(AN: Yes, dear ComingAndGoingByBubble, that shall be important in the story [maybe not this one, but later on].)

(Lol, I seem to be making a habit of coming up with a title for a chapter, not using it, then using it in the next chapter. [PS - I don't own Soul Calibur either, or anything from the previous cross-overs in this series to which I might make reference].)


Kiamo Ko Again

After leaving the swamps, Glinda made her way along the eastern side of the Great Kells, with the Vinkus River as a border. While she had been of little help out of Oz, she had learned at least a superficial knowledge of Oz's political geography. She knew that the Vinkus River would lead her, by and by, to the walls of Kiamo Ko, which was where she had intended to go. At the very most, it would take at least three or four days to arrive there on foot if she walked all day with no rests. She did not relish the thought of walking all day without any resting, especially all alone. But that could not be helped: Elphaba was gone and Fiyero and the others were in Maaptia (wherever that was, she had no idea).

At last, however, she became too tired to continue and rested on the edge of the foothills of the Great Kells. She had intended to rest very briefly and move on once she had caught her breath, but while she was resting, she removed the magically enlarged bag to inspect the tokens of her long lost friend. While she was rummaging through the bag, her hand came to rest on several things wrapped in smaller sacks of cloth. Taking them out, she saw that the red-haired Glinda had secretly packed into her bag food fit for a long journey on foot.

"Thank you, Glinda!" she said, then giggled by how silly that sounded.

There were salted meats, dried fruit and cheese and bread that would stay good for many days, and a small bottle of water. At first, hunger moved her to eat until she was full. But she remembered Xiba and how frequently they had run out of food by him eating it all at once. Therefore she ate only a little, and then the food was back in its pack. As she hefted it back onto her shoulders, she realized just how light it felt. It didn't feel as though it had a broom, a cloak and a very heavy book as well as the food.

But good food and rest could not change the fact that Glinda was still alone and missed her friends, all of whom were gone far beyond her reach. And her days, brought down already by their absence, was made worse by her own weariness and the grimness of a land in an autumn worse than any before. Whatever had brought this, she could not guess, but she feared that it might have something to do with what had happened in Oz lately. It made her sad, that her home, her beloved Oz, was becoming less and less...

Colorful.

At night, she slept curled up in Elphaba's cloak. Not out of choice, for just being near it, smelling the scent of bluesap oil, Elphaba's favorite washing oil, made her all the more sad to be so close to something of Elphaba's. She cried herself to sleep, wondering if she could ever find happiness, or peace at least, when all this was done. How could she find peace after she had seen so much bloodshed and destruction, when she had lost someone so close to her. Her dreams were filled with every dark, scary and terrible thing she had ever experienced since her path had crossed that of Elphaba Thropp, and she woke all shivering, covered in a cold sweat. Using the fire-spell, she created a small tongue of flame which hovered just a few feet above the ground which lasted all night: just why she did it, however, she had not the heart or words to articulate.


When the morning came, she was sleepy, achy and sore beyond belief. She longed to stay in bed, as mediocre as the patch of matted ground was that had served as her bed, and simply rest until she finally forgot about everything horrible that had ever happened to her. But that was not an option, not now and not here. She forced herself to wake, eating very frugally of what food she had before assaying herself once more to her journey, the horrible task which she had before her.

This day was very similar to the day before, with nothing but a grim solemnity fallen across the land. Already she could see the tops of the Great Kells looming on the edge of the western sky, her target growing ever closer. Soon it would all be over and then...where after that? She had no thought for the future, just as the others had when they had made their plans. Is this how it shall always be, she wondered. That we make plans with no care or concern for what might happen, and then all our plans go to phooey? But it didn't solve her problem: where would she go when this was all over? Back to Maaptia in disgrace, telling them that she had failed, that Elphaba had died in dishonor? No, that would destroy her memory worse than any lie the Wizard or Madam Morrible ever could have weaved. Wander Oz, just let life take her away, like a leaf caught up in a gale? No, for she knew that Oz was in trouble and she would be betraying Elphaba's memory if she did nothing.

For one moment, she considered a third option, one that was even more tempting than all the others, and that was to give up. She could do it. When she came to Kiamo Ko, sitting there, with the last mementos of Elphaba Thropp burning before her, she could do it quickly or slowly. Slowly in that she could just sit there, lying at their first and last parting place, and wait for the end, or quickly in that she could join the mementos in the flames. But that served no one and nothing, only her own pain. If she did that, those in Maaptia would never know what happened and those in Oz would live and die in a world that was neither wonderful nor safe. She could not choose her own satisfaction, not now.

That's what she did, Glinda thought, tears flowing down her eyes as she came to that realization. In the end.

At night, she created the fire again, but this time she knew why. The weather was cold and she shivered next to it, covering herself in Elphaba's cloak. She did not dream, though she thought she guessed that she saw once again the visions of her counterpart in this land.


