A/N: Ladies and Gentlemen, words cannot express just how awed I was by the response I got from you last week; quite apart from smashing my usual record of reviews-per-chapter, you provided such an amazing wealth of theories and praise that I'm still marvelling at it all. I'll do my best to credit you for these wondrous reviews, and with any luck, this week's chapter will be up to standard - though it will be quite a bit shorter than the last, I admit, and it mainly serves as another little springboard into the events of the next few chapter.

To the Sleuth Guest: I was very happy that the twists in the last chapter kept you guessing; hopefully, I'll be able to eventually provide some answers for the questions I've raised, but for the moment I'm just glad that you find the intricacy of the plot a good thing. Thank you so much!

To Nami Swann: I know, plot twists are becoming something of a forte for me, as are all the grisly details - though with a little effort, I'll be able to expand my repertoire. There probably won't be too many earth-shattering revelations in this chapter (I'm saving them for the next flashback. BWAHAHAHA!)

To RandomGuest: Though I'm currently only writing fanfiction, I am thinking of turning my hobby into an actual career; as always, the trick is finding out exactly how. Glad the characters seem plausible and appropriately creepy - though as far as the Empress and the Mentor go, I like to think that just about everyone in this dimension is at least partly insane by default: it's a bit like Alice In Wonderland, in that respect; "We're all mad here," and so forth. By the way, I love your theories: they proved both intriguing and surprising... but once again, I can't reveal their accuracy. Rest assured, the secrets will be revealed soon...

To Ichibayashi: It's very rare to be told that my story delivers exactly the kind of thrill a reader wants from a fanfic, and even rarer delight to be told that the story is without compare. Your review was absolutely beautiful if I might say so, and though I'm still amazed by the fact that I actually have fans, I appreciate your support.

And finally, to Marcus S Lazarus: Your review was a wonderful appraisal of my story so far; I'm very glad that I've provided both an intriguing look at alternate histories and a subversion of standard villain fare. I particularly liked your analysis of the Empress's madness and tyranny - the "perverse fascism" line struck a chord, I have to say. As for Dorothy's companions, I'll be giving them some focus very soon; hopefully, it'll be suitably balanced alongside the stories of Elphaba, Glinda, Dorothy, the war between Unbridled Radiance and the Deviant Nations, and the flashbacks. As always, you'll have to be the judge.

So, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen: the latest chapter! Read, review, and above all, enjoy!

That morning, as the servants were rousing the guests from sleep, Dr Kiln left his cavernous laboratory and began a long slow march from the upper levels of the palace to the ground floor kitchens, a tiny jar of silvery grey powder tucked into one of the pockets of his coat.

With most of the inhabitants either hard at work or only just awakening, almost nobody noticed him descending the stairs; the few who did thought nothing particularly odd about it: Kiln was legendary for his absent-minded wanderings along the corridors and stairwells of his residences, sometimes even temporarily grafting suction cups or grappling claws to his body in an attempt to ramble along the crumbling battlements of a ruined castle. Besides, these walks were usually a sign that he was lost in thought, pondering the solution to a particularly difficult problem, so nobody disturbed him unless it was an emergency. Had any of them looked closely at him, they might have noticed that Kiln had a much more purposeful stride than usual, and his expression far too intent to be mistaken for the contemplative frown he usually wore; of course, none of them would have been able to guess what he was really about to do…

Entering the kitchens through a rarely-used side entrance, Kiln positioned himself just out of view behind one of the furthermost shelves; then, for the next ten minutes, he waited as the kitchen staff went about preparing the morning breakfasts, paying close attention to each order announced by the waiters. Thankfully, most of the palace residents preferred to eat their meals in their rooms these days, otherwise there might have been a great deal more difficulty in what was to happen next.

As he waited, he kept one ear on the announced orders while he left his mind focus on other things: tendril-like fingers swirling in lazy patterns through the greasy kitchen air, he absently charted the next possible step in his experimentation, slowly picturing how the new augmentation might play out when he finally had the time to implement it. He thought of his appointments for the day, about his interviews with the Mentor and her younger counterpart, the special appearance he was to make at the Chapter Temple this morning, and the work he was to perform there. Finally, Kiln thought back to the member of the Amorphous League still comatose in hospital, and wondered what insights this Omber Landless might have to offer if s/he ever awoke – and if not, what insights the ex-shapeshifter's corpse might have to offer. Perhaps he should make a few preliminary observations in the evening, just to see how the league-member's chances of recovering were.

Then, at long last, the order arrived: bacon and eggs for Glinda, buttered toast for Elphaba – with a beverage order of orange juice for the former and black coffee for the latter. In which case, Kiln thought, best choice for concealment would have to be the drink. I only hope they don't spill it on the way to their room.

He waited a little while longer until the meal was prepared and the dumbwaiter loaded; then, reaching out just far enough into the open for the head chef to see his hands, he made a complicated series of hand-gestures and signals, his fingers moving in physically improbable directions. Pausing only to receive a reply from the chef, he then drew the jar from his pocket and strolled leisurely across the room – everyone averting their eyes as he passed – towards the tray sitting on the open dumbwaiter.

As promised, along with the two plates and Glinda's choice of beverage, there was a steaming mug of coffee waiting there.

Kiln took a deep breath to steel himself, and then tipped the jar into the coffee.

"That was weird. Very, very weird."

