Something nipped her finger.
Agatha recoiled in surprise and saw one of Anadil’s black rats planted on the Woods’ side of the shield, tiny claws clasping the edges of the hole for support. “Rat #3,” Agatha remembered, the only one still perky enough to get this far, for the other two had yet to recover from retrieving Dovey’s wand and zip-lining chocolate fog. Now, Rat #3 tittered sternly at Agatha through the hole, ordering her to pay attention, before it started crawling through the hole into Gavaldon . . .
The instant its nose crossed the plane between the Woods and the Reader World, the rat was assaulted by a fiery shock that sent it flying to the ground.
Through the shield, Agatha watched Rat #3 jerking in the dirt, still alive despite the magical shockwave.
So the shield won’t let it through, she thought. She slipped her own hand through the hole again easily. But then why does it let me?
Agatha shook off the thought. What does it matter? The hole’s still too small for me to fit int—
Something bit her again.
Agatha looked at Anadil’s rat, who’d crawled up the shield again despite its obvious pain, and was still glowering at her. Agatha glowered right back. What did the little pest want—
She gasped.
Little.
It’s showing me how to get through.
Mogrify.
It wants me to mogrify.
And there was only one animal Agatha knew how to be.
Instantly she closed her eyes and visualized the spell, feeling her fingertip glow hot gold. In a flash, she shrunk to the ground, her clothes flopping on top of her, before she crawled out from under them, a skinny black cockroach. Antennae quivering, Agatha the Roach skittered up the side of the shield, leaving her clothes behind, and scooted through one of the holes, before she followed the rat down the side of the shield and into the Woods.
The second Agatha pattered through the first trees, a green fireball scudded past her, nearly incinerating her and the rat. Petrified, she chased after Anadil’s pet, zipping through the war in full flight; but as a cockroach, she was so small that all she could see were crashing feet and falling bodies and the glow of flaming arrows and magical spells shooting back and forth above her. She needed to look for Sophie, but with all the fighting around her, she’d never find her as a bug—
An arrow sheared over her tiny carapace. Spooked, Agatha accelerated behind the rat, leading her intently towards a pine bush. Agatha motored through the bush behind him, pine needles pricking her thorax, and came out the other side. She stopped cold.
Handsome, dark-skinned Nicholas was facedown in mulch, a giant gash through the back of his head. As the roar of war echoed beyond the bush, Agatha gazed at the young Everboy, her insides crumbling. Valiant, sweet Nicholas . . . dead? Because of her fairy tale? Sadness and guilt rushed through her, big bug eyes filling with tears—
Anadil’s rat hissed.
Agatha turned to see it glaring at her and pinching at Nicholas’ uniform.
It wants me to take his clothes.
There was no part of Agatha that could do what she was about to do, and yet she had no choice.
Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.
Sick to her gut, she reverted back to human form and forced herself to change into Nicholas’ uniform, while she crouched behind the pine bush. As she shoved on his big boots and pulled on his cloak, the rat nudged over Nicholas’ bow and quiver of arrows, which lay by his side. Agatha leaned in and touched her shaking hand to Nicholas’ black hair.
Find Sophie, she gritted.
Find her now.
From the rat, she took his weapon into hand and rose from the bush, suited in all black, her eyes darkening and jaw clamped. With a deep breath, Agatha plunged into war.
The air was so dark and foggy, filled with the smoke of flying arrows and burning zombie corpses, that at first she could only see shadows. Taking cover behind a tree, she squinted and made out Hort and Peter Pan twenty feet away, both trying to fend off Captain Hook with sticks, rocks, and whatever else they could find on the ground. Meanwhile, Tinkerbell frantically showered fairy dust over Hook, trying to fly him away, but the Captain spun and sliced into her wing with his blade, sending Tink plummeting to the ground. As Tinkerbell crawled through the grass, looking for a place to hide, Hook stabbed harder at Peter and Hort. Hort tripped backwards over Peter’s feet trying to defend him and Hook bashed him aside, bolting towards Pan—
Behind a tree, Agatha knew she only had one shot to save him. With her fingerglow, she lit her arrow tip on fire and aimed it right at Hook’s heart. As he launched towards Peter Pan, hook ripping towards his neck, Agatha let the arrow fly—
It missed Hook’s heart but speared his cheek instead, lighting his face on fire.
