Oz Will Fall: Wicked Rebirth

Copyright © 2019 by JMND Press/John Malone and Nicole Delgado

All rights reserved.

Front cover photo © John Malone

Back cover photo © John Malone

Cover design by JMND Press/John Malone and Nicole Delgado

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Oz Will Fall: Wicked Rebirth. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission in the case of brief quotations embroiled in critical articles or reviews.

First Edition: December 2019

This third book in our Oz Will Fall series is dedicated to my three survivors. In the fall of 2017 my grandmother, Therese Thomas, and my father, John Malone, both endured trying times that I was not sure they would survive. And most recently my cousin and editor, Gary, had a close call during the editing phase of this book. I’m happy and thankful to say that the three of them pulled through and are still with us. This book is dedicated to them, my survivors.

I want to thank all our fans for supporting the series. I hope this book lives up to your expectations and that you will enjoy it as much as the previous books. Another big thank you to my cousin Gary for editing another book for us.

Finally, a huge thank you to my best friend and writer, Nicole Delgado. I know we’ve had a rough road lately, but we’re finally through it. None of this would have been possible without you, bestie. And as always, an enormous thank you to L. Frank Baum for writing the Oz series and being the inspiration for my favorite movie.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

My beloved Oz, once known for its beauty and magical wonderment, was now gone; a tattered wasteland that had fallen into violence and death with streets soaked in blood. What had become of this place was unimaginable. A darkness had consumed it. A darkness so evil, so vile, that no one was unafflicted with the sickness death seemed to use to break our souls.

After the fall of the Emerald City, we found sanctuary within Tin’s castle; a fortress of great protection, but that of little hope. It wasn’t just the destruction of Oz’s magic and Cletus we were fighting against. An ancient evil had been unleashed, and to put right the balance and banish the darkness once more, we needed to find the Grimoire, an ancient tome of the blackest magic ever known in creation.

But we knew we weren’t the only ones seeking it.

Optimism was bleak, fleeting with each passing day, but Dorothy and Polychrome’s spirits remained unbroken. Bound by their love and loyalty for their home, they swore to use every bit of life that remained within their weakened and exhausted bodies to keep fighting against the growing evil.

But it wasn’t enough.

The balance of power had shifted too greatly for us to keep fighting alone, and so we sought out a powerful ally, one we hoped still remained loyal to the throne: Locasta, the Good Witch of the North. With hope still alive, Dorothy and her friends set out to find her, and though we knew the path we were on was bleak, it became even darker still as death followed us once more.

In a moment of fear and desperation, I lost hold of the darkness within me; a malevolent force so evil it was driven by blood and death. Once more I fell into the shadows of its dark magic, and because of my weakness, Locasta did not survive, and once more, I was lost.

With her death on their heads and heavy in their hearts, Dorothy, Polly, and Tin set out to find balance for Oz. Looking into the darkest abyss within it, they went to the one place that all of Oz had left forgotten and abandoned, but the one place the Grimoire was last known to be hidden: the castle of Evanora, the Wicked Witch of the East. In hopes to seek and find the power of an ancient black magic to undo all that had been done, Dorothy and her friends set out on a deadly quest to find the Grimoire.

But they were not alone in their journey.

Determined to find the Grimoire just the same, Cletus dispatched his allies, loyal followers of the throne that he now occupied, to find the tome to use its powers to strengthen his hold over the people of Oz. With orders to find the Grimoire at any costs, Betsy, Jack, and Tik-Tok set out to retrieve the book, but their journey started to quickly unravel.

With the dark plague of death and decay overtaking the land, Betsy’s sanity soon began to deteriorate. The further along they went on their journey, the more things unraveled within her, and soon she crossed a line she could never come back from. In their hunt for the Grimoire, and in her determination to destroy those opposed to Cletus and the throne, she took innocent lives, drawing herself deeper into the void of darkness.

Seeking too the Grimoire at Evanora’s, Jack, Betsy, and Tik-Tok soon crossed paths with Dorothy and her remaining friends. With the Grimoire in their possession, Dorothy knew they needed to do all they could to keep it away from Betsy, so they retreated to Munchkinland, but to no avail. Betsy and the others sat waiting for them when they arrived, confronting and demanding possession of the book, willing to take it from their bodies should they dare to oppose them.