Elphaba blearily looked up from the notepad in front of her and peered across the table at Glinda. Though medical treatment, showering and a good night's sleep had managed to chisel away most of the immediate effects of her time in Unbridled Radiance, she clearly still had a long recovery ahead of her: the usual bright and excitable look on her face was now muddied by a palpable look of uncertainty, and everything about her posture seemed listless and morose – almost slumped with depression. Even her skin appeared pallid and unhealthy, and the fact that she hadn't had a chance to apply the usual bevvy of cosmetics yet didn't help at all.

"I take it you're talking about the dreams?" Elphaba replied at last.

"Hmm. It's not just what I saw back there, mind you: it's the time that passed in there; we went through – what? – Nearly two whole years of dream time in eight or nine hours. It just… felt so real."

"Technically, it was real, Glinda; what we saw were real memories, don't forget."

"I know, but… it didn't feel like a dream at all. When I usually dream, it usually feels hazy and all over the place when I look back on it. But these dream memories actually felt like something that happened to me in the real world-"

"-and in a manner of speaking, they did. So, what was your other self up to during this "Plague of Transformations" business?"

"Pretty much what you'd expect: for most of it I'm just a spectator, and if I do have anything to contributiate, it's worth absolutely nothing." She shrugged sadly. "Typically me, isn't it?"

Elphaba sighed exasperatedly. "Glinda, let's ignore the fact that it technically wasn't you for a minute, and just focus on the fact that you're tormenting yourself for no good reason: just because you froze during a crisis doesn't make you a bad person. Lots of people do that; I've done that. Plus, you helped carry Branderstove to the pool, so you did contribute something."

"And at the time, I was taking orders from you. You didn't freeze: you were the hero of the day – you saved Branderstove's life! Well, your other self did."

"I…" Here, Elphaba could only bite her lip in something akin to embarrassment. "Um… I really wouldn't be so sure of that," she mumbled.

There was an awkward silence as the implications of that remark gently settled in; very slowly, Glinda's jaw dropped open in disbelief. "You mean it was you?!" she gasped. "You started the Plague - I mean, your other self – the Empress, whatever we're calling her… I mean, you did all that?"

Elphaba nodded solemnly.

"But how? Why?"

"The how was revealed very early on. Apparently, there were a lot of Animal professionals left unemployed even after they were released from the re-education camps – chemists, engineers, architects, even a few magicians. My other self was able to track them down through departmental records and recruit them with the promise a chance to bring down the Wizard and repeal the anti-Animal laws; from what I can work out, their main job was to develop and build magical weaponry – one of which was the Plague of Transformations, or least the gas that caused it. She also had most of the Animal servants in the palace working for her at the time, so getting her targets exposed to both the gas and the fluid that triggered the transformation wouldn't have been too difficult. Plus, she also had the allegiance of the Flying Monkeys, so she had an easy way of keeping the guards distracted from noticing any evidence against her. As for the why, the future Empress made it clear that the Plague was meant to discredit the Wizard and his government, maybe even to foment rebellion... but there's something I'm not seeing just yet. I'm not entirely sure what the endgame is, or why my other self turned this sabotage into the start of a beauty-obsessed empire."

"You mean she hasn't started thinking that way yet?"

"No, not yet: from what I've seen of her thought processes, she certainly seemed more ruthless than me and there were moments where she found herself thinking in ways that didn't make sense to her, but nothing that hints at where she was headed. Or," Elphaba added, "the Great Mentor's current perceptions of her."

"Sorry?"

"The Great Mentor told me that in this universe, her Elphaba died on the operating table while being made normal, and the Empress is just some kind of parasite inhabiting her body. But if it's not really the other me ruling Unbridled Radiance, why am I still able to dream her memories? If the Other Elphaba really did die, then why didn't the memories just stop?"

Glinda thought for a moment. "Maybe you're dreaming the parasite's memories," she suggested. "Maybe there's this… weird squiggly wormy thing curled around your other self's brain, keeping the heart beating and so on even after she died. But because they're so closely linked, the other Elphaba's memories have gotten mixed up with those of this parasitey thing."

"That's actually pretty clever."

"Thanks."

"… but if the perspective had switched from an alternate version of me to a "weird squiggly wormy thing", don't you think the memories would point that out?"

Glinda opened her mouth to reply, and then immediately shut it again. "I'll get back to you on that," she said at last.

At that moment, the doorbell chimed and the room service cart trundled into the room; once the operating servant had gently deposited their breakfasts and beverages in front of them, he handed placed a dark red folder in the centre of the table, bowed, and left without a word. Glinda immediately dug in, much to Elphaba's relief: the recovery process might have a long way to go yet, but at least Glinda wasn't starving herself. For her part, Elphaba was content to absently chew on a bit of toast as she studied the contents of the folder.

"Well, it looks like our benevolent masters have finally issued their first commands," she mused aloud.

"Hmm?"

"The Mentor's given me a list of chores, for lack of a better word: I'm to take note of everything that I dreamed of last night– which I've just done, by the way -, continue learning new magical techniques, and take regular exercise of both the physical and magical variety. And I've been formally invited to an 11 o'clock meeting at the…" She squinted. "At the Irredeemables Chapter Temple in Mutability Plaza."

"The what?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Oh wait, they've included a note here: apparently, the Chapter Temple's just meant to be the headquarters for the Irredeemables based in this city. And they want me there for some kind of mission briefing or something like that. In other words, there's not much chance of me be able to say no to this."

"So you're really going along with the Mentor's plans?"

"Well, in all honesty we don't have much of a choice: turning the tide looks like the only way we'll ever find one of these dimensional portals and get home again."

