AN: Thank you so much to Ultimate Queen of Cliffies, DorothyThropp, James Birdsong, and C3L35714 for reviewing and everyone else who read, followed, and/or added this story to your favorites. I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I don't think I will ever write a chapter this long again; this chapter is almost twice the length of the first one! I know that everything moves along a bit quickly, but if I tried to pace it better, it would be forever and a half before I got up to the part with the characters that everyone knows and loves. So I hope you all enjoy this chapter, despite the fact that it's a little rushed. Or is it? Is it paced too quickly, slowly, or is it good? Is it mysterious, or just confusing? Since I know what happens, and the whole story behind every character, I'm not sure. It's really hard for me to judge my own stories fairly, and I usually ask my sisters for their opinions, but they already know a lot of what is going on in this one, so they can't give me that great of a critique either. I usually ask one of my sisters to proofread my stories too, since I know what I'm trying to say all the time and therefore sometimes don't catch my mistakes, but they were busy and I didn't want to make you wait even longer, so I proofread it myself. Did I do a good job or did I miss like fifteen mistakes? Please give me some feedback in a review!
On another note, Halloween is coming very soon and at my school we are allowed to wear our costumes to school. Because my grade level has to dress up as characters, I am going to be Elphaba for Halloween! I don't know if anybody really cares, but I am very excited about it because I'm planning to take a picture of myself in the costume and use it as my profile picture. I've really wanted to put up a profile picture ever since I joined FanFiction, but I didn't have any idea what picture to use until now. So if anyone looks at my profile, you'll see a picture soon!
After this author's note that's practically half the chapter (not really, but it probably feels that way), please read on and enjoy the chapter. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked or its characters.
Chapter Two: Wishing for Time
The wolf-monster was still thinking about the beautiful star lights and the questions the wolf howls had brought about when he went to the room of Kiamo Ko where he usually slept. It was void of any furniture, as were most of the other rooms, but it was drier and nicer than any of the others along the outermost hall of the castle. The ceiling of this room was carved with intricate patterns, and was lower than the ones that usually arched high over the wolf-monster's head. But the best thing about it was that any noise he made echoed back to him in a kind of reverberating fashion. The gentle sound of his breathing humming back to him was the wolf-monster's lullaby.
Tonight, instead of listening to the song his breaths made, the monster was deep in thought about the mysteries he had uncovered. He remembered the star lights that had inspired the wolf howls, and wondered if he could perhaps search for the creatures that had made the beautiful yet eerie sounds. They had sounded as if they were calling out to someone who had been long lost; it felt almost as if they were calling to his wayward heart. Maybe the only way he could figure out what made him different was to find the wolves…
He fell asleep thinking about the star lights, so it was no surprise that they made an appearance in his dreams. But the dream started out similarly to the dreams he had almost every time he went to sleep; he felt a gentle wind blowing through his pelt as he flew through the night sky. The scene before him was pitch black; as always, he had wings in his dreams and could fly, but saw nothing.
But that was when the dream changed. This time, he realized that his eyes were merely closed, not that he was blind. The monster's eyes blinked open, and he saw that he was still flying through darkness, but the world around him was not completely pitch-black. There was a red haze in the night, seeming to stick to his feathers like mist, and he soon found that it was rising from beneath him. Looking down, the wolf-monster saw that he was flying over a lake, and in his reflection that his wings were magnificent. They were covered in long black feathers, splattered with dappled red markings. For some reason the monster could not identify, he felt a pang of foreboding in his chest as he saw them. He suppressed a shudder as he flew onward into the night.
Looking up from his reflection, the wolf-monster gazed into the distance, where his destination shone on the horizon. He was flying towards a very bright light, which twinkled in every color he could imagine, like the star lights. As the wolf-monster approached, he saw that the ball of light was floating in the air high above an island in the middle of the lake. Folding in his long wings, he flew down to land gracefully on the island, not quite underneath the star lights, but standing a respectful distance away in case the ball of light should descend before him.
As if responding to his thoughts, the star lights began to change shape, revealing a human being standing in the air above the island. The human was ghostly—almost transparent—but the wolf-monster looked harder and could see her hair and clothing rippling as if blown by a gentle breeze—which he could not feel rustling his own pelt. The star lights themselves blossomed behind her, and with a lurch of some unidentified emotion in his chest, the monster became aware that they formed a pair of wings. What an amazing creature the human must have been during her lifetime to have earned such beautiful wings! The beauty of his own black and red wings seemed insignificant now, compared to the magnificence of the star lights.
The star light wings were mostly green, with hints of purple, blue, and even some pink. Their light bathed the human's face in a gentle green glow. The wolf-monster noticed that it looked almost as if the human's skin was green, not only the light that washed over it. The ghost also had thick black hair that reminded the monster of his own pelt, and chocolate brown eyes.
"Welcome," the ghost said, her voice seeming to echo.
The wolf-monster bowed his head respectfully. He looked up at the human with curious yellow eyes, wondering why she had summoned him there. He had not been dreaming for long, but he had the feeling that he was there because the ghost had called him. He was under the impression that she wanted to warn him, although only against something that he already knew to be wary of.
