Howl's Moving Castle Fan Fiction ❯ Twilight Doom ❯ Chapter 4: The Fractured Mask ( Chapter 4 )

Twilight Doom: Part III of the Wallmaker Saga

Chapter 4: The Fractured Mask

The first thing Howl did after leaving their room was take a bath.

As the narrow bathroom filled with hyacinth scented steam, the Wallmaker settled into the scalding hot water. Dragging a washcloth off of the rail, he soaked it and draped it over his face, breathing in the cloying vapor. The raven-haired man reminisced over the great claw-footed bathtub that all but filled the bathroom. The wizard remembered having magiked it's feet to life and riding in it all the way to the top of the hill in Porthaven, where his first magic shop stood. It was the only tub he had ever found that could accommodate his lanky body. Howl did so hate having to tuck up his legs while in the bath because his knees always got cold. He had transported the tub into the castle when he and Calcifer expanded beyond their meager beginnings. Howl would do anything to avoid being pinned down in any one place, but he would not leave behind his porcelain bathtub.

Baths always made him feel better.

During the Mardan war, he liked to soak for hours after returning home from the fires and suffering. While the curse had been upon him, he fought a battle in the beyond to prove to himself that he could still feel in spite of the emptiness in his chest. The rage and the remorse he felt for the suffering of the common people drove him to great lengths to prevent what damage he could. But his magic made him a monster. As such, while in the mortal world he was desperate to smell of sweet flowers and look dazzlingly handsome so he could ignore the intense grief he felt over the slow loss of his humanity. As he soaked he felt human again and all the little aches and kinks in his body melted away.

All except for one, which ached like a frozen thorn within his heart.

Not even a boiling cauldron could ease the tightness in his chest. But Howl veered from those thoughts and ducked his head under the water. As the thin man surfaced, he began viciously scouring his back with a bristled brush and rose scented soap. After what felt like hours of scrubbing, his pale skin was pink from his ministrations. Standing, he wrung the water from his hair and reached for one of the perfectly folded towels that hung from the rail beneath the shelf. The stinging shock that went through him almost forced him to sit back into the tub. Sophie had folded these, only she could make corners this straight. Howl stared at the towels for what seemed like hours, then snatched one up. He wrapped it around his waist, desperately pushing such thoughts away as he focused on keeping his mind blank.

Howl dragged a hand across the fogged mirror and stared at his solemn reflection. These were the eyes of a stranger. He had always been thin; it was a side effect of using magic. But the foreign man's wild raven hair made the face look severe and gaunt. Dark circles rimmed the bloodshot eyes, making them look large and mournful. The ghost of a beard covered the man's face, making his pale skin look dirty. Howl felt an intense pang of fury at the disheveled state of the person in the mirror. Seizing his razor from the shelf adjacent from the skin, he snatched up his lathering brush and began to shave with such precision that any hint of the beard disappeared.

Rummaging among the tubes and vials of cosmetics he had not touched in years, Howl fished out everlasting creams and lotions to erase the marks of bereavement that showed on his face. He even tweezed his eyebrows into perfect arches, leaving not a single hair out of place. The wizard finished the treatment by brushing out the tangles in his thick tresses, trimming his bangs with a cut so straight it could only have been done by magic. Dousing himself with drying powder, Howl pulled on a clean set of clothes. He noted with a sour frown that the shirt was too big. Hadn't Sophie just made it? Again the stab of anguished seized him, pulsing like a gaping wound within his breast, and he clamped his hands onto the sink to keep himself on his feet.

What good was a heart to a man with half a soul?

He stared at the face again and the mirror reflected the flawless mask of the stranger. The man was handsome, but delicately so, with smooth alabaster skin and a refined angular features. The face smiled a dazzling smile, but its warmth never reached the trembling corridors of its luminous cerulean eyes. The wizard reached over to the shelf and slipped the emerald necklace over his head as he clipped on the matching bright green earrings that had once been his father's. Howl brushed his hair once more, making sure he looked absolutely perfect. He stared intently at his reflection, trying to find any crack in the visage, any hint that something was wrong.