"Elphie, you're still a wanted outlaw in Oz. And you were considering staying behind to-"

"I know. But you aren't; you've still got a life to return to, and as horrible as Oz can be at times, it's still a lot better than a war zone. Plus, seeing Unbridled Radiance destroy this country doesn't strike me as something I'd like to be witness to. So yes, I'll be playing along with the Mentor for the time being." She smiled. "Who knows? Maybe we can earn an army of our own and bring it with us when we finally return to Oz."

Glinda laughed – briefly, but just enough to bolster Elphaba's spirits. Then, sobering, she asked "Do you think the Mentor would allow me to tag along on this meeting? I'm actually a bit curious about what this city's really like, and I don't know much about the Irredeemables except what you and the Mentor's told me. And… um…" She blushed. "I wouldn't mind doing a little shopping while we're town, if there's time."

Now it was Elphaba's turn to laugh. "The more, the merrier," she chuckled.

There was the creak of a door swinging open, and a familiar voice said, "Can I come too? I'd like to see the city as well."

Elphaba knew long before she turned around that the speaker could only be Dorothy, but seeing her dressed and ready to go still came as something of a surprise. After all, less than a day or two ago, the girl wouldn't have even imagined being in the same room as her, let alone following her on this shopping trip/business meeting hybrid. In the end, she could only offer a bemused smile, and said, "Why not? It's not as if you get this sort of opportunity every day, is it?"

And with that, she took a celebratory gulp of coffee.

It tasted a little odd, but at least it provided an invigorating dose of caffeine – perhaps a little more invigorating than usual…

Once the Mentor had been informed that the other two of her newest guests wanted to leave the palace as well, she was quick to provide them with an escort consisting (yet again) of Vara and Harker. This time, they wouldn't be travelling by airship, as Mutability Plaza was just under an hour's walk from the palace, and because their route took them through what was reportedly one of the busiest districts in town, the Mentor reasoned that they'd need guides. Dorothy, who'd already suffered one panic attack over getting lost in a marketplace back in Kansas, privately agreed.

Dr Kiln, who apparently had business at the Chapter Temple as well, also tagged along. As they emerged onto the statue-bordered main staircase of the palace and began the slow descent towards the front gate, Elphaba fell into step beside the spindly mage-surgeon and quickly lapsed into whispered conversation; most of it was too low to be heard, even with the spectacular echo to the stairwell (which felt more like an overdecorated mineshaft than anything else) but from time to time, Elphaba would indicate the notebook she was carrying and draw Kiln's attention to a particular page – so she was probably talking about last night's dream memories. Dorothy couldn't blame her: she'd had her own recollections to think on; even if her other self hadn't been experiencing weird visions and dreams, she still would have been bowled over by the experience if only for the fact that that she'd somehow spent two whole years in a dream that lasted less than an evening. She'd even celebrated her eleventh birthday in the dream, something that wasn't due to happen in the real world for another few months.

But with Dorothy effectively locked out of the conversation and not wanting to distract herself with thoughts of the dream-memories for the rest of the morning, it didn't take long for her to notice that Glinda was starting to fall behind. Pale, unsmiling and dressed in a plain blue skirt and blouse, she looked a shadow of her usual bubbly self; the glassy, horizon-focussed stare she'd lapsed into only made it all the more blatant. Suddenly unable to cope with the silence, Dorothy fell into step beside her and murmured a polite "good morning."

It took almost half a minute for Glinda to respond, for she seemed to have forgotten where she was. "Sorry about that, Dorothy," she mumbled at last. "Miles away back there. Um, how are you this morning?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were friends with Elphaba?"

As soon as she said those words, Dorothy immediately wished she could un-say them; from the looks of things, Glinda hardly needed anything else on her mind what with the state she was in this morning. In fact, Dorothy hadn't even meant to say anything about the friendship between the two of them, but she'd been thinking so much about it in the hours since she'd learned the truth that the question had just tumbled out of her mouth the second she'd opened it.

Glinda could only blush. "… I… um. Well, you see, I'd just met you and I was still working for the Wizard at the time; I had to lie about knowing Elphaba – Morrible and the Wizard didn't want me saying or doing anything that could hurt my popularity, and being connected with her in any way could ruin you." She offered a rueful smile. "I was pretty much under their thumb back then. Besides, Elphie didn't just tell people about the two of us back when she was still fighting against the Wizard – that would have endangerified the both of us. I mean, she didn't admit that we were friends while you two were sharing a cell, did she?"

Dorothy shook her head, hoping to smooth things over as quickly as possible; unfortunately, the expression on her face must have given something away, because Glinda looked even more miserable than before. "She did? She actually told you?"

"Not entirely," Dorothy reassured her. "I mean, she didn't actually use your name or describe what you looked like, but she did mention a friend who was stranded in Unbridled Radiance."

"Oh. Did she say anything apart from that?"

"Only that you started out hating each other before you became friends… and that you were the one who gave her that hat." She pointed at the battered collection of stitches and black cloth perched atop Elphaba's head.

Glinda winced, a look of mild embarrassment arcing across her face. "Did she say where I got it?"

"No. All she said was that it was the only thing she had to remember you by."

As she said those words, Dorothy thought back to what she'd said in that conversation, and – suddenly terrified that it might have been left behind in the old apartment – quickly checked for the family photograph; finding it tucked away in its usual corner of her left hip pocket, she breathed a sigh of relief… only to feel a distant stab of guilt as she remembered the Ruby Slippers. One day I'll get them back, she vowed silently. It might take weeks to find where they're hidden, but I'll get them back… somehow.

Out loud, she added, "There was one other thing she told me about: she said that the two of you were the closest of friends up until she took a path you couldn't follow."