"The witch you believe in so much is only tricking you," the ghost told him, as if she had said it many times before. "Be wary of her; she only uses you for the jobs she has no one else to do for her or is unwilling to do herself."
The wolf-monster bristled, baring his fangs in undisguised hostility. "How dare you say that?" he spat ferociously. "The witch was the one who created me! She has no reason to use me, nor is she cruel enough to!" Although the monster had been the one to speak the words, his heart skipped a beat in what could only be surprise. Had the witch really created him? If she had, how could he know the secret of his origins in a dream, when no one had ever told it to him?
"Only the Unnamed God has the power to create," the ghost told him with an edge to her voice. "While it may be true that your witch's magic brought about your birth, you have a greater purpose than being her slave. It will soon become clear to you; you will be given a second chance to live your own life, without the influence of the Wicked. I am the one who has chosen this fate for you—you decide your own path from now on, but remember my words and make your choices wisely when the time comes. Only you can save yourself from the darkness now."
"You speak in riddles!" the wolf-monster snarled, trying to push away the feeling of dread that her words stirred in his chest. It was a horrible sensation, pounding through his veins alongside his blood; he didn't want to dwell on how weak it made him feel. "How can you expect me to listen to you when you won't tell me anything that makes sense? All you do is confuse me, you winged demon! Leave me alone and stop haunting my dreams!"
The ghost's eyes flared with anger, surprising the wolf-monster. He hadn't known that spirits were capable of any personality besides benevolence so diligent that their constant visits became annoying, but now he could see that this ghost had a spark of a temper. "Listen to my warnings or don't," she hissed. "But know that it will be you who suffers in the end!"
The wolf-monster opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the faint sound of flapping wings filled his ears. He was confused for a moment—the ghost's wings made no sound, and he wasn't flying either—before he realized that the sound must be coming from beyond the dream. The monster had incredible hearing, and he knew that the sound was still far away, but it tugged at his consciousness, dragging him slowly out of his dream. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the noise, but he could now feel the cold stone floor of Kiamo Ko underneath his belly, even though he was standing up on the lakeshore.
"We don't have much time left!" the ghost's voice said urgently, but to the wolf-monster it echoed faintly as if coming from some distant place. The flapping wings were closer now than the voice, but he willed himself to stay asleep for a little longer. "Open your eyes—quickly!" the ghost instructed him, and the wolf-monster forced his eyes open; he could still see the quickly fading lake and star light wings of the ghost angel. "Look down at your reflection in the lake and tell me what you see in it!" she urged.
Feeling the water of the lake pool around his feet, the wolf-monster looked down sharply. He let out a gasp of horror as he saw his own shape, blurred and warped almost beyond recognition. His body was no longer visible—it must have returned to Kiamo Ko—but what was left was angry and red, like an open wound. Small sparks of dark light flickered through his corrupted reflection, pulsing like blood; circulating through his entire body. He felt dizziness flood through him, and his vision ebbed into blackness for a moment before showing him once again the horrific image before him. "Am I—"he gasped, forcing the question out of his petrified lungs. "Am I really this full of anger and hatred?"
"You will be," the ghost said grimly. The monster trembled with fear, his heart pounding, but the ghost's eyes softened as she reached out to stroke one side of his face with a nearly transparent hand. "Listen to me—you may have a dark soul, but your heart is still good. You are not Fallen yet."
His eyes locked with hers, and the wolf-monster focused on the sight of her gentle gaze as the flapping wings grew deafeningly louder, and the world around them faded to blackness, this time for good.
The wolf-monster groaned, his head pounding mercilessly as he blinked awake to see the stone castle of Kiamo Ko swirling before his eyes. He shook his head fiercely to clear it, and focused on his room of the castle—its low ceiling and den-like structure. The sound of flapping wings was as loud as ever, but now the monster was able to identify it—the raven must be flying down the hall. Curiosity somehow made its way into his head through the fog that surrounded it; no one ever thundered past his room this early in the morning. The wolf-monster shook his head again, and this time was able to think more clearly. He had to figure out what was going on—first the star lights and wolf songs, and now this.
The monster peered out through the doorway just after the raven passed by it. The ragged black bird didn't seem to notice him, but the monster was glad of that. He wanted to investigate the mysterious events that befell Kiamo Ko on his own, without attracting the attention of his companions.
The raven flew through the halls in a path of unknown significance to the wolf-monster, but it even so, it was obviously far from random. The raven flew somewhat hurriedly, and turned sharply around the stone corners as if guided by a strong magnet pulling him towards his destination. The wolf-monster was able to guess that he was going someplace secret, and definitely did not want to be followed. It was for this reason that the monster continued to track him.
