Chapter 1

The cottage nestled deep in the forest was the kind of place that seemed to belong in a forgotten dream. Moss crept up its stone walls, and ivy curled along the windowsills like nature's signature. Smoke drifted lazily from the chimney, curling into the twilight sky as if it, too, had nowhere to be.

Inside, Elphaba sat cross-legged on a faded rug, flipping through a worn book of spells. Fiyero leaned by the hearth, polishing a kettle and humming tunelessly, the warmth of the fire casting gold across his scarecrow face. Here, away from Oz, away from the stories and the lies, they had found a semblance of peace.

It didn't last.

The first sound was a flutter, distant but steady. Then another. Then dozens. Fiyero looked up.

"Elphaba…"

"I hear them," she whispered, rising to her feet. Her heart thundered, an old rhythm awakened after years of stillness.

The windows burst open in a flurry of wings and cold air. Figures flooded the room—Winged Monkeys, eyes wide with disbelief. They hovered, hesitated. Then one stepped forward.

"Master?"

The voice was crisp, refined, Elphaba thought absently—and trembling with emotion.

"Chistery?" she asked, the name falling from her lips like a forgotten melody.

The Winged Monkey dropped to his knees before her, wings drooping. "You're alive. I knew it. I knew you couldn't have—" He surged forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Forgive me, Master, I... I never stopped looking."

She froze, then gently returned the embrace. "You have nothing to apologize for."

That night, the fire crackled low while they all sat together—Fiyero with one arm resting behind Elphaba, Chistery sitting tall with dignity despite the dust on his feathers, and the other monkeys perched respectfully around the cottage.

"We searched for years," Chistery began, his eyes fixed on the flames. "Not all of us believed the stories they told. That Dorothy child said you melted. But we found no remains. No proof. Just a wet floor and silence."

Elphaba gave a sad smile. "That silence kept us safe."

"Safe perhaps," Chistery said, "but Oz is not. Since your... disappearance, the land has withered. Glinda tries to hold the center, bless her, but the cracks are too deep. The Emerald City grows cold."

Elphaba frowned. "I never wanted this."

"I know, Master," Chistery said. "But there may be a way to help. In our travels, we heard whispers. Of a tower. Of a girl. Of a princess."

Fiyero leaned in. "Princess?"

Chistery nodded. "Princess Ozma. The rightful heir, hidden away. And the tower isn't far. We passed it not two days ago, cloaked in vines and shadows. If she's truly there…"

Elphaba's eyes burned with new fire. "Then we're going to find her."

They flew at dawn.

Through forests heavy with mist, over cliffs and rivers, until the tower revealed itself—a skeletal shape rising from the trees, wrapped in thorny growth like it had been forgotten by time.

The stairs were narrow, winding, and endless. But Elphaba climbed with purpose, her emerald hand glowing faintly with magic as they reached the highest floor. There, behind a rusted iron gate, sat a girl in a silver gown, eyes the color of starlight.

"Elphaba," she said softly, before Elphaba could even speak.

"You know me?"

"I've known of you for years," Ozma said. "And I know you're not wicked. You never were."

Elphaba felt the words catch in her throat. She raised a hand and whispered an incantation; the door swung open with a shudder. But her gaze drifted around the cell—bare stone, a torn blanket, a single bowl—and a ghost from the past crept in.

A different girl. A farmhouse. A pair of shoes and a locked door.

"I held someone once," she murmured, more to herself. "Locked her up for what she'd done to my sister. She was just a girl."

Fiyero placed a hand on her shoulder. "And she was given a second chance. Like you were."

Chistery nodded. "That girl likely forgives you by now, Master. She grieved you."

Elphaba's voice cracked. "She thinks she killed me. She must've carried that all these years."

"She wasn't the only one who suffered lies," Fiyero said gently.

The moment hung heavy.

Then—CRASH!

A younger monkey, breathless and wide-eyed, burst through the window, knocking over a lantern in panic. "Master!" he gasped. "Oz is in ruin!"