If anything, Glinda looked even more miserable. "Kinder words than I deserved," she muttered.

"What?"

"Elphaba didn't take a path I couldn't follow, Dorothy; she took a path I didn't want to follow. She wanted to fly off, fight for Animal Rights and bring down the Wizard; I wanted to stay behind and have a career in the Emerald City. And that career, by the way, was spent defending a fraud – because the Wizard doesn't have any powers, just an awful lot of parlour tricks and machines – and living in luxuriation while Elphie was trying to save Animals all over Oz. And I had to lie about her at every turn! I lied about her motives, I lied about who she really was, I lied about what she'd do to the people of Oz if she ever got the chance, I lied that the Wizard would be able to protect them, and I even…" She stopped, and seemed to sag. "Well, it wasn't enough that I had to deny that I'd ever been her friend," she said quietly. "The Wizard had me pretending that we'd always been enemies, too… and for a while, we came close to being exactly that."

There was a long and awkward silence, broken only by the faint whispering of Elphaba and Kiln.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Glinda said at last. "I know admitting that I was wrong doesn't just make everything automatically better, but-"

"It's alright; I'm not angry or anything like that." An idea struck Dorothy, and she added, "But I wouldn't mind knowing what was really happening in Oz."

Glinda was opening her mouth to reply, the tiniest hint of a hopeful smile emerging from her gloomy expression, when a loud metallic thud echoed from somewhere up ahead. Turning a corner, they saw immediately that they were now descending into the palace's cavernous entrance hall; though the lack of windows and sparse lighting made it difficult to determine what was going on, Dorothy eventually saw the clusters of machinery at the far end of the chamber, just past the heavily guarded security checkpoint, and finally realized what it was that she'd heard: the thud had been the sound of the mechanical locks on the huge double doors unfastening and sliding back into the wall. A moment later, the dimly-lit hall was filled with the whirring of gears and pulleys as complicated machinery slowly dragged the solid iron gateway open with a sound not unlike thunder. Then, daylight streamed into the room, flooding every corner of the room with dazzling illumination and leaving the six of them temporarily blinded.

When they could finally see again, they were unceremoniously escorted through the security checkpoint and out onto the doorstep… and for the next few seconds, Dorothy could only stare at the spectacle unfolding just a few hundred yards away: past the doorstep, past the short flight of stairs, past the perimeter wall and the patrolling soldiers, lay the city of Greenspectre. Seeing it from the air had been amazing, but viewing it from the ground was another story altogether: every single tower, monolith, monument and dome now seemed a thousand times larger than before; statues that had once seemed no bigger than dolls now appeared tall enough to touch the clouds with outstretched hands; the miniscule commerce districts now seemed an endless maze of looming four-story buildings and narrow, winding streets; and as for the Smogeaters, they now looked more like hovering monsters waiting to snatch unsuspecting prey from the crowd below, a far cry from the harmless balloon-like creatures she'd seen from the air.

Even the Emerald City hadn't felt quite so awe-inspiring when she'd first seen it. But then again, for all its pomp and splendour, it had still been a very orderly city: it had been designed to be orderly, it had been built in an orderly fashion, and it been meant for orderly and thoroughly ordinary people – or as ordinary as you could expect from the Land of Oz. Greenspectre, by comparison, was a mad patchwork of different styles and designs, a city built by rebels and misfits for anyone who wouldn't bend the knee to Unbridled Radiance; plus, several of the buildings had been teleported from the Emerald City before its untimely destruction and rebirth as Exemplar, which only made the picture even more bewildering. And of course, none of the towns and cities that Dorothy had visited on her way through Oz had ever displayed street traffic quite like Greenspectre's: none of those streets had ever featured horseless carriages and floating wagons, or wandering parties of animal-featured Irredeemables, and certainly not the whale-like bulks of airships filling the sky above them.

Looking out at the chaos and confusion unfolding below, Glinda could only blink and mumble, "I think we might have to leave the explanatifications until later, Dorothy."

"Agreed," said Dorothy numbly.

And that was that.

"Noble sirs, noble ladies, sample my wares! Fine clothing, anything from silk to sackcloth, all for your perusal and delight!"

"Today we have a special on copper mage-trinkets and wands!"

"Greenspectre Armoury, for all your weapons and defence needs! We specialize in repairs and modifications ladies and gents, so bring your damaged weapons to us and get them back a millions times better than ever before!

"Bilk's Basement of Books, now boasting the largest stock in all of Greenspectre! Come to Bilk's Basement of Books – we've got everything from fiction to non-fiction, from technical manuals to spellbooks absolutely guaranteed! Come one come all to Bilk's Basement of Books!"

"Balefire Puddings! Hand-made Balefire Puddings, get them while they're hot! We've got all the colours of the rainbow on display in these flames, and every single flavour of insanity: blue for acute melancholia! Red for all-consuming rage! Black for solipsistic nihilism! Purple for disassociated identities! Try Balefire Puddings today, only at Roriga's Confections!"

Elphaba could only politely shake her head and hurry onwards through the throng of barkers and merchants, trying at all times to keep Kiln's gleaming bald head in sight. Behind her, Dorothy and Glinda were also struggling to keep up; thankfully, Vara and Harker were doing their best to prevent the two of them from being swept away by the flow of pedestrians, and apparently being an Irredeemable carried quite a bit of weight among the locals, because the crowd all but parted to make way for them – except of course for the salespeople, who didn't budge for anyone.