With too much lost already, Dorothy and her friends refused to bend to their will, ready to sacrifice their lives to protect the Grimoire from falling into the hands of Cletus and his allies. But sacrifice always comes with a price, and that day on the Yellow Brick Road, many were paid.

Once beloved friends were now mortal enemies, standing on opposing sides with no hope of change. To win their home back, Dorothy and her friends had no choice but to fight those they had once loved dearly. And in the fight that soon followed, lives were taken and lost.

But while their attention remained divided amongst each other, no one saw the witch Mombi who hid in plain sight. An ally to no one, Mombi had been watching closely from the shadows of Oz.

After finding Glinda and mending her back to health, the two formed an uncertain alliance. With the power of Oz in limbo, the two witches made a pact: to be the saviors of Oz and to take it for themselves. But without the help of the Grimoire, their plans would be laid to waste. With the birth of a new coven needed to take the balance of power, Glinda sought out the Jinxland Witches to help in their mission, while Mombi’s focus was to take that which had been found.

In a battle for power, beloved friends became mortal enemies. With the need for power on one side, and the want to restore their home on the other, a heavy toll was paid on both sides and lives were lost forever. At the hand of Polychrome, Betsy’s life was forfeit, and in devastation and anguish, Polly’s life was lost to Jack, taking that from her which she had stolen from Betsy.

Devastated by the loss of her friends, Dorothy was soon lured away from her friends with a lie from Mombi. Falling victim to her deceit, Dorothy was rendered powerless against her, poisoned and left to die, as Mombi stole the Grimoire.

Praying on his devastation, and unaware of Mombi’s sabotage and theft, or Dorothy’s fleeting life, Jack took the salvation offered by Mombi: to save Betsy’s life with the power of the Grimoire. But Mombi, one who could not be trusted, deceived Jack with false promises.

But in the end, at the trade of his own life, Mombi kept her word.

I don’t know what will become of any us now. With the power of the Grimoire now in the possession of the witches, and with me now lost again in my prison of darkness, there seems to be little hope left. I can only pray to Lurline that Dorothy and her remaining friends are still alive and fighting for Oz, for without them, all hope is forever gone.

I left those cowardly witches in their rooms. The enchantment of the castle would ensure that they stayed locked away for the night while I took care of unfinished business. The last thing I needed was their incompetence getting in my way. Cletus and his pets had violated my home, desecrated my sanctuary, murdered my loyal servants, and were responsible for the death of my dear Selena. For that alone they would pay dearly, but that still did not even begin to rival the debt I already owed them for what they had done to my face. Their deaths would not be swift or gentle. I would see that they suffered slowly, and quite painfully, for weeks to come until they begged me to die. When that moment finally came, they would truly understand that their suffering was only the beginning.

The night was a bit chilled as I made my way to the stables hidden behind the castle, Samira clutched protectively against my chest. The nights had gotten considerably colder the longer Cletus sat on the throne. His disruption to the magic that flowed through the land had put the seasons out of balance. Though thankfully the decay seemed to not have spread this far south yet. The nights stayed long, the days short, if they came at all which seemed to be never now. The once warm temperatures were now cold and bitter. And if there was one thing I hated, it was being cold.

I was still weak so traveling with a transference spell was out of the question. I needed to reserve what little power I had, and there was no way in hell I would ever again mount a broomstick. No threat of death or destruction would ever be enough to make me even consider that possibility again; I still had my dignity. That left me with one other option, one in which I was not unhappy with: My stork chariot.

It was quiet as I reached the stables, and for a brief heart stopping moment, I feared my beloved storks had not have survived the visit from Cletus and his pets. There was no sound, no movement, as I approached. I felt another course of anger rising in me that could not be tamed.

If he had touched one feather on those delicate creatures, I would snuff Cletus from existence in a way that would rival the most gruesome death known to man.

I opened the stable doors gently, taking a tentative step in, alert and listening for anything or anyone hidden inside. At first the only sound I heard was the soft tapping of my heels as I walked cautiously forward. But within a few seconds I could hear the soft wrestling of feathers as my precious storks recognized my presence and started to work themselves into a frenzy, clattering their beaks together in excitement.

