Throughout the land she flies
The crowd has been antsy for over an hour now. The line to get in had started early this morning, and stretched so far back into the streets of the city that you could not see the end of it. Many citizens had been turned away at the door due to lack of seating and even standing room, and things got ugly enough that the Gale Force was called to break up fights and guard the doors. They had been guarding the entrances and exits for the past two nights, making sure there was no attempt to rescue the prisoner up for execution.
They missed me, however. I got in without a problem. I waited until a rather large family tried to get through without the right amount of tickets, and after an argument broke out between the patriarch and the Gale Force soldier at the door, I snuck right it. For all their increased security, you would think they might've noticed me. They didn't even notice me poking around the area and the stage, finding all the nooks and crannies and possible exits. It's kind of pathetic, really.
Pardon me, let me introduce myself. They call me Shadow. I was given my name due to my skills at being able to get in and out of any place unseen. I had this gift since childhood, teaching myself how to sneak about. I was so good at hide-and-seek as a kid that the children at school eventually refused to play it with me. I would creep around my family in the middle of the night to visit the animals or play with the neighbor's dog or meet up with the baker's son (in fact, no one ever did find out about the baker's son, hence it's never been mentioned in the stories.)
Yes, there are stories about me. I will get to that in a bit.
There is a couple sitting to my left. It had been overcast and drizzling all day, so the crowd hid themselves beneath a sea of green umbrellas. Some businessman got the brilliant idea to sell them at three times markup outside the castle while there was still a long line. He probably has enough to retire by now. This is to my advantage, because no one will question the large hood over my head or the scarf that covers my face aside from my eyes. It's been unseasonably cold as of late. The couple next to me is huddled under their umbrella, a wool blanket in a fancy blue and white plaid pattern wrapped around them. Their odd, misshapen hairdos and the woman's asymmetric makeup mark them as Emerald City citizens, probably of the mid-to-upper class. If they were the highest of the upper classes, they would be in the private boxes that sit above the general seating, two of which were added for this very event. This execution is the most crowded the city has ever seen, I've been told.
My world has outlawed public executions. They are considered barbaric and inhumane. The Emerald City thinks of itself the as highest class and most sophisticated, but really, they are nothing more than sparkly-clad animals. I say animals, not Animals, because the Animals have a higher sense of humanity. Although, the more I live and the more I experience, violence and greed seem to be the foundations of humanity.
I must say, before I found myself here, I was innocent. I spent my days doing chores and helping out around the farm, occasionally causing some mischief once the sun went down. Life on the farm was a simple one, and the rest of my life was simple and laid out for me. I was to find a decent man, marry him, move to his farm, raise a bunch of children, and, when my time came, be buried out in the same land under a nameless wooden cross. Most of the people I encountered were very content with this life path, and never questioned it. In fact, I was the only one that seemed to question it. My dreams were so much bigger than this house and this barn and this plot of land. There was a whole world out there for me to see, and I was determined to see it.
My family scoffed at me, telling me that my head was in the clouds. They said this was all the world I needed.
Turns out, the world was a lot bigger than anyone could have imagined, myself included.
The couple next to me has been talking nonstop since I sat down, which was roughly an hour ago. I usually don't like being this out in the open in general populace, but the crowd and the umbrellas are providing safe coverage. Although, I probably could go out in regular clothes and no one would recognize me. They used to know my face, but not anymore. I don't even recognize my own face anymore. To be fair, I've changed my hair color more times that I can count. I mastered the strange makeup trends of the Emerald City, which can be very effective in disguising and manipulating facial features (you should see what is actually hiding behind the immaculate paint of the aristocratic ladies of this city!). I have disguised myself as everyone from a prostitute to a bookseller to a Vinkun princess. In fact, I'm so good at disguising my appearance and not being found that my wanted poster doesn't have a rendering of my face.
If they knew who I really was, they would all lose their minds.
You see, I was their darling. Next to Glinda the Good, I was the face of goodness and kindness. I was hailed as a hero, as a saint even. I was holiest of the holy here. There was a point when it was fashionable for mothers to name their newborn baby girls after me. You would think I'd be used to it by now, but It still creeps me out when I'm on the road and I hear someone yelling, "Dorothy! Dorothy, come back here!".