More often than not, Elphaba herself was mistaken for one of the Irredeemables, and along with seeing the multitudes hurry to let her pass, she also found herself bumping into people who wanted to either ask for advice on joining the Irredeemables, people who wanted to sell her gear that would work "perfectly" with whatever augmentations she possessed, and some who just wanted to praise her bravery… and while Elphaba wasn't entire sure how she was supposed to respond to any of this, but she couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit flattered by all the attention.

This was a commerce district, a market neighbourhood housing everything from established businesses with buildings and employees of their own to itinerant one-man stalls confined to the teaming streets. The street they were currently wading through was no exception: closed off to road traffic, the very middle of it was dominated by a long line of stalls and cubicles, all of them crowded with customers and merchants alike; bordering the road were the actual shops, recognizable by the eye-catching displays in their polished windows and the neatly-dressed barkers standing outside, hollering for the crowd's attention through megaphones. They were all in competition, not only with each other, not only with their much-less established counterparts among the stalls, but also with the musicians scattered across the street and struggling to make themselves heard over the din of voices: sometimes, a tune would emerge from the din, a brief snatch of music on an instrument loud enough to make it over the chorus of voices; even rarer were the times when a jolt of magic amplified the sound, and a true melody echoed loud enough to ignite the nerves and tingle the skin. And keeping order amidst the mercantile insanity and the shameless competition was a small army of guards, all of them closely watching the stalls for any sign of violence or a less-than-legitimate deal in process: every so often, Elphaba would see one of them lunge forward and ask to see the contents of a stall, drag an unruly drunk off the street, or handcuff a pickpocket.

In fact, the only thing more pervasive than guards and stalls were the smells; because this was a place where fish could be sold alongside perfume and confectioners had shops next-door to taxidermists, the smells were almost beyond description: one minute, there'd be the vinegary odour of human sweat cooking beneath the midmorning sun; then there'd be an overpowering fragrance rolling down the street from the florists; then a tantalizing aroma of roasting meat from one of the vendors, mixed with a cloying savoury sauce; once or twice, there'd even be the subtle whiff of dust old books, before it was overtaken by the harsh chemical stench of an alchemist displaying his wares. Chocolate, red-hot metal, tobacco fresh and smoked, frying onions, butchered entrails, alcohol at once sweet and nose-stinging, fresh-baked bread, spilled perfume, human vomit, and rotten fruit… and above it all, the energising spark of magic at work.

"The city's recovered fast considering it was only bombed a few nights ago," Elphaba bellowed conversationally.

"Oh yes," Yara roared back. "We're well used to bombardments by now, and so are the construction mages; they've gotten quick repair work down to a fine art. Plus, we're still at the beginning of this latest upsurge in the conflict, so trade and entertainment are still going strong. It won't stay that way forever, though: as the weeks go by and the attacks come faster and stronger, you'll see less fun and more repairs, more emergency services, more anti-aircraft guns. I think you've paid a visit at exactly the right time, truth be told."

According to Vara, it was possible to find just about anything here, legal or otherwise: if you knew where to look, you could very easily obtain spellbooks, firearms, alchemical concoctions that actually worked, and even mercenary contracts if you were so inclined. This was one of the – if not the – foremost hubs of commerce in Greenspectre, and goods were being brought in (either by airship or bulk teleportation) from every single corner of the Deviant Nations, along with quite a few of their neighbouring allies.

Looking around at the people swarming across the district, Elphaba didn't find this too hard to believe: in all her life, she'd never seen such a wildly-differing collection of people in such wildly-differing attires – almost as if Greenspectre's crazy patchwork of designs attracted visitors just as varied. Across the crowd, fashions ranged from the nonsensically fancy to the harshly practical: tailored suits and exquisite dresses mixed freely with boiler suits and grimy overalls; military uniforms studded with medals rubbed elbows with improvised jumbles of armour-plating and tattered clothing; stovepipe hats, toppers, monocles, bonnets and other expensive headgear merged crazily with aviator goggles, skullcaps, mechanized helmets and hair dyed eye-searing colours; magic-shrouded shapes in hooded robes with hand-concealing sleeves chatted openly with men and women almost naked except for the tattoos that layered their skin from head to toe… and among this multitude of people, the distinctive figures of Irredeemables and mage-surgeons went about their own mysterious business.

Elphaba wasn't the only one of the group almost paralysed by the sights and sounds around her either: looking over her shoulder, she could tell that Glinda and Dorothy were almost as astonished; Dorothy had stopped dead and would have been lost in the crowd had Vara not taken her by the hand and towed her on through the marketplace; as for Glinda, she was clearly drawing upon every last reserve of willpower in her body just keep herself from breaking ranks and charging towards the nearest clothing shop – much to Kiln's evident amusement.

An idea struck her, and she elbowed her way through the crowd until she was almost next to Kiln once again. "Stupid question," she shouted over the roar of the crowd, "But if you're supposed to be the Great Mentor's personal physician, then why aren't you by her bedside right now?"

"She doesn't need me at all hours of the day," Kiln shouted back. "Believe it or not, she hasn't required constant care for the better part of five years; generally she only needs my help if there's a high-stress situation to deal with, and if there is, I have a countermeasure in place to ensure that I can be there in a matter of seconds."

"In other words, you've got a personal teleportation spell memorized."

"You said it, not me. Plus, the Chapter Temple specifically requested my presence as well, so that's a good indication that it's a special occasion. Oh, speaking of which, just around this corner…"

Swerving to the left, Kiln ushered them hurriedly off the clogged market concourse and down an alleyway; after spending a hurried few seconds dodging puddles of worrying fluid and elbowing past surprised-looking figures in trench-coats, they emerged into a much-less populated street. From there they walked for perhaps five more minutes past the quiet, respectable-looking storefronts and houses, before finally arriving – toes bruised and ears ringing – into the vast expanse of Mutability Plaza.

