Chapter Text
Dawn came with no cracks to reveal itself through. Not in Chistery’s room. Not in any room of the Azuracaque sanctum. Those rooms resided along a hall that was quaintly circular, wrapping around a stone-cased set of wooden spiral stairs. Beyond that hall, there was another, and beyond that, just one more. The outer two, however, had been in a bare state for generations, suffering from structural faults that had loosened one too many stones. They’d taken on even more damage from the storm. Wary of the boldness of wandering children, the Monkeys had ensured that the dangerous areas were blocked off.
Much of the castle was in similar disrepair. It was fitting, really, that a location so secure could foster a haven that was falling apart. Pillars cracked and teetered sideways with gusts of wind. The original design was, at best, structurally questionable. Still, there was a beauty to it that Chistery could not deny. It reminded him of a bowl Dera had used for his daughter’s baths when she was first born, patched together from the palace’s broken porcelain. Something that would have otherwise been unused and thrown away, now giving even the darkest place a sense of exodus.
There was a suite nearby that was once fit for royalty, but now had to be boarded up. The balcony overlooked a perilous height. Naturally, it was a hazard to the four youngest Azuras, lest they find themselves with the inclination to test their wings. The glass doors were damaged. Miss Elphaba had inadvertently broken them when she screamed from the tower. A hasty mend had been fashioned from strips of gray fabric; just enough to keep out the rain. Regardless, Chistery took down the barricade and brought Glinda there. He wouldn’t have her wake in the dark; not when he knew the western skies took to morning with a vibrant burst of orange beneath deep cobalt, and that every sunrise tasted like spring.
A new day. A new start. The burgeonings of a new world, admittedly infantile, but growing stronger, like the young ones’ wings. Chistery pushed open the balcony doors to invite it in. He felt her wake behind him and smiled, just slightly, into the warm sun.
When he turned, she was staring at the ceiling, as he’d found her many times in the palace. Too many times, since the first. It took her a clock-tick to begin assessing the unfamiliar room. Another, to acknowledge Chistery — a realization that brought a tearful sheen to her dark doe eyes.
“You were there…” she managed in a hoarse whisper. It pained her to do so. He knew that pain well. At least, for her, it would be temporary. Glinda swallowed with a grimace and opted for sign. Questions, now. WHERE…? HOW…?
Chistery answered them, as best and as simply as he could. He sat at her bedside and took her hand once again into his. Then, she saw it. The sunrise.
Her lips parted as if to say a word of awe that never took breath. Her eyes widened, first, until the light was too much and Glinda had to squint. Still, she was unable to look away from the western sky through that cracked window. A window they’d both broken through, long before Miss Elphaba shattered the glass.
Protectors.
Survivors.
Chistery passed a message through his psychic hand.
“Look, it’s tomorrow.”
_____
End of Book One: Protectors
——————————
