2. Glinda's Tale

"For as long as our history records remember," Glinda started, "for millennia, the Land of Oz has been ruled by a dynasty of wizard kings and witch queens.

From what little I know of your country, it seems that true witches don't exist in it – they're just villains for your children's tales, bogeywomen with brooms. But here in Oz, a witch wields power – nothing else. It all depends on how she uses it.

My father, King Pastoria, ruled for the last five centuries..."

"Five centuries? Your father?" asked Oz, looking slightly skeptical. "And you're how old, then?"

Glinda just smiled.

"Let's say I'm older than I look – most of us are. Wielders of magic don't grow old the way most people do. We don't die of old age, nor of disease. But the way we use our powers affects our looks.

Overexerting yourself, overusing your powers takes a toll on you, making you weary of life – and increasingly older. And using them for evil... Well, it siphons your life out of you eventually. The result... isn't pretty."

"But Evanora..." said Oz, looking doubtful.

"Oh, that? A mere trick. She fooled my father, my people, fooled everyone except me – and that's only because that's my domain, seeing past illusions and casting them away. She was exposed when I depowered her – as the ugly, disfigured hag that she has become. If you ever meet her again, you'll see for yourself."

"I'm still unconvinced." The Wizard folded his arms, raising his eyes inquisitively at Glinda. "How do I know you aren't a Wicked Witch yourself? What if you only used me to get to the throne of the Emerald City – with the help of a puppet ruler you can control?"

Glinda smiled again. "I expected that question, sooner or later. You've grown, Oscar. Not judging anything at face value anymore. All I can say is that nobody can give you such a guarantee – you have to judge for yourself. You've known me for five years – have I done anything suspicious? At all?"

"Well, I suppose if you wanted to make a move against me, you'd have done so already." Oz smiled, clapping lightly on Glinda's wrist. "So you were saying? Your father?"

"It pains me to remember what it was like," Glinda sighed. "His reign was long and glorious – I lived through most of it. Back at the dawn of his reign, when he was still young and fair, my mother – the fairy queen Lurline – became enamored by him. Father invited her to the palace and crowned her as his queen.

But I have only sketchy memories of my mother. I was still a child when she departed, and nobody in Oz saw her again. Such is the life of fairies – they never dwell in the same place for too long. All that she left behind to remind of her was me and my three sisters..."

"Three?" asked the Wizard in surprise. "I only know of two. Know better than I wish I have."

"I'm not surprised. Locasta is reclusive, and probably still too occupied with the North to care about us, or to come to our help.

Locasta was the eldest and wisest of us, the four princesses. But also completely unambitious, never questioning. The paragon servant of the people, and it worked until... well, until the kingdom came to need something more. Someone greater.

Evanora was the second oldest, then came I... When little Theodora was born, I was old enough to remember it. If only barely. And sweet ancestors... what a joy it was.

Theodora was power incarnate. Strong. Brazen. Adventurous. Inquisitive. She was everything Locasta wasn't. Sometimes I thought the world was too small for her. She rarely stayed in the city, instead constantly disappearing on her adventures. Quite an explorer she was those days, led by her fiery spirit – turning over every little nook and cranny in Oz, even many that our official history forgot about. She got especially close to Evanora because the older sister took a deep interest in her travels... too deep, as I found too late.

It felt like Theodora was born for greatness. She had 'destiny' written all over her. And only one flaw, but one that brought her demise: she grew gullible and shortsighted. So focused she was on what was far away, beyond the borders of the known, that she didn't notice what was happening right under her nose. Perhaps if she grew up differently... had a childhood where she had to always think for herself...

...But I really shouldn't speak ill of the dead.

One day, the kingdom fell into dark times. The four Wicked Witches of old banded together to overthrow my father. They each conquered a country of Oz, their reigns of terror forcing the common people out of their lands and into the protection of the Emerald City. Father helped who he could, healing the wounded and emptying the royal treasury to support the poor and homeless..."

"Emptying? There's quite a fortune of gold locked in here," the Wizard said skeptically.

