The doors swung open on their own accord, revealing a long hallway lit by torches that lined the walls. The light glittered eerily on the red marble walls, and though the hallway was large and airy, there was something foreboding about it. The 'clomping' of the humans' feet, the Lion's soft but heavy tread, the metallic clank of the Tin Man as he walked, the clicking of Bizmuth's clawed feet, even the crunch of the Scarecrow's hay-stuffed body as he walked, echoed in the cold silence of the hall. Only Polychrome was silent, for she had materialized back into a mist in her fear.

"I hope the horses and the centaur will be safe," Em said, to break the silence; the former had been ordered to wait outside.

"Safer than you'll be, if you don't mind your P's and Q's with the witch," Steelscale said.

The party came to a set of spiked doors. Steelscale said something in a strange language, and what was most definitely Whimalith's voice answered back in the same language, disembodied, but cold and unnerving.

"Whimalith says you may see her," Steelscale said; the doors melted away and everyone looked into a huge throne room; the walls were covered with rubies, the floor was of white marbled, and the windows were of beautiful stained glass. There was still an air of oppression, though.

"The whole place was just—rife with dark magic," the Lion had observed later.

But right at that moment, everyone's eyes focused on a throne of burnished bronze. On it sat Whimalith—her face still as cold, her hands still as clawlike. And next to her, on a marble chair, sat Dorothy. She was dressed in servant's clothes, yet was primly groomed; this surprised Em a little—she'd imagined that an evil witch would dress Dorothy in rags and keep her working morning 'til night.

"You're surprised by how well Dorothy looks," Whimalith said, looking amused. "She hasn't put up a fuss since her first night here—she realizes that I treat my servants well when they realize that if they respect me, I respect them. And living here, with the most powerful witch in Oz, is better than staying at that frilly place that Ozma-the-Goody-Two-Shoes calls a castle! Is it not, Dorothy?"

Dorothy smiled, and it was worse than a look of anger. The smile was serene, yet uncanny; it was as if someone else possessed Dorothy's soul. The wicked witch's brainwashing had worked well. Em felt sick as she gazed at her beloved Dorothy's eerie expression, and Henry felt as if he was in a bad dream.

"Dorothy?" Em ventured. "We've come to rescue you!"

"Why would you do that?" Dorothy asked, in disdainful tone. "I am learning much from Whimalith. She has powers far greater than that of Ozma or even Glinda. She's been oppressed—but her time will come. Whimalith says if I'm very good, she'll teach me some magic. I already watch her work some spells."

"Whimalith is using you," Henry said. "You're almost a slave."

"The work is hard," Dorothy said coolly, "but I am important to her. And it's real work, too—not just decorating for silly balls or helping plant a garden. I've only been here two weeks, and already I've cooked dinner for the cleverest minds in Oz, and Whimalith has trusted me to gather ingredients for the clever spells she's practicing."

"What clever minds?" demanded the Lion, suddenly. "The cleverest minds we know are good, and would never come here."

"Oh, them?" Dorothy sniffed. "You mean, like the Wogglebug?" (the giant insect looked offended) "or you, Scarecrow? And that self-centered Glinda? Your cleverness is too impractical. You never use it to get ahead. No, these people are the one's who've been oppressed by the ridiculous rules against so-called 'dark magic'."

"I suppose, you mean we never use cleverness for evil," Bizmuth cried in disgust.

"Evil? There is no evil! There is no good! There is power, which helps us get ahead. And don't start plying me with the ridiculousness about the power of love or some such nonsense…"

Love.

Suddenly, something in the back of Em's memory came to her—far, far back, faint—but enough to make her stand straighter and and gain new hope. She remembered the words that Queen Onyx had spoken before the rescue party had left Chittersqueakachip.

Even the greatest of that witch's spells is not as powerful as love.

"Dorothy," Em said gently, "your uncle and I love you. Don't listen to that witch."

"She's right, you know," Henry said pleadingly.

"Love? What a ridiculous notion! Besides—this weakness called love—you never had it for me anyone," Dorothy said in that voice that was not her own. Even her blue eyes were still cold. "You just took care of me out of duty, Uncle Henry, because you were my father's uncle.."

"I value you," Whimalith said in a sickly-sweet voice.

"Yes, you do," Dorothy murmured robotically. "She makes me feel important, giving me big responsibilities."

"Dorothy, don't be silly. She's using you as a slave! Don't you want to come back, to have happy times in Oz again, like we used to? We can go for picnics with Princess Ozma, or go for a canoe ride. Remember when we took a canoe ride all the way down to Bunnybury?"

Something flickered in Dorothy's eyes, a hint of empathy and happiness, but they turned cold as soon as Whimalith interjected.

"Don't listen to these silly little memories," the bad witch scoffed. "Why waste time on frivolous activities when you can help me conquer Oz? Our time is coming."

"See that? She's using you to gain an end!" Henry said, but then softened his tone. "We care deeply about you, Dorothy. When you were blown away in that tornado—it was like our own lives had been taken away. We had never felt so empty before! We knew we would not care how long it took us to recover—if only we had you there! And you coming back was such joy!"

Dorothy's face cleared slightly, but Whimalith was quick to jump in.

"How silly to recollect something so many years ago! You don't need them anymore, Dorothy."

"We need each other," Em said, as Dorothy gave everyone in the rescue part a cold smirk. This was to Dorothy, not to the witch. "You remember why we came to Oz? So we could be happy together, and have no worries. And it was your idea, because you care about us so much."

"And we care about you," said the Lion. "Don't we, my friends?"