Eventually the raven arrived at—a dead end? The wolf-monster blinked in surprise as the darkly-feathered bird landed on the floor in front of a stone wall that blocked his path. He reached out with one wrinkled foot to touch the stone, and with a deafening rumble, the wall moved. The whole castle shook slightly as the wall rearranged itself, opening a passage that it had blocked only a moment before. It came as a shock to the wolf-monster, who had heard the rumbling sounds before but dismissed them as minor earthquakes that occasionally struck the Vinkus. In all of his wondering about what the familiar yet still mysterious sounds that he could hear distantly throughout the castle, he had never pictured that there might be secret passages running through Kiamo Ko.
The crow fluttered through the new doorway, turning around after passing through to face the direction from which he had come. It was only a quick flash of intuition that saved the wolf-monster from being spotted; he stepped swiftly back into the shadows just as the raven turned around. He watched, tilting his head slightly to one side in puzzlement, as the raven lifted his claw to touch the air where the rock wall had been. He wondered what the bird was doing, but his unspoken question was answered as the wall reassembled itself with a groan, leaving only a puff of dust in the air to show that it had ever moved at all.
The wolf-monster bounded up to the wall, trying to peer through the cracks between the bricks in an attempt to see where the crow had gone. The gaps were too narrow to see anything through, but the wolf-monster was not discouraged—his hearing had always been better anyway. He pressed one feathered ear to the wall, and to his excitement, he could pick up the faint murmur of voices.
"You summoned me?" It was the crow's voice, undoubtedly addressing the witch. The respect in it was normal for such a phrase, but the wolf-monster could also detect a hint of weariness that surprised him.
"Yes, Darkness." The witch spoke next, as quietly as ever, but there was an edge to her voice that had grown more and more frequent in her words recently. "I am in need of your wisdom and advice. My temptation to change the past calls out to my heart more strongly than I would like. Shall I continue to battle it, or is this temptation something that is no longer worth fighting?" Darkness was the raven's name, but it itched at the wolf-monster's ear like a flea. He had no use for names, and therefore had never received one of his own; it was uncommon that anyone spoke a name in the castle—another aspect of the conversation that was both intriguing to him and also seemed very, very wrong.
The wolf-monster's ear twitched as he heard a faint hiss—a sign that the cat was included in the secret meeting as well. The cat's "language" was meaningless to his ears, but the witch seemed to understand it. She paused for a long moment as if contemplating the cat's advice. The monster's claws scratched faintly against the castle's floor in frustration and jealousy. It annoyed him endlessly that the witch placed so much trust in the cat, and nearly none at all in him. Am I really only a tool for her to use? He wondered despairingly, taking the ghost's warning from his dream seriously for the first time.
"You shouldn't give in," the raven argued worriedly after the witch's silence extended for an unusually long period of time; the sound of his feathers rustling told the wolf-monster that he was nervous about the situation. "Spend more time thinking about what you can do to fix your life in this time and forget about your ideas of meddling with the past," he urged. "You obsess too much over it now, and I have a feeling that if you try to change it, it will end very badly."
"You," the witch hissed viciously, "are in no position to argue with me. You have everything you could possibly wish for, and I have nothing! No matter how much you claim to, you will never understand!"
Why does she ask for the raven's advice at all if she won't even listen to it? Thought the wolf-monster mutinously, feeling a stab of anger on behalf of his role model. It wasn't long, however, before his anger ebbed, leaving only guilt behind. The witch had created him—or at least used her magic to bring about his birth—if his dream had been right. He should be grateful to her, not angry.
The raven didn't speak up again, seeming subdued by the witch's response to his last piece of advice. In his place, the cat hissed something to the witch with a kind of savage pleasure; the wolf-monster guessed with a stab of bitterness that it was probably suggesting that the witch do exactly the opposite of what the raven had advised. It seemed like the witch was only listening to the cat because it was suggesting that she take the side of the argument that she was already leaning towards. The monster growled in frustration, clawing at the castle's stone floor. He decided that he had to reveal his presence to the others, if only to disrupt the meeting. He couldn't let the witch listen to the advice of the cat instead of the raven's—it would be a loss in his eyes, even if the others were not aware that he was in this battle.
The wolf-monster purposely nudged into the wall with his shoulder, which resulted in a muffled thumping noise. Satisfaction welled up inside of him as the cat's hisses died away. A moment later, he could hear the flapping of wings as the raven flew up to the wall, using his earth magic to reveal the passageway behind it again. The wolf-monster winced as the stone bricks rumbled and moved aside; it was too late now to get away, even if he had wanted to.
The room where the cat, witch, and raven had been talking was very dark—it was only faintly illuminated by an orb of light that shone above their heads. It was too dark to see the entire room; shadow obscured its boundaries from the wolf-monster's sight. A portal of some kinds swirled at the center of the room, but it was impossible from the angle of the doorway to interpret the vision it was showing. The darkness, and the possible threat of something lurking there, made his feathered pelt bristle warily, but the wolf-monster forced himself to stand firm despite the stern gazes of his companions. They have been keeping secrets from me, he told himself firmly. I have every right to confront them.