Unable to contain the relief I felt at knowing my precious storks were safe, I rushed over to their stall doors and threw them open, kneeling to embrace them as they rushed forward in delight. There were twenty of them in total, standing almost as tall as I was and weighing that of a small child. They were large, majestic creatures with the purest of white feathers delicate as snow. When open, their wings spanned longer than the length of a man. These simple creatures together were strong and fast, and rivaled any other mode of transportation imaginable in Oz.

Hello, my precious ones, I cooed lovingly as they all pressed forward to feel my touch. Mommy is so glad to see you haven’t been harmed by that horrible man and his dirty little beasts.

There wasn’t much that I doted on in life, but they were one of them.

Now my precious ones, I need your help. There is somewhere that I must be, and I need to get there as quickly as I can. Are you up for a flight?

They clattered in frenzied excitement. It had been quite some time since they had been able to stretch their wings. The flight would do them good.

I stood, and the storks quickly ran out from their stalls and over to the other side of the stable where my golden chariot sat. It was a simple yet elegant design, minimal but overly extravagant; much like myself. There was a long drawbar in the front with twenty soft bridles that the storks attached themselves to, taking the bridle between their beaks.

While the storks rushed into place, I stepped up into the chariot, running my hands gently over the cool metal of the baskets as I relished in the feel of being back where I belonged.

This was the way a powerful witch was supposed to travel; in elegant commanding style.

The still fresh and revolting memory of the broomstick made me shudder. Beyond the fact it was archaic and barbaric, it had been so many levels beneath me that I could never wash myself clean from the experience. Mombi’s idea had been the absolute worst thing she could have ever conjured, but if nothing else, it made me appreciate the delicacy of travel that my life had afforded me before Cletus destroyed it all. It was a luxury I would ensure would remain.

Picking up the golden reins of the chariot in one hand, I gave it a gentle tug and the storks began to pull the chariot from the housing of the stable and into the air as gently as if it were flying on its own. The cool wind whipped through my hair as I pulled the reins slightly through the dark night, indicating the direction I wished to travel. With a slight veer toward the right, we headed toward the Great Waterfall. The storks were more than familiar with the course to take, but it felt good to be in control all the same.

I was still reeling from the beast finding my castle, disturbing the luxury and sanctity of my home, but even more so I was bothered by his apparent knowledge of Samira’s existence. My thumb gently rubbed against her cover in comfort. Had it not been for whatever it was that called the beast away, Samira could have been lost to me forever, and that was a thought too painful to entertain. But in all that had happened, what didn’t make sense to me was why it wanted the book to begin with. It made even less sense that Samira, the one thing in all of Oz that could see everything and everyone, couldn’t see the beast itself. The book had never failed to show me what I wanted to see. So why had it now?

To add further insult to it all, Cletus and his minions had arrived just moments later violating my home, a trespass no intelligent being had been stupid enough to venture before. Did Cletus know the beast was there too? Had he known of Samira and her existence, Cletus would have become unstoppable. Samira would have granted him all the knowledge of Oz and given him insight into our plans.

That was not something I could allow to happen.

Coming to my home had been a desperate act. Clearly Cletus and his pets were more fearful of me than they wanted to admit, or else why do something so foolish? Cletus hadn’t left the protection of the Emerald Palace since he had taken the throne, so his move spoke of desperation. And though I was happy to know he feared me, my own fears for Samira’s safety took hold of me.

I knew I had to capitalize on his sudden move, but I wasn’t certain where he was, and I couldn’t dare try to use Samira when the threat of him or the beast returning hung over my head. I would hide the book away in the cavern under the Great Waterfall. There she would be safe from everything. No one would find her there.

Once safe, I could read her pages to see what Cletus had done after he left my castle and hopefully figure out where he was currently. Samira could only show me things previously transpired because her power was linked to the past. Luckily for me, Cletus didn’t tend to think too many steps ahead, so using Samira to stay on his trail would be easy. Truthfully, my Anathema spell would have been preferred, but after his fall into the fountain, my link to Cletus had become broken, and without being near him, I couldn’t cast it on him again.