Hello, let me reintroduce myself. My name is Shadow, but Shadow was given to me. I was not born with this name. When I arrived in this place, my name was Dorothy. Dorothy Gale. I've been told that you have heard of me.
I never got the meet the man who is responsible for my apparent celebrity. He showed up not long after my "departure", and was welcomed with much fanfare and even a parade (Ozians are obsessed with parades, let me tell you). He stayed for a while, I'm not sure how long to be honest, and then returned home. He had arrived in the same fashion that the Wizard had, in the air balloon, and returned home in the same method. Unlike me, he actually made it home. You see, the Wizard has a very particular image of himself that he likes to portray. The author went along with everything the Wizard said and helped spread the Wizard's propaganda all throughout the land. Everyone back in my home now thinks they know what happened here and what happened to me.
Those are lies. Everything you think you know about me is a lie.
He has it right up to a certain extent. I did get sucked up in a tornado. I did land on that poor girl with the red shoes (And I only took them because I was told to. Don't get that twisted). I did meet Glinda the Good. I did travel with a bunch of strange people to the Emerald City. I did get taken captive by the Wicked Witch, and I did "melt" her.
That's about where the similarities in the stories end.
The Wicked Witch did take me back to castle, but never really treated me as a prisoner. She's very astute, and knew something just didn't quite add up with me. Not long after I was taken to that castle, I, exhausted and frustrated and at my wit's end, ended up going on a very long and wild rant about everything that had happened to me and everything I felt about it. My mother had always told me that I had a mouth that would get me into trouble, and that I should learn to control it. In that situation, there was no form of control. I couldn't take it. I didn't want to be in this stupid place with these stupid people traveling with me (apologies to Fiyero, he played the role very well) and those stupid shoes. I wanted to give the shoes back to her, I really did, but they were charmed to stay on my feet as long as I was alive. I was so incredibly angry, for it was just another trick. I had been tricked, conned, and manipulated since I first ended up here. This is when the Witch softened, and started telling me bits about herself. This is how the Wicked Witch became Elphaba to me.
While the world believed the Wicked Witch was torturing me as a prisoner, we were becoming what I could label as friends. Slowly but surely, she opened up to me, and we spent many nights talking until the sun came up. The flying monkeys had been relaying messages from the Resistance; the Gale Force was descending upon our hiding place, and they were after the both of us. Elphaba eventually told me everything about the Wizard, about his lies and the things that he did to her, and she believed he would either use me to his advantage or kill me. She hadn't planned on keeping me there for very long, but now she didn't think it was safe for me, or us, to leave. I was not imprisoned; I was being protected.
We kept the ruse up when Glinda finally arrived herself, attempting to convince Elphaba to let me go. I wanted to speak for myself, but Elphaba had told me not to make a sound and do exactly as she said. I remember hearing the two talk, hearing them finally forgive each other. Elphaba had told me about Glinda and their friendship at Shiz, and it broke my heart to listen to it all. I had a few friends growing up, but none that I held that close to my heart. Despite my anger with Glinda about the shoes, I ended up forgiving her as well. We all make mistakes, and we all do terrible things, especially when under pressure. In the end all we can do is learn and grow and try to make things right.
There had been a hilarious story circulating through Oz that the Wicked Witch could be melted by water. When the Gale Force began breaking down the castle doors, we hatched a plan. We would wait until they broke in, and then I would throw water on her in front of them and she would very dramatically melt. We found a way to create a small smoke bomb that we would set off as I dumped the water, giving her time to hide in the same trap door that I was in. When the room was empty and safe, Fiyero would release her from the trap door and they would escape. The plan was not ideal; I would still end up with the Wizard. Elphaba had tried to think up other alternatives, but I volunteered myself to be found. We hoped, by that point, that I would been seen as a hero for killing the Wicked Witch and that The Wizard would have no choice but to treat me well or possibly help me get home.
We were wrong in that aspect.