"Evanora's work, no doubt. Her enemies tended to... disappear... along with all their possessions. That gold is ill-gotten, Oscar, and I wouldn't touch it if I were you. But as I was saying...

The troubles were taking a heavy toll on father. In half a year he aged more than an ordinary man would in twenty. Something had to be done about the Witches, something that would instill hope in the hearts of his citizens. So he sent us. Four princesses, four Good Witches, against four Wicked Witches. One to liberate each country.

Evanora was finished first – with disturbing ease. The Wicked Witch of the East was cast down, and nobody saw her ever since. Evanora didn't go through much fanfare announcing her victory, though the Munchkins welcomed her as their savior. Father welcomed her as his most trusted advisor, the closest person to the throne.

Theodora blazed through the Winkie Country, leaving a trail of debris behind – but she got the job done. The Wicked Witch of the West was stripped of her powers and imprisoned in the Emerald City. And as for me... it took me years, slowly and methodically cornering the Witch of the South and denying her her strength – I couldn't risk wrecking the entire Quadling Country if I let our full powers run unchecked. Eventually I was victorious too.

And as for the North... Locasta chased Mombi into obscure, uncharted lands – and vanished along with her. Nobody has seen them for decades, and nobody knows where they went, or if they're even still alive. The Gillikin Country was left leaderless, left to its own devices – and I believe it still is. Perhaps that's for the best.

It seemed that peace returned to the land at last, at the cost of Locasta's disappearance. The triumphs of the remaining three of us were darkened by the unfortunate news. Evanora was the next in the line of succession, and I knew my limitations well enough not to desire the throne for myself. I work much better as an advisor, as number two – the position that was now occupied by Evanora.

But the people loved Theodora more, and made no secret of it. She was the active princess, always being whenever trouble was – and fighting it with all the energy and zeal she was capable of. The kingdom was rebuilding, and father helped where he could, but his health was fading fast. Rumors were spreading, and it didn't help matters. Now, from what I know, it seems that father was planning to abdicate, as it is the custom in our land for kings and queens weary of life. But he couldn't decide on a successor.

Evanora felt vulnerable. She was already the second most important person in the kingdom, and she had all of Munchkinland to rule, but she desired more. And above all, she hated uncertainty. She'd rather weaken her own position by reckless actions than deal with unknowns.

And I believe this was what pushed her, already rotten inside, to that last act of desperation. The point of no return. Patricide.

In hindsight, she probably crossed the line much earlier. I suspect she probably killed the old Wicked Witch of the East, breaking the number one taboo of a Good Witch: not to kill. But it was killing her father that cemented her fall – and then she framed me for it. It was a crude lie – she never had your finesse in deception – but it was believed, and by Theodora most stingingly of all.

I couldn't risk fighting back and igniting a civil war. So I pleaded guilty, relinquished all claims to the throne, and accepted my exile. I didn't believe in the Prophecy of the Wizard, but I knew that evil never lasts, so I bided my time and waited. I don't even know what for. Perhaps for a better leader than myself. Eventually you came by, and... you know the rest."

The Wizard clenched his lips and rose from his chair. He seemed tired, taking effort to make every step he walked. "I don't know how this helps us, Glinda. All you did was make me feel even more guilty about Theodora. And now I lost a friend trying to bring her back."

Glinda shook her head. "I would lie if I said there was no fault of yours in her fall, but the bulk of the blame falls on Evanora, still. Twisting this open, overly trusting mind. But her soul still lives – somewhere. Where, I don't know. But without it, her body wouldn't exist – even if it's driven by nothing but the burning fire of hate and anger."

"There's no fire too strong to be doused," Oz said grimly, taking a glass of water and pouring it over one corner of the fireplace. The flames hissed, retreating from the wet charcoals. "I made her into this, and I will..."

"I hope it won't come that far," said Glinda. "I'll try to recover Theodora's soul, while we still can. But to do this... we need to know more."

She took a deep breath, her eyes sparkling with determination.

"We'll turn the palace over. Search everything, every corner of it. But we must find out what happened between my sisters – back on that dark day, six years ago."

To be continued...