Once I knew his path, the playing field would finally start to level, and I could devise any necessary plans. Knowing what Cletus had done would be important to determine what he was planning next. Once I knew his plans, I would have the upper hand and it would remain firmly in my grasp. With the power of the Jinxland Witches and Mombi behind me, I would bring Cletus to his knees.

The very thought of that brought a smile to my face.

While I was in the safety of the Great Waterfall, I would also use the waters of my cauldron to find the beast. Samira couldn’t track it, but my Anathema spell could. The waters of the cauldron would be the perfect mirror to see exactly what I needed to. Perhaps the waters could even show me why it was Samira couldn’t see it. I was baffled by her failure, but even so, I couldn’t help but wonder if the empty pages of her book had a meaning. Maybe it revealed a weakness in the beast.

I smiled at the very idea of gaining the advantage over the two biggest threats to Oz, basking in the joy of envisioning the warmth of Cletus’s blood as it covered my hands.

It really is the small things in life that can really make a girl smile.

My smile froze as I felt something disturbing sweep through me suddenly.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I didn’t know what exactly I was feeling, but dread filled me instantly. Something unnatural was happening, something that took a great deal of unnatural magic to conjure; that much I could feel and determine.

Where it was coming from, I didn’t know, but something pulled my attention toward Munchkinland.

I didn’t know what I expected to see, but the deep blood red of the night sky hadn’t been one of them. Fierce black clouds gathered above Munchkinland. I watched transfixed as lightning illuminated the dark red sky, blinding me as it flashed. The clouds began to swirl angrily, unleashing a violent storm of lightning.

What the hell was happening I didn’t know, but I did know that whatever it was, it spoke of the Grimoire. I couldn’t just pass it by. Something dangerous was sweeping through the air. I could feel it in every fiber of my being. Something was happening far too dangerous to ignore. I still had to ensure Samira stayed safe; there was something important between her and the beast after all, but I still didn’t know what. But there was no time now to safely get her away, so I had no choice but to hide her using a failsafe spell I had created long ago; one that had not failed me yet. I would have to get her to safety another time. Whatever was happening now required my immediate attention.

In the blink of an eye, Samira melted away into my dress; hidden away where no one would find her. I pulled the reins of the chariot, redirecting the storks toward the storm. Like the fierce and brave creatures they are, they didn’t resist the change or cower under the threat of the approaching storm. They flew undeterred straight toward the blood red sky.

I watched the storm as it raged. Lightning brightened the sky as the clouds continued to swirl angrily. Never in all my years had I seen something of this nature in Oz. The magic it took to create something of this magnitude, something that felt so against nature, could only be from the power of the Grimoire. There was no other explanation. Not even Cletus and all the power he had consumed could create something like this.

It took too much time to reach the edge of the storm; more than it should have. My storks could fly with a swiftness that couldn’t be rivaled, but still it wasn’t enough. It was almost as if something was pushing us back, trying to stop us from reaching the storm. Whatever was happening was beyond powerful, and for a moment, I almost hesitated in my decision to continue.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what was raging in front of me. No matter how hard I pushed my precious storks, they couldn’t fly any harder or faster. I watched in anger, and almost relief, as the clouds began to break apart and scatter; and just like that, whatever it was that seemed to be pushing back against us suddenly stopped. Whatever that storm had truly been, it was beginning to quickly pass, so I pushed the storks as hard as I could, hoping to catch a part of it before it was gone, even though I knew I wouldn’t succeed. I had never seen a storm of that nature before. Whatever had happened had been violent, coming quickly before rapidly burning away. I needed to know what happened. I needed to know what had been unleashed.

The storks quickly began to descend. For anyone else, the sudden plummet would have given them reason to fear they were crashing to the ground below, but I knew to trust their instinct. They would get me to the ground safely.

The chariot came to a stop in the middle of Munchkinland, in the center of town square near the now broken statue of Dorothy from when she first arrived in Oz. The storks remained still, listening intently for any signs of danger. The calm of their feathers told me that whatever had been here before was now gone. Taking their lead, I stepped down from the chariot and looked around.