When I finally did get to meet the Wizard, he showed me that he was nothing like his reputation and everything like Elphaba told me he was. He toured me around his palace, and talked so much about himself that it caused a rage I never knew I had in me to grow. I have never heard anyone talk about themselves so much before! His ego was so large that I'm surprised it didn't make his head explode. Eventually, I got so tired of him waxing on and on about his own greatness that I just snapped. I called him out. I called him out for his lies, his genocide, and his lack of magic. For you see, as a resident of the same world, I knew that our world did not have magic. My mouth got the best of me yet again. I don't remember everything I said to him, but I remember going off on him for a very, very long time. When I was finished, he gave me this look, and I will never in my life forget this look. He looked at me with such disgust, such disdain, and then he went very blank and cold, with the rage only settling in his eyes. He asked me very flatly what I wanted. I wanted him to tell the world the truth, about himself and about Fiyero and Glinda and Elphaba, but he refused. Instead, he offered me a way to get back home. I should have seen through it then, but I was so desperate to escape this wretched land that I accepted.
Part of Elphaba's plan came to fruition. I was able to catch Glinda and give her some inside details on what was going on, and she and publicly proclaimed me as the one who killed the Wicked Witch. She held a cheery and well-attended press conference, toting me around for all of Oz to see. I was Dorothy Gale, Witch Killer and Savior of Oz. The Wizard, while speaking highly of me to the public, struggled to mask his true feelings behind closed doors. I found out later that Glinda dearly paid for what she had done, becoming a slave to the Wizard and his right-hand-woman, Madame Morrible.
The day I was to return home came with much fanfare. The entire city through a going away party for me, and even held a parade in my honor (as I've said, the city loves its parades). The hot air balloon was repaired, successfully tested, and ready for take off. The ceremony lasted about an hour before I stepped into the balloon, and with a few waves, I was off.
This is where you probably believe that the balloon accidentally took the Wizard instead, I clicked my stupid red shoes three times and ended up nice and safe back in my bed in Kansas. The story ends here.
Yet again, this was a carefully crafted lie. That horrid writer from New York has the entire world convinced. It's makes me sick.
In reality, I was never meant to make it back to my world. The hot air balloon had been laced with explosives, hidden in the sides and underneath the floor. When my balloon had finally crossed the horizon and over the mountains, the bombs were set off and the entire balloon exploded. The Wizard did not want me to go back and tell the truth. He wanted me dead. All of the Oz thinks I returned home. Instead, I was set up to be assassinated.
Chistery saved my life. He overheard the Wizard and Morrible discussing the plan not long after the balloon had left the ground, and he flew after me in haste. He was able to grab me and pull me out of the balloon just as the bombs went off. We ended up tumbling down in a hail of smoke and fire, his large wings the only thing the kept us from splattering against the earth. We did hit a few trees on the way down, and I hit the ground with enough force that I blacked out. I don't even remember anything other that Chistery's terrified face and smell of burning flesh.
I woke up a few days later in the Resistance camp. Thankfully, Chistery had sent one of the other flying monkeys out to warn the camp before he came after me. They had tracked us to the explosion point, and apparently found us lot long after we hit the ground. Chistery was badly burned, and still has trouble flying to this day. Chistery's wings blocked me from most of the fire and falling balloon parts, but I still sustained burns on my arms and legs. I also ended up with a broken wrist, a few fractured ribs, and an intense concussion. I was out cold for a long time. Elphaba told me that she had been afraid I wasn't going to wake up again.
I recovered in the confines of the Resistance camp. Elphaba and Fiyero had planned on escaping over the sea, but were shot down by some members of the Gale Force that had been posted in the farther reaches of Oz. They were rescued by an Animal camp, and ended up traveling to this particular Resistance post, due to the how hidden it was and how many members were gathered there. I learned that the Resistance was being picked off, not just by the Gale Force but by small militias consisting of regular citizens, fueled by hatred and zealotry. This camp, known as The Hostel, was one of the few that they knew were left standing. Elphaba had been forced to lay low, and spent her time tending to me and trying to find a way to turn Fiyero back into human. The days went by and Elphaba and I grew closer, the only friend I had in this wretched world.
This is when I got the first look at the Grimmerie. I remember laughing hysterically when I opened it, and laughed so hard and so long that I almost passed out again. That stupid spell book was in English! English! It was so absurd that I had to read it over a couple of times just to make sure I wasn't having some weird hallucination. The more I thought on it, the more it made sense on why Elphaba could mostly read it, being half from our world and all (one of the things I found out, and confronted the Wizard with, was that Elphaba was his daughter. He seemed so sad and apologetic at the time, which really goes to show his mastery of manipulation. He's going to be front and center for her execution today, cheering for her death).
