pull too hard, kids. You don't want to bring them here.”

The image flickered for a moment as a few of the apprentices, including Markl, experienced trepidation over bringing a daemon into the room.

“Concentrate!” Nalir snapped from across the room, and the image solidified. The red haired apprentice was quite powerful and would be of great help, Markl admitted begrudgingly. But he was still a jerk.

Cyanine suddenly settled back again the cushions, whereas once before she had been sitting bolt upright. Reaching up, the blonde witch touched her fingers to the amber jewel that hung from her ears. They flickered with inner light as the witch made a psychic telephone call to her comrades.

“Peoter-Deiter?” The two names flowed together into a single word and as she spoke her eyes faded in color, “Four wrath daemons are under the oak trees at Gerhard Park. You know what to do.”

She blinked and flinched, going green for a moment as a wave of nausea passed over her face. As the messenger witch dropped her hands the color of her eyes returned to normal. Casting a hard gaze over the young apprentices in the room, Cyanine frowned and shifted her gaze to the late Witch Suliman's crystal ball.

“All right kids, let those go; time to find some more.”

Markl realized it was going to be a long night.

 

xXx

 

Sophie stared at the cold woman, finding it hard to feel anything but shock. But that didn't last long.

The little girl lunged forward, her mouth moving soundlessly as she reached desperately for the mother she had never known. But her captor had her by the arm and hauled her backwards with surprising strength. A blinding rage seized the silver haired witch and she managed to gain her feet.

Let her go! Sophie commanded in a thundering voice, in spite of the fact that she could barely stand.

Mrs. Danna regarded the wife of the Wallmaker with a cryptic expression, which melted into a sly smile as she released the struggling girl.

Alright, Drie. You may go to your mother. The woman's voice flashed hard and unfeeling, showing in her mind like a bit of frozen steel.

Foreboding flooded Sophie's heart as her daughter rushed towards her with open arms. In a flash of intuition she recalled the manner in which the star daemons had faded and flickered when they laid their hands upon her. She realized all at once that the Dull Wall, which was consuming her greedily, would also try to devour anyone it could reach even if it meant going through her.

No! Sophie threw out her arms in warning as Drie drew close enough to touch her outstretched palms.

The little girl's face had been alight with joy, her arms held open to embrace her mother for the first time. But the look of love on her daughter's face faltered as she interpreted her mother's desperate refusal to touch her as rejection. Suddenly Drie's face pinched with confusion and terror as she realized how old her mother had become. Her mouth moved soundlessly as a torrent of words spilled from her unheard, but the child made her desire plain by reaching for her mother insistently.

Drie was still too young to mind speak and Sophie's knees buckled under the cruelty of the fate that had brought her to her lost child. They could neither touch nor talk. Kneeling in front of her daughter, the silver haired woman touched the black band at her throat and motioned to the Wall beyond her. As she gazed at her daughter hopefully, she realized how much they looked alike. They had the same face and the same thick silver hair. The one difference was that Deirdre had inherited Howl's blue eyes. In that moment she also realized her daughter was wearing her blue earrings and for some reason this gave her hope.

The hope was fleeting.

Apparently the little girl didn't understand because she started forward again and her mother had to scramble backwards to avoid touching her daughter. Drie stopped short and stared at Sophie with incredulous blue eyes, which filled with sadness. The fragile hope that had filled the little girl crumbled to pieces as she buried her face in her hands and began to cry. She vacillated wildly through a series of half formed gestures that were empty, feeble, and did nothing to help. The silver haired witch could only stare mutely at her daughter as heartrending anguish robbed her of all ability to think.

Hateful laughter glinted in Sophie's mind as Mrs. Danna approached.

Apparently Drie could hear her because she flinched and stopped crying, shrinking from the imposing figure. Sophie straightened and threw a protective arm in front of her daughter as their captor loomed over them. Drie's mother stared up at the green garbed woman as a deepening revelation sliced through the blinding fury that threatened to steal away all her rational thoughts. There was an unsettling familiarity in the cold woman's features; Sophie could see it in the shape of her chin, the regality of her face, and the grey color of her eyes. She did not need magic to see that this woman was a younger version of the late Royal Witch Suliman.