What I saw made me want to pause for a moment, but my need to know what happened kept my feet moving forward.

My steps echoed in the quiet of the night, the sickening squelch of my heels echoing as I walked through thick puddles of blood that covered the Yellow Brick Road. The ground was littered with the bodies of dead Munchkins, Kalidahs, and Raks.

Whatever had happened here had been violent in nature and had left nothing living in its wake.

I took careful steps over the mutilated parts of dead Munchkins, giving the Kalidahs and Raks an extra wide berth as I passed. Even gravely injured they were still deadly if provoked. While I sensed there was no life amongst them, I was not willing to take the chance of being wrong.

I looked around carefully.

What happened here?

The destruction of the square was one thing, but the slaughter of Munchkins was a bit over the top, even for me. Who, or what, could have done all this and why? What did the lives of these Munchkins matter in the grand scheme of…well, anything? They were useless people good at nothing but honoring me every chance they could. They certainly didn’t deserve deaths so barbaric. Now the Kalidahs and the Raks…those I could live without, so I wasn’t particularly sorry to see that someone or something had clearly gotten the upper hand. But for what purpose?

I continued to look around, walking quietly as I took in the scene of death around me.

Someone had clearly been out for blood, but the question was who? I could venture a few guesses, but the blood red sky that still hung above me said that whoever had been involved had held a great deal of power; dark magic based on the feel in the air, but the Grimoire hadn’t yet been found.

Or had it?

Over near the decrepit and rotting remains of Dorothy’s long forgotten farm house, almost hidden in the shadows, another body laid on the ground. It was too big to be a Munchkin, but too small to be a Kalidah or Rak. So who was it and why exactly was it over there away from all the others?

Curiosity had always been a fun little weakness of mine, so I walked over to the body slowly, still cautious of my surroundings. I was alone and unguarded in an area that had clearly seen dark and powerful magic unleashed into the air. I was vulnerable should someone still be here, but something told me that for at least the time being, I was in no danger.

As I stepped closer, my eye deceived me, playing tricks with my mind. What I was seeing couldn’t possibly be real. It almost seemed impossible. But as I continued to creep closer, there was no mistaking who laid dead on the ground.

Lying face down in a dark pool of his own blood…was Jack.

He was sprawled in the middle of the Yellow Brick Road, a few empty potion bottles and vials laying near his remains. Some sort of powder was sprinkled on the ground around him and had started to mix in with his blood, causing it to foam where the two met. And as interesting as that all was, it was nothing compared to the large black hole in his back.

Kneeling, I leaned in closer, examining the hole that appeared to have eaten from his back and out through his chest. The edges of his flesh were blackened, almost charred; the sick, putrid smell of burning flesh still lingering in the air. As much as it disgusted me to do, I touched his bare skin. It was still warm to the touch. Jack had died not too long ago, maybe just moments before I had arrived.

Something in the back of my mind nagged at me, but I couldn’t understand what. Something about all of this seemed oddly familiar and yet I couldn’t quite place what it was or why. I just knew I had seen something like this before, but when?

I stood and looked around.

Nothing I saw made any sense.

What the hell had happened here? But more importantly, why? What was so significant about this place that the bloodshed and overly gory usage of death had been necessary?

Nothing seemed unusual about this place other than the pile of bodies spread about. The place was eerily quiet. Likely the Munchkins who had survived had been wise enough to stay hidden, quietly tucked behind their locked doors, away from the terror that had befallen the others. It was possible some of them knew what happened here, but no amount of sweet talk was going to convince them to come out from hiding after all this, and I doubted any form of threat I could leverage at this point would do much good either.

I wandered around in a large circle, taking in everything I could. Nothing made any bit of sense. There was nothing significant here that justified any of what had happened, so what was it about this particular place that all hell seemed to have been unleashed?

There was a small breeze, but beyond the eerie creak of the farmhouse settling, nothing else stirred. The world around me was silent and still, and yet for some odd reason that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Something was not right, but I was too blind to see what exactly. What was I missing?

As if answering my question, another wind blew, but this time it wasn’t the eerie creak of the farmhouse that grabbed my attention. No. It was the slamming of a door as it struck back against the wall. How had I not noticed that before?

