“The way you stood up for me against Isaac? The way you kissed me just now?” His mouth twitches slightly as I swallow past a lump of fear in my throat. “That lack of hesitation, that confidence … that’s what you need out there. As wizards, we’re in a unique position, one that no other sorcerer could ever truly understand. Our power is wholly and truly ours; it comes from inside. Whatever you need it to do, it will do. Just as you can’t hold your breath forever, because your body won’t allow you to die … neither will your magic.” Stryker pauses and we both look out the window.
Even though Dorothy’s seated quite far from the skybox, I swear I can feel her eyes on us.
Stryker turns my face back to his with a single finger, eyes shining with hope. He really thinks I can do this, doesn’t he?
If only I were as confident as he seems to be. Maybe he just hasn’t finished growing all of his fucking brains back?
“You can do this,” he says, giving my hands a squeeze. “Just remember: Dorothy gifted me to you as a consort. My life is in your hands.” He leans forward and kisses the corner of my mouth as Taavi growls and the door swings open, revealing the guard with the green whiskers and the servant girl with the winged monkey clip.
“Ozora, the Great and Terrible,” she says, her face drawn and grim.
Stryker drops my hands and steps back, but my feet are rooted to the spot, and I start to wonder if I’m going to be able to take a single step, let alone make it all the way down the winding staircases to the arena.
“You’re wearing a wicked witch’s shoes, a good witch’s mark, and a wizard’s courage,” Stryker whispers, leaning down so his lips are near my ear. “You can do this, Ozora. For yourself, for Taavi, for the land your mother named you after.”
He puts a gentle hand on my lower back and pushes me forward.
I put a hand on Taavi’s head and take one shaky step after another, the sound of the skybox door closing with an ominous ring of finality.
I have a feeling that even if I survive this, I won’t be the same after.
No, after what I’ve experienced these last few days in the land of Oz, I’ll never be the same again.The Wicked Witch of the WestI can barely breathe as I stand at the edge of the arena, looking up at the rows of colorful courtiers in their green-lensed goggles, staring down at me like an insect pinned inside a shadow box.
My breath comes out in a rush as I look across the expanse of emerald green grass—it’s somehow been rejuvenated in the interim between contestants—and find the winner, Breise, staring back at me. She’s fully healed, her blond hair braided into long plaits that nearly touch the floor.
She isn’t smiling. Neither am I.
But she doesn’t look at me like she hates me either. Pretty sure neither of us wants to be here.
It seems that even the wind can’t penetrate the strange shield around the arena, so it’s eerily still inside that green bubble. Still and quiet. I can’t hear the sounds of the crowd either.
I know I’ve only been standing here for a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. At some point, that gong is going to ring, and I’m going to have to fight. The girl across from me, a trained wizard, can pull iron spears from her fucking blood.
“I never thought I’d miss lying in bed, listening to Uncle Henry scream at the news with a drunken slur,” I whisper, my hands shaking by my sides. Taavi shifts into his human form and my eyes flick up to Dorothy. It’s too late for her to stop this now, to put that horrible curse or charm or what the fuck ever back on my guardian. I can’t exactly see her expression from all the way down here, but I hope it’s terrible.
Across from us, Breise’s guardian takes on the form of something I’ve never seen before, this cougar-sized beast with visible rib bones on its sides, its furless skin so thin that I can see its muscles underneath.
“Hellhound,” Taavi tells me, looking down at me with those familiar brown eyes of his. “I know you, Oz, and I know what you’re thinking right now, but you cannot let your fear of both failure and success overwhelm you.”
“I don’t want to die, and I don’t want her to die, so what the fuck am I supposed to do?” I ask, turning my head to look at him with desperate pleading. “How do I get out of this?”
Taavi doesn’t respond, instead turning his attention back to the arena … and the sound of the gong.