Here, the buildings were much taller than before, the elegant marble houses that bordered the plaza more akin to undersized castles than anything else; as if to match their size, the plaza itself looked more than wide enough to happily encompass a good-sized airship or three had the fountains and statues gotten in the way of its landing. It was perhaps for the sheer scale of the place that the traffic seemed so sparse compared to the market concourse a few streets back: despite the apparent emptiness there were perhaps a few hundred people on the street, either travelling from one end or the other, knocking on doors or just sightseeing… and there was quite a few sights to see here apart from the fortress-like houses.

Chief among those sights was a huge statue right in the middle of the plaza: thirty feet tall and made of brass, it depicted a man clad in tattered robes and the crumpled remains of a suit of armour; one hand held an axe across his chest, while other was hosted high in the air in a furious show of defiance – revealing his entire left hand had been sculpted into a single razor-sharp blade. And while his face appeared relatively normal apart from the determined scowl it wore, his scalp was a mass of prehensile tentacles, all of them curling around his shoulders like vipers ready to lash out at an unseen enemy. In Honour of Lubreck the Unbowed, a plaque at the bottom of the statue's plinth read. He who stood before the Radiant Empress and did not surrender his form to tyranny.

"Was he one of the first Irredeemables or something?" Glinda asked.

Vara opened her mouth to explain, but Kiln beat her to it. "One of my earlier works," he said dryly. "He was a lot less dramatic in person, believe me. This way, if you will."

A few feet behind the statue, fenced off by a wrought-iron fence and gates, stood the Chapter Temple; for once, Elphaba didn't need to have this particular building identified for her, for on top of being the largest structure in the plaza, its front wall was dominated by a circular pane of stained-glass depicting the Deviant Nation's emblem – the red fist crushing the golden mask. The temple itself was built like a cathedral, its high walls of rough black stone dotted with hundreds of arched windows and leering gargoyles (or possibly enshrined Irredeemables, it was hard to tell), the towers surrounding the main building supported by flying buttresses, and its roof crowned with at least a dozen needle-sharp spires and steeples. And by the wide arched entrance just beneath the stained-glass window, four Irredeemable guards stood in attendance, surveying passers-by with piercing compound eyes.

The guards waved them past without a second look in their direction, allowing a small retinue of cloaked acolytes to usher them into the temple and into a dimly-lit chamber cluttered with looming statuary and tinted red and gold from the window overhead. There, another round of Irredeemable security guards went about checking the visitors for concealed weaponry, before officially greeting them on behalf of the Chapter Master.

"Thank you for the welcome," said Elphaba uncertainly. "But where is this meeting supposed to be taking place?"

"The meeting will not be until after your initiation, Miss Elphaba," said the security chief.

"… I'm sorry, what?"

Kiln offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," he whispered, "But I was specifically instructed not to fill you in until we were at the temple: the Mentor's only just come to an agreement with the Chapter Master over this and we didn't want to make any further waves, but apparently you're a top candidate for induction into the Irredeemables. Ever since you helped capture that airship, you've been considered impressive material by those in the know."

"Oh. Does this mean I'm going to have to be altered? Is that why you're here today?"

"No, no: you're already vastly different from the norm, so you're only to be made an honorary member of the Irredeemables - no alterations unless you really want to take that next step up. As for what I'm doing here, I've got work to do on the volunteers due to be altered for the next round of initiation ceremonies tomorrow morning; I've been asked to do some special work on them, because they're the soldiers you'll be leading into battle."

"What?"

"That's the other reason you're being declared a member of this Order, Elphaba: this is the simplest and most elegant means of allowing you to be accepted into the armies of the Deviant Nations without having to deal with the bureaucratic complications of allowing a foreigner with a classified identity into the army. This way, you'll be able to work on behalf of the Mentor and you'll have the authority to command armies if the situation requires."

"But when is this initiation going to happen, anyway? What am I supposed to do? How-"

"Just relax- it's going to fine. You've got twenty minutes until the ceremony begins: just let the acolytes polish you up, follow the script, and put on a good show for the watchers in the gallery – including Glinda and Dorothy, I might add." He offered a ghastly smile. "Remember, you're only being set up as an honorary member, so the initiation rites are already half-finished: it'll be over in a matter of seconds."

And with that, he hurried away.

For the next fifteen minutes, Elphaba was shuttled from one end of the Chapter Temple to the next and subjected to every single form of preparation the acolytes thought necessary: first, they had her change out of her clothes and into a new dress – sleeveless and with a good deal of her neck and shoulders exposed to the air; then, hatless and barefooted, she was escorted from the cloakroom to the Chapter library and given a brief script to examine and rehearse; satisfied that she didn't have any difficulty with it, the acolytes then quickly hustled her into a small doctor's office to confirm that her skin colour wasn't makeup; once the results of this test were laboriously noted in the Greenspectre Chapter's ponderous records, Elphaba was finally escorted to a tiny antechamber just outside the Great Hall of Sermon and Ceremony, and told to wait for her cue.

She spent most of the remaining minutes of preparation time either silently raging at the fact that the situation was too delicate to simply refuse, or panicking in the most subdued manner possible. Past the heavy wooden doors, she could hear the unmistakable sound of people gathering in their hundreds – if not thousands – pouring into what could only be a massive chapel and taking their seats to wait for her arrival. The moment she stepped through those doors, all eyes in the room would be on her...