The front door to the house was open.

Nothing about that should have warranted special attention except for the fact it had been sealed closed since the day Dorothy had arrived.

Her house had been left as a shrine, an alter almost, to what she had done when she saved the Munchkins that day. It was a beacon of hope for them all. But really all it was, was a grave for Evanora, the Wicked Witch of the East. The house had been sealed like a mausoleum that day and no one had dared to enter it since. Too many feared being haunted by the ghost of Evanora, fearful of what her wicked spirit would bring about if disturbed. I never believed in the Munchkin’s foolish superstition, but I hadn’t cared either. However, since that day, that door had remained closed and locked.

Until now, that is.

Without a second thought I marched up to the farmhouse and entered without hesitation.

The house was exactly what I would have imagined. Gray. Dingy. Poor. Everything Dorothy had always been. It was no surprise really to see that growing up here had resulted in the upbringing of such a basic stupid farm girl. I had passed this place so many times over the years since Dorothy had arrived, never once curious to know what was inside. I could have lived a thousand lifetimes and never once ventured inside.

The place was destroyed, as one would imagine when it’s been thrown around inside a tornado. Or maybe it had always been this way and Aunt Em had been just a really bad house keeper. Either way, the place was a mess and boring beyond compare.

So then what was so important about this house that someone would bother to come in?

I walked through the house, which didn’t take long considering how small it was. A small kitchen, living room, bathroom, and dining room made up the front of the house. There was nothing here that I could see that would be of any value to anyone, and I was almost tempted to just leave. There wasn’t much left to look at, but since I had wasted this much time already, I might as well finish the tour.

Heading down a small and narrow hall, I passed what I could only assume was Henry and Em’s bedroom. It contained a broken dresser, a small metal frame bed that could barely fit two people, and a shattered vanity in the corner.

I had met Em many times before she died. The woman was as basic as they came. Why she would need a vanity, of all people, was beyond the limit of my imagination.

It was in the last room I entered that I finally found what was so interesting about this house.

Lying still on a small bed, tucked into the corner of the room, was the little farm girl herself, peacefully asleep in her old bed.

Well, wasn’t this a pleasant surprise!

Her right leg was bleeding pretty badly, covering her clothes and dripping onto the bedding, soaking the sheets beneath her. Her arms, too, were both covered in blood, and there was even some that ran down her neck and onto the pillow below her head. But none of it seemed to bother her as she slept. She slept so soundly that she almost didn’t seem to breathe, although I could see the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

I walked over to where she lay, towering above her with a wicked grin on my face.

How I waited to be face-to-face with her once more, Princess Dorothy and her ruby red slippers.

Too bad I didn’t find any enjoyment in the idea of her death while she slept. If I was going to end her life, I wanted her to see it. I wanted to see the fear in her eyes once she realized she was caught and hear her desperate pleas as she begged for her life.

Not much made me happy nowadays, but those little extra touches in life made it all worthwhile.

Rise and shine my dear, I practically yelled. Now is not the time for a nap.

Dorothy didn’t jump, didn’t move.

How annoying. Apparently, she was a deep damn sleeper.

I used my foot to push against her shoulder, rolling her over onto her back.

I was surprised to find more blood when she turned. Her neck was soaked in blood. I could see two deep cuts on both sides of her neck, blood seeping out slowly. Someone had gotten in a few decent hits it looked like. Probably whoever it was that slaughtered all the Munchkins outside.

Still she didn’t stir.

I didn’t have time for this.

Reaching forward, I grabbed a fist full of her hair, yanking her head up.

My face was the first thing I wanted her to see when she awoke.

Wake up! I screamed in her face.

Her eyes remained closed as she lay there. She made no sound, no movement.

I let her go and watched as she fell back against the pillow limply.

It was then that I noticed the blood on her left side. I hadn’t seen before because of how she had been laying, but it was bright red. Fresh. Though there wasn’t a lot of it, there was enough that it stained through her shirt, causing a bright red bloom to cover her side. It seemed unlikely that such a small amount of blood would be the cause for her unconsciousness. Something wasn’t right.

What had