But the face in the reflection was immaculate.

The face in the mirror was a lie and the handsome man's smile mocked him cruelly.  The wizard marveled at how deceiving appearances could be.  How was it possible to seem complete when he felt as though his insides had shattered? Howl glanced once more to the shelf and the sapphire blue stone glimmered in the light from the lamp overhead like a bit of ice. The Wallmaker waited for the pain to come, but it didn't this time. He did not know what was worse, the raw ache of loss or the cold hollow feeling that invaded him now, leaving him empty. He reached out and swept the necklace from the shelf, stuffing it in his pocket as he turned his eyes toward the window. A warm grey light had begun to thaw the navy night sky.

It was almost morning. The boys would need breakfast.

As the wizard opened the bathroom door, he was brought up short as he came face to face with Calcifer. The little flame flickered in the air and phased through a series of colors, moving from a sickly green to an anxious blue.

“Hi, Howl,” Cal spoke softly, at a loss as he gazed at his friend with large eyes.

“G'morning, Cal,” the raven-haired man smiled broadly and felt his mask crack.

He pushed past the fire daemon and went down the stairs as quickly as he could, lest his façade shatter to match how he felt inside. The raven-haired man gathered himself against the memories that threatened to consume him.  But he was weak. As the wizard came to stand in the middle of their living room, the memories rushed through the fragile defenses of his denial like a flock of singing birds on the dawn.  The phantoms scattered about the room and Howl was overwhelmed.  Sophie was everywhere around him, from the way their mud boots gathered in a tidy row beneath the sink to the perfectly arranged tea cups on the side board.  He could hear her almost like she was once again with him and the brisk steps of her tiny feet echoed in his hollow soul.  The Wallmaker staggered again under the weight of his grief as he reached out and touched the chair at the table in which his wife always sat. He could smell her clean linen scent and her laughter filled his mind like the warm morning light that streamed in the windows. But the only sun that could warm him had gone into the beyond where even wizards could not go, and the dawn left him broken and bereaved. The wizard had hoped to ignore the pain like he had so many times before. Howl was good at avoiding the unpleasant, but how could he forget the queen of his heart?

It was not possible!

Calcifer darted down from upstairs and settled into the hearth as he regarded his companion from the ashes. As Howl cast his eyes about the room wildly, which blurred under the tears that threatened to fall, the wizard gripped Sophie's chair and was suddenly at a loss for what to do. He shoved his hands into his pockets and withdrew them quickly as his hand touched the sapphire stone.

“I missed you.” Cal piped softly from the fireplace.

Howl cast his eyes toward the daemon and came to sit before the little flame. They sat together in silence for a long time and the grey twilight outside melted into a rosy sunrise in the garden. Heen's claws clicked on the floorboards as the dog emerged from the curtain that covered the doorway to Granny Witch's room. The fat little creature came and sat on the wizard's feet, looking up at him with large eyes as his tail thumped the floor vigorously. The raven haired man reached down at patted his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Calcifer spoke solemnly, trembling smaller as he tinged a melancholy blue.

The crack grew longer.

Howl withdrew into himself, hiding his eyes beneath his bangs. He shook his head in a violent motion, not trusting his voice at that moment. The fire daemon sniffed loudly and crackled a ruddy orange.

“You stink like dead flowers, Howl.”

The wizard emerged from beneath his hair and gave his friend a brittle, albeit genuine smile. Speaking of smells, Howl detected a hint of spicy herbs and cinnamon and he cast his eyes to the coat rack. A plain grey coat hung amongst his family's things, the hem was caked with mud. He also noticed that Markl's patchwork cloak was missing.

“Is Martha here?” Howl asked suddenly.

