Azkadellia felt alive. Her power, her own power not the Witch's, coursed through her veins like liquid fire. She had found the store room where they kept the spells she had sealed away and destroyed whatever was in there. Now she stalked through the halls, her eyes looking for anyone who needed help. Most of them were so hell bent on revenge they did not need her help but a few did. Like the poor boy who was so young it was a miracle he was holding the sword at all. The Longcoat had raised his sword to kill him and the boy had looked at him with nothing but resigned sadness in his eyes. Azkadellia had appeared behind the boy, her eyes blazing and the Longcoat had been so shocked he had frozen, allowing the boy the opening he needed. The look in his eyes when he realized what Azkadellia had done, the gratefulness, made it all worth it.

But she could not find Zero. She knew that Jeb needed to kill him, that he needed to move on but she did not want the young man to die. She knew that would break Cain and that would hurt her sister and she would not--could not let that happen. Searching through the chaos she looked for Jeb and spotted him running down the hallway. Making to follow him she let her guard down for just one second and felt a pair of arms wrap around her as a cloth soaked in some kind of herb was shoved in her face. She tried to cry out but found it impossible. The world was rapidly fading from her view as she struggled less and less effectively.

There was a crack of bone on bone and suddenly air was pouring through her lungs. Her knees hit the ground as she turned her head to see Ambrose take out four guards at once. He took out the last one, breaking the arm that held the cloth with a look of grim satisfaction before sending him flying down the hallway. He raced over to Azkadellia and slung one of her arms around his neck, pulling her to her feet easily.

"How--" she began weakly as the world lurched and he quickly gathered her up in his arms.

"DG, she stayed but she seemed to think you might need some help," he picked up the cloth and made a face, "you'll be fine, just a little dizzy."

"Majesties," the little boy from before and a woman Azkadellia recognized as Marian the scout came running forward, "we need to get you out of here," Azkadellia opened her mouth to protest but the boy who had looked at her first with fear and hatred and now with gratitude and respect shook his head, "we need you," he said, "the OZ needs you, you can't die."

"Show us out," Ambrose said adjusting Azkadellia in his arms, "lets hurry."

"This way," Marian said leading them down a hallway and out of the palace.

"Ambrose," he heard Azkadellia gasp his name and curl onto herself in his arms, "something's wrong--" she cried out and buried her face in his shoulder. He tightened his grip on her and ran faster after Marian. That was not a natural reaction the herbs and whatever it was, he did not want to loose her. He'd rather have her alive and yelling at him for doing something stupid than dead.

The world was ending.

All around Jeb there were battle cries mixed with the unmistakable metal on metal smash of swords meeting. It was like nothing he had seen before. He had been in battles but nothing like this, where the only thing that mattered was breathing and being able to breath again. Sucking in his breath he ran as fast he could. He would like to think that his mind was on saving Airofday, that he was hoping to do some good but all of that was a lie. His mind was on one thing and one thing alone: he needed to kill Zero. Just as surely as he needed to breath in his next breath he needed to thrust the sword through Zero's heart, to watch the light go out in his eyes, to watch him die and know this was finally over.

He should have known getting him alone would be easy. It was as easy as going into the throne room. Unlike Azkadellia who he had seen physically tackle a guard, Zero seemed to know that this came down to two people. He was waiting, looking very much like the King he was not. Jeb felt anger, pure unadulterated hatred, curl through his system. The only thing that seemed to matter was Zero and killing him. He knew the man knew he was there, he saw it in the way his hand moved down to grip the sword on his waist. He turned around and faced Jeb, his lips curling into a cruel imitation of a smirk.

"You're doing this all wrong," Zero said, "I'm supposed to kill your father or your true love for you to come charging in here on a vendetta," he sighed, "I should have known you wouldn't do anything right."

"You killed my mother," Jeb gritted out tightening his grip on the sword, "and if I don't kill you now you will kill her."

"Her," Zero tapped his lip in mock-confusion, "oh you mean her," he smirked and looked over his shoulder at his Wizard who stepped into the room. Two guards dragged Airofday behind them and Jeb felt an unfamiliar tightening in his stomach at the sight of her. She looked so pale and weak. When one of the guards hauled her up, he heard an audible snap and one of her fingers bent back. Even in her drugged sleep she whimpered, the sound making Jeb see red.

"Let her go," he ordered facing Zero.

"You've go to love when there's a girl," Zero grinned, "makes it so much better," he hefted the massive broadsword, "now then, I hear you've got a plan to run me through," he looked at the sword, "with my own sword."

"Its my sword now," Jeb returned.

"For now," Zero laughed and ran forward.

