Chapter 10

The Reckoning

AN: My deepest apologize for how long this took to be posted, but work this week has just been crazy! Anyways, yeah chapter 10! And yeah, reached 500 views! I'm so happy that so many people are enjoying this story. Thank you all too for the wonderful reviews and I hope I answered your questions. Keep posting your reviews and any questions you may have in regards to this story. Your reviews help to inspire more chapters! Thank you again, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Galinda's breath caught within the thickness of her throat as another bloodcurdling scream, ripped through the air, shattering the peace that had fallen upon the Palace of Emeralds. Her knees wobbled before silently threatening to buckle beneath the white witch's wavering resistance. Her heart raced making her blood pump like a raging river within her veins. Another scream and her eyes took a deadly dive to the endless abyss slowly creeping over the blonde's trembling body. A twist of her heart left her breathlessly panting, her lungs burning for air, and her head to swim within the oceanic rage of her nightmares. And her once shimmering blonde curls, limp from crystal dew, clung to her sweat beaten forehead.

Tears flooded her eyes, as she watched, frozen like the statue of Lurline, at the crumpled mass of raven and lace, writhing, thrashing violently on the emerald floor. Glistening crimson spilled upon the floor; a sick, twisted cacophony of violence and rage, of vengeance and mirth.

Painful, gasping breathes escaped pale, quivering emerald lips tainted in the same crimson gore; struggle to push air into inflamed lungs, assailed with pain, and rage. Dark, ebony eyes stared out, unfocused, and cloudy out into nothingness, tiny pinpricks of pain, sting at the corner of her eyes, as small crystal tears dance along the edge of her eyes.

Three guards dressed in standard Gale Force uniforms tower over her, each pointing a spear or sword at the wretched witch's heart. A long, ebony spear lays impaled deep, into the emerald woman's shoulder, as a waterfall of crimson spills to the ground; mixed in spit and gore.

"Now do you heed me Witch" spats the Wizard, an icy smile sliding across his slimy lips.

This torture had been going on for hours, since the guards had dragged Elphaba up from the hellish bowels of Southstairs. The many, having already had their fun with the emerald witch, simply stood back, as the lesser ranked guards exacted their vengeance for their fallen comrades.

At first it had started off simple, with the guards mainly slapping, the witch. Then, it grew darker, and more violent in their vicious beating of vengeance. What once was slaps, turned into full out punches to the face, the chest, and the gut; leaving the witch gasping and vomiting. Kicks soon started to her torso, her legs, and her face.

The beatings became worse with the guards using their lances, and swords to beat the woman, stab, cut and mutilate her flesh. One guard held out her arm, before slamming his swords hilt against the joint where the elbow and the rest of her arm connected, shattering the bones. Her face was marred in bruises and cuts, long lacerations and gashes.

They beat her legs, breaking her ankle and the knee joints with their swords. Two, laid the witch on the ground, before the third took a large mallet. Swinging it above his head, he slammed the large stone mallet down on her legs, shattering the bones. The screams that followed, shattered what was left of Galinda's soul, leaving her a soulless shell.

One guard took his pistol and fired a bullet deep into her shoulder, breaking and cracking the bones. Another, having loved the symphony of screams that followed, stabbed the witch deep into the other shoulder, where the shoulder blade and the bone of the arms connected, leaving her writhing, and seizing uncontrollably on the ground.

Fiyero stood by, a helpless look marring his handsome features. He wanted nothing more, than to run to his Fae, beat the guards away from her, gather her up in his arms, and hold her, soothing away her pain with a gentle kiss. He wanted to, his soul, his heart, yearned, burned to touch her, to wash away all the horrors that had befallen the emerald goddess. And yet, he couldn't…or wouldn't, he wasn't sure which. All he knew was that an internal battle was being played deep within between his heart, and his mind, each equally matched, and neither wishing to step down. And the victor had yet to be determined.

With each scream, with every surge of blood, the Prince clenched and unclenched his fists resting against the side of his leg, his breathes came in short, hot gulps, his teeth and jaw clenched in time with his fists, and his heart, twisted that much more within the heaving confines of his chest.

Slowly, Elphaba lifted her head up, till her dark, ebony eyes all but glared clouded, blinded by pain, back at the Wizard, and Fiyero and Galinda both wondered, whether or not Elphaba actually could see the Wizard, or if she merely directed her gaze to where she had heard his voice.

A low growl slipped past her lips. Weakly, Elphaba slammed her hands down on the blood soaked floor. With a grunt of pain, the emerald witch slowly rose from the ground, her dark eyes never leaving the Wizards face.

Rising to her full height, she teeters, before regaining her balance, her one hand gently cradles her bleeding shoulder, the other rests placidly against her side.

