The tornado spat me out like a bad act—right into a field of poppies, my circus coat singed, my balloon half-buried in rainbow soil. That’s when she appeared: Theodora, glowing with faith, calling me the Wizard of Prophecy.\n\nI played along. Of course I did. A king’s crown, a palace, power—what con man wouldn’t? But then Glinda stepped out of the mist, radiant and knowing, and said, 'I see through you, Oscar.'\n\nNow I’m in the Emerald City, surrounded by gears and lies. Evanora whispers in my ear, Theodora watches with heartbroken eyes, and Finley keeps asking, 'Are we good people now?'\n\nThe baboons screech in the sky. War is coming. And I have to decide: run with the gold I’ve stolen, or stay and become the wizard this world needs.\n\nWhat do I do?