As Hook staggered back in surprise, trying in vain to put out the flames, Hort and Peter didn’t even look to see who’d saved their lives. Both ran for cover, as Agatha watched Hook succumb to the fire and collapse into the dirt.
One down. Even if it was by accident.
Agatha stepped out from behind the tree, another arrow drawn. She searched the trees for Sophie, but all she could find were more students and mentors trying to fight off zombie villains, who seemed to be exclusively targeting the famous heroes now: Gretel and Hester against the witch, Red Riding Hood and Dot against the wolf, Jack and Anadil against the giant. . . . With every second, the Good heroes were losing more ground against their villains, steadily being pushed out of the trees towards Gavaldon’s shield. The battlefield around them was littered with fractured stymphs, dead villains, and moaning students, nursing wounds and broken limbs.
Suddenly, in the far distance, Agatha glimpsed Aric rushing at Professor Dovey with a jagged knife. The old Dean tried to shoot him with a spell, but the young Dean was coming too fast. He tackled her to the ground, knocking her out cold. Gripping Dovey by her silver hair, he kneeled over her senseless body—
Agatha bleached white. If she tried to shoot Aric from here, she’d have to be dead on-target or she’d hit Dovey instead. She’d barely even managed to hit Hook and he’d been twenty feet away. Instinctively she started dashing towards Aric, fumbling for an arrow, trying to get close enough to get a better shot. But it was too late. Aric raised his knife over Professor Dovey’s throat, about to finish her. Agatha screamed—
From behind, Lady Lesso charged in and dove on top of Aric, knocking him off wounded Clarissa. Agatha choked with relief, but now Aric was on top of his mother, the two of them flailing for the dagger in the dirt. Agatha ran faster, trying to get within shooting range—
As Lady Lesso clasped the dagger, Aric punched her in the back of the neck and surged over her. His mother collapsed onto her stomach, but lurched forward, grappling Aric by the ears. Both flushed red, mother and son fighting for the knife, the gleam of metal swerving from one to the other, until Aric kicked it away. Agatha aimed her arrow from afar, trying to get a clear shot at Aric’s head, but he and Lesso were both crawling madly towards the dagger now, jabbing and elbowing past each other. Lady Lesso swiped the blade first, but Aric leapt on top of her. His mother flipped over, clutching her son by the throat, their faces touching, the knife trapped between them—
Aric’s eyes shot wide as he let out a stunned cry.
Standing over him, Professor Dovey stabbed a broken stymph bone deeper into his back.
Aric’s big muscles went limp and he collapsed on top of his mother, blood seeping out of his mouth.
Lesso shoved her son off her, wheezing for breath. Flat on her back, the Evil Dean clutched Professor Dovey’s wrist and smiled weakly at her best friend.
Agatha dropped her arrow and throttled towards Lesso and Dovey, thankful they were both safe—
Something crashed into Agatha and yanked her behind a tree.
“Where is she!” Hester barked over the chaos. “Where’s Sophie!”
Agatha shook her head. “I don’t know!”
Hes
ter seized Agatha’s shoulders. “Look.”
Agatha followed her eyes through the trees to a fleck of light, half-buried into the horizon.
“Ten minutes. That’s all we have. You have to find Sophie—” Hester commanded.
“Where’s Tedros?” Agatha breathed.
“Merlin’s trying to keep kids alive as long as he can,” Hester said, pointing at the wizard, darting from wounded student to wounded student, treating their injuries with dust from his hat.
“Where’s Tedros?” Agatha pressed.
They heard a high-pitched scream and whirled to see Pinocchio chased by twenty ogres and trolls across the Woods. Just as the villains snagged him, a horde of animals burst from the forest and slammed into the zombies, dislodging Pinocchio from their grip. Princess Uma swung down from a tree and pulled the old hero up to safety in its branches, alongside Yuba and the White Rabbit, while Uma’s animal army fought the zombies below.
Another yell rang out and Agatha twirled to see Lancelot battling Rafal near the first line of trees. The knight’s shoulder was drenched with blood, but he was deftly deflecting the young sorcerer’s spells, despite his snarls of pain.
