Howl's Moving Castle Fan Fiction ❯ Twilight Doom ❯ Chapter 7: The Other Daughter ( Chapter 7 )

Twilight Doom: Part III of the Wallmaker Saga

Chapter 7: The Other Daughter

The whistling wind and a terrible twisting sense of weightlessness wrenched Howl back to his senses.

As the wizard's eyes snapped open, the ground reared up before him dangerously close. The Wallmaker whipped out his wings, which were almost yanked from their sockets as he tried desperately to slow his descent. Gritting his teeth, the emerald jewels at his ears and around his neck pulsed like green fire and he jerked to a stop feet above the ground. Gingerly lowering himself the rest of the way, the pale man's wobbly knees gave out. He sank to the ground on the steep slope, landing on his rump gracelessly as his feathers dissolved.

“Howl!” Calcifer shouted in alarm as the little fire daemon sped up the hillside in front of the crowd of wizards and witches that clambered up after him. But the raven haired man pushed himself to his feet and half stumbled down the knoll, not at all interested in the anxious group coming to meet him.

“Are you alright?” A darkly tanned bald wizard, wearing very little in the way of clothing, asked with concern.

But the lanky man pushed past him and dove through the mottled colored crowd, which parted before him. The witches and wizards muttered dubiously as they regarded the little flame that chased after the tall sorcerer. He let his momentum carry him down the hill, casting a sideways glance at his castle. Howl's sharp eyes picked out Granny Witch and Akarshan on the veranda high on the top of the hodgepodge of parts that made up their home. The little boy waved wildly at his father, who raised his hand in reply. The blue-eyed wizard strode quickly through the encampment and down the middle of the road to the bridge that spanned a wide river that split around Kingsbury. As he neared the entrance to the capital, the Wallmaker fixed his eyes on Martha and her apprentice.

The two of them stood in front of a pair of soldiers, garbed in the Ingarian red and blue. One man was as tall as he was wide, rippling with muscles. The other was thin and short, with a bookish look in spite of the rifle on his back. Both shrank from the herbalist's flinty stare; the larger half hide behind his reedy counterpart, who was holding his hand out pleadingly. As always, Martha and her apprentice were dressed sensibly in their voluminous twill pants and natural cotton chemises. However, they were bedecked from head to toe in all manner of leafy substances. Herbs poked from every pocket on their bodies and Barimus' wife wore a bandolier of small glass flasks full of strangely colored tinctures. Theresa's hair was full of twigs and she brandished her garden hoe like a great sword.

“There's no way I can let you pass, ma'am. The city has been evacuated! Don't you know that there are daemons in there?” The thin solider stuttered in exasperation about his large handle bar moustache.

King Ferdinand had started quite a trend.

Martha towered like a great behemoth and planted her hands on her hips. The solider actually flinched and drew back a step. Sophie's sister cast her smoldering gaze over her shoulder and Howl saw that her face was covered in grey ash, making her look all the more like living stone. The bitter smell of agrimony assaulted the Wallmaker's nose as he drew near. But he did not stop. Deftly side stepping the solider, he continued on toward the archway beyond the bridge. Martha and Theresa followed after him leaving the crestfallen guards in their wake.

“Sir! You can't go in there!”!” The larger solider called after him then gasped and shrank in trepidation as Calcifer flew by and went to hover over the wizard's head.

The fire daemon sniffed and went cross-eyed with revulsion as he scooted away from the herbalist, regarding her with open disgust.

“Blasted herb!” He spat nastily.

Agrimony is known for it ability to cure poising and banish evil. But when burned it exudes a powerful magic that reverses spells and hexes negative energies. Martha and her apprentice were covered in the stuff from head to toe.

But Howl didn't hear him; the Wallmaker was staring at the empty archway before him. Any other person would have tried to walk forward, but Howl could see the invisible barrier as plainly as the ground beneath his feet. Reaching out, the long-limbed man touched the magic shield and received a biting shock. The raven-hared wizard snatched back his hand and shook it daintily.

“We're too full of magic, it won't let us through,” Calcifer crackled in agitation, darting back and forth impatiently. “Too bad we can't use any of the portals.”