"What," the witch asked coldly, as the raven fluttered hurriedly back to his perch, "are you doing here?" The wolf-monster felt a pang of fear—her voice was composed in the same way that frigid seas were dangerously calm, and her eyes were stormy. Lightning and thunder seemed to crackle in the air around them, but upon flicking back his ears to discover the source of the sound, the monster discovered that it was only the stone wall reassembling itself behind him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in reply, choosing his words carefully, his pale yellow eyes locking firmly with her dark ones. He stood stiff-legged, as if bracing himself to be struck by the force of her fury, and his ears were flattened in defiance. He forced himself not to back down before the witch's anger.
"We are here discussing my future… and my past," she replied slowly, like a snake creeping forward to strike. Her gaze didn't break away from the monster's; they both saw it as a challenge now, as if the first of them to look away would be the first to die. It was a dangerous game the wolf-monster was playing by coming face-to-face with the witch to confront her.
"Then why am I not included?" the wolf-monster asked her. "I live in your future just as much as the cat and the raven do." He tried to sound reasonable, or at least innocent enough to be spared the witch's wrath.
His approach seemed to be working—although the monster could see the thoughts flickering rapidly in the depths of the witch's eyes, she did not strike out at him. The tension left her features as she apparently decided that he was not a threat, despite his impertinence in assuming that he had the power to challenge her. "You are correct," the witch conceded in a tone as smooth as scales sliding against stone. "I was wrong to exclude you. But you are wrong for eavesdropping on my discussion—what if it had not been about anything of importance to you, but rather a personal matter that you were intruding on?"
The wolf-monster, accepting that this was as close to a victory as he would get, dipped his head respectfully to his mistress. "My apologies, my lady."
With that, a conflict had been narrowly avoided. The raven relaxed visibly on his perch, and the cat turned its gaze—which had been previously fixed on the two opposing forces with interest—elsewhere. The witch's gaze also flitted away to the mysterious portal, which she looked at with a spark of worry in her dark eyes. The wolf-monster padded over to stand at the foot of the raven's perch.
"You see," the witch continued smoothly, once all eyes had returned to her. "I am wishing for time, for it seems I do not have enough left to right the wrongs I have committed. Therefore, I have been wondering for a while about whether I should attempt to travel back in time to correct my mistakes before I have ever made them. No one knows what the results of time travel will be—I believe that I will find myself in the body of my younger self, fully retaining my memories of this time, but it is also possible that I may no longer aware that I am from this time—in fact, nearly anything is. Naturally, as the worrier that he is, Darkness tries to persuade me otherwise, but Lynx, on the other hand, encourages me to trust my instincts and do what I feel is the right thing." Lynx, the cat—again the witch's unusual use of names unsettled the monster—waved her tail conceitedly. The witch spoke in a way that made her perspective seem reasonable, although the wolf-monster could sense that changing the past would never end well. If something changed in the witch's past, it could affect not only her but also her three companions. What if they had never been born at all in the new future she aimed to create? And the wolf-monster, despite the witch's words, saw no kind of passion in her eyes, nothing to suggest that she really felt like this was the right thing to do at all. He felt unease prickle at his feathered pelt.
The raven's eyes darkened with worry as his feathers rustled nervously. "I'm not trying to tell you to act against your beliefs," he tried again, "but I think it is wrong to try to change the past. You may have made many mistakes in your lifetime thus far, but if you hadn't, how would you have ever learned any lessons of true value? I think that by going back to undo them, you will lose much more than you will gain from changing the past."
The witch scowled, her nearly-black eyes glittering with malice. "Why are you so against this idea, Darkness? Don't you want me to redeem myself? It is you, after all, who believes so strongly in doing the right thing."
"This will not redeem you," the crow replied sharply, his talons digging into the perch he stood on in frustration. "This is nothing more than cowardice—you want to hide from the pain your mistakes have caused you. If you merely disguise yourself as the innocent child you once were, you will change only the person all the people see you as, not who you really are. You will not be redeeming yourself, but instead erasing your wickedness by erasing yourself—as you are now—from history entirely. But you are too far gone to try to go back to being the person you once were; you will still be dark, no matter how light they all think you are."
"If I am remembered as a better person in another future than I am in this one," asked the witch, almost desperately. "Then how does it make a difference? Isn't it better to never make the wrong choices at all? Surely it is better to never make such terrible mistakes—at least in the eyes of the people—rather than to try to make up for sins that I can never be forgiven for."
"I fear," the raven argued, "that if you only try to hide behind your past self, you will still be just as evil as you are in this time! Besides, if you still remember your dark deeds, what will be the point of trying to get rid of your guilt? Even if no one else in all of Oz remembers your sins, they will still haunt you."
"So if I go back in time," the witch mused, "while I am as dark as I am now, you think that it will influence my past self—because my soul and my memories will still be full of evil?"
Darkness nodded, seeming relieved that she was finally listening. "Perhaps if you still want to change the past, you can send one of us as your messenger," he compromised reluctantly. "None of us have been born yet in that time. That way, not only will you retain your innocence in the past, but our existence will not be endangered by a time paradox. Whichever one of us is sent into the past will only have the time frame of his or her life moved back a little, not end up with two versions of his or herself at the same time."
