AN: Despite continued brevity, there's a bit more forward motion after this chapter. Bear with me.^_^;;
13, the Month of the Dragon, 22 Post Ozma
Oh Oz, what have we done?
Glinda, forgive me.
OZ
The vast emptiness of Kiamo Ko echoed Glinda's footsteps. She shivered from cold and damp and drew her shawl about herself. Her clothing was plain, so as to attract no attention—vastly different from the dazzling garb she had worn in public, appearing smiling at the celebration. All of Oz had worn itself to a stupor with festivities. Glinda observed their zeal with reserve and supported the people, as she must. Then, when the music died down and the drinks had been drained, she had taken herself away, returned to the place of the melting. She returned and knelt as she had a year before, tears shed shamelessly for the pain that had failed to fade.
Elphie! Glinda sobbed into her hands. She heard the soft patter of Chistery's steps on the stone, but she did not turn. Nor did he approach to comfort her. He said nothing and did not touch her, but he too shuddered with grief.
In a trembling moment, Glinda thought she felt the presence of her friend, heard the echo of her voice in their last moments. Of that moment she had nothing left but the Grimmerie. The bottle had been taken by the Wizard, and the hat had been left and since disappeared—perhaps taken by curious pranksters or thieves and paraded for cheap show. She had no way to know these things. But the Grimmerie remained, given and kept and treasured. Not understood but necessary, and she did not know what to do with it—her fate became no clearer in its tantalizing text. Neither did her past, Elphaba's wishes or the choices she'd made, the moments lost and bridges crossed and burned to cinder.
Glinda breathed and steadied herself, gazing into the high stone ceiling, thinking of the cries that had reverberated from every surface. The fortifications of the castle had not protected the haven from the mob's approach. Magic and clairvoyance had not protected Elphaba from Dorothy's cast.
That bucket, Glinda still did not understand. Such a silly rumor—one Fiyero had scoffed at. Yet she'd heard her friend's screams and seen the shadows of the fight, tucked away to save herself as Elphaba had wished. And then her Elphie was gone.
Glinda wept quietly, and she rose. Tears and regrets would not reanimate the past. She would mourn—but she would face the future as well. Such was her legacy, her curse. For her cowardice and vanity, for her success and accomplishments, she was punished with the power for good Elphaba for which had striven in every noble manner. Glinda had earned her mantle. She must bear the ills of Oz and change them for the good. Alone.
Chistery moved to Glinda's side when her gaze turned to him. "We should go," she said, voice steady, and he took her hand.
Ghosts stirred in Kiomo Ko and followed them out.
