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“What do you want, Rook?”

His jaw flexes as he grits his teeth. “I don’t ever want to feel this way again.”

“Like how?”

“Powerless.”

The confession comes out of him, barely audible on the wind.

“This power belongs to my father.”

“It belongs to Oz, and I am Oz.”

“It belongs to me,” I say.

“Oh?” He tilts his head. “And you think you’re powerful enough to take it? Let alone handle it? You barely know the first thing about your power. If you did, Gabriel wouldn’t be dead.”

The jab sends shame burning up my throat.

He’s right, of course.

“You take on a power like this,” he goes on, “and you risk unleashing something worse than the dark cloud overhead.”

The dark cloud.

The dark cloud.

The West’s letter said, Bring down the dark cloud suffocating Oz and he will be powerless.

And it all clicks into place. Why the West chose those words, why the cloud has remained over Oz despite the war being over, and why the Wizard’s power is inconsistent, why it comes and goes like a tide.

Rook watches me closely, sensing a shift.

“Kansas—” he starts, but I’m already clicking my heels. I’m already gone.

With Ty and his soldiers distracting the fighting trees, I’m able to appear beneath the closest tree, right up against its base.

Blue described the trees afflicted with his magic as being teenagers, but these trunks are massive and every swing of their branches causes the trunks to twist and bend, the bark crackling and groaning as it moves.

I brace myself amongst the fallen leaves and exposed roots and pull out the Tinman’s axe.

It’s heavy in my grip and while I’ve spent the greater part of my life doing hard, manual labor on the farm, I’m not sure if I’ve built up enough stamina to swing the heavy axe through six massive trees.

“Here goes,” I mutter, pull back the axe, and swing.

The first hit chips off a layer of bark and the tree heaves.

A branch twists, windmilling toward me, and I have to hit the ground to avoid getting smacked.

Up again, another swing creates a gouge, but compared to the size of the trunk, the hit is like a cat scratch.

A massive branch with a bulbous growth on the end swings downward, the earth heaving beneath me.

I move just in time to avoid getting hit.

I swing again. A tiny little chip flies off.

This is getting me nowhere fast.