“Yeah, she's been watching the boys,” Cal replied and the wizard noted his statement was devoid of insults or curses for the herbalist's presence in the castle.

“Have you two made up finally?”

“Yeah,” Cal frowned and looked away as he colored rosily in embarrassment, “She wouldn't let the blonde one take the kids away, so I guess Martha's alright.”

Howl cast his eyes back at the coat rack, a nervous premonition bringing his attention back to the empty hook where his eldest son's cloak should have hung.

“Cal, where is Markl?”

The little daemon was quiet. Howl turned his eyes back to the little flame, which was doing his best to glow a sleepy yellow. But the daemon's flickers of green betrayed his worries.

“Calcifer?”

“He left for the palace late last night,” the flame daemon snapped guiltily, his voice deep with remorse.

“WHAT?” Howl nearly knocked over his chair as he stood. Heen gave a start and darted under the curtain back into Granny Witch's room. Calcifer blazed up, going an angry red as he rose to eye level with the wizard.

“I couldn't stop him without leaving the castle. I had no idea how long you were going to stay in your room. I didn't want to leave you, Howl. Besides, who would have protected Shan and Martha if something had tried to come in?”

“Why?” Howl whispered fiercely and Calcifer regarded him with a grimace.

“To protect us; he took Suliman's stick with him,” the daemon replied flatly.

In an efficient manner that only a daemon could manage, Calcifer related to Howl the events of the past few days. The revelation shocked the lanky man into silence. The Wallmaker stared fiercely into the shadows beyond the little flame, his mind working vigorously to digest what he had just learned. The staff of his late mistress was a powerful magical heirloom, so old and it had become half sentient after being handled by so many witches and wizards. It was very picky about who it would let handle it. It was significant that the staff had accompanied Markl to the capital. The wizard lifted his hands to the jewels at his ears and pictured his eldest son in his mind.

“Markl!”

He combined the word with a probing thought, binding them into a seeking arrow, which he let fly towards the capital of Ingary guided by the invisible compass of his magic. The emeralds sparkled for a moment and Howl eyes flashed luminously as he received a reply from the amethyst earrings Markl was wearing. His son was with his uncle in the palace; he was safe and that was all that mattered. The raven-haired man turned his thoughts back on the hazy memories. His apprentice had come into his room, hadn't he? But Howl had not listed to a word he said.

His mask cracked again, and the Wallmaker sank back into the chair before the fire; hiding his face in his hands.

“I'm sorry, Calcifer,” Howl murmured between his fingers,” It's my fault he left, not yours. You were right to stay with our family.”

“It's okay, Howl,” sinking back onto the edge of the hearth as he colored a rosy-yellow, twisting to peer up at the wizard, “You're back. That's all that matters.”

Howl gave a start and emerged from the mire of guilt as a door overhead opened and closed as soft steps heralded the descent of a little girl about Markl's age. She had curly red hair that twisted into knots at her temples and the wizard noticed she had a leaf in her hair. This was Martha's apprentice; indeed the two of them dressed alike, right down to the mud on her pant cuffs. The girl's face had as many freckles as the sky had stars, and she came to a halt nervously on the landing as she caught sight of him. Blinking bright green eyes, the young apprentice flushed as red as her hair and clutched at a garden hoe in her hands. For the life of him Howl couldn't remember her name.

“Um, good morning, Master Howl.” She stammered shyly as she bobbed a curtsy, avoiding his curious gaze.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing up so early?” Cal crackled nosily from the hearth.

“My name is Theresa!” She frowned and crossed her eyes at the fire daemon. The little flame sputtered indignantly and stuck out his tongue at the herbalist's assistant.

“Good morning, Theresa,” Howl spoke gently and beckoned her to him, his eyes on the garden hoe in her hands. “Did Markl make you that?”