A lot of that book was gibberish, really, as if someone was writing down things they thought sounded spooky and spell-like. It was incredibly hard to decipher. A few of the spells, thankfully, were in very plan English, and I was able to help Elphaba translate and use them. I don't have magic, but I can still get a bit of a reaction when I read the spells. This ended up coming in handy a lot during my missions.
The Resistance gave me an ultimatum once I was fully healed. They did not have the time or the resources to care for someone who was no help to them. I had to either become useful, or they would have to "dispose" of me so as to not reveal the location of the camp. Most of the members saw me as a threat, especially since I was the face of "goodness" in the Emerald City, and wanted me gone. Elphaba very angrily and passionately argued my case, and after much yelling, they finally agreed to let me stay, but only under the condition that I would commit myself to the Resistance and be trained as an operative. I fully and completely gave my self over to them and decided that I would earn their trust and become the best operative I could be. I was actually incredibly excited. I was rough and tumble growing up on a farm and expected to do hard work, but I always also a woman, and as a woman I was expected to be soft and quiet and ladylike. The Resistance showed no boundaries of gender. I was to learn to sneak, steal, fight, and attack just as the men did. It was thrilling. I was no longer just meant to be another nameless wife and mother; I actually mattered.
I found that stealth was my biggest asset. I was the smallest in both height and weight, which made it easier for me to slip in and out of places. At first, it was just easy tasks, like stealing food or coins. Then I became a messenger, passing critical notes and plans back and forth between other operatives on the ground. As I progressed in my skills, and as operatives in other parts of the country began to vanish, my missions became more dangerous. I was stealing maps, journals, and written information, often right from the desks and nightstands of Gale Force soldiers as they slept. Elphaba found a spell that could temporarily manipulate parts of your appearance, so I often would go on missions with a different hair or eye color that would eventually fade, making it harder to track me. At one point, Elphaba sent me on a small mission to check on Glinda. I had successfully entered the castle, disguised as a maid after snatching a uniform from the laundry, when I ran face to face with Glinda. She didn't even recognize me, just gave me a short, confused look and walked right on by. When I returned, Elphaba was chastised for sending me somewhere so dangerously close to the Wizard, but I finally earned my Resistance name: Shadow. I've been Shadow ever since. Dorothy is dead to me.
The people are on their feet now. The Wizard and Morrible have just entered the stage area, and the crowd is losing its mind. They are standing now, cheering and stomping. They are waving, and the Wizard is blowing kisses to his adoring now. I'm currently holding back the urge to vomit. Glinda is trailing behind them, dressed to the nines in the brightest green ballgown I have ever seen. I can see her sparkling under the sunlight from where I'm sitting. She has a smile painted on her face, and she's waving at the crowd. They're calling out to her: "Glinda, you're amazing! We love you Glinda!" She's giggling, and gives the crowd a slight bow. The smile on her face is so big, almost too big. I can't tell if she's putting on her best acting ability or she's really just given up at this point.
The Gale Force has entered as well, lining the sides of the stage. There are at least ten of them. I expected this, but it still makes my heart race and my adrenaline start pumping. I've taken down multiple soldiers on my own before, but not this many. I'm hoping I won't have to kill them all, but I probably will.
It wasn't long after I was given my name that I killed my first person. Elphaba had felt useless, sitting around the camp and doing nothing other than failing to change Fiyero back over and over. We had been digging through the book for weeks, but kept coming up empty. Spells cannot be reversed, but we really figured that we could find something to make him human again. We failed over and over, and Fiyero was starting to lose hope. Frustrated, Elphaba decided to accompany me on a mission to a remote part of Munchkinland, where a small band of soldiers supposedly were holding an Animal village captive. We traveled during the day on foot, and on the broom by night. When we reached the village, we found it burned down and empty. After rooting around for any signs of life or possible information, we turned to leave, tired and disappointed, when we found ourselves surrounded by one of those local militias, with the stereotypical torches and pitchforks to boot. We should have easily been able to talk our way out of it, being that the mob was after Animals and not other humans, but one of them had got ahold of Elphaba and pulled down her hood, exposing her face. We tried to diffuse the mob with smoke bombs (similar to the one we used for the melting trick), but a few got too close. I remember hands grabbing me, me grabbing my knife, and then just a sea of red. I had been sliced across the thigh, and I had to hold the wound closed as we took off on the broom. I didn't sleep very well after that.
