This story came to me as a dream, or a daydream, I'm really not sure. All I know is that once the idea was in my head, I became obsessed. I worked on plot points at work and in the shower, and when I got home, I would immediately open my computer and write. I hadn't really written anything this fervently since I was in high school. After many nights of little sleep and hours upon hours of edits, here it is. I hope you enjoy.

"But this in no way means that there isn't more Universe out there beyond the portion that's accessible to us. In fact, from both observational and theoretical points-of-view, we have every reason to believe there's plenty more, and perhaps even infinitely more."

Astrophysicist and author Ethan Siegel

Chapter 1: Reach

The cell door clanged closed, sending the cold room into darkness. The guards had left, their footsteps echoing off the walls, bouncing down the steps that led deep into the underground. Torches flickered in the hallways, giving just enough light for the guards to see enough to do their jobs. This was the Southstairs, the most notorious prison in Oz. This prison ran beneath the spiral-pillared green castle that rose into the sky, announcing to every traveler that they have arrived at the Emerald City. Deep below the city, into this prison, this tomb, the worst of the worst prisoners were kept. The most important, and the most dangerous, found themselves here, and those that found themselves here usually didn't find a way out. This particular part of the Southstairs had two cells, one next to the other. One of them was empty. The other only seemed empty. It was only if one listened closely that a faint sound of breathing could be heard. This cell was infamous, for the one who occupied it was infamous. This cell held the Wicked Witch of the West.

She lay across the cold, stone floor, her limbs outstretched, her raven hair pooling around her head. Blood covered her body and stained the floor in dark splashes. For months there had been more movement in the room; arguments, interrogations, and screaming. Now, it had gone silent.

She closed her eyes, swollen from the tears she had shed during her last punishment. She was normally fiery, full of rage and resolve, spitting back sarcastic comments and insults, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. The last time, however, she could not hold it back anymore. The whip had come down on her too many times to keep her anguish to herself. Her skin was on fire, deep whiplashes marring the emerald green and turning it a sickly red. She had lost so much blood, and even worse, she had lost the fight in her.

She tried to find the strength to get up, to move, to twitch, or even to open her eyes, but she couldn't. Every beat of her heart pushed the blood from her body and the strength from her core. Her breathing grew more labored, struggling to get the oxygen in and out of her system. Even if she opened her eyes, she couldn't have focused. The last time she tried, the world was spinning black and purple, beckoning her to darkness. It still called her, wanting to pull her down, wanting to encase her in sweet nothingness. Her life had been a disaster, her actions destroying everything she held dear to her heart. She thought she was doing good for the world, for everyone. She was wrong. She had finally found friendship and true love, but that was long gone. Her friend betrayed her, and her love sacrificed himself for her. She had tried to save him from his fate, but she had failed. He died a horrible, violent death upon the poles, all because of her. After watching him die, after watching the life fade from his eyes, she had given up. She flew right into the city, dropping her broom and turning herself in. That was months ago, the days after her surrender a sea of agony and torment. After being in hell for so long, she relished in the call. She wanted nothing more than some peace, for her life had been nothing but pain and suffering.

She exhaled, feeling her head become heavy, her limbs feeling like they weighed a thousand pounds. She felt a sort of tiredness, like she needed to go to sleep. A small smile crept on her lips.

Yes, she thought to herself, it's time for sleep. It's finally time.

Before she could say yes, before she could finally give in, she felt a spark. It started in the center of her belly, swirling warm and comforting, spreading up into her chest and into her limbs. She knew the feeling well. Her power, her magic, was taking over. She cursed inside her mind, knowing what was happening. Her magic was trying to save her, trying to keep her from getting the one thing she wanted most.

Stop it. Just let me go. Please just let me go.

She felt another spark, a tiny lightning bolt under her skin. The magic tingled, alighting her skin with goose bumps. She felt it tangle itself together, wrapping around her, trying to give her strength.

Let me be. I can't do this. I can't save myself. No one can save me.

Her magic tangled tighter, rolling itself into a vine. She could feel it extending out from her body, reaching, searching for something, an answer to her predicament. She had done this before with her magic when she was in the Resistance, connecting to others so she could find them and help them. Her magic was now acting of it's own accord, trying to reach out, trying to get her to live.

Let me die, she begged, please just let me die.

The warmth under her skin was now fire, causing her to spasm. She hissed, the pain of her beating shooting across her back and legs. The vines were pulling themselves father out of her body, reaching out into the sky. Though she wanted to end it, though she wanted the peace more than anything, her human instincts were kicking in, the will to survive starting to override the sorrow. She gave her magic one last push, sending the vines out into the universe.