Agatha paled.
Tedros wasn’t with him.
“Agatha, listen to me,” Hester hissed. “Hook’s dead. Ani killed Briar Rose’s fairy and I killed my zombie-mother, pretending like I was happy to see her. All that’s left is Jack’s giant, Riding Hood’s wolf, and Cinderella’s stepmother. We’ll do everything we can to keep that shield from falling. But you have to find Sophie—”
“WHERE’S TEDROS!” Agatha demanded.
“HE’S FINE. PRINCE LOSER IS FINE,” Hester lashed. “Lance is keeping him away from the School Master, all right?” She pointed across the forest at Tedros, brandishing Excalibur and barreling at ogres the way he once barreled at Lancelot on the moors, while Chaddick flew over the prince on a stymph, taking out wounded ogres with fiery arrows. “But you don’t have time to help him or check on him or get anywhere near him, so don’t even try it,” Hester berated. “We need you to find Sophie now. Ten minutes, Agatha.”
Agatha met her eyes. “Ten minutes.”
“Hurry,” Hester begged before running to help Dot and Riding Hood.
On a breath, Agatha tore in the opposite direction, eyes peeled for Sophie, as she leapt over fallen students and zombies. A boom echoed behind her and she spun to see Jack’s giant fall to the ground, leveled by Kiko, Beatrix, and Reena who’d firebombed him from the height of the trees, while Anadil, Jack, and Briar Rose distracted him from below. Behind them, the wolf was advancing on Red Riding Hood, with Dot seemingly hurt on the ground. But just as the wolf’s jaws closed over Red Riding Hood’s head, Dot thrust out her glowing fingertip and turned the wolf’s jaws to chocolate. His chocolate teeth sunk into Red Riding Hood, crumbling down to the gums. When he recoiled in shock, Hester had a fire-tipped arrow waiting for him.
Agatha heaved relief, scanning for Sophie. The old heroes were safe for now. The shield wouldn’t fall—
Her eyes bulged.
Cinderella was frozen near the shield, seeing her undead stepsisters for the first time. Agatha watched Ella’s face melt to happiness, taking in the beloved sisters she’d once loved more than anyone else. It didn’t matter that they were spear-wielding zombies or that they were on Evil’s side. Like a moth to fire, Ella drifted towards them, hands up in peace. The closer she drew, the more her stepsisters’ gnarled faces softened in turn, their grip on their spears weakening, as if they too felt the stirrings of old love for their sister, erasing all new orders to hurt her. Cinderella slowly held out her arms towards them, a beautiful glow spreading across her face . . .
She didn’t hear her stepmother behind her with the axe.
“No!” Agatha cried, sprinting forwards—
Cinderella turned too late.
The axe slashed down.
As the old princess fell, Agatha’s vision fogged with tears, her heartbeat dragging to a crawl.
In the fiery hell pit of the forest, a war stopped.
Even Lancelot and Rafal held their blows, watching Cinderella hit the ground only a few feet from Gavaldon’s shield.
Merlin turned from nursing injured Ravan. The wizard’s body went stiff, his eyes flying to Agatha.
Shell-shocked, both she and the wizard wheeled towards the shield over Gavaldon.
A young boy stood inside the protective bubble, watching them.
He was no more than seven or eight years old and held a storybook open in his hands.
Agatha recognized him immediately.
Jacob.
Honora’s youngest son.
He watched Cinderella dying on the other side of the thin shield, her slumped position matching the changing painting on the last page of the fairy tale in his hands.
The rewritten book slipped out of his fingers and fell to the grass.
Behind him, Agatha glimpsed a mob of shadows, led by a tall, broad man, racing towards the young boy from Gavaldon’s square. She could hear Stefan calling out Jacob’s name, telling him to get away . . .
But it didn’t matter now.
The holes in the shield over Gavaldon were magically expanding and bleeding into each other, growing bigger, bigger, bigger—
All at once the shield exploded with an ear-splitting crack, detonating in a blinding flash of white light that jolted the Forest like an earthquake. Heroes young and old spilled to the ground, as stymphs careened headfirst into trees, exploding on impact. Agatha spun from the sizzling glare, her body thrown to the dirt as she covered her eyes.
Then the light seemed to fade.