“Yes, he did!” She brightened, her cheerful personality unfolding before him like a flower turning its face to the sun, “It works wonderfully! We flew so high that I could see all of Kingsbury. I haven't got a stitch of magic in me, so it was so amazing to finally be able to fly.”

She faltered nervously and fidgeted as she blushed again, “Martha was awfully mad with us because we fell in the pond! It wasn't Markl's fault, Master Howl. He made it for me so you shouldn't be mad at him.”

Howl held up his hand in a gentle motion that silence the girl's half formed tumbling explanation.

“It's quite alright, Theresa. I'm not mad. May I see it?”

The red-haired girl passed him the garden hoe and the wizard gazed at the circle of green glass and the feather trapped beneath it. It was an excellent piece of magic, far more advanced that anything Markl should have been able to create at his age. The Wallmaker felt a surge of pride for his son's skill and he smiled to himself as he handed it back to the little girl.

“You can come to the castle whenever you like to practice flying. It'll be good for you both because Markl could use the company.”

Howl almost grinned as the little girl as she colored a rosy pink. Another door opened overhead and Shan's booming footsteps stomped down the hall, the little boy appeared as he pounded down the stairs. The Wallmaker marveled on many occasions at how such a tiny boy could make such an enormous amount of noise. Akarshan skidded to a halt on the landing and burst into light as caught sight of his father.

“PAPA!” The child shriek in joy.

“Argh…” Cal moaned and shoved the thin tendrils of his hands where his ears might had been and buried his face in the ashes.

Howl darted to his feet and swept past Theresa as he scooped his son up into a bear hug, burying his face in the little boy's hair.

“I can't breath, Papa!” His son squeaked and Howl lessened the intensity of his embrace long enough to plant a kiss on the top of the boy's head. The wizard swung the little boy around in circle and the little boy shrieked again, laughing out loud as his father proceeded to tickle him mercilessly. Martha came down the stairs at a more sedate pace just as Granny Witch emerged from behind her curtain, a happy Heen following close on her heels.

“Oh, what a noisy little boy,” Granny smiled and then stopped as she caught sight of Howl.

“Oh, my dear, dear, handsome man,” she snuffled tearfully. The Wallmaker paused and sat Shan down as the old faded witch came over and stood on her toes to hug him. The wizard Howl and the former witch of the wastes had come to an accord over the years. They were family now, and that was the truth of the matter. Besides, every good castle needs an old witch.

“Hello, Granny,” Howl mumbled in a hoarse voice as he patted the old woman's shoulder, doing his best not to let his composure fail.

“Shall we make breakfast, Granny?” Martha asked as she came forward and disentangled the faded witch from her brother in law as she guided the old woman to her chair.

“Oh course, dear. How nice of you to offer,” Granny witch replied ingenuously, “I'd like some tea and some honey buns. Did dear Mrs. Fairfax teach you make honey buns? I do so love honey buns.”

Howl was grateful for the herbalist's keen sensitivity, and he had a moment to regain his self-control before his son pulled on the hem of his shirt.

“Papa, papa, papa! Guess what I made for you?” Shan stared up at the tall man as he wrapped his arms around the wizard's knees.

The little boy drew back as Howl kneeled with his hands on his knees, still a head taller than his youngest son. He peered down at Shan as the child fished in his pocket and pulled out a bit of crystal. As the Wallmaker's son dropped it into his father's hand a glowing star erupted out of the clear stone, shining like a rainbow haloed comet. The tiny illusion wavered and danced like a frolicking stream, swirling and whirling like the tides of the sea. The thrill of recognition that passed through the elder wizard left him feeling cold and tingling as his gazed riveted on the tiny image of the star daemon.

“I saw him in a dream, Papa. I asked the star to help you get better again, but he said he couldn't come here. So I made you an image charm instead. And it worked because you're not sick anymore!” The little boy exulted as he danced a happy dance and clapped his hands.

