Glinda the Good Witch stepped gingerly around the rubble. All around her, she saw blackened ground and crumbling stones. Almost like a graveyard.
Yes, she told herself. A graveyard of memories.
It had been a week since that horrid little foreign girl melted the Wicked Witch of the West, known to Glinda as Elphaba. And Glinda still couldn't get over nighmares of screaming and buckets of water.
The train of her sparkly blue skirt trailed in soot, but Glinda was too preoccupied to care. She was on a mission, though she wasn't exactly sure what for.
An old crone by the roadside had beckoned to her that morning, while Glinda was visiting the site of Nessaroses's death.
"I know you, dearie, and I know how to help you," the crone said.
Glinda was utterly perplexed and a bit frightened, and said, "I'm afraid I don't know you, madame, so there is no way you could possibly know me."
The crone said, "Ah, I know you better than you think. Mother Yackle is wise, and I know what you're looking for, though you might not know it yourself."
Now Glinda was more than a little frightened, and turned to walk away.
"Stop!" cried the crone. " Hear these words!
He who scares the bird of flight
And she in clothes as dark as night.
This is whom you're searching for.
The answer lies within the floor.
And she whose Quells were but once said
Is the one who should be dead.
Beneath the pale seeing glass,
Once there laid the emerald lass.
Now there still is nothing more
Than the clues you're searching for.
Some will tell of distant location,
Some will call a nostalgic sensation.
One has told a defyer's past,
One you gave to one of contrast.
The Wind has come and gone for some
And many think their time is done
But only you can know for sure
What lies beneath Kiamo's floor.
Glinda was too petrified to turn around, and when she finally did, the crone was gone. Glinda stood, trying to piece together what had just happened. She had never been one to remember things, but she remembered every word the crone had said, and just as if it had been written out for her on paper.
He who scares the birds of flight...Well that obviously meant the Scarecrow who had been helping that wretched little girl. Glinda hadn't seen him in so long, only for a short while after he got his brains and saw Dorothy get home. But why would Glinda be looking for him? He was of no interest to her.
Come to think of it, the crone's words shouldn't be either. It was just a bunch of gibberish, probably from the mouth of an escaped asylum resident. Glinda tossed her curls and called up her bubble, returning home.
Later, around midday, Glinda met with the Official Cartographer of Oz. He spread a giant map over the table and pointed out a spot to the west.
"Now," he said. "This map was made a few months ago, while The Wicked Witches were both still alive. Therefore the Wicked Witch of the West's castle is still marked, though, as we all know, it was burned two days ago, to the joy of us all. Occording to historical records, it was the castle of Vinkus Royalty, called Kiamo Ko. As you..."
But only you can know for sure what lies beneath Kiamo's floor...Glinda suddenly choked, remembering the crone's words. Fiyero... she thought...the Winkie Prince...
"Your goodness, madame, are you alright?" the man asked. Glinda suddenly realized she was clenching her hands on a chair and gasping for air. "Yes, yes, I'm fine," she gasped. "Just... some air..." Somehow Glinda made it outside. She leaned against the stone wall of the castle, thoughts fluttering in her mind. It couldn't be...Elphie's castle... FIYERO'S castle... That crone could be crazy, or wise. But whatever her words really meant, Glinda knew she would leave for Kiamo Ko that night.Now Glinda glanced over her shoulder. She had the feeling she was being watched, though she knew it was practically impossible, out here in the remote Vinkus.
Up ahead lay the base of a staircase. Glinda recognized it as the staircase she walked down that night... the night her best friend dissapeared from a world that had done nothing but shun her since birth. Without realizing it, Glinda's cheeks were wet with tears within minutes.
"Oh, Elphie." she sobbed. "You didn't deserve it...all you did was make...good..."
Glinda's knees buckled, and soon beautiful Glinda, the Good Witch, lay sobbing in the ashes where The Wicked Witch of the West had once stood.