The witch in the North was a ray of diluted sunshine that peeked around the clouds, offering her warmth in the best ways she could.

The witch in the West rode the winds like a bird in flight, her creations following after her in the night as they prepare for the end.

The witch in the East was a raging fire, consuming everywhere she spread with heat and kept her prisoners in an iron fist.

The witch in the South had ice in her veins and twilight on her fingertips, her self imposed isolation leaving Oz questioning where her loyalties lay.