But Howl wasn't listening to what his son was saying. His thoughts were elsewhere. Shan was his father's son; he had an enormously strong gift of magic in spite of the fact that it had been late to bloom. Each day the little boy was learning by leaps and bounds, mostly because of Markl's patience. The wizard did most of their teaching as a group, although Howl's eldest son tutored the boy and his mother in their spare time. Sophie loved to watch the boys learn.

“It's beautiful, Shan. Thank you,” Howl murmured, closing his fist around the stone and placing it in his empty pocket.

For the second time that morning the wizard scooped his son into his arms, tucking the little boy's head under his chin. Inside his chest the pain in his trembling heart was replaced by a different kind of ache, one that was born of love. A man with half a soul may not need his heart; but a father surely did.

Standing with his son in his arms the Wallmaker gazed around the living room, watching his family bustle about. Martha was brandishing a frying pan and glowering at Calcifer, who met her stalwart gaze with open defiance. Somehow the herbalist managed to cross her arms without setting the skillet down as she towered like a stony monolith. The little flame rolled his eyes and bowed down his head just as Theresa brought over the egg basket and a platter of bacon. Granny witch was knitting some kind of hat and talking absently to Heen who was curled in her lap, regarding her with large doggy eyes. So much had changed and yet so little had changed. But in that moment Howl had hope that everything would be alright.

“Papa, you're squishing me again,” Shan gasped.

“Sorry, Shan. You're very squishable this morning,” Howl grinned at his son as he shifted the boy onto his hip.

“Whatcha looking at, Papa?” Shan frowned with intense curiosity as he turned his blue eyes to regard the room.

“Our family,” The wizard replied.

“Breakfast!” Martha called as she began scooping pancakes onto a plate that Theresa brought to her.

“Go help Theresa set the table, Shan,” Howl squeezed his son one last time before setting him down and giving him a playful nudge toward the table. The little boy scampered over and gathered plates from the side board as Howl moved over to the hearth. Theresa blushed furiously as the wizard came to stand next to her and took the platter out of her hands.

“Why don't you go help Shan, Theresa?” Howl suggested with a charming smile. The little girl turned and fled as Martha cast a dour look at her husband's brother. She flipped another pancake onto the plate with such finality that she made herself clear in spite of her absolute silence.

“Thank you, Martha,” Howl murmured softly, more than one meaning resonating behind his words.

“Can I use magic, Papa?” Shan called and the tall man glanced over his shoulder to see Theresa desperately trying to reach the tea cups on the highest shelf.

“Yes, just don't break anything,” Howl laughed at the look of glee on his son's face. Tea cups flew like birds from the shelf and the red-haired herbalist's apprentice clapped her hands in delight. The Wallmaker turned back to see Calcifer peering out at him from under the skillet, a cryptic look in his eyes.

“What?” Howl quipped, and then winced at the sound of ceramic shattering.

xXx

Breakfast was not nearly as difficult as Howl had anticipated it would be.

The semblance of normalcy gave him strength, in spite of the fact that the chair to his right remained empty. As usual, Shan stuffed his face and got syrup all over himself. The little boy sat between Howl and his aunt, who mopped at his face with a towel, frowning stormily. But Shan could care less, he was almost as greedy as Calcifer. Granny witch sipped her tea and nattered on about the weather and the flowers, keeping them all company with her constant chatter. Theresa sat directly across from Howl, a perpetual pink as she stared intently at her foot and ate in silence.

Martha flipped another pancake onto the Wallmaker's plate and he grimaced. The lanky man was never one to eat much. The Herbalist shot an icy glance at him, making it clear he was to finish everything on his plate. Howl crossed his eyes at her when she wasn't looking and Theresa giggled. In spite of the fact that his sister in law was a notorious boss, he had no intentions of finishing his plate. As Martha shot her attention to her apprentice, the elder wizard exploited her moment of distraction to scoop the pancake onto his son's plate.