Little by little, she peeked up through her fingers and saw twinkles of white raining over the Reader World like stars.
The shield between the Woods and Gavaldon was gone.
In the Woods, the heroes were slow to get up . . . but the zombies were already unfurling to their feet. . . . Agatha couldn’t see Tedros anywhere—or Merlin or Lancelot, for that matter—
She swiveled back to where the shield had been. Jacob had been subsumed into the throng of villagers who’d swarmed in to save him. Honora gripped him hard against her waist, his elder brother, Adam, under her other arm, as she herded them into the safety of the crowd.
Staring at the firelit battlefield, the oldest Elder quivered at the fore of the mob, too frightened to discern who was friend and who was foe. He held out his hands in surrender, backing against his people.
“Every four years you ripped our families apart. You took our children! Isn’t that enough?” the Elder pleaded. “We’ll do anything you want. Please don’t kill us—”
“I have no intention to kill you,” said a cool, hard voice.
Agatha’s spine tingled.
Slowly she turned, along with the villagers, to see Rafal, standing alone inside the boundary of the Reader World.
“Well . . . except for him,” he grinned.
The young School Master stepped aside, revealing Stefan kneeling in the grass, gagged with a stick.
Sophie stood over her father, cold-eyed and still.
“In fact, it’s not me doing the killing at all. My true love will be the one to end this story.” Rafal kissed Sophie’s hand gently, his ring on her finger gleaming against his lips. “Sacrificing her own father’s blood for love.”
Agatha broke out in a sweat.
“The most dangerous person in a fairy tale is the one willing to do anything for love.”
It was never the Readers that Rafal was after in Gavaldon. It was only one Reader. A Reader whose murder could undo the School Master’s slaying of his own brother.
Merlin’s words rushed back to her . . . the ones he’d spoken in the Celestium the night before the war . . . the ones that didn’t make any sense . . .
What if we have the whole story wrong, Agatha?
The day Rafal had killed his own blood, he’d proven that Evil couldn’t love and doomed his side to eternal defeat.
/> But now he had a queen who would kill her own blood to prove Evil could love.
An original sin erased.
The curse on Evil reversed.
An immortal School Master with no one to stop him until every last Ever was dead. Until Good was only a memory.
Just as he’d promised.
Horror-struck, Agatha looked up at Sophie standing with Rafal, his spiked white hair like icicles against the night sky. As Sophie gazed at her beautiful true love, there was nothing in her eyes but a deep green void.
Beneath her, Stefan didn’t struggle. He knew he was beaten.
Agatha felt her fingertip heat up, knowing Tedros must be nearby. Lancelot and Merlin too. Surely they could help her get to Stefan in time. Somehow they’d get Sophie away from the School Master. The wizard always had a plan—
But now she saw Rafal smirking at her, his eyes on her glowing fingertip, as if she was two steps behind.
Dread rising, Agatha turned to see Rafal’s zombies restraining Merlin’s army, young and old, weapons to each of their necks. Zombie trolls and ogres broke heroes’ bows and crushed the last stymphs with their fists, splintering their bones. Trapped at spear- and swordpoint, the young and old heroes surrendered to their knees like Stefan. First, Hort and Peter together . . . then Jack and Briar Rose . . . Uma, Yuba, and Pinocchio . . . even Hester knew her demon was no match for a knife-wielding zombie witch and dropped to the dirt next to Anadil and Dot.
Petrified, Agatha searched for Tedros, but she couldn’t see him anywhere as she scanned the grove down to the last two trolls tying prisoners to a tree—
Her heart stopped.
The prisoners were Merlin and Lancelot.
The knight had a gash in his cheek, a scorched thigh, and his shoulder looked worse than before as he drifted in and out of consciousness, trying to keep his head up. Merlin had been stripped of hat and cloak, and one of the ogres had hacked off his beard. Slumped in the dirt, in a filthy undershirt, the wizard stared at the sun through the trees, minutes from snuffing out. She could see the despair in his sad blue eyes, reflecting the last trickle of light. Together, they’d failed to destroy Sophie’s ring . . . failed to hold the shield . . . failed to stop the School Master from his ending. Instead, they’d given him just enough time to seal Good’s destruction forever.