The witch seemed to be listening, much to the monster's relief. He trusted the raven, and knew that whatever the bird thought was dangerous probably was; it would not have been good for any of them if the witch attempted to travel back in time herself. The monster looked up at his mistress with hopeful eyes. "For whatever my opinion is worth," he offered, "I think it's a good idea."
The witch nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes to slits. "I agree," she said at last, and the crow relaxed visibly—the wolf-monster knew that the bird wasn't exactly thrilled with his idea, but also that he did think that it was better than the witch's had been. The wolf-monster agreed wholeheartedly, but he soon realized that not everyone did—he detected, with his extraordinary hearing, the cat's hiss of disappointment. He didn't want to dwell on it so soon after Darkness's victory, but briefly wondered why it wanted the witch to change the past herself. Lynx had never been the most benevolent creature, but she usually didn't have enough darkness to put anyone in danger with her own stubbornness. Now, though, it seemed like she wanted to be the one with the greatest influence on the witch's decisions, despite the raven's concerns for what might occur if she had listened to the cat. A shiver of foreboding raced down the monster's spine.
Lynx padded forwards and hissed something to the witch. The cat's empty, pit-like eyes glittered with jealousy. The monster felt alarm jolt in his chest; was the cat going to make some remark against the crow's idea? He had a bad feeling that the witch would always be more willing to listen to the cat than to either the crow or the wolf-monster himself.
But to his relief—and slight puzzlement—the witch's eyes brightened with interest instead of darkening with conflicted emotions. Her dark gaze settled on the wolf-monster, and his pelt prickled with curiosity. What had the cat said? He wished he could understand its speech; he feared that the cat had nothing good to say about him, despite the fact that the witch seemed excited rather than angered by the cat's remark. "What is it?" he asked, trying not to sound panicked.
"Lynx has suggested to me that it should be you who is sent back in time," the witch replied thoughtfully. "She warns me that you may be lost if you are left behind in this time while my past is being changed. You are a special case—I do not believe that Lynx or Darkness will be in danger if they stay here, but your own past is extremely fragile—and I am not willing to risk shattering it by dismissing Lynx's concerns so quickly. So I choose you to travel to the past in my place."
The wolf-monster was stunned, his eyes widening in surprise. Among the animals, it was an honor to be chosen to go on one of the witch's missions; the monster had never before been sent to fulfill one before, and hadn't expected to be chosen for one of such great importance. He glanced at the cat, not sure what kind of expression to expect, but to his surprise, it was satisfaction that glittered in Lynx's eyes. The wolf-monster narrowed his eyes warily; if the cat was pleased, he should be careful. He had known the cat long enough to be certain that it was not good news when it was happy on his behalf.
He realized with a start that the witch was watching him intently. "It is an honor," the wolf-monster replied enthusiastically, despite his misgivings about the cat's intentions. "But what exactly is this mission?"
The witch tilted her head slightly to one side, as if the question amused her. "This portal shows me my past," she said, indicating the magical gateway with an elegant gesture. "When you see a falling star, tell Lynx and she will use her magic to take you back in time. What you will have seen is an angel coming to the earth in order to guide someone. Your mission now is to travel back in time and kill the angel before it can reach the person it was meant to guide."
The wolf-monster was shocked. The witch's words were cold and cunning, without even a hint of regret—she must have had a good reason to want the angel dead, but he hadn't expected her to be so uncaring. He shook off his surprise and nodded firmly. "I'll do as you say, my lady. You can count on me."
"Good," the witch replied curtly. "I expect nothing less from you." Despite her almost dismissive tone, the monster felt his chest swell with pride. The witch did think highly of him after all!
"Come, Darkness!" the witch commanded, and the dark-feathered bird flew to perch on her extended arm. "We have business elsewhere in the castle." With no other form of farewell, she turned to leave the room. In a few ragged flaps, she flew to the door, pausing only to let it open again before gliding out into the hall. The cat and wolf-monster were suddenly left alone together as the door shifted to form a wall again. The monster braced himself in case the cat attacked him, but it only turned its hollow eyes to regard him with amusement.
Dust brushed against the stone floor as it gravitated to form a message of intricate symbols at the center of the shadowed room. The monster glanced at it in brief disinterest, but upon seeing the words, his gaze flickered back to the message almost hungrily. The message read: You want to know why our mistress is sending you on this mission, don't you?
Powerful curiosity stirred in the wolf-monster's chest, and the dust letters rearranged themselves to reflect his thoughts. Tell me.
Why, she wants to help you, of course, the message replied. The monster could imagine the words spoken in the cat's silky purr. She has her own reasons as well, but she also knows your wishes and desires.
The wolf-monster glanced up at the cat, wondering where its message was headed. The cat's once-darkened eyes were glowing intensely; they looked almost alive again—although whether they were bright with passion or hatred, the wolf-monster couldn't tell. His own eyes found the faint message on the floor again, and he continued to read where he had left off. And so do I, the cat had written in the strange form of lettering they used to communicate. Contrary to what you might believe, I do care about your feelings. The reason we are sending you on this mission is because if you kill the angel, you will be able to take his wings.
