Oz held the wand of the Witch in his hands. He held her life, her very essence, and he knew it. She turned to look at him, for she had heard his heavy breathing. Fear in her eyes, Glinda threw out her hand. Oz, unsure of her intentions, brought the wand down over his knee. For a second, Glinda froze, and time itself stood still. Then, time resumed. Air rushed towards the witch, and her cloak flew off, revealing a beautiful creature beneath. She seemed to swell like a balloon, air filling every space in her body.
"So this is how it ends." were Glinda's final words. As soon as her voice fell upon Oz's ears, she exploded. Wind rushed out, flattening grass for miles. The China Girl flew through the air, tumbling head over heel. Finley was soon to follow, his wings catching on the rushing air. Oz was last to fall. He landed heavily on his back, the air from his lungs joining the air rushing over his face as it forced itself out of his body. He heard several cracks, one loud smash. A child's scream reached over the wind for a moment, then was swept away. A Finley screeched in terror, and strips of witch's flesh flew past his head. Oz's senses were on overload, as he struggled to take all of this in in a matter of seconds. He brought his head up slightly, but a flying chunk of something or other hit him on the head. He instantly blacked out.
….
When Oz came to, he moved his hand to his head. When he drew it back, it was covered in a sticky, congealed fluid. He sniffed it. A metallic scent filled his nose. Blood. Struggling to his feet, he grabbed a nearby headstone to steady himself. The sight that met his eyes filled him with sorrow. China Girl lay in pieces at the base of the headstone he had grabbed.
"Fitting." He said, choking back sorrow. He had grown to truly care for her. A pity indeed. He looked around for Finley. He spotted him hanging from a dead tree, his wings bent at impossible angles. He appeared unconscious, but before Oz could attend to him, his attention was drawn to something incredible. In the middle of the cemetery, a blackened circle of earth, littered with scraps of flesh, surrounded a dark figure. The figure, which Oz could only assume was Glinda, was bent double, in a fetal position. But this was not the beautiful creature he had seen moments before the explosion. No, this was something completely different. Its skin was a sickly, putrid green, akin to mold or pond scum. It had a hooked beak for a nose, and a chin sharper than a dagger. Seemingly sensing his presence, its eyes opened. They were the color of blood. Getting to its feet, it glared at Oz.
"DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME?!" it screamed. "I was beautiful! I was good! I was Glinda! My father was murdered by the one who sent you! Look what you've done to me!" She threw out her hand, and a broom materialized. "I will get my vengeance!" she swore as she began to rise. Cackling filled Oz's ears as she flew away, leaving a trail of acrid smoke behind. Sighing, he moved to help Finley down from the tree.