They met with a clash of steel on steel. Zero was obviously stronger and meant to lock swords with him but Jeb had been fighting stronger opponents his whole life--and he had the desire for vengeance on his side. When Zero tried to lock swords he spun away and slashed Zero across his arm. Zero let out a cry of agony and spun around but Jeb ducked under the blow, too close for him to use the massive sword effectively. He did not, however, see Zero go for the dagger until there was a searing pain in his right eye and half of his vision was suddenly covered in red. He reacted out of pain, hatred and the desire for everything to be over and thrust out, half blind, with his sword.

It had been a while since Airofday had been doped. Her head throbbed furiously and there was a dryness in her mouth that felt like she would never get rid of it. Opening her eyes she moved her hand and froze, fire racing up her arm in agony. Two of her fingers were bent at odd angles. With her free hand she reached up. Keeping her movements slowly she reached upwards and groped for some kind of weapon. She wrapped her hand around the leg of one of the small tables by the throne and used her magic to tug it free. She altered the shape to make it longer and a good deal heavier before jumping to her feet and slamming it into the two Guard's heads.

Jeb looked at Zero across the sword that joined his hand to Zero's stomach. Zero fell back, a look of shock on his face as he slid free from the blade to fall to the ground. With a grunt of effort Jeb swung the sword up and severed his head from his body, making sure there was no way in hell Zero was coming back. Slowly the young man sunk to his knees in the rapidly widening pool of blood, staring numbly at the dead man. He had killed him, he had finally done it. He had been carrying around the need for revenge for longer than he cold remember and he finally had it. Suddenly the world seemed too scary, too bright, too overwhelming for him.

"Jeb?" a shaky, dry voice called through the layers of confusion that were building in his head. Shaking off his stupor he saw Airofday standing there, using an elongated piece of wood as a support, her face pale. He forced back the confusion and re-sheathed his sword walking over to her. For a moment they just looked at each other, concern in her eyes and something unreadable in his. Then his knees gave out and he sunk to his feet in front of her, "Jeb!" she cried falling to her knees in front of him and catching him as he lost consciousness.

It was to be the final battle that none of them got. It was true, the world did end--the world the Witch created was finally wiped out until there was nothing left. At the end of the battle some had lost their lives but most of them stood there, worse for the wear but finally with some small measure of peace from the nightmare. Both of the witches were sick thanks to the herbs that had been shoved in their faces but they would recover. Even if she was sick from the herbs like Azkadellia Airofday refused to leave Jeb's side. The young man was exhausted from years of fighting, years of being caught in an eternal nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape and now, now he was free.

His face was smooth if not a little pale from the bloodloss. White bandages were wrapped tightly across the right side of his face. The healers said that his eyeball was fine but he would have a scar. Airofday did not think he would mind considering he already had so many. Those were emotional, not physical though. The would leave a mark, she knew that much, but they would heal as well. People started as blank canvases but they certainly did not end as them. Reaching out she touched Jeb's cheek, just under the bandages, trying to find answers in his sleeping face. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist as his eyes struggled to open. Finally he forced them open.

If he was expecting kindness he should have stuck with the resistance girls. Airofday jammed a finger into his chest.

"DOn't you ever do that again!" she cried accusingly.

"Ow!" he said, "that hurts."

"Well-well good!" she said, "you almost died and then you passed out in my arms I was scared!" she accused.

Much to her shame she felt her eyes burn and looked away. She had promised herself that she was not going to cry. Jeb pushed himself up on his elbows and reached out, touching her hand gently. She turned her face towards him, his form becoming blurry because of the tears in her eyes. Reaching forward he touched her face, wiping the tears away even as they were quickly replaced by more.

"I hoped you would be here when I woke up," he said softly.

That did it and she threw herself into his arms, knocking them both back onto the bed. Her tears soaked the bare skin of his shoulder as she cried. She felt him tremble and soon he had his face in her shoulder, her skin muffling the sobs that wracked his frame. She tightened her grip on him, her tears soon abating. He was alive, she had known he was whole but now he finally seemed to know it too. He cried for everything he was, for everything he had done, he cried for the fact that his life could now really begin. His fingers dug into her back as he clung to her. She held him tightly, the ice around her heart slowly breaking bit by bit.

Ambrose was pacing outside the tent that held Azkadellia. He had laid Azkadellia on the bed and took her hand, fully intending to stay with her when the healers had thrown him out. She had cried out in pain and fear and tried to hold on to his hand but they had thrown him out before he could protest. Now he was pacing outside the tent, worry etched on her face. He had heard her cry out a few times and each time he had tried to get in there but they had said he would only get in the way. They could not remove him from the outside of the tent though, despite their pleas. Finally a healer emerged from the tent, red on his hands but relief in his eyes.