A gasp slipped past Galinda's lips, before clenching them closed into a thin line. She still had to remind herself that her Elphie was different, changed. She was far more powerful then when she first came to the scene at Shiz University. Powerful enough, to mend her broken legs; though it was obvious, that with the rapid healing going on in her body, it was starting to take a toll on her. Yes her legs were healed, but the bones were still cracked beneath the skin, making it incredibly painful to force weight upon them.

"You think We would bow to the likes of you? Ha! Your even more delusional then first expected" snorts Elphaba, the dark edge quickly returning in her voice.

A simple nod by the Wizard and a guard standing behind the witch immediately steps up behind her, takes his rifle, aims it at her now healing shoulder, and pulls the trigger. A splatter of blood, followed by a mirroring echo of screams ricocheted within throne room, shattering the glass within the windows.

Crystal glass rained down upon the floor, slicing Elphaba's skin, and tearing what was left of the dress. Weakly, Elphaba's legs wobble, before giving beneath her, making her fall to her knees. Her dark, ebony eyes remain transfixed on the Wizard.

Trepidation rippled across Fiyero's heart as he watched helplessly, as his Fae was once again being tortured. Only this time, he and Galinda were being forced, to bear witness to the atrocities.

With a snap of his fingers, a guard standing by the door stalks up to the witch, his hands clutch hard onto the sides of a wooden bucket. It took Fiyero a split second to realize exactly what the bucket held, for within a blink of an eye, the guard dumped the crystal clear liquid on Elphaba's head, drenching her hair, and burning her flesh.

Fiyero had to look away, and cover his ears as the raw, gut twisting smell and sound of flesh sizzling filled the room, making his stomach twist and his heart to clench tight within his chest.

Galinda's legs gave beneath her, her eyes clouded as she stared vacantly at the figure with emerald skin, and swathed in ebony, writhe and thrash on the ground. Heart wrenching screams slipping like ice through the witches pale, quivering lips.

"Elphie" whispers Galinda.

Outside the Throne room, a figure swathed in a lavender cloak, almost glides across the floor made of emerald marble; the tips of her toes seemed to almost skim the surface of the floor. Her figure was hidden beneath the soft fabric of her cloak, though if one was to venture a guess to who was beneath, they would have guessed right. The hood of the figures cloak bathed her face in complete and utter darkness, concealing the person's identity.

Dark eyes narrowed at the sight of the two guards standing on either ride of the majestic emerald doors. The one on the right was tall, with a hulking figure, piercing emerald eyes, and a chiseled physique; quite handsome, for being a guard to the great and illustrious Wizard. His long raven hair was slicked back by gel and a small amount of stubble darted across his face. He wore the official Gale Force uniform, but, unlike Fiyero's, his was all green, with ebony buttons running down the length of his muscled chest.

The other man, shorter than the first had wheat gold hair and much softer facial features, and the figured guessed, was young, that much was obvious, one young enough to not have seen the horrors of the real world. He had an angelic look to him, with pixie blue eyes and thin lips. Unlike the other man, this one's facial hair was light, barely seen against the light tan of his skin probably of Gillikin descent, where his partner was more than likely from the Vinkus, what with his warrior's physique and all.

Muscles rippled beneath his gale force uniform, proving that he had at least crossed the fated gateway between boyhood and stepped into the gilded gates of manhood. Small wisps of bangs, swept across his forehead, making him look even younger than he already was.

Both men, held a long ebony spear in their opposite hands, and a sword of silver on the hilt of their waists. These two men were obviously superfluous, not high on the hierarchy of contingent guards. And that thought, made the cloaked figure smirk beneath the shadows.

"Halt!" roars the man with raven hair, before slamming his ebony spear on the ground. A resounding clang echoed within the large, hollow hallway.

'What a brute…having to create such a ruckus just to beef himself up' grumbles the woman beneath her breath.

"Who dares wish to enter the omnipotent Wizard of Oz's throne room" His voice held an edge of both fear, and rage, easily picked up upon by the cloaked figure, which, under normal circumstances, would have scared many to pee their pants, but not her.

"I wish to speak to the Wizard regarding urgent matters" replies the figure; her voice was soft, like wind chimes, seductive and enticing.

"The Wizard is presently occupied. Come back tomorrow!" growls the raven haired man.

"Deverell please" speaks the man on the left.

The figures eyes flickered over to the one who had spoken, the fair-haired boy. A small smirk crossed the figures lavender lips. It knew that look, and it relished such affections, no matter how misguided they may be, or how well intentioned.

"Elryk…have you misplaced your mind…or have you quickly forgotten what happened the last time our comrades allowed a stranger bearing false news to enter the Great Throne of Oz?" growls Deverell.

"I bear no ill-will…I merely wish to warn the Wizard that is all" replies figure, a glint of purple sparkling from its eyes.