Suddenly, Martha stepped in front of her brother-in-law and reached out, passing her hand through the barrier as though it were nothing but air. The Wallmaker gave a violent start and opened his mouth to protest vehemently. But his words evaporated under the full fury of the burning stare that the herbalist fixed upon him. It was then that he noticed the ash in her hair made it grey, much his wife's. The herbalist looked so much like Sophie in that moment that Howl couldn't have spoken even if he wanted to. The wizard averted his eyes and let his bangs fall into his face to mask his pain. Theresa spoke for her mistress, and he could hear the twin determination of their wills in her voice.

“We're the only ones that can go through.”

In the silence that followed that truth, Calcifer popped cantankerously. He was glaring at the group of witches and wizards who hung back uncertainly, watching from afar.

“Fat lot of good they're doing just standing around,” Cal snapped.

Howl wasn't paying much attention to anyone at that moment; his thoughts were centered on the magic dome over the city. The barrier was weakening; even now it was thinning in the way ice slowly melts under the blazing sun. Squinting up into the bright sky, the Wallmaker delved into his hazy memories of the royal Ingarian Palace. Suliman had shown him the shield room a long time ago when he was still an apprentice. The crystal spire in the center of the domed room was a relic of the Mage Wars, but it still managed to serve its purpose. He had an anxious suspicion that it was at the epicenter of the explosions; the magic backlash all but confirmed that. This was where the foul creatures from beyond the Wall were most likely concentrating their attacks.

Unfortunately, this was the very place that he must send his brother's wife.

“Do you know where the shield room is in the Palace?” Howl asked quickly, ignoring Theresa blank stare of abject confusion as Martha nodded firmly. Howl smoothed his hair unnecessarily and peered at the great golden dome with a grim expression.

“This is what we're going to do,” the raven-haired man explained quickly.

The sorcerer reached out and sketched a swirling mark in the air before the ruby around Martha's neck. Drawing back his hand, the fire followed the graceful movement of his finger to touch the emerald that rested against his white shirt. A twin mark swam into being. Together the symbols burned like blue fire, twisting with a life of their own. As quickly as they had come, the marks faded into northing. The display of magic was lost on Martha and Theresa, who had no othersight. But the ruby pendant around the herbalist's neck pulsed brightly for a moment. The ashen faced woman looked down at her necklace with a frown and regarded the wizard inquisitively.

“A gateway spell,” Howl replied shortly, “It will create a temporary door, bypassing portal magic by going through the otherworld. But the gate will only work once; don't use it until you're inside the barrier in the shield room. I'll bring through the reinforcements.”

Martha nodded firmly once more. Without hesitancy she turned and strode through the barrier, beckoning for her apprentice to follow her as she cast her eyes about edgily.

“What about this? It's magic isn't it?” Theresa frowned in worry as she held up her garden hoe.

“It never hurts to try,” The Wallmaker replied and drew back with a flourish as he indicated the golden curtain that enveloped the city. In the distance another explosion boomed and Howl gave a violent start, going pale with worry for Markl and Barimus.

Theresa most likely echoed his thoughts, because she rushed through the barrier after her mistress, gardening tool and all. The herbalist's apprentice tucked the hoe beneath her as she broke even with the hedge witch. Martha swung her leg over the stick and settled behind the red haired little girl. Together they kicked off the ground and climbed into the air, dwindling out of sight. As the Wallmaker watched them go he felt his heart grow cold with fear and sink like a stone into the pit of his stomach.

This was their only chance.

“The daemons will be able to smell them,” Cal mumbled soberly as he tinged a fretful teal, “Even with all that agrimony.”

Howl heard his friend, but did not reply. Turning on his heel the raven-haired man summoned the handsome mask onto his face as he strode past the nervous guards, who leapt out of the way. The sorcerer smiled dazzlingly and cast open his arms in welcome as he approached the group that stood at the foot of the bridge.

“Brethren, gather round!”

The witches and wizard drew back from him as he approached with Calcifer in tow. Behind his amiable facade the raven-haired sorcerer seethed silently over their duplicity.

“You are accompanied by a foul daemon, son of the Wallmakers,” spoke the bald bare-chested wizard that met him on the hill earlier.

“Who are you calling foul, baldy?!” Calcifer snapped nastily.

“It would please me greatly if you would not insult my friend, brother wizard,” Howl replied dangerously, smiling serenely as his earrings glinted like jade fire in the sunlight.

Almost on cue another explosion rocked the city beyond and the group tittered as they milled anxiously, casting their eyes into the distance. The witches and wizard may have been perturbed by their forced residence in Ingary, but they were not so unconcerned with Kingsbury's plight to ignore the threat the daemons posed to the mortal world. Unchecked a single daemon could destroy an entire city; several could bring about a catastrophe that reached beyond borders.