When Elphaba woke up in the morning, her eyes still shut from sleeping, she was immediately aware that something was different about today. It took her only a moment to realize that it was the pattering of rain on the roof that was missing. Hardly daring to hope, she held her breath as she allowed her eyes to flutter open and saw… sunlight streaming in through the window.
With a soft squeak of excitement, Elphaba leapt out of bed and rushed over to gaze out the window. She had to drag over a chair—a rather challenging task for one as small as she was—in order to look out the window, but was satisfied to lay eyes on a blue sky at last. It appeared to be a perfect day for playing in the gardens—puffy white clouds cast faint shadows over the emerald hills, and the sun shone merrily over everything and everyone. Birds sang cheerfully, and the roses in the garden bloomed blood-red under the clear sky. Elphaba blinked in surprise—she could have sworn she saw something dark drip from one perfect petal—but soon decided that she had merely imagined it.
Elphaba's chocolate-colored eyes were bright with excitement as she leapt happily off the chair to the soft carpet of her bedroom floor. She padded softly down the hall to her parents' room, being careful not to slap her bare feet against the smooth wooden floor. The green girl turned the corner to face her parents' door, but instead encountered her father, who stood outside the room. He gave her the scowl he seemed reserve only for his daughter, and Elphaba's excitement faded away. Disappointment replaced it, for her father didn't like her much, and was always snapping at her for getting in his way.
"I want to go talk to Mama," Elphaba said politely. Her mother had taught her to speak nicely, even when someone disliked her. "May I?"
"No," Frexspar replied icily, and explained impatiently when she looked up at him sorrowfully. "She's having the baby, and she doesn't need you there to tire her out even further. Go away, child, before you try my patience."
A spark of excitement—she would get to meet her little brother or sister at last!—prickled at the very back of her mind, but for now she was dealing with her father alone. The words "you've never had any" began to form on her lips, but Elphaba forced them back, the chiding words "speak nicely" ringing in her ears in Melena's voice. Her mother might not be there to scold her if she said something rude to her father now, but she'd surely be punished for it later on.
"May I go outside to play in the gardens?" Elphaba asked instead, giving Frex her best pleading look. Her father glared at her with flinty gray eyes, sighing in annoyance when she didn't give in.
"If you must," he sniffed indifferently. "Find one of the maids who's willing to tolerate you, and ask her to go with you. I certainly will not."
Elphaba, sensing this was the best form of permission she would be able to get, thanked her father with a smile before bounding off down the hall. She went to her room to change out of her pajamas before going downstairs to find Miss Henrietta, one of the cooks who adored her and often let her taste the food she was making. The governor's mansion was extravagant, and one who was not familiar with it might easily be lost, but Elphaba knew its layout better than the back of her hand, and walked sure(and bare)-footed through the red-carpeted halls in search of her favorite maid.
She found Miss Henrietta in the kitchens, making omelets for breakfast. It wasn't long before Elphaba had persuaded the cook to come outside with her, and the two of them went to the gardens together.
The governor's gardens were known for being the most beautiful in all of Munchkinland—they grew exotic plants and were decorated with many fountains. The gardens were as secretive and mysterious as a maze, and Elphaba, despite her many adventures there, never knew what she might discover each time she returned. She knew of several hidden groves, each of which was unique and felt to her like a magical place. While most of the gardens in Munchkinland grew only crops, and the few of them that did display flowers were symmetrical and orderly, the governor's gardens were mysterious and seemingly unorganized, something that Elphaba loved about them. She had once asked her mother who had designed the gardens, wanting to thank that person even if he or she was no longer alive to hear it, but Melena had given her the unsatisfactory answer that the designer's name had been lost to time. There was no longer an official map of the layout either, leaving Elphaba with no other way to discover all of the hidden places than to find them herself.
As she and Miss Henrietta entered the gardens now, Elphaba felt a tingle of excitement at the thought of exploring even more of the gardens. After receiving Miss Henrietta's permission, she darted off along one of the brick paths, which went around the main fountain that greeted them at the garden's entrance and led visitors away to mysterious places. Elphaba dashed past a group of weeping cherry trees, which cast dark shadows over the path and concealed a dirt path she had already explored. She had no desire at the moment to venture into places she had already seen, but rather to discover something new.
Elphaba decided to search for the part of the garden she could see from her bedroom window. The roses were beautiful today; the green girl wanted to touch their smooth crimson petals and breathe in their soft fragrance. She had not yet visited the parts of the garden her bedroom window showed to her, having little interest for things she had already seen, but it occurred to her now that she could not see every detail from her window—perhaps there was some hidden path or a unique view that she had not yet been able to discover.
It wasn't long before Elphaba was able to locate her bedroom window from the outside—her floral-patterned curtains marked it apart from the others—so the real challenge was finding a path that brought her closer to the window. The paths that appeared to lead in a certain direction could be deceptive, and often it was quicker to let the garden take her where it wanted to than to look for a part of it she was trying to reach. However, her effort paid off when Elphaba reached the rosebushes at last. They were arranged to form a pattern of a giant rose, Elphaba knew from looking out her bedroom window, but the shape they took appeared meaningless when viewed from the gardens themselves.