"Warn the Wizard?" sneers Deverell, quickly shaking away the strange warmth wrapping its seductive arms around his body, entrancing him within a sea of serenity. Something his broken heart and soul, had not felt, since that fated day.

"Yes" growls the figure.

"Of what?" laughs Deverell, throwing his head back as he laughs from deep within his chest.

"Of a danger that not even he…can stop" replies the figure, darkness, and ice, laced deep within her voice.

"Oh I doubt that. There's nothing our great Wizard can't do" laughs Deverell.

"Not this…what's coming is bigger than any of you have seen. Nothing can stop it, for all will fall to its great power" replies the figure.

"If this power is so great, then why bother to warn the Wizard?" asks Elryk, a genuine look of confusion and terror sparkling within his eyes.

For a moment, the figures heart lurched within her chest. The look, the spark within his eyes, almost undid the figure, and for a moment, she merely stood there, staring back at the boy, the man, who had just stepped into the realm of manhood.

"That young man…is for me to know…and for you to find out" warns the figure, after regaining her composure, and allowing the ice to once again wrap around her heart.

Angry and annoyed by this figures cryptic remarks, Deverell reaches out, and grasps hard onto the figures wrist. Pulling her flush against his chest, Deverell reaches his other hand up to clench around the tip of her hood.

"Now see here lady…I don't know who you are or where you come from…but you deliver your message to me then get out of my sights!" growls Deverell.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you" warns the figure, her voice icy, and dark.

"Or you'll what?" laughs Deverell, as he leans his face closer to the darkness hiding the figures face, his eyes all but glare into the ebony abyss, swirling within the tight confines of the figures hood, searching for the face hidden within.

"This" hisses the figure.

Before Deverell can say anything, a sharp pain explodes within his shoulder. Staggering, he drops the figure, before slamming into the great ornate doors. Elryk's eyes widen in horror, at the ebony blade stabbed hilt deep, into his friends shoulder.

Slowly, he turns to face the figure, kneeling in a graceful pose on the ground, the hood of the cloak hung loose around her neck, revealing at last, the figures true identity.

"Mmm" mutters Elryk.

Smiling, the figure shoots a ray of lavender lightning at the young soldier, slamming him against the wall, and knocking him unconscious.

Slowly, the figure rises to her feet, her slender hands grasp tenderly to the soft silken edges of her hood. Seductively, she steps up next to Deverell's shaking body.

"You…you" stammers Deverell.

"Killed you…no sadly not. That wound will only stun you…you'll live…but you'll be in a lot of pain" smirks the figure, as she kneels before Deverell.

Deverell's eyes widen in both anger and horror as he glares back at the woman who had inflicted him with such an injury. Trembling fingers stained in blood, reach out towards the figures face.

"This won't stop me…I will…I will" gasps Deverell, the realms of consciousness were slowly slipping away, as darkness called to him, begging him, seducing his mind and body to fall within the silken folds of sleep.

"Be thankful…I decided to let you keep your pathetic excuse for a life…for next time…you won't be so lucky" growls the woman.

With that, the figure slams the hilt of another dagger against the side of Deverell's head, knocking him unconscious. Smiling, the figure's slender fingers tenderly reach out towards Deverell's face. Lovingly, the figure trails the tips of her fingers, down the hard, masculine edge of Deverell's face.

"Sweet dreams dark prince…may flights of Devil's wing lead you to your eternal resting ground" whispers the figure, before tenderly leaning down and kissing him.

As she pulls away, her fingers once again reach up, and curl along the edge of her hood. With a quick snap of her wrist, the hood once again falls into place, hiding her appearance.

Rising to her feet, the figure stares at the door, almost willing it to open magickally on its own hinges. With an irritated sigh, the figure points a slender finger up at the great Ornate doors. With a flick of a graceful motion, the doors magickally swing open, allowing the cloaked figure entry, into the illustrious Wizard's throne room.

The creek of the doors jars the Wizard's attention away from the writhing witch on the ground. His eyes grow cold, at the sight of a woman, hidden beneath a lavender cloak, stand before him, and her face hidden.

"Who the Devil are you!" roars the Wizard.

"The Bringer of Death" whispers the figure.

"What?"

In an instant, darkness fills the great hall, blinding everyone, and leaving them spellbound, too terrified to move, or to even breathe.

Slowly, the rolling darkness vanishes, revealing a tall, slender woman standing before them, her one arm is lovingly cradles Elphaba's beaten body, the other, clutches tight to her umbrella.

"How the Devil did she acquire that?" mumbles the Wizard. His eyes briefly flicker to the side of his great Throne, where said umbrella, had been resting against but a moment before.