“Hey!” Shan shrilled petulantly, and scooped the pancake back onto his father's dish. Martha sniffed and served more tea to Granny Witch, turning blind eye to their antics. Howl regarded at the handled cake with a dour frown and then cast a sly glance at Theresa. The little girl regarded him over the rim of her tea cup and then placed her plate in her lap.

“I'll take it!” Calcifer piped from the fireplace. Howl stood in spite of Martha's look of displeasure and slide the remained of his breakfast into the fire daemon's greedy maw.

“Where's Markl?” Shan asked suddenly as he stiffened and looked around. A worried expression had crossed the little boy's face.

“He's with uncle Barimus in the capital,” the wizard replied as he turned to regard his son.

“He's not going to go to the place where mommy went, is he?” Shan asked fretfully

Howl gave a start as everyone in the room looked at the six-year old. The anxious feeling that had been gnawing at the back of the wizard's mind burst forth on a wave of intense pain at the mention of his wife. The Wallmaker dropped his plate and it shattered on the ground as he strode forward and kneeled in front of his son, taking hold of his shoulders as he studied the little boy's face.

“Why would you say a thing like that, Akarshan?” The raven-haired man asked fiercely. The little boy jumped and shrank from the intensity of his father's attention.

“The star told me that he might have to take Markl there, to find mommy.”

“What star? What does this have to do with Sophie?” Howl demanded desperately, a wild look seeping through the fragile mask that the wizard wore.

“You're scaring me, Papa!” Shan cried shrilly.

The mask faltered, threatening to shatter.

“Howl,” Martha's calm voice pulled the wizard back from the grief stricken emotions that robbed him of sensibility. He stood weakly as the herbalist pulled him to his feet and guided him to the seat before the fire. He barely heard the knock at the front door.

“I'll get it!” Shan called in excitement and zipped across the room to the front stairs.

But Calcifer flared up into a column of white and purple flames. The living fire's thundering voice ripped the Wallmaker back to his senses.

“HOWL, DAEMONS!”

Under the power of his magic, the wizard shot from his seat like the fury of a northern gale, nearly knocking over Martha. A great wind filled the living room as the raven-haired wizard snatched his son back into his arms just as the little boy turned the latch on the front door. A wriggling morass of twisting black and yellow-green fire erupted from the tiny space between the door frames. The wood door scorched and groaned under the weight of the vile being's magic. Shan screamed as the tendrils of the wrath daemon coalesced into obsidian claws and reached for him.

But Howl was there.

The wizard, heir to the power of the Wallmakers, burst into a crackling corona of indigo blue ferocity. With a single flick of his hand the otherwind rushed forward around the door's breech, fed by his magic. It overwhelmed the daemons like the raging torrent of a twisting azure tempest, forcing them out of the castle. The door slammed shut, but it trembled and groaned, rattling in place under the assault from the other side. Howl's fire withdrew inside him as he reached out and turned the magic knob to green. The pounding subsided, but the entire front entry was blackened and scorched, smoldering like a burned log that had been pulled from a fire.

In that quiet moment Howl realized his son was sobbing.

xXx

Cyanine looked absolutely awful.

Magic was not without its consequences. Markl had gained a new appreciation for mind magic by studying the blonde witch's efforts. It took an enormous amount of energy to cast one's voice into the world, especially at a far distance. The skill was very rare and highly valued, hence the woman's position as captain of the Wizard's Guard. The young apprentice watched as his uncle's messenger became more and more ill as the night passed. Cyanine's eyes regained their color as she finished relaying a message. Blinking her eyes repeated, she reached up and held her head in pain.

“Are you alright?” Markl had asked furtively as the other apprentices strained to see wisps of dark in the crystal ball.

Cyanine was trying her best not to wretch and gave an almost unperceivable nod. She glanced at him sideways and again he marveled at her eyes, one was blue and the other was brown. Her face was pale and had a hint of green.

“No, but I'll be fine,” she spoke briskly.