Elphaba spent a few minutes admiring the roses before deciding to look for any secrets she could discover in this part of the garden. Her gaze flitted over the edge of the grove, which was bordered by willow trees, and her sharp eyes noticed a shadowed path snaking around the roots of the largest tree. It was blocked by the elegantly curving branches of the tree, but now that Elphaba knew there was a path there, her curiosity was awakened. She pushed the branches aside to see the path, which was made of dirt and twisted unevenly down a slope towards a brick platform that stood quite far below. Elphaba couldn't see the platform fully, but she could hear the merry bubbling of water and guessed that there was a fountain on it. She set off down the path, letting the leafy curtain of willow branches rustle back to hide the secret platform once again.
Elphaba reached the platform quickly, and looked around with wide eyes at the stone walls that surrounded it. The fountain was rather small, but the sound of the water cascading down into it was magnified by the walls, which sent echoes all around. Sunlight shimmered on the water, casting sun spots everywhere on the hidden platform and dazzling Elphaba with its brilliance. Out of all the secret places in the garden she had discovered, this one was by far the most impressive.
Elphaba stepped onto the side of the fountain, reaching up with her hands to let the spout of water bubble over them. She squinted against the glare of the sun shining off the pool below, but the cold water was refreshing against her skin after the unrelenting heat of the summer sun. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the fountain's cheery gurgles and splashes.
Suddenly a red haze clouded beneath Elphaba's eyelids, making her gasp in surprise. The sound, echoing harshly off the high stone walls, frightened her with its sudden loudness, and the little girl lost her balance on the fountain's edge, falling into the water with a mighty splash. The fountain wasn't deep, so she was able to regain her footing quickly, but Elphaba began to cry from the shock of the cold. Noticing that the water drenching her had turned dark and red, and reeked of a metallic stench, Elphaba began to wail even louder. The water had turned to blood when it touched her skin!
Miss Henrietta suddenly exploded through the willow trees and stumbled down the slope. "Elphaba!" she cried, running to help pull the little girl out of the fountain. "What happened, sweetheart? What's wrong?" Even as she lifted the green girl into her arms to comfort her, the maid didn't seem to notice the blood that drenched Elphaba from head to toe.
Frightened and in shock, Elphaba began to sob loudly into Miss Henrietta's shoulder, her cries ringing out as they echoed in the small space. The maid didn't seem to know what to do, patting the little girl's back awkwardly in an attempt to calm her down. "Shhh," she whispered. "It's alright—it's only water."
It's not! Elphaba wanted to scream. It's blood—why can't you see it?
Instead, she sniffled pitifully. "I want my Mama," she choked out.
"Alright," Miss Henrietta comforted, although inwardly she doubted that Melena would be in any shape to comfort her daughter when they returned to the mansion. She hadn't wanted to speak out against Frexspar's wishes in any way, but the maid had noticed how much the milk flowers drained Melena. Henrietta hoped she would be able to recover quickly from as exhausting an ordeal as giving birth, but after seeing the effects of the milk flowers, she thought her hopes were a little too optimistic to come true. "I'll take you to your mother," she reassured Elphaba nonetheless, kissing the little girl's forehead.
She placed Elphaba gently on the ground, and they walked hand in hand back to the governor's mansion. The little girl was shivering slightly from the icy water, but seemed otherwise unharmed by the incident. The walk from the small fountain back to the mansion was quite long, and the sun soon dried the drops of water from Elphaba's skin. Her hair and clothing was still a little damp once they reached the governor's mansion, but after a quick inspection, Henrietta deemed her dry enough to go to her mother without changing her clothes first.
Elphaba dashed off to her parents' room once again, but this time she was not going to let her father chase her away. "I want to see Mama," she said firmly, without preamble, as she skidded to a halt in front of him. Frex scowled down at her, opening his mouth—no doubt to forbid her from entering—but she pushed past him before he could say anything.
"Elphaba, wait!" he called after her, his voice pained, but she barely heard him. She deserved to see her mother too; besides, she had probably already given birth to the new baby and would be happy to introduce him or her to Elphaba. So the green girl bounded over to the bed, expecting to be greeted by her mother's familiar smile. To her disappointment, Melena appeared to be sleeping.
"Wake up, Mama," Elphaba whispered, tugging at her mother's arm. It fell limply beneath her hands, much to the little girl's confusion. Touching Melena's hand, Elphaba found that it was cold, and her mother still didn't respond. "Wake up!" she cried, beginning to panic. Her mother didn't stir.
A thin wailing sound reached her ears from across the bedroom. Elphaba looked up from her mother's lifeless body to see her father, holding a bundle of blankets in his arms. Inside of it, Elphaba could see a tiny baby, with rosy cheeks and fine brown hair—her little sibling. She walked softly across the room to get a closer look at the baby, but Frexspar moved away from her.