The Resistance has had me assassinate people since then. I don't do it often, as to not add any more ammo for our enemies, but it does happen. My small build and femaleness cause me to be easily passed over, which makes me much more deadly. I earned myself a wanted poster after taking out a double agent in a brothel. I had to dress as a prostitute and let the filthy excuse of a man put his hands all over me before I slit his throat and left. I got a mile out of town before collapsing, retching onto the ground. Elphaba sat with me the next few nights when I would shoot up out of bed, sweating, seeing twisted faces and tidal waves of crimson. She, too, had done things she wished she hadn't for the Resistance, and understood my pain.
I can't tell you how long I was with the Resistance before the raid. I'm thinking a few months, but it could be more than a year. Time flows strangely when you live the way we do; it either flies or it crawls at an aching pace. Despite our small successes, we had been losing the overall war. The Wizard only gained more love by the day, which increased exponentially at the arrival and eventual departure of the author. All known Animal communities have been destroyed, and living Animals have been sent to forced labor camps, working as slave labor on building statues and homages to the Wizard and fixing up that stupid yellow road. The Wizard has now turned his eye to Vinkus, looking to "reeducate" the "tribal and primitive" people that live there, which translates to another good old round of genocide. The tribes have united for the first time in their history and sent the army to their borders, which is great for them, but it also means violent clashes at the border and the loss of contact with one of our outposts in the mountains. The Resistance grows smaller by the day.
The raid came one cold, rainy night. They sent snipers in, and all of our patrols and watchmen were eliminated before we could sound the alarm. The Gale Force set fire to our camp, flushing everyone out. Those who ran were shot on sight, or, if they were important enough to have a wanted poster up, were captured. Elphaba and I did everything we could, using spells from the Grimmerie to take some of the fire and hurl it back onto the soldiers. However, they had managed to capture Fiyero, and gave Elphaba a choice: either she surrender to them, or they would light him on fire. She gave herself up to them without a thought, much to Fiyero's protest. I had fallen behind a downed tree, nursing a bullet wound to my left arm. I can still see it clear as day: Elphaba made intense eye contact with and mouthed the word "RUN." I tried to argue, but she put her finger to her lip, shushed me, pointed to the side, and again mouthed the word "RUN". I didn't want to leave her. I didn't want to leave my people. But I knew that if I stayed, my injury would prevent me from fighting to my best ability. I would be more a detriment than an asset. So I ran. I ran as far away as I could, as fast as I could. I ran and I ran until the blood seeped from between my fingers holding the wound and trickled down my wrist. I ran until the tears that fell from my eyes drenched my face and shirt. I ran and ran until the stress and pain and blood loss caused my knees to give out and I fell. I still battle with myself over whether I made the right choice or if I should have stayed and tried to fight.
When I awoke, Chistery was watching over me. Turns out, after the cuffs and chains were placed around Elphaba's body, they lit Fiyero on fire anyways. I don't know if he lived. I still don't know. No one does. Chistery tried to connect with some of the other flying monkeys, but they're either in hiding or have been shot out of the sky like fallen angels.
I returned to the camp a few days later, after stitching up my own wound with some thread Chistery stole from a house nearby. There was nothing left other than charred remains and dead bodies. The Gale Force didn't even bother to dispose of the bodies. By the time I got there, the place stank of rot and death and the crows were picking at what was left of my comrades. No one was left. Aside from Chistery, I was the only survivor.
This is why I'm here now, hiding under a cloak in the middle of a cheering crowd. For today is the Wicked Witch's execution. Chistery had managed to sneak into the prison where they were keeping Elphaba. I asked him about her condition, but only looked at me with a sad face and shook his head. I'm sure they've been slowly destroying her, piece by piece. The thought brings the rage back inside me. I thought I hated the Wizard the day that I confronted him. But now, seeing his smug face standing at the podium, leading on the celebration of the Witch's death, my rage is volcanic. I have to contain myself. I have to. If not, I'll spoil the plan. I have to remain calm, for I'll probably completely lose my cool when they bring her out and tie her to the stake.