You're Suliman's sister! Sophie gasped.

Mrs. Danna's face fell blank for a moment as her laughter ceased. A vicious mask of hatred twisted her features into obscurity as a great blossom of black shadows erupted from beneath her feet. Sophie recoiled and threw up her other hand in unconscious terror as the collection of daemons trapped within the cold woman sprang into being. They clawed at the ground, burning the verdant green of the rolling hills into ash, fluttering mournfully about her skirts like the sulphorous flames of a hellish fire. And yet the grass around her frosted over as though she were a living glacier. It was then that the silver haired witch realized, regardless of her kinship to Suliman, Mrs. Danna was no longer human.

Release The Door! Mrs. Danna snarled at Drie, who cowered behind her mother.

The little girl trembled, but shook her head, refusing the woman's command. The daemon collector glowered at Sophie's daughter with such malice her gaze could have melted stone. Mrs. Danna clapped her hands in a blurred movement and the garret around the silver witch's neck tightened. Sophie fell over and writhed in pain as the Wall ravaged the lingering threads of her being.

Drie gaped in horror as the silver haired woman aged before her eyes and then scrambled to grapple with tiny hands the parasitic cord that was strangling her mother. Sensing new food, the Wall extended its ravenous appetite to the little girl. It was as though the years fled from Deirdre; she stretched in size and her hair grew in length as her face wrenched with agony. With enormous effort she was able to let go and stumbled back onto the grass.

Mrs. Danna clapped again and a wave of pressure washed over them as the Wall's assault ceased. Deirdre stared at her hands in horror and ran her fingers over the stranger's face that was her own. In the seconds that she had her hands on the line, the girl aged three years. Looking at her mother the girl realized that Sophie had wasted further now appearing as a ninety year old woman.

Exhausted and nearly spent, the silver sorceress lay sprawled in the grass. In terror the woman's daughter realized her mother was beginning to fade away, the green hills showing plainly through her hands. In that moment Drie realized she had changed more ways than in physical appearance. She could see and hear with disorienting new senses; looking at her mother with her othersight, she realized the witch would not survive another attack.

If I open the Door, will you promise not to harm my mother? Drie's voice rang out clearly in the otherworld.

Mrs. Danna regarded the girl she had raised with open disgust, but gave an acquiescing nod.

Standing, the Wallmaker's daughter walked towards the great black barrier that loomed up into the starless indigo sky. Her skin crawled as the grass beneath her feet turned brown and crumbled to ash. As she stopped close enough to touch the Dull Wall a pool of shadows gathered beneath her feet. It stretched and snapped out to join with the hungry charcoal bricks. A fountain of dark liquid to rose up out of the membrane, coalescing to form the empty woman. It stared at her with black eyes devoid of all feeling and Deirdre recoiled in revulsion from the fact that this daemon lived somewhere inside of her soul.

Don't! Sophie called weakly and her daughter cast a look over her shoulder the silver sorceress. She knew her mother was dying and she had no choice.

Drie lunged at the empty woman and pushed it against the dark barrier. The door daemon struggled and screeched silently, but the Wallmaker's child was stronger. She forced it into the hungry black stones and snatching back her hands. Slowly, charcoal sand seemed to pour away from the surface of the Dull Wall as the constant otherwind snatched into the crevices, revealing a door that formed from the very brick and mortar of the. However, the membrane remained. It linked Deirdre to the Dull Wall, although the daemon intermediary prevented her from being consumed.

Open it! Screeched Mrs. Danna.

Reaching out, Drie turned the latch and opened the portal. A scorched wind buffeted her face as she stared into the burned wastes beyond the Dull Wall. The scarlet suffering of the plains of pain boiled like molten rage beyond the doorway, threatening to rush through and destroy everything in that frozen moment of twilight doom.