In spite of the terror for his family, which sent the Wallmaker's stomach through a lurching series of contractions, the lanky man exploited the foreign sorcerers' discomfort. Howl charmed them with a false display of tranquility as he smiled dazzlingly. The handsome man drew back with a grand gesture, gracefully indicating the city beyond with his long fingers. As Howl spoke his voice was warm and mellow as though he hadn't a care in the world. It was a powerful ruse, made all the more potent when used among those who harbored great fear.

“The barrier won't take much more of this, dear friends. If I were you I would be willing to take any help I could get, human or not.” The raven-haired man turned his back on the group and planted his hands on his hips. The wizard's ploy barely held as his heart raged against the time they were wasting. But Howl resisted his urge to scream and throw things as he waited for someone to take the bait.

It had taken Barimus years to gain the full cooperation of the Ingarian Council. The Wallmaker knew all to well that these sorcerers and sorceresses were not from the Ingary. They had gathered from Marda, Tyrn, and beyond at the behest of the Alliance forged between King Walden, Prince Justin, and King Ferdinand. Most of the men and women had probably been sent against their will, and as such they would not bow before the leadership of anyone. He had seen this kind of behavior from witches and wizard before, in the aftermath of his unfortunate uncle's death. Any openly forceful move would only galvanize them against accepting his guidance. Howl's fears were confirmed as the group regarded him with a suspicion made tangible by the distance at which they lingered.

Suddenly, a tremulous voice spoke, burning like a beacon of reason through the gloom of their discontent.

“What must we do, Wallmaker?”

Howl fumed silently at the group's duplicity. The sorcerers and sorceresses snubbed his aid one moment and then asked for it the next. Furthermore, why was it that everyone always assumed that he knew what to do? But the nasty retort that prickled between his ears dissolved as the lanky man cast his eyes at woman. She was thin, plain, and wore too much black; but her hair fell long and straight like a crimson wind. It was very apparent from the pinched expression on her face that capitulating had severely damaged her ego. But the white hot aggravation constricting the Wallmaker's insides faded as he immediately recognized the frantic look in the witch's eyes. It was one that only another parent could understand.

“My son Nalir is in there,” she spoke again in a mere whisper, which he heard none the less.

Perhaps they were not so different after all?

Consent rippled through the crowd and they stared at the Wallmaker with a desperate kind of hope that terrified Howl. Their expressions made it clear they were depending on him now. The raven-haired man vacillated wildly between the overwhelming urge to blot and the heavy sense of responsibility that pinned him in place. He hated the feeling because it left him powerless to make his own decisions. But the thin wizard crushed his fears with an iron fist; Howl would gladly give up his freedom to save his family. Was he not the Wallmaker? Had he not thrown back the dark and rebuilt the Dull Wall. And what had he been doing for the past three days: hiding under a pile of pillows while the world crumbled around him.

Fate invariably collected its due with brutal efficiency. It was the hardest of lessons that led him to understand the consequences of avoiding strife. Merciless misery reached out to constrict the empty place beneath Howl's heart. The thin man remembered all to bitterly what he had lost as a result of turning his back on his obligations. And now Markl and Barimus were in peril as well; indeed, so was the whole of Ingary. The Wallmaker understood how much depended on him and for once he did not try to shirk his burden.

Howl once again thought of his wife.

The wizard never ceased to be amazed by the brown-eyed woman's perseverance: it was one of her most endearing and infuriating characteristics. Perhaps this is what made Sophie so constant? Through her conviction, the silver witch's had the ability to make all things possible. She was the fulcrum around while he orbited madly, held together by her consistency. Sophie's love gave Howl faith in his abilities. Indeed she was their strength; perhaps that's why he felt lost without her. For the sake of their children, the Wallmaker was willing to be strong without Sophie.

He missed her madly, in the same way that flowers reach desperately for the sun.

“When the time comes, all I ask is that you cooperate,” the sorcerer replied in an even voice as he turned back to the stare at the dark plume of ash that rose over the city.

xXx

 

This place was nothing and at the same time it was everything.

 

Deirdre felt as though she was floating, indeed she did not appear to have any corporeal existence. As the woman's mind opened up to encompass all things she realized all at once she was not alone. But the other was as omnipresent as she. It was as though they occupied the same space in that twilight place beyond all things.