"This is your fault," he hissed, his eyes burning with fury. "Your mother is dead and it's your fault. If your skin wasn't that revolting color, Melena wouldn't have needed to chew milk flowers, and if she hadn't chewed milk flowers, she might have had enough energy to survive losing so much blood. Are you happy—now that she's dead?—now that you've taken everything that mattered to me? First my good reputation, and now my wife—are gone, because of you!" His voice was sharp with hatred. "Get away from your little sister, before you curse her too!"
It was then that Elphaba's eyes began to well with tears. Her mother was gone, and she was never coming back. Her father had never liked her, but now he hated her—blamed her for her mother's death. He's right, Elphaba realized, grief stabbing at her heart so painfully that her vision went black for a moment. It is my fault. There were signs that this would happen—first I saw blood dripping from the rose, then the red haze in my eyes, and then the blood in the fountain! There must have been something I could have done; I might have been able to stop this somehow! But now she's dead, and it's too late…
"What's her name?" she whispered, looking up at her father as she blinked tears out of her eyes. "What is my sister's name?"
He hesitated for a moment, distrust and suspicion flickering in his stone-gray eyes. "Nessarose," he replied sharply. "Now get out." He turned his back on her, making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her. And now Melena was no longer around to protect her from his dislike, to constantly remind him that she was his daughter and that he should let her open up to him. Whatever chance they had to be like a real family was gone now—all because Melena had died too soon, all because Elphaba had done nothing to try to save her. Maybe if she had, her father might have forgiven her for being born the way she was.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, too quietly for him to hear. Regret prickling at her heart, she turned and walked away—leaving her father, her little sister, and her mother's lifeless body behind.
That night, the stars were beautiful, shining as brightly as tears in the navy blue sky. Elphaba could not remember the last time she had seen them. It was a shame, she thought, that the day that the sky was clear was the day that had also brought about so much sadness. She felt a pang of sorrow as all the time she had spent with her mother—which had once seemed so endless, but now felt so short—flickered through her mind. She found herself wishing for time with her mother, something that she would never have again.
Suddenly, something Elphaba's mother had said to her only a few days ago floated to the surface of her mind. You see, angels were guardians, Melena had told her, as part of the story of the demons and the angels, sent by those who have died to the people they love who are still living. Elphaba wondered now if she could ask her mother's spirit to send an angel for her little sister, who would never know Melena's loving gaze, or gentle scoldings, or bedtime stories.
She needs someone to guide her, Elphaba decided, like Mama guided me. I must be strong enough to survive her death on my own, because I'm not sure if she will send more than one angel—especially because it was my fault she died. I might not have helped her when I could have, but I will help Nessarose. Do you hear me, Mama? I will protect her like you always protected me.
Elphaba climbed onto the chair she had dragged over to her window that same morning, and gazed solemnly out of the window. "Mama," she whispered to the stars, wondering if her mother's spirit could hear her. "Even if you blame me for your death, please listen to me. Please send an angel to Nessarose; don't take your anger for me out on her by ignoring my prayer. Please, Mama—I need you to guide her because Father won't let me guide her myself." She begged her mother's spirit not to judge Nessarose for the crime she herself had committed. Gazing up at the star-filled sky, she hoped her words would be enough.
The wolf-monster watched the portal as many days passed as rapid flickers, each one insignificant compared to the story he was watching unfold. He was still unsure of what was actually going on, and hardly paying attention—he was more concerned with the cat, who was eyeing him malevolently. He was anxious to set off on his mission, especially because there was now something in it for him other than the witch's favor, but he wasn't sure what was in it for the cat. She obviously had a motive, but the wolf-monster was unable to figure out what it was.
Something out of the corner of his eye caught the wolf-monster's attention, and he glanced sharply at the portal. A falling star smeared silver across the dark backdrop of the sky, burning brightly as it disappeared behind the hills. A falling star, the wolf-monster thought excitedly. That's the sign I was looking for!
He whirled around to face the cat, hunger burning in his yellow eyes. The cat watched him, its pit-like eyes glittering in evil amusement at his desire, but it obviously understood that he had seen the falling star the witch had told them about. The cat's claws began to glow, although with darkness rather than light, and it sprang suddenly upward, raking its claws through the air in front of it. The air it had clawed was replaced by dark streaks, as if the cat had ripped away parts of the world, revealing a void behind it. The darkness suspended in the air began to fill out between the claw marks, widening until it had formed another portal in the room. This one, however, seemed to be made of pure darkness, and a wind from within it tugged at the wolf-monster's feathered pelt.
He didn't like the thought of walking blindly into the darkness of the time portal, but his longing for wings outweighed his distrust of the cat. The wily creature padded forward into the portal it had created, vanishing completely for a moment as it turned around before its head and front paws reappeared. The effect was unsettling—the cat appeared to have become a part of the darkness that was inside the portal. The wolf-monster shivered fearfully, and Lynx hissed at him impatiently, beckoning to him with a flick of her tail.
Steeling himself for the decision he was about to make, the wolf-monster closed his eyes and stepped into the portal. Barely a sound could be heard in the castle of Kiamo Ko as the tear in the world repaired itself, taking the cat and the monster into the darkness that was beyond it.