Galinda meanwhile, had slowly risen back to her feet, her silk slippers gently padded down the emerald steps, as her large, cerulean eyes stared wide, back at the figure.

Fiyero stands paralyzed at his position on the steps, his one hand grasping loosely around the hilt of his sword, his eyes following Galinda. His breathes come in short gasps, as fear grips his heart. He, like Galinda's mind was racing, for the woman who stood before them, was one who the two never figured would go against the Wizard, let alone hold any real great power.

"Mystle" whispers Galinda, as she steps down level to the woman.

"Hello Galinda" smiles Mystle wickedly.

"Impossible…why…why would you-"starts Galinda, tears pooling within her eyes.

"Why am I helping the Wicked Witch of the West?" ask Mystle, her voice mocking.

All Galinda can do is nod, not trusting her voice. Her heart pounded furiously within her chest. After all, Mystle was not only her personal servant, but her only friend in the Palace. The two had confided in so many things, during her time here as the Wizard's Speaker.

Mystle was the only one out of all the Servants and guards, to actually help make Galinda feel more at ease about living at the Palace. The two had quickly formed a close friendship, digressing in each other's hopes and dreams of the future.

The young servant girl was friendly as well as bubbly, very smart, and strong. She didn't let anyone walk over her, yet she protected Galinda and her privacy with a fiery passion.

It was actually Mystle who had introduced her brother Thistle, to Galinda. And it was by the both of them, who convinced Fiyero to allow Thistle to become his personal servant as well as Messenger.

Now here she stood, her friend, her confidante of so many years, standing before her, helping the witch who all of Oz wished to tear apart, a maniacal glint, sparkling within her eyes.

"Mystle…why are you doing this!" cries Galinda.

"Mystle is no longer here" laughs the figure.

"I…I don't understand" whispers Galinda, confusion flashing across her face.

"She's dead…I killed her a few hours ago" smirks Mystle.

"But…that can't be…your standing here, before my very eyes" quivers Galinda, too afraid to hear the real reason why, Mystle's body was standing before her. For if what this person was saying is the true…

"I stole her head…after severing it from her body" smiles Mystle maliciously.

Bile rose within Galinda's throat. Quickly she turned away, one dainty hand cupped against her quivering lips. Clenching her eyes, Galinda struggled to not only keep the bile down, but the tears now teetering against the edges of her eyes, from spilling.

When will this nightmare end? When will the end be near? It was bad enough, that the blonde witch had lost her friend to darkness one day, watched her friend be beaten and raped the next, but now, now her only friend in the entire Emerald Palace was dead, and someone else, was now wearing her head.

The zing of a blade draws Galinda's attention back to the horrors standing before her. Fiyero, now stands behind Mystle, sword hovering mere inches from her neck, and both his arms, wrapped tight around her slender waist.

"Who are you?" asks Fiyero, his voice low, and dark.

"Wouldn't you like to know" laughs Mystle.

Angry, Fiyero pushes the blade against Mystle's throat, making a small crimson blood, to bubble to the surface. A low gasp, slips past Mystle's lavender colored lips at the pain made by his sword.

"I'm not asking you again…now tell me…who the hell are you!" growls Fiyero.

Something hard, and cold presses against Fiyero's neck, making him stiffen, and his eyes to widen in surprise. Galinda stands trembling the scene before her. Fiyero stands, holding Mystle tight against him, sword clutched threateningly, against her oleander neck, small droplets of crimson pearls drip down her neck, staining her lavender and blue dress. And standing to the side of Fiyero, is none other than Elphaba, the tip of her umbrella pressed against his neck.

"Fae" starts Fiyero.

Growling in frustration, Elphaba presses the tip of her umbrella against Fiyero's neck, making him wince.

"I said…let her go"

Slowly, Fiyero lowers the blade of the sword from Mystle's neck. His arms remain wrapped tight around her waist. For a few tense moments, Fiyero remains frozen in place; with Mystle smiling evilly back at the white witch. Finally, Fiyero unwinds his arms from Mystle's body, and with a grunt, pushes Mystle away from him.

Elphaba, still pressing the end of her umbrella against Fiyero's neck, cackles before pushing the tip of her umbrella against his neck, before silently leading him towards the center of the throne room, and once again facing the Wizard and Morrible, now glaring back at the emerald witch.

Her slender hand reaches out towards Mystle. Smiling, Mystle tenderly entwines her fingers with the emerald witch's, before following her to the center of the Throne room.

"Now who has the upper hand Wizard" snarls Elphaba.

A heat, flashes against Fiyero's neck. His eyes flicker to the side, what he sees makes his breath hitch within his throat, an ebony flame, dancing along the tip of her umbrella, mere inches from kissing his skin, and setting him ablaze.

"Fiyero!" screams Galinda.