 

What? Drie asked in confusion finding it difficult to talk to herself.

 

You mean who? She could see the voice in her mind and it was like watching herself speak in a mirror. They were the same.

 

To distract herself from the queasy feeling brought on by listing to thoughts that were indistinguishable from her own, Drie turned her eyes elsewhere. She realized all at once with an electric thrill that they were beyond the indigo veil. Somehow they had gained access to the nowhere that filled the spaces in between worlds. The Wallmaker's daughter looked upon the simultaneous infinity that was at once creation and destruction. It was like feeling everything at once: hate, love, grief, joy. It was like seeing every color simultaneously, rolling through a great wave of everything. It left her dizzy and drunk. The silver haired girl discovered it felt no better that listening to herself talk. But the vastness made Drie feel small and lonely.

 

A conversation with the universe tends to be one sided.

 

Thus the silver haired girl drew herself inward and stared at the mirror image in her mind once more. She regarded the presence with tangerine curiosity as it colored a nervous navy blue.

 

I am you? The nervous voice split like rotting fruit to reveal the fretful muddied magenta of its incomprehension.

 

Yes. Drie replied simply as though she were in a dream, her lazy orbit in the belly of creation making her sleepy. But she was torn from her complacency by the icy shriek that twisted her insides around white hot threads of terror.

 

NOT POSSIBLE! She heard the other within her rage incredulously. Pallid grays of perplexity gave way to the molten revelation that bloomed in the corridors of her mind. In that moment a torrent of memories came rushing into Deirdre. The twilight calm shredded like thin indigo silk as the darkness welled up around her like thick cold mud. It weighted her limbs and sparked a sulfurous plume of panic in her heart. The muck gave way into a void and the new woman fell through mists of time.

 

Drie remember memories that were not her own.

 

When she opened her eyes there was black sand beneath her palms; the obsidian grains cut her skin like shards of glass. Looking up she stared at the hideous boiling sky, which rolled with orange and red like it was on fire. A scorched wind tore relentlessly at her blistering skin as she stumbled to her feet. The merciless landscape of the plains of pain stretched endlessly before her and in the distance she could hear the screams of the twisting lights that suffered endlessly. Drie had never heard them before, there was no sound in the otherworld. But the silver sorceress' daughter realized that she was a passive observer to the memories. The body she rode turned and regarded the Dull Wall so closely that she could see the mortar between the bricks. All too familiar hands made of black water plucked at the barrier in a futile effort to quell the overwhelming need to escape the place of fire and torment.

 

Drie realized all at once that these were the Door daemon's memories.

 

The pain from the contact with the Wall was corporeal in spite of her passive state and Drie felt the ache like salt on a fresh wound. But Door did not feel the snapping bite of the Wall's hunger, the daemon's desperation made her bold. The spirit had not been in the burned place for very long. Despondency had not yet robbed her of the memories of a place that was filled with goodness. The disembodied girl felt the flash of warm sun and smelled the clear air sweet more than she saw it. The moment of clarity was enough to make her tremble as it withdrew. All that mattered was escape, and Drie lost herself to the creature's need.

 

Suddenly a great pressure pulsed through the otherworld, heralding the portal that ripped through the Wall. In the doorway stood a tall thin woman with short grey hair. Her face was pinched with grief and madness showed in the whites of her eyes. Drie recognized Mrs. Danna immediately and she recoiled in horror. But she was subject to the other's will and could not flee. Danna was dressed in healer's greens, although her hands were stained red with blood, which she clutched a silver knife. Door leapt at the portal, seeing only escape. But Danna lashed out at her with the blade and the daemon recoiled from the stinging magic metal with an audible hiss.

 

The smell of blood was even more maddening that the desperation of need to flee. Beyond Mrs. Danna Drie saw with the eyes of a daemon a woman with vacant milky eyes dressed in white. The Wallmaker's daughter recognized the empty woman immediately, in spite of the fact that she lay in a pool of blood that gathered like scarlet water. It spilled from a wound on her breast over her heart. Normally she would have retched at the sight; but seeing the world through Door's eyes was like loosing the ability to feel.

 

Emotions were replaced by a twisting fog: every smell and sound clambered with invisible meaning devoid of emotion. As the Door regarded the broken shell, she could taste that there was no life in the girl. The daemon could read from the subtle clues that hung around them that the force of her light had been stolen to open a gate into the world beyond the Dull Wall. The stink of magic was bitter like magnesium fire in her nose. The mortal had possessed a strong gift of magic when alive. Were she not dead the woman would have been a powerful vessel, a way to escape the plains of pain.