"Well?" Ambrose demanded, not bothering with any kind of niceties.

"She needs to rest and she's forbidden from using magic for the time being," he said, "we were very very lucky, she's strong be sharing magic again so soon after--" he stopped himself, 'well I imagine she'll want to tell you herself," he glared, "but if you upset her you'll be risking more than her life."

Ambrose didn't even look at the healer. He ducked into the tent and did not stop until he was by Azkadellia's bed. They had obviously changed the sheets because now they were a white that almost matched Azkadellia's pale face. He knelt beside the bed and took her hand in his, brushing a kiss over her palm. She looked up at him with her eyes full of tears and he felt a rush of protectiveness. She was so small in the bed, curled on her side like a child.

"How are you feeling?" he asked his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm scared," she said honestly, "they said I almost los--" she looked at him, "did the healer tell you?" he shook his head, "of course you figured it out."

"He said I would be risking more than your life if I upset you," he confessed.

"They said it was so soon--they said it was a miracle that I didn't miscarry. The herbs cut off my magic and risked the baby."

A tear slipped down her face which he quickly covered with his hands and wiped away. SHe turned into his touch, covering his hand with hers and guiding it down to her abdomen. It was silly, really, it was too soon for there to be any kind of sign. But still, it was almost unfathomable for him to think there was a person in there, someone that he and Azkadellia had created together. She searched his face for some kind of reaction and he sighed, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break his face in half.

"Well I suppose there's no way out of wedding planning now," he said his face breaking into a bright smile.

"No," she said returning his bright smile, "I suppose not."

Back in the palace DG paced the hallway. The battle was over and they had won but no-one was telling her how her sister was. She thought she would have felt something if Azkadellia had been hurt but she wasn't sure. Toying with the sphere in her hand she sighed and resumed her pacing as she tried not to think of every possible scenario. Finally the sphere sparkled to life and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ambrose," she said, "how is everyone?"

"Well Jeb's fine," he said, "he's got a rather cool scar but since Airofday has assured him it looks good he's fine with it. He's a bit busy though at the moment."

"I'm sure," DG sighed, "how's Az?"

"Az is fine," he said. She could hear her sister's voice in the background and Ambrose's hushed reply, "she says to tell you that you've got to make the travel storms to get everyone back though because the healer told her not to use magic."

"Why not?" DG demanded, "did she get hurt? How bad is it--why are you lying to me?"

"It's not bad," he said, "and your sister isn't hurt--" she heard Azkadellia take the sphere.

"DG?" she asked.

"Yeah?" DG replied, sensing something big was about to happen.

"How do you feel about being an aunt?"

DG sucked in her breath and stared at the sphere. An aunt? She was going to be an aunt and that meant that Az was pregnant. Az and Ambrose were going to be parents. She looked over at Cain who walked forward at her look of shock, ready to catch her if she fainted. About a second later her face split into the widest grin she could remember wearing in a long time. Dropping the sphere she raced over to Cain and threw her arms around him with a cry of joy.

"I'm going to be an aunt!" she all but screamed, "Az is pregnant!"

Cain looked at her. Her face was flushed and her eyes were sparkling in the light. He didn't think she had ever looked more beautiful. Cupping her face he kissed her, a kiss full of all the emotions he felt but could not necessarily say. Pulling back she looked at him breathlessly. He held her at an arm's length, looked into her eyes and the words came out of his mouth before he could think them through. They were the right thing to say, the only thing to say in that moment.

"Marry me."

"What?" DG looked at him. Her memory was coming back more and more but even as it was, they barely knew each other.

"Marry me," he repeated, a bit more firmly, "I love you, I have since you saved me from that tin suite. We might not know each other as well as Az and Ambrose but I know that I want to wake up every day with you in my arms. I know that I love you and feel free to stop me anytime here--"

"Yes," she said suddenly.

"Yes?" he questioned.

"Yes!" she cried, "Yes of course I will marry you!" she threw her arms around him, her lips against his own.

Neither heard Ambrose and Azkadellia demanding through the sphere if they were still there or what the hell was going on. They were too wrapped up in each other to really notice anything but themselves. Thankfully they had Jack there making sure that no-one troubled the couple. DG leaned her forehead against Cain's, her eyes bright. In both of her lives, the only two lives she really remembered, he had been the one place she felt like she was home. That hadn't changed and if DG had anything to say about it, it would not change for a very long time.

DG created enough travel storms to transport the resistance fighters back. They came back from the war and suddenly the palace was alive again with color and hope. It may not have been the OZ that DG remembered but she knew this was the OZ that she wanted to remember.