… and suddenly, Elphaba found a familiar fear bubbling at the pit of her stomach that conjured up memories of all those awful times in her childhood when she'd found herself outside the house and in the company of strangers, the times when she found herself in full view of people with nothing better to do than stare at her in disbelief and then disgust. Sometimes, she'd only have to put up with hearing their whispers and mockery; other times, she wasn't so lucky: for neighbourhood kids armed with stones, the green girl had been a very easy target. Eventually, she'd found that the only way she could evade the stares and the stones and father's endless disapproval was by keeping as much of her skin covered as possible, utilizing long sleeves, long dresses, and gloves too if the weather was cold enough; and on the rare occasions she wasn't able to get away with wearing a hat, she'd keep her head down at all times.

True, a lot of the old nervousness had been worn away by year after year of simmering frustration, and most of her social hangups had been relaxed through Glinda's friendship… but that didn't matter to Elphaba at that point: it was as if she'd forgotten every single memory from her sixth birthday onwards her; in that moment, she wasn't the Irredeemables' newest recruit; she wasn't the Wicked Witch of the West; she wasn't even Elphaba Thropp, promising student of magic. She was just a frightened child, convinced that everyone gathered in the room beyond was going to act the same way as every other stranger she'd encountered, unable to stop herself from thinking of all the people that would be able to see her skin when she entered the next room, all the people that would stare and laugh and-

There was a muted whispering from the congregation, and with a rumble, the doors in front of her suddenly swung open. Suddenly back in control of her own thoughts, Elphaba took a deep breath, did her very best to smother the old anxieties, and stepped forward into the Hall of Sermons and Ceremonies.

Owing to the sheer size of the chamber and the overabundance of things for her senses to focus on, the first thing that she happened to notice about the Hall was the smell of incense; she'd caught a brief whiff of it in the antechamber while she'd been waiting, but now the odour of it almost overpowered her, for it smelled like it was being burned in almost every corner of the room. Then, she slowly became aware of the rest of the world, of the marble floor beneath her feet, and the echoing silence around her.

She was walking down a long straight aisle between two vast viewing galleries perhaps twenty feet above her, crowded with hundreds of Irredeemables; tens of feet above that, another packed duo of galleries peered down at her, and Elphaba realized that there had to be almost a thousand people or more occupying this chamber. Several hundred feet in front of her, the aisle finally opened out into a wide circular space, the galleries following the contours of the circle in the style of an amphitheatre. Just past the centre of the great circle, past the mosaic of swirling tentacles on the floor, past the small pyramid of stairs and the dangling banners of the Irredeemables' emblem, stood an altar of gold and marble carved with symbols of alteration – clawed hands, snakelike tails, crab pincers and curling tentacles.

And the figure standing behind it could only be the Chapter Master: old, bald-headed, one-eyed, covered in battle-scars, and clad in the same vestments of robes and armour that the statue outside wore, he stood a head taller than any of the acolytes gathered around him; of the eight arms he possessed, the only one that looked vaguely human currently gripped a ceremonial staff; the bundle of tentacles, the crab-claw, the bone-mace, the merged scalpel, the fanged maw and the mechanical prosthesis were all held outstretched towards the distant arches of the ceiling.

Doing her best not to get distracted by all the sights around her, Elphaba marched onwards down the aisle, towards the distant altar. It took about a minute in total: when she finally arrived in the circle, she stopped in the very centre of the mosaic and – as the script had indicated – descended to her knees.

The Chapter Master cleared his throat, finally lowering his many hands. "For most of us who join the ranks of the Irredeemables, the alteration of our bodies is voluntary." His voice was solemn and resonant, echoing broadly across the Hall loudly enough to be heard by even the furthest seats. "We choose to join this order and to differ from what others would call the norm; we choose to embrace what Unbridled Radiance would arrogantly call Deviancy. It is this that separates us from the Purified: the poor souls who are selected for Purification have no choice in the matter, and have no thoughts of their own once the Empress is done with them. For most of us, we defy the Radiant Laws in mind and body, by spreading the word of rebellion and altering our bodies in whatever way we see fit. But others…"

His eyes flickered towards Elphaba. "Others defy the Radiant Laws simply by existing. In Unbridled Radiance, those born deformed are tolerated until surgery can be performed to "correct" what their law sees as unwanted blemishes on their so-called perfection, without any regard to wether or not the child would have lived a full and happy life without their intervention; those that resist, those parents that refuse to deliver their children to the mage-surgeons and the unlucky offspring that run or fight back, are purged from the populace. The one who knees before the altar upon this day has evaded their reach, and retains the Deviation of form that they would destroy her for." He stepped out from behind the altar and slowly approached her, prosthetic feet clicking gently against the marble floor. "Tell me, were you ever convinced to conform to the Radiant Laws or anything of their nature?" he asked. "Were you ever tempted by the chance to be made normal or to be Purified?"

Once again, this was part of the script – one of the few parts in which Elphaba was allowed an open response. With the rehearsal still fresh in her mind and a sudden surge of confidence rushing through her veins, Elphaba proclaimed, "I was once tempted by the chance to become normal; I sought the help of the Wizard who ruled my birthplace, believing that if I proved myself worthy of his aid that I would be made beautiful. But when I met him, I realized he was nothing more than a charlatan…" Something that had been unsaid for too long hammered an override switch. "And that my wish to be normal and accepted was futile when the society I sought acceptance from was ruled by corruption and oppression."

