✩ ━━━ chapter one, grandma sophie.

IN THE LAND OF INGARY, WHERE SUCH THINGS AS SEVEN-LEAGUE BOOTS AND CLOAKS OF INVISIBILITY ARE VERY MUCH REAL, IT IS QUITE A MISFORTUNE TO BE BORN THE ELDEST OF THREE. Sophie Hatter knew this all too well; after all, she was the eldest of three sisters. While Martha and Lettie flourished in the promising apprenticeships arranged by their late father's wife—a kind woman named Fanny who had no favorite among the three, despite only being Martha's mother—Sophie found herself trapped in the monotony of her life, resigned to running her father's hat shop in the prosperous town of Market Chipping.

For all her lamenting, Sophie had little cause for true complaint. Had she been born the daughter of a poor woodcutter, her fate might have unfolded quite differently. But her family was well-to-do, and though Martha was often hailed as the most beautiful, Sophie and Lettie were far from lacking in charm themselves. All three sisters had been sent to the finest school in town, never without or in want even after the death of Mr. Hatter so long ago.

Lettie dreamed of marrying princes, Martha of amassing a fortune so vast that marriage would be unnecessary, and Sophie—well, Sophie had books. Tales of magical lands and powerful magical beings on magical adventures that she, as the oldest, would never be able to experience herself.

Now, of course, Sophie questioned why she had ever longed for a more exciting life—especially after the Witch of the Waste had cursed her. At ninety years old, she often mused over her past foolishness. It must have been her age, she reasoned, that led her to seek shelter in the dishonorable Wizard Howl's castle and strike a deal with a fire demon.

The malevolent Wizard Howl is known for amusing himself by collecting young girls and eating their hearts; his castle, a tall, black, and sinister fortress that belched clouds of black smoke from its four thin, towering turrets, cast a shadow over the very hills above the town. It was an omen of danger and despair, yet Sophie found herself inside.

Worse still, she had struck a bargain with the demon that governed the castle's dark secrets.

Yes, she reasoned, it must be the weight of her old age that had clouded her judgment—driving her to such foolishness, desperate enough to seek shelter in this cursed place.

Sophie glanced around the cramped, disheveled room where she had unwittingly fallen asleep. The air was thick with dust, and the place was a chaotic mess—scattered with strange, wizardly trinkets like glowing gems and corked bottles, all dangling haphazardly from the wooden beams. As her gaze lingered on the clutter, a flickering teardrop-shaped flame began to curl and dance over the logs in the hearth.

"Good morning," the fire demon's voice crackled. "Don't forget we have a bargain."

Sophie decided to ignore the demon, her mind still reeling in disbelief from the weight of her predicament. It all felt like some strange dream she couldn't wake from. Just then, the sound of a door creaking open caught her attention, and in walked the polite boy who had allowed her to stay the night—Markl. He greeted her with a warm smile, as if the whole bizarre situation were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Would you like some breakfast?" he asked, his tone as courteous as ever, as though they were simply two friends enjoying a quiet morning.

Now that her exhaustion had faded, Sophie couldn't help but wonder if Wizard Howl took as much pleasure in kidnapping children as he did in his other cruel whims. Markl, standing before her, was a stout child with messy ginger hair, short enough that it was difficult to gauge his age. Though his clothes were a little frayed, they were undeniably of fine material, and the plumpness of his cheeks suggested he was far from starving—a clear indication of the twisted wizard's sinister plan to sweeten his victims and fatten them up before devouring them.

"Yes," Sophie agreed, her heart already heavy with the boy's fate, but too hungry to linger on the thought.

Markl opened the drawers of a dusty, forgotten pantry, pulling out a hefty loaf of bread and a block of cheese. The child struggled to balance the food, carrying it toward the cluttered table, which seemed more a collection of nonsense than a place for meals, cobwebs draping over every inch of the wooden surface. With a determined grunt, he shoved aside books, yellowing scrolls, moldy apples, and half-melted candles just enough to carve out a small space for his plate.

"I'm afraid there's only bread and cheese," Markl said.

Sophie peered into the cupboard, her frown deepening as she looked at the little boy. "But there's a whole basket of eggs in there!" She exclaimed, pointing toward the corner. "And isn't that bacon? What about a hot drink as well? Where's your kettle?"

"There isn't one," Markl said, shaking his head. "Howl's the only one who can cook!"

"I can cook," insisted Sophie, reaching for the largest black pan hanging on the closet wall.

Markl looked troubled, his hands moving to block her from reaching the food. "You don't understand," he said, his voice rising a little. "It's Calcifer! He won't bend down his head to be cooked on for anyone but Howl."

She turned and looked at the fire demon.

He flickered back at her wickedly. "I refuse to be exploited," he said.

Sophie wrenched the pan from Michael's resisting fingers.

"Now, Calcifer," she said, "let's have no more nonsense. Bend down your head."

"You can't make me!" Calcifer's flames blazed brightly.

Sophie plonked the bacon into the pan and held it up to Calcifer's face. "Oh yes, I can!"

Before Sophie could step forward, however, one of the four black doors in the parlor creaked open on its own. She turned just as Markl and Calcifer both halted, their faces suddenly alarmed.