 

“Daemon,” Danna's voice was thick as she spoke, her fear had an acrid metal smell, like blood waiting to be spilled, “I will let you through.”

 

Door shifted her gaze back to the former healer and saw that there was no magic in her, only in the silver blade with which the mortal barred her way. But the daemon was weak with pain from the torments of the world behind them and knew it could not fight the blood magic on the blade.

 

Bargain? The daemon chimed in a chorus of metallic voices that rang like the crackle of a dry fire.

 

“Yes,” Danna replied, her voice was resolved with an iron finality that showed in her wild eyes, “I will bring you into this world, but you will be my slave. You and your magic will be mine.”

 

How? The daemon's voice was dubious, but Drie already knew that Door had surrendered to the woman's offer. With her free hand and without taking her eyes from the creature, Danna indicated the body in the other room.

 

Broken! Was Door's querulous cry.

 

Danna seemed surprised and her uncertainty left her white with terror. The regal woman folded under the weight of her failure, as though she had lost the very will to stand. Seeing the daemon collector pale and lost was disturbing to Drie, although the blood on her hands prevented her from pitying her captor in that moment. But Door was not about to loose her freedom so easily.

 

Can fix her, but need something from you. The daemon purred convincingly as they crept closer to the portal. This close to the mortal world the air was clean, like the good place they had almost forgotten. Drie was finding it more and more difficult to sort herself from the creature's recollections. Danna straightened like a bolt of lightening, her grey eyes wary as the silver knife once more barred their way. Door came up short. They hovered between worlds, caught between the searing fire of the plains of pain and icy silver blade.

 

“What do you require?” The future daemon queen spat in disgust as she recoiled slightly. Door and Drie inched closer, greed welling up within them like a putrid miasma. They clenched and unclenched their hands in anticipation, a different kind of need burning in the emptiness in their belly.

 

Your heart! They chimed exultantly. Bargain?

 

Danna blinked in surprise, but the expression was fleeting. Suliman's sister's face went cold and blank and then split into a contemptuous sneer. It twisted her regal features into a mask of hatred as she lowered the knife.

 

“Take it, daemon. I have no use for it anymore.”

 

Door rushed forward through the barrier like a cold wind. In the moment before the daemon descended upon the woman Drie had almost called mother, the vision shattered. She was catapulted back into the calm twilight world where she sank like a stone to the bottom of a still pond. As the universe spiraled around them lazily and after what seemed like an eternity, the Wallmaker's daughter came back to her senses. As she unfolded, within her mind Drie could feel the other's hot resentment and the slick metal cruelty of its enjoyment over having caused her pain.

 

I AM DAEMON! It shrieked suddenly, and railed against her with shadowed wings. But Deirdre could sense the purple sorrow that welled up deep within its crimson rage. They were one and there could be no secrets between them. She could feel Door's cold white terror and its bewildered uncertainty over the barrage of new emotions and senses it had never before encountered. Drie responded to the daemon's petulance with patience and wisdom beyond her short years.

 

If you are a daemon, then I am a daemon. Likewise, if I am mortal, so too are you.

 

The truth of their situation bloomed with violet certainty as the newly formed sorceress saw with her othersight through the ragged doorway of her soul back the way they had come. Somehow she and the daemon had merged as they were pulled into a place between worlds by the backlash of magic from the Dull Wall. Through the doorway beneath her heart came another torrent of memories and once again they were not her own. Both she and the other were overwhelmed by their power.

 

But these were full of the love only a mother could give.

 

They were in a strange house, under their eyes it glimmered and sparkled with magic. The very tables and chairs that filled the undivided space between the kitchen and the large hearth teemed with enchantments. But a broom as mundane as the dust it gathered up was clutched between their hands. With brisk efficiency they attacked a floor that had swept just the other day. But satisfaction filled them as they worked. Through the strange woman's eyes they saw a fat old lady in a chair by the hearth. She was knitting something, muttering to a round little dog in her lap. The creature was half daemon, but had probably forgotten it had ever been anything but a dog. A cheerful fire with wide eyes burned in the hearth and Drie was surprised to find that it was another daemon. But this creature was not like any other she had encountered. It was part human, and that seemed to shake the other within her to its very roots.