I look around, surveying the stage area. They had a small seating area built for executions in the past, but remodeled it and quadrupled its size once the Witch was captured. It now looks like an arena, the stage on the ground and seats rising into the air around it. They built it hastily, with not nearly enough exits. There are hundreds of people here, and I've counted only four ways out. Once my plan goes into action, there will be pandemonium, with people tearing each apart to reach the door. The Gale Force will be overwhelmed, which is exactly what I need.
I've made some improvements to our smoke bombs. Not only do they blind, but the smoke will single your skin, clog your lungs, and make your eyes burn and water. The scarf I have over my mouth is not just for hiding my face, but for protection. I've subjected myself to these enough times while testing them to know exactly how they feel. I was too close to one when it went off once; I went blind in one day for three days and the skin on left hand is still lumpy and light shade of red.
I have placed the bombs at each exit, and I was able to get a few around the stage. I have them set to a trigger phrase: once I say it, they will all explode.
I have another secret with me; my long cloak conceals the one thing of Elphaba's that I've been carrying around with me since her capture: her broom. The darn thing didn't like me at first and enjoyed throwing me off or sending me spiraling into random people's kitchens. After a while, and a little coaxing, we began to have a mutual trust in each other. I can now ride the broom with little difficulty. The Grimmerie is in my satchel, carefully shrunk down with a spell to make it easier to carry. Once the bombs go off and the whole place is blinded, I'm going to fly down, free Elphaba, and take her with me. There's an underground cavern protected by a few rogue Animals a few miles from here. They said they would let us stay there for a short while. I sent Chistery with some letters to the Vinkun border. Vinkus has been rumored to be sympathetic to the cause of the Animals and the Resistance, especially now that the Emerald City is aiming for them. If all goes well, they can let us pass and we'll be safe until I find a way to get us out of Oz for good. If you can fly a hot air balloon in and out of Oz, you should be able to do so on a broom. If that doesn't work, I'm not sure. But I will think of something.
I have a few back ups. If the Gale Force gets too close to me, I have a spell memorized that will temporarily turn me and anything I touch invisible. I'm still a bit shaky on that one, to be honest, but I ended up running out of time before I could perfect it. I also have my knife on me in case it comes to that. I've killed before and I will do it again, especially for her. I'm the only left who can save her.
They've brought her out now. The crowd has turned from happy cheers to jeers, screaming and shrieking every threat and obscenity I have ever heard. They're blocking my view of her. A section of the crowd is pumping their hands rhythmically in the air, chanting.
"BURN THE WITCH. BURN THE WITCH. BURN THE WITCH."
The smile on the Wizard's face ignites the fire inside me that I've been trying to quell. I have to clench my fists and bite my lip to focus. I step out of my seat and onto the stairs that lead to the upper sections, trying to get a better view.
They've tied her to the stake. She's in a white dress, although you can barely see the white through the damp stains of fresh blood. Her hair is flowing wildly around her face and shoulders. The wind blows, and her face shows; the spark of the strong, bold woman who rescued me is gone. She looks defeated, destroyed. My heart twists and my face grows hot and I can feel my heart thumping in my ears. One of the soldiers finishes tying the ropes, and then slaps her hard across the face. The crowd roars. Glinda can no longer keep up the façade; her hands are over her mouth, and she's sobbing.
There are tears on my face as well.
Another guard appears on the stage, this time holding a torch, bright orange fire dancing from the top.
Glinda is screaming. She tries to run from her seat, but Morrible snaps her fingers and the guards descend upon her, pinning her back into her chair. The Wizards claps his hands, grinning. Elphaba closes her eyes and drops her head, accepting her fate. The crowd is so loud that I can't hear much of anything anymore.
But the spell I have on the bombs can hear me, no matter what else is going on.
I pull my scarf down and wipe my face. I take a deep breath and return the scarf to my face. I take the glasses from my pocket and place them over my eyes for protection from the blast. I have to be strong. I have to be brave. There is no one else left. For the Resistance, for Elphaba, and for all of Oz, I have to succeed. I have to.
It's time.
I open my mouth, and chant the phrase that will set off the bombs and set my plan into action.
"There's no place like home."