The creaking of footsteps on the rickety wooden stairs followed a sound from above.

Then, a voice called out from the top: "Is everything all right?"

Sophie suspected it's one of Wizard Howl's victims whose soul he will suck later.

"Yes, yes! I'm fine, thank you! Please, rest!" Markl shouted, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush as he hurried to shut the door. Once it was closed, he slumped against it, his shoulders sagging in defeat, and a sulky frown etched across his face.

"Oh, here's another curse!" Calcifer spat, his fiery face flickering from beneath the pan. "May all your bacon burn!" He flared up, clearly annoyed. "We've bothered her now! Surely, Howl will devour your heart and rid us of your presence!"

Another door swung open, this time the one with the window above it—the very door through which Sophie had first entered the castle. She stared as a tall, handsome man stepped in, his marble-blue eyes striking and his shoulder-length flaxen blonde hair falling gracefully around his face. His flamboyant pink-and-blue coat billowed dramatically, loosely draped over his shoulders like a regal cloak.

The smell of hyacinths saturated the room.

"Oh, hello, Howl," Markl said helplessly.

The wizard stared at Sophie with his rather curious eyes.

"Who on earth are you?" asked Howl. "Where have I seen you before?"

She would rather die than let this overdressed boy know that she was the same girl he had pitied on May Day.

"I am a total stranger," she lied with conviction. After all, Howl had only let her stay long enough to call her a mouse before—so it was almost the truth.

"She says her name's Grandma Sophie," Markl replied dutifully. "She came last night."

The Wizard Howl appeared to have lost interest in the conversation; his gaze drifted over them as though he had already moved on to something far more worthy of his attention. With a casual flick of his wrist, he placed a wicker basket onto the counter, its contents spilling over—brightly colored fruits, glistening with dewdrops, and freshly picked flowers whose petals seemed to still carry the scent of morning dew. He sauntered toward the hearth. The jewels dangling from his ears shimmered, catching the reflection of the fire demon's blaze.

"Calcifer doesn't like anyone but me to cook on him," Howl said, kneeling gracefully beside the hearth to stoke the flames. The fire demon's embers crackled in response. "Pass me two more slices of bacon and six eggs, please," he continued, wrapping one of his trailing sleeves around his hand to steady the pan. "And while you're at it, tell me why you've come here."

"Why I came, young man?' Sophie said, passing him egg after egg. "Why, I came because I'm your new cleaning lady, of course."

"Are you indeed?" Howl asked, cracking the eggs one-handed and tossing the shells among the logs, where Calcifer seemed to be eating them with a lot of snarling and gobbling. "Who says you are?"

"I do," said Sophie, and she added piously. "I can clean the dirt from this place even if I can't clean you from your wickedness, young man."

"Howl's not wicked," Markl opposed sternly.

"Yes, I am," Howl contradicted him. "You forget just how wicked I'm being at the moment, Markl." He jerked his chin at Sophie. "If you're so anxious to be of use, Grandma Sophie, find some knives and forks and clear the bench."

Sophie had not expected him to welcome her with such casual ease, let alone offer to let her stay for breakfast. The surprise of it settled in her chest, tightening for a moment—she tried to regain some control. "Then, if I'm going to be cleaning here for the next month," she said, her voice firm, "I'd like to know where the rest of the castle is. I can only find this one room and the bathroom."

The wizard said nothing more, despite the words that spilled from her lips. "Plates, please, Markl," was all he uttered. With a swift, practiced motion, he lifted the pan from the flames, and Calcifer let out a deep, fiery roar of relief, blazing high up the chimney like a creature freed from captivity

Howl served breakfast for them, unbothered to answer any of Sophie's questions.

Instead of joining them at the table, he picked up the wicker basket.

"Calcifer, move the castle sixty miles to the west," Howl commanded, before turning to Markl. "Answer her questions. It will stop her pestering. Now, excuse me, my friends." Without so much as a glance behind him, he strode toward the door with the staircase, blonde hair swaying with each confident step he took.

Without so much as a glance behind him, Howl strode toward the door leading to the staircase, his blonde hair swaying with each step. The door opened on its own, and with a dramatic swoop of his sleeve, he disappeared behind it, leaving only the soft rustle of his coat and the lingering sense that he was more force than man.

The door clicked shut with finality.

Recalling the soft, feminine voice from the upstairs loft, Sophie couldn't help but commiserate with whichever girl the Wizard Howl had taken prisoner. By now, she thought, he had probably devoured her soul and chewed through her heart.

Beyond upset, Sophie decided to clean—not only because she could no longer tolerate the filth of the castle but also out of a growing need to investigate. It was well known how utterly cold-blooded and heartless Howl was; most likely, he kept several captives for future meals. And if she could establish herself as an exceptional housekeeper, surely the wizard wouldn't let her leave the castle. Perhaps she could help the wicked magician's next victim escape from his clutches or even find a way to break the curse that bound him to such dark deeds.

With her wrinkled and weakened arms, Sophie tied an old rag around her wispy white hair and picked up a soot-covered broom, ignoring Markl and Calcifer's horrified whispers.

Undoubtedly, Wizard Howl cared for nothing in the world.