The vines fully extended out, the warmth leaving her core, her body now wracked with chills. She curled in upon herself, her resolve wavering, the survival energy gone. She sighed, hoping to slip back into the darkness. She had no idea where her magic was reaching, or who it was reaching to. She thought it was pointless, wasted energy and wasted magic on a wasted life. Although, a tiny part of her, a tiny little thought inside her, hoped that there was somewhere out there who could help her.

Emma Thorton jolted out of bed after having the realest and strangest nightmare of her life.

She was naturally a lucid dreamer—having most of her senses in her dreams and sometimes even being aware she was in one was common for her- but this one was a whole different form of nightmare.

She found herself in a dark place, lit only by a small lamp and some light coming through barred windows. She could smell dampness and felt the cold sinking into her skin, digging into her bones. She was sitting on what felt like rock, her hands resting on the ground that was equally as cold and slightly damp. She shivered, a chill settling into her chest. The room smelled old and musty, like nobody had been there for ages. It reminded her of an underground catacomb in a castle that she had visited as a child. The dampness and chill hung in the stale air, giving the place the feel of a tomb. While Emma wasn't exactly sure of the smell, she swore that it smelled like death. Trembling, she wrapped her arms around herself. Everything was cold, dark, and horrible. This place was hell on earth and she could feel it in every fiber of her being.

That wasn't the part that woke her. Normally she felt a bit of control during these weird dreams, but this time it felt like she was being someone else, like she was merely looking through someone else's eyes. The door had clanged open, shooting light through that burned her eyes and made her turn her head away. When she looked up again, two large men in what looked like green-colored uniforms stood next to her. They were glaring at her, hatred contorting their facial expressions.

"You spit on me in front of the Wizard", yelled one of voices. The man grabbed her by the neck and pulled her off of the ground. The man's face was so close to hers that she could see the red lines in the whites of his eyes. His breath smelled heavily of alcohol, another smell she had never dealt with in a dream before. She felt the heat of his breath across her face. She could actually feel tightness around her throat as he clamped down.

"You will pay for what you did," he said, and laughed. The laugh sent chills throughout her and still did even though she was now awake.

Emma sat on her bed for a minute, sweating, cold, and shaking. Normally her dreams begin fading once she woke, but this one decided to play over and over on repeat. She groaned, exhausted and annoyed. She wasn't going back to sleep any time soon.

Emma stood up and immediately felt a nasty pain shoot through the back of her head.

Oh great, she thought. A migraine. A freaking migraine in the middle of the freaking night. Now there is definitely no way I'll be going back to sleep. Work is going to suuuuuuck tomorrow.

Emma turned sideways and slid herself off of the bed. She took a few steps and felt around until she found the door handle. They had just moved into this apartment a few weeks ago and she was still trying to figure out where everything was. The newness of the place probably wasn't helping the odd dreams that had been bothering her as of late.

She slowly opened the door and stepped into the hallway, hearing the chainsaw rattle of her husband snoring on living room couch. Emma closed the door, quietly rounded the corner, and walked into the bathroom. After flicking on the lights, she opened the medicine cabinet, rummaging around to find something for the pain in the back of her head that seemed to be spreading down her neck.

Ugh, this sucks. I know I put some ibuprofen here when we unpacked. No matter where we put things, they just seem to move themselves. Ridiculous.

Suddenly, Emma froze. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up as a horrible, uncomfortable feeling came over her.

Someone is watching me.

Emma turned around, expecting maybe her husband to be sleepwalking or just too tired to knock. Nobody was there. She leaned out the door, looking up and down the hallway and then back into the bathroom.

The feeling grew more intense. Goosebumps rose on her arms.

Someone is not just watching me. Someone is here.

Emma frantically paced through the apartment, somehow managing not to wake her husband, who had the habit of staying up late and falling asleep on the couch. He slept like a rock, so it wouldn't be surprised if someone came in and literally walked right past him. Emma checked the lock on the door, all of the locks on the windows, and stared out the kitchen window for what felt like forever making sure that nobody was there. There was no one there, she was sure of it, but none of this helped the uneasiness.

Emma returned to the bathroom, splashing some cold water over her face.

Man, that dream really messed me up. I'm so paranoid. I need sleep. I'm just paranoid. I have to go back to bed.

Emma returned to her bedroom, closing the door and curling up under the sheets, still damp with sweat. She rolled over to the other side, pulling an extra blanket on top of her to help stop her shivering.

It'll be fine. There is nothing wrong. There is nobody here, she told herself. You had a really real, really bad dream and it freaked you out. Nobody is breaking in. It's just you and Rob and the cats. You are fine. If you don't get sleep now you are going to hate work more than you usually do.

After attempting to convince herself for a while, Emma gave up, rolled over again and prepared herself for sleep.

No sooner had she closed her eyes when a voice shot through her head as if someone was standing right next to her:

"Can you hear me?"