By the third day, after a mirthless awakening and a meager breakfast, she turned once more her back to the rising sun. Now her journey became even more arduous, for she would be walking into the foothills of the Great Kells. She had left the river and soon would meet it again. One more crossing at a ford, which she had seen once or twice when flying over this land by bubble many years ago, and then follow the river straight to the door of the castle. Then, it would all be over.

It was about three in the afternoon on the third day when she saw the tops of the towers of Kiamo Ko, unique in its architecture in that its roofs were not domed like the rest of the buildings in Oz. Thither she went with all haste, despite her groaning joints, her aching back, the hunger in her body and the weariness upon her spirit. She had to make it to the gates, she just had to. Up the tall sides of the mountain she went, sometimes on her feet, other times crawling on her hands and knees, until at last she came to Kiamo Ko.

Well, Glinda, she said to herself, as she eyed the castle, standing black against the sandy-golden of the mountains. You've made it this far. Now for the final stretch, then it will all be over...in the end...

By this time in the year, even four in the afternoon was late, for the sun would set by seven, and it had taken her at least an hour climbing the mountain-sides to reach this place. Whatever betide, she could go no further once the sun set beyond the flat desert lands of the far Vinkus, the Badlands. Instead, she turned towards the castle. The gate was open and she walked through the door, trying hard not to remember all that was flooding back to her as she walked through.

She saw the walls, the horse-shoe that wrung in the courtyard of the castle just beyond the gate. Upon those parapets she had chased after Elphaba, trying in vain to talk her out of vengeance and into giving up her fight. After all, they were just shoes. She never really understood why they had been so blasted important. On the edge of the western wall, facing the setting sun, she had said her last goodbyes. Now she was climbing up a flight of stairs, so that she would get up to the level of the wall. Perilously close came she to the East Tower, where she knew Elphaba had spent her days looking out across Oz. Whether she sought out the oppressed Animals to offer them aid, or whether she spied on the workings of the Wizard, or whether her eyes were turned towards Munchkinland in concern for her sister Nessa, Glinda could not rightly guess. She went not into the East Tower, for she knew she could not leave once done. She would search it for something, anything, that would help her feel that she had achieved some sort of closure. Instead, she walked the length of the castle wall to the one place she dreaded going, her final destination on this journey of doom.

The North Tower, where Dorothy and her companions had been trapped by the castle guards, Vinkans "loyal" more or less to Elphaba. Here it had happened. She had seen it all from a side of the castle wall, where part of the keep came close to the north-western wall, opposite her current position. There the lights of the North Tower had danced upon the wall in that close corridor, there she had seen the last stand of the Wicked Witch of the West, and there, upon the floor of that dirty, musty old tower, she herself had collapsed in utter defeat, bewailing the loss of her beloved Elphaba, the one whose murder, though not as straight-forwardly orchestrated as with Nessa, she had nevertheless played an important role in its architecture.

Glinda knelt down at the spot once again, with head bowed in sorrow. She placed the bag on the floor, refusing to move the contents. She had decided at last: there would be no return journey. She got up to her feet, and held out her hands. Just one word more and the contents would burst into flames. She knew what would happen if she got too close: she knew it would be slow and very painful, but nothing, she dared, would be more painful than living with the pain in her heart.

Her hands were quivering as they loomed over the bag. She knew the word, she had used it many times to start fires for her fellows while camping on the hunt for the Sword, when flint and tinder had failed them. She knew it so well, she deemed that she could say it in her sleep: and she had, all the while during her trek through the swamp and her hopeless walk across Oz. She spoke the spell over so much that, when the time came, she would be certain that she could cast it and be done with this. And here she was, brought to the moment, and she could not speak that one, simple word.

She's gone, she told herself. I have to do this. But...I can't do this! I...I don't know, it feels like I shouldn't do this. But I have no choice, if I don't, her memory will haunt me forever. But I can't burn these...

"Why?!" she screamed out into the emptiness of the tower. "She's dead! There's no coming back, I have to do this!"

With tears in her eyes, she turned once more to her task, hands held out over the sack that held Elphaba's belongings: the broom, the cloak and the Grimmerie. But once again, she could not force herself to cast the fire spell. Something at the back of her mind was telling her that this was wrong, that she could not destroy them, not now.

Oh, why do I have all of this doubt? she said to herself, weeping outwardly. She's dead, I saw it happen, I caused it to happen. This needs to be done. But what if I'm wrong? But I can't be wrong, I saw her die right in front of my very eyes. Still, how do you know she's dead? Oh, if anyone should know, then I should...I mean, I killed her, so I should know, shouldn't I?

Into her mind came the memories of her talk with Jellia Jamb and of death and the afterlife. She had never believed any of this, hell, she had never even thought of this before. Death was something no one talked about, especially someone like Galinda Upland, who had such a love for life that she would not even think of death. But now she, Glinda the "Good", had to think about death, if only to end this nagging feeling of everything being incomplete.