“What's wrong? Can I help you somehow?” He continued with concern plain in his eyes.

“My magic is a bit uncomfortable, Markl,” She smiled resolutely, “Think about sling-shooting your mind a couple of miles and then yanking it back all within a few seconds. It tends to give me an awful headache. But thank you for your concern.”

Markl wasn't too worried; he knew that Cyanine was much stronger than she appeared. Besides, they had not found a daemon in more than two hours. A ray of hope dissolved the fears within him as he considered that perhaps they had banished them all. Working together, the witches and wizards in the capital had banished over twenty five daemons.

“I think it is safe to say we've emerged from the worst of the attacks,” the captain of the wizard's guard spoke to the room all of a sudden and the crystal went dark as the apprentices turned their attention to her. “You've done well. No doubt your masters' will be proud. But now you should all try and get some sleep. We will need to start making comprehensive sweeps the entire capitol very soon. For that you'll need to be fully rested.”

With that Cyanine flopped back onto the pillows.

“What? You mean for us to sleep here?” The plump apprentice in the pink robe asked incredulously.

“We need to stay together as a group, just in case,” the soldier spoke crisply. “Someone should keep watch.”

“I will,” Markl replied just before Nalir, who looked quite peeked. The red haired boy glowered at him from across the room as the Royal Wizard's messenger accepted the apprentice's offer.

“Good. Nalir, you can take over for Markl in a few hours,” the witch replied as she rolled over and buried her face in a cushion, making it clear she was not going to be taking any more questions.

The majority of the apprentices were so exhausted that they followed the captain's example. Soon they all collapsed into huddled piles on the pillows. The grey hours of the early morning passed quickly and they slept soundly.

All except one.

Markl was tired, but he could not sleep. The anxious buzzing in the back of his head had grown insufferable. However, it lessened every time he turned his eyes to the orb that stood on the pillar in the center of the room. Howl's eldest apprentice had been thinking ever since Barimus told him what the crystal ball could do. They had already proved that it was possible to find something even if you didn't know where to look. He was on his own this time, but he was sure he could do it. Carefully going to take a hold of Suliman's staff from where it leaned against the wall, the young wizard stood staring at the empty sphere.

Markl decided he could accept what he found. He had long since realized that the wretchedness of uncertainty was far worse than the painful resolution of knowing. But he could not help harboring hope, mostly because of what Calcifer had said to him before he left the castle. Within the secret corridors of his mind Markl pulled together all the memories of his mother and fixed the iron will of his need upon the late Royal Sorceress' crystal ball.

With a singular resolve, he willed it to show him Sophie.

The orb went opaque for a moment and slowly filled with a velvety indigo hue. Immediately Markl thought of the otherworld and his heart leaped as a point of light gathered in the center of the glass ball. The light fractured and spread like a rainbow from a prism, taking a vague wavering shape as mysterious black eyes blinked at him.

The star daemon's voice resolved from the buzzing that once filled the young apprentice's mind. The silver bells of its song assaulted him anxiously as it tried unsuccessfully to communicate with him. Markl was astonished; the being from beyond the indigo veil was indeed trying to tell him something! He shuddered and recoiled as the cold tendrils of its mind reach through the crystal into the mortal. It gently touched his mind and he realized it meant him no harm. However, it sent an insistent image of Howl, confusing the young apprentice to no end.

“I don't understand,” Markl whispered fiercely. “I'm looking for Sophie!”

It was the star daemon's turn to regard him with mystification and it ceased its barrage of chiming tones. After some difficulty, the son of the silver sorceress managed to send the being a mental image of his mother. Markl went cross-eyed and half deaf under the exuberant vehemence of its multi-faceted reply. The thing suddenly latched onto the young wizard's consciousness with the shimmering tendrils of its being and plucked his mind from his body.

The mortal world dissolved around the Wallmaker's son as he fell forward into the center of the crystal orb.