The Chapter Master nodded sagely. "For those few who have been born "Distorted" and fight to survive the horrors of Unbridled Radiance to join us in this hall, the choice is not merely that of accepting alteration: the choice is to deny the laws enforced against them from birth and assume the form that they desire - either the form that we can grant, or the form that they have always possessed. This is what we of the Deviant Nations acknowledge: our bodies are ours to do with as we please; they are not the property of the state, nor are they to be altered towards some ideal of perfection. We accept that nothing can ever be perfect and nothing can ever be truly beautiful… and are converts will never include the unwilling."

He looked up at the congregation overhead, and all spoke as one in a single, monotonous chant: "Our flesh is our own. Our thoughts are our own. Our bodies are not property as we are not slaves. We are free in mind and body, and through mutability of flesh, we remain unbowed."

"The choice to join our ranks shall never be unwilling," the Chapter Master continued. "You have shown that you stand in opposition to Unbridled Radiance, but you have the choice to do so independently as you have for the past years of your life, or to join our Order in our fight against the Radiant Laws. We shall not deny your wishes, nor shall we disrespect them; we shall only ask: do you wish to join the ranks of the Irredeemables, Elphaba Thropp?"

For a split second, Elphaba was thrown. She was actually being given a choice in this? For a moment, she wanted nothing more to throw up her hands and scream, "yes, I'd like to remain independent! End this charade and start the mission briefing that I was brought here to attend! I'll fight for the Deviant Nations as long as I actually have a stake in this war, but I will not jump through the hoops you've set up to burnish your leaders' collective egos!"

But then she looked up and saw the faces of the congregation – and in that moment, the last of her childish anxieties evaporated: the expected looks of distrust and suspicion were nowhere present in the crowd; instead, written plainly on the faces of the spectators was interest and fascination…

… and admiration.

And up there in the visitor's gallery was Glinda, a look of anticipation and something not unlike pride spreading across her face.

"I do," Elphaba said solemnly.

"Do you accept that your body is yours to do with as you wish?"

"I do."

"Do you vow to oppose the Radiant Laws to the very limits of your powers?"

"I do so vow."

"And do you now and always deny the Radiant Empress?"

"I deny her with all my heart."

Very slowly, the Chapter Master reached out with two long mechanical fingertips and gently pressed them against her forehead. For a second or two, Elphaba felt as if a hot coal had been put to her skin; but then the sensation faded, and the Master withdrew his hand - bowing his head in deference as he did.

"Now rise," he intoned, "And know that from this day onwards, in the eyes of Unbridled Radiance, you are Irredeemable."

"Their mark of disgrace is our badge of honour," the congregation chorused.

"And in the eyes of our Great Mentor, you are free."

"May her wisdom guide your footsteps; may your freedom last for all eternity."

And as she stood, the entire congregation began to applaud; for a moment, Elphaba wasn't sure how to respond – this wasn't something she'd been expecting from this particular ceremony or anything else that would happen that day, for that matter. Then, she finally remembered the script: she was to show some sign of her Deviation, stretch newly-implanted limbs or claws or pincers towards the ceiling or something along those lines. But because she hadn't been altered and because the crowd had already seen enough of her skin as decency would permit, she'd been advised to let her magic flare slightly.

So, she stretched out her arms and let her magic cast its familiar green luminance across the chamber; but this time, the light was far stronger and far brighter than ever before – not her usual haunting glow but a dazzling emerald light that lit up almost the entire chamber. She could feel the power rushing through her veins, the energy flooding the air – and best of all, she could still hear the roar of approval from the galleries. Far from being frightened, the congregation seemed even more impressed than before; and as for Glinda, she was applauding louder than anyone else in the Hall.

So it was that, almost giggling with exhilaration, Elphaba finally left the altar as one of the Irredeemables.

Somewhere deep in the cellars of the Chapter Temple, Kiln looked up from putting the finishing touches on a particularly complicated set of new arms, and quietly absorbed the latest transmission from the broadcasters in the Hall. For a moment, he allowed himself a faint smile; then, apologising to his newest patient for the delay, he lowered the last poison gland into the depths of the left hand, swiftly linking its duct to the barbed stingers concealed under the nails. Then, briefly checking to make sure that the eyeballs floating in stasis serum were properly focussed and that the anaesthetic wouldn't wear off for at least another fifty minutes, he stepped out of view.

Then, murmuring an enchantment and tracing a magical gesture through the air with a curling, frond-like index finger, he began to whisper a simple message: nobody would have been able to discern what Kiln had said, not even if they'd been standing right next to him, for his voice was instantly absorbed by the fabric of the spell – and then sent outwards across the ether. Carried on waves of thaumaturgical sound, the message rippled outwards across the city and into the palace, where it was finally received by the Great Mentor.

Ceremony a success, it said. Chapter Master overjoyed at having the great Elphaba Thropp join the cause; generals and assorted military staff also satisfied that Elphaba is not a spy for Unbridled Radiance, couldn't have sat through ceremony without going into dogma-fuelled meltdown if she was really with UR – fact that she remained obvious to primary purpose of visit to Chapter Temple helped performance. Hopefully, this will be the last bit of paranoia we have to deal with. Elphaba currently drifting about reception enjoying the attention, due to be hauled into the mission briefing any minute now. Will notify you as soon as she understands the work she's been recruited to perform.

Message ends.

PS: Stimulant working well; Elphaba already showing signs of higher spirits, limitations on powers beginning to weaken. No signs of instability or negative side-effects, so all good. Will deliver another fifty milligram dose with dinner. Question is, is this going to be enough to prepare her for what's going to happen next?