"Greatly," Bizmuth said solemly.

"Of course we do; that is why we are here," Pollychrome said, materializing suddenly. Her voice was sweet and plaintive.

"We would risk much more than we already have risked to save you," the Scarecrow said tenderly. "Oz won't be the same without you."

"Love has united us," the Tin Man said. "From the very day you came to Oz for the first time."

"I love you, too, Dorothy," Bizmuth repeated. "You were the first one to trust me, after I rebelled against the Gnome King."

"I don't know you as well," the Woggle-bug said, "but I know you are greatly loved."

Then, slowly, so slowly, the coldness left Dorothy's eyes, and she gave a real smile. Whimalith's eyes widened in horror as Dorothy spoke in here natural voice.

"My friends!" Dorothy said, almost crying. "My dear friends!"

She leapt from her chair and went flying into Em's arms, and then Henry's; she embraced everyone else, three times over. By then, Whimalith recovered from her shock, and narrowed her eyes at the group.

"You're a fool, Dorothy!" she said. "But, go if you must. I don't want to see any of you again. Steelscale, see them out!"

"You're—letting us go?" Dorothy gasped.

"Sure," Whimalith said. "When I come to power, I'll take down greater people than you! I have no worries!"

Everyone in the group was startled, but made no arguments, of course. They followed Steelscale out of the throne room, through the hall, and out of the castle's main doors; stepping into a blood-red sunset, they turned to Steelscale to ask the best way out of the mountains. They didn't see the lizard, however; suddenly, without any apparent metamorphosis, something was standing in its place. This 'something' was formidable dragon, ten feet tall, with spikes on its back and spikes on its sides. It whipped around, trying to knock everyone into the fiery moat; Henry slashed at the creature with the sword, but there was only a ringing of metal. The dragon had no vulnerable spots! It was preparing to swing again, and it had sidled closer this time.

Belila valiantly shot an arrow at the dragon's throat, but Steelscale—if it was still Steelscale—no longer had that weak spot.

"Oh, I think I'll watch this," Whimalith said, laughing; she had come, unnoticed, onto the bridge.

"How ill-prepared," she said. "And I would've thought Glinda or Ozma would've gone with you, at least for a false sense of security. Too bad."

"Glinda did say she was going with us," Henry suddenly realized. "She—she left us on our own!"

"No, she didn't abandon us," the Scarecrow said. "In all the excitement of preparing for the journey, I forgot to tell you that she thought we might be able to conquer Whimalith better, rather than depending on her—Glinda's—magic; she said that working together would be better."

"I suppose that's true," said Henry. "Besides, someone needs to keep the rest of Oz safe."

"If you believe all that," Whimalith said. "Steelscale, destroy them!"

The dragon twitched his tail, prepared to give a great sweep, but there was a rough, shrill cry, and something flew at him. The hawk! The hawk that Henry had rescued slashed at Steelscale's eyes; Whimalith started to mutter a spell, but it was too late; blinded and confused, Steelscale toppled off of the bridge and into the moat of fire.

"You!" the witch cried. "You'll pay for this, bird! In the name of the darkness and the fire, in the name of the blackened mountains higher—,"

Henry rushed at the witch, sword raised; surely now was a just time to use the weapon. Still, he did not relish this; ever since unjustly attacking Steelscale at their first meeting, he'd felt overcautious. He didn't really find any triumph in killing, even for justice…

But the witch was starting to get to the end of her spell. Luckily, she was also focused too much on the hawk, who couldn't get away, as Whimalith was hypnotizing her at the same time. Henry stabbed Whimalith straight through the stomach.

"What—you commoner! How are you killing—me-e—e-eee."

Whimalith's words of shock ended up in a garbled splutter, and then she was dead. Her body turned to soot and blew away in the wind.

"It's over," Henry said faintly, just as the hawk landed before him.

"My debt it paid," the hawk said.

"Indeed," Henry said. "Goodspeed to you, Miss Hawk, and may you ever stay safe."

The hawk screeched happily, and then, with the faintest flutter of wings, sailed into the fading twilight.

"Now the Obsidian Mountains are safe," said Henry. "We will find a cave to camp out in."

"Why not stay in the castle?" asked Dorothy.

"We don't know what else lurks there," said Henry. "Not even you, Dorothy; I assure you, Whimalith kept many secrets from her vulnerable servant. When we get back to the Emerald City, we'll tell Glinda how to find the castle, and I know she will purge it of the last of its dark magic, with the castle's mistress gone."

I think I needn't say that the night was spent not comfortably, but they slept well enough, comforted by the fact that Dorothy was with them once again. Their journey back to the Emerald City was less eventful; they stopped in Chittersqueakachip to return the sword, and Dorothy was introduced to the kind squirrel queen.

"You used the sword only in the most dire circumstance," Queen Onyx said. "You showed great wisdom, Henry. Em, you showed kindness by telling Henry to use the last of the potion to help the hawk. And you all—all—showed extraordinary courage."

The party, and Dorothy especially, was welcomed back to the Emerald City, and indeed all of Oz, with great joy and celebration. Everyone told the story of the journey and the fight at Whimalith's castle at least three times.

Glinda did indeed use her magic to purge the last of the evil enchantments and terrible creatures from the dark castle, and then there was a marvelous celebration. So many came that the party had to be held in the great courtyard, and there had never been such joy and thankfulness.

I know this ending may seem rushed. I tried to keep it as exciting but coherent as possible. I wanted to draw this to a close because it was affecting my concentration on some original fiction I'm writing. Any continuity errors you may find in the story are unintended and I apologize. :)