 

A chorus of stomping footsteps on the stairs overhead heralded the arrival of a fleet of noisy wizards. They flew down onto the kitchen like a flock of laughing birds. The smallest landed first; he was barely six and had raven hair that shone like the night sky. Drie recognized Akarshan immediately and she was shocked to by the revelation that he was her brother. The second tallest was also her brother, although Markl was more than twice her age. He had russet hair, golden brown eyes and an easy smile; the young wizard was tall for his age, but rail thin.

 

But the tallest of the brood was just as thin, although the lanky man was powerful in spite of his spindly appearance. The wizard Howl's face burst into a radiant smile as he came forward and swept his wife up into an affectionate embrace. He was the most handsome man Drie had ever seen. There was no doubt that this was Akarshan's father, the resemblance was uncanny. But that meant he was her father as well. Love bloomed like silver fire within them, so fierce and tremendous that they could only bask in its glow.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Witch!” The Wallmaker smirked down at his the woman, his face alight with happiness. Even though it was a memory, hearing their father's mellow voice for the first time was like listening to the sun rise.

 

“Hello, horrible Howl,” Sophie replied, her words showed like starlight within Drie's mind.

 

Our parents? The other asked in awe, which gave way to a trembling blossom of hope. But Drie's reply was lost as the memory shattered and her other half cried out as the vision faded. With terrible anguish, she and Door remembered what had happened in the moments before they awoke in this place between worlds. There was no time for words as the Wallmaker's daughter and the other folded inward through the ragged doorway within them. Together they fled back to whence they had come.

 

xXx

 

Drie felt as though she was being turned inside out.

 

For a mortal who was used to maintaining a consistent form, the sensation was not painful as much as it was disconcerting. The Door daemon had never been any more substantive than water. She did not appear to be affected in anyway by the constricting feeling that closed around them as they slipped between worlds. But Deirdre wasn't thinking about herself at that moment. Bright lights dazzled their eyes as the vast twilight curved around them. They pierced through the mercurial beyond, which resolved into the velvet indigo sky of the otherworld. For a brief moment a great pressure crushed them and it felt like they had burst through the surface of a deep river. As the young woman drew in a ragged breath the otherwind leapt up around her.

 

Corporeality returned to the blue eyed girl and her knees buckled under the forgotten weight or her mortal body. She tumbled into the grass mere inches from her mother's inert form. As she caught sight of the silver sorceress, she scrambled upright and reached out to shake the aged woman. But Drie faltered. A terrible emptiness opened within her as they saw with her other eyes that their mother was gone.

 

Wake her up! Door's anxious voice twisted fretfully in the tattered remnants of her mind. But the woman stared down at Sophie and bowed under the crushing weight of her abject desolation. The other raged against the smothering grief that threw up a barrier between them. WAKE HER!

 

She's dead, Door. Drie snapped at the other in bitter anguish as she gathered handfuls of her mother's apron. Mrs. Danna killed her. A flood of tears fell from her to soak the white fabric. Quiet like the calm before the storm descended in the young woman's mind as her twin stilled, freezing in place like a piece of ice.

 

NO! Door screamed and ripped the Wallmaker's daughter from her grief. The other erupted into a blazing frenzy of guilt ridden denial. human emotions overwhelmed the newborn half daemon and it plunged into feral despair over having just gained a mother only to loose her. It tore away from Deirdre, dragging her from Sophie across the green hills, attempted to flee its sorrow. The woman shrieked in pain as she clawed at the grass, feeling as though she were being ripped in half. Indeed, had another set of eyes been present to watch the terrible event, they would have seen the young woman separate like water cleaved by some unseen knife.

 

Two beings tumbled away from one another into the grass.

 

Derdrie scrambled back against Sophie's still form and stared in horror at the floundering creature before her. It was a woman, about twenty five years of age, with silver hair so long it tangled in the constant otherwind like a spider's web. Like an infant, the woman tottered to her feet uncertainly, her knees trembling as she blinked wide blue eyes at her graceful hands. Her eyes went black as they fell upon Drie and her lovely features twisted into an expression of terrible dismay. Door pawed at her face incredulously and thrust an accusing finger at her twin.

 

YOU! The half human shrieked as she stumbled backwards, her voice mad with revulsion. Turning, the chimera tore a hole through the otherworld and plunged blindly into the mortal realm beyond.

 

Traumatized beyond all response, Drie turned and buried her face in her mother's chest.