Several months had passed since Morrible's fall and the fires of revolution had faded to embers.

Oz had been rebuilt, not just in stone and gold, but in spirit. The ruined Emerald City had given way to a new heart of the land—a peaceful village blooming around Ozma's restored palace. It stood tall and proud in the center, not as a symbol of dominance, but as a beacon of unity. Trees lined the quiet paths, laughter drifted from open windows, and the air was filled with birdsong and hope.

The Animals, once voiceless and hunted, had returned to their homes with dignity. Among them, Dr. Dillamond now stood once again in front of a classroom at Shiz University, chalk in hand, smile proud, his voice unshaken.

Fiyero had returned to his human form—straw no longer stuffed into his skin, but memories of his scarecrow days still grounding his humility. Boq, too, had been freed from the Tin Man's hollow curse, and now walked the roads of Oz with purpose, determined to mend the wounds he once overlooked.

And one by one, Ozians came to Elphaba.

Some bowed, others wept. A few only managed whispered apologies before rushing away in shame. Even the Cowardly Lion, older and wiser, had sought her out to offer a tearful embrace.

Not everyone had forgiven her—not yet. There were still frightened glances, still nervous whispers. But Elphaba didn't mind.

Healing, like magic, took time.

She stood beside Glinda now, watching the sun set over the village below. The palace's spires shimmered with warm light, not the cold gleam of the Emerald City's towers, but something gentler.

Glinda's eyes misted with quiet melancholy.

"What are you moping about?" Elphaba asked with a smirk.

"I miss the Emerald City, Elphie."

Elphaba sighed, folding her arms. "Glinda, that village was there long before the Emerald City. Oz was never meant to be some glitzy tourist attraction. And that's exactly what the Wizard—what Oscar—turned it into."

Glinda frowned, still staring at the horizon. "I suppose you're right."

Before Elphaba could respond, a gentle tap on her shoulder made her turn.

It was the young woman she had freed earlier—wide-eyed, familiar, holding something in her hands.

The Ruby Slippers.

"I believe these belong to you," the girl said quietly. "Or… to your sister."

Elphaba blinked. "Dorothy?"

Dorothy nodded. "I… I thought you might want them back."

Elphaba looked at the slippers, then gently pushed them back. "No. I think it's time I let go. Nessa wouldn't want me holding on to grief forever."

There was a pause. Then Elphaba took a breath.

"I owe you an apology," she said. "I treated you like an enemy. I blamed you for my sister's death, and I let my anger make me cruel. You were just a child."

Dorothy's eyes shimmered. "I forgive you. I know what it's like… to lose someone. My parents died in a flood when I was little. I never really talked about it much, but… I get it."

Elphaba reached out and embraced her. They held each other for a long moment.

"I thought you returned home years ago," Elphaba said.

"I did," Dorothy replied. "But… things got worse back in Kansas. There's a war happening now. A big one, with the entire world. Glinda offered to let me, Aunt Em, and Uncle Henry stay here in Oz until it's over."

Elphaba nodded, her brow softening. "You're always welcome."

"I was thinking of going to college soon," Dorothy added with a hopeful smile. "Do you have any recommendations?"

A grin tugged at Elphaba's lips. "Shiz University. Best institution in Oz. And you'd have the finest goat professor in the land."

Dorothy laughed. "I'll tell Aunt Em."

Just then, Chistery swooped down beside them, bowing low. "Pardon the interruption, Master, but Her Majesty Princess Ozma requests your presence."

Elphaba raised a brow. "Do you know what it's for?"

Chistery grinned. "Not a clue."

Elphaba flew to Ozma's palace, the breeze pulling at her cloak. Billina, the proud golden-feathered chicken who served as Ozma's palace maid, greeted her at the gate with a curtsy.

Inside the grand hall, Ozma sat upon her throne. Elphaba knelt before her.

"You've helped restore our kingdom," Ozma said, voice rich with gratitude. "You've given hope to people who once feared you. And the Winkies—they've asked that you become their rightful ruler."

Elphaba's eyes widened.

Ozma continued, "So I ask you… how does the title 'The Good Witch of the West' sound to you?"

Elphaba hesitated.

She rose slowly and shook her head.

"I'm honored, truly. But… I can't accept that title. I know I'm not a bad witch. But I don't believe I'm a good one either. Not yet. I just want to be called what I've always been…"

She smiled.

"The Witch of the West. Nothing more."

Ozma regarded her for a long moment, then nodded with understanding. "Very well. Then go, Elphaba. The Winkies await."

Elphaba flew west, her broom slicing through the clouds, Winged Monkeys flying in formation around her. Below, the yellow fields of the Vinkus stretched wide and golden in the evening sun.

As she descended, she saw them.

Thousands of Winkies gathered below.

And as her feet touched the earth, they bowed.

Every last one of them.

Elphaba stared, stunned.

"Is this a dream?" she whispered.

But no—this was real. The cheers, the respect, the peace.

She closed her eyes, breathed in the fresh, sweet air of a land finally free.

And for the first time in her life, Elphaba smiled without hesitation.

This was home.