Find the Ozmists? she asked herself. Spirits of the dead, haunting the north-west, near Ugabu. Perhaps I could find Elphie's spirit among them, and find some kind of closure. But where can I find them?


Morning found Glinda curled up in the keep of Kiamo Ko, which had once belonged to Fiyero's family and yet had rarely been used. She had raided the wood-shed and found some old fagots that were still dry and useable and with the fire spell, which she could now cast just as well as before she came here, she had made a roaring fire in the hearth and had at least one warm night after so long in the cold and weather. It was enough, just to keep out the cold and the sorrow for the night. Yet she was still sore when she woke up, and still alone, and the days were getting colder.

She removed Elphaba's cloak from the bag, wrapped it around her shoulders, then took up the bag once again and prepared to leave the castle. Where she would go, she did not know. All she could guess was that it would be somewhere in the north. But she would go, and that was all she had to go on, that she had to leave and head north, even if that was into the heart of chaos.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Glinda rose to her feet, one hand ready to do something to defend herself, though she didn't really know why. Slowly she ran to the door, ready to face whatever it was that had come.

"Who's there?" she said.

"An old woman and her servant," a voice called. "We're only passing by, could we come in out of the cold?"

Glinda lowered her hand, though she was still fearful. After all, as she had heard, Oz was not in the best of situations and she might just end up dead if she showed hospitality to the wrong person. Nevertheless, she came to the door and opened it up. Standing there was an old woman with gray hair and a faded violet dress that looked as though it had seen better days. With her was a young boy, thin and rather wimpy looking, even for one so young.

"Things are dangerous in Oz these days," the old woman stated. "Kindness can often lead to death, Glinda."

"You know my name?" the young blond asked suspiciously.

"Of course I know your name!" scoffed the old woman. "Your face is on every street corner in Gilikin! You're about as wanted as anyone in Oz."

"Thank you for letting us stay here," the little boy said.

"You're very welcome," Glinda replied.

"Don't listen to him," the old woman said, cuffing the boy on the back of his head. "He's a chronic idiot."

"Um, I have some food, if you'd like to have some."

"Never take anything from a stranger," the old woman replied. "It could be poisoned."

"I'd like something," the boy said, walking towards Glinda. When he was nigh, he whispered. "Don't listen to her, she's a mean old witch who keeps me locked up as her servant."

"How terrible!" Glinda pouted, as she rummaged through her bag for something to give to the young lad. "What do your mother and father say?"

"Don't have 'em."

"Any other family?"

"Old Mombi's the old family I have," the boy replied, as Glinda handed him a loaf of bread and some cheese.

"Yes, give him the poisoned food," grumbled the old woman. "Then leave an old woman to do all of her chores all by herself."

"Is she always like that?"

"All the time."

Glinda let the boy eat, then brought the bag over to the old woman and offered her anything. But she was staunch in her distrust of Glinda, even though she had opened up the castle door to them. So silence fell between the two of them for a lot of time.

"What brings you out here?" Glinda asked.

"Is this your castle? You sure do manage the place poorly."

"It's not mine," Glinda replied. "It's...someone else's."

"Well, the drawbridge was down and so I assumed no one was here," the old woman stated.

"Where did you say you were from?"

"What, is this an interrogation?" grumbled the old woman. "I'm over five hundred years old, haven't I earned a little bit of freedom from nagging and stupid questions?"

"I just thought I heard Gilikin," Glinda stated. "I'm from up there, as you've probably guessed by now."

"It's not safe to let on where you're from, or who you are, for that matter," the old woman stated. "You'll doubtless be joining the Ozmists before long with that kind of blind trust in everyone and everything."

Glinda's ears suddenly perked up. "The Ozmists?"

"Yeah, those ghosts wandering the Great Gilikin Forest," the old woman replied. "Oz, woman, what do they teach people these days!"

"You're saying they're...real?" she shivered even as the words were coming out of her mouth.

"As real as anything," the old woman said. "Anyway, I think you're crazy. Only someone with nothing to lose goes in search of the dead."

"Maybe I have nothing to lose?"

"Come on, Tip!" ordered the old woman. "Help me to my feet, we're leaving. This girlie is crazier than a dodo!"

"Thank you for the food, lady," the child said as they made their way back out of the keep.

Glinda, meanwhile, looked after them as they left. Though she had no clue as to how she would get across the Lowlands of Gilikin to the Great Gilikin Forest, she now had someplace to go, another destination. She would be traveling alone, as before, but now she knew what she had to do. She didn't know why she had to go there, or even if it was all that important. Elphaba was dead, and yet Glinda knew that she had to go north, if this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach were ever to come to an end.


(AN: And as I said, I had originally used another name for this chapter, but changed it. Hopefully I'll have that title used in the next chapter.)

(Thank you once again, ComingAndGoingByBubble, for your dedicated reviews. Don't stop now, please [and, perhaps, while you're waiting for me to get more updates, read the other stories in the series :D]. It's just about to get interesting.)