“You would have made a great witch, Sophie,” Anadil said, stroking her beak. “Even better than me.”
The lovebird gazed up at her with pleading eyes.
Anadil’s fingers crushed its tiny throat. The bird thrashed for breath, but Anadil pressed harder, and as Sophie’s eyes went dark, she knew the last thing she’d ever see was a flaming star fall majestically through sky, falling straight for the witch about to snap her neck—
In a flash, a burning dove thieved Sophie out of Anadil’s hands, into wings afire, and up through frigid sky.
As arrows tore through treetops, Agatha thrust out her glowing wingtip and arrows turned to daisies in the wind. She flew as long as she could on fire, Sophie clasped in her feet, then plunged into a dark pine glen and the birds smashed to the ground, tumbling over each other, snuffing out the flames.
Whimpering, Agatha struggled to make her charred wing glow. It flickered—she and Sophie instantly turned human, both paralyzed with pain. Sophie glimpsed Agatha’s bare arms, blistered with burns. Before Sophie could cry out, Agatha’s eyes widened and she circled her glowing orange fingertip around them—“Floradora pinscoria!”
They both turned to scrawny blue pine shrubs.
Anadil stormed into the glen with Arachne. They peered into the deserted patch.
“I told you they landed in the pumpkins,” Arachne said.
“Then lead the way,” said Anadil.
“Which of us gets to kill her?” Arachne said, turning—
Anadil stunned her with a lightning bolt. She stripped the red kerchief from Arachne’s pocket and threw it to the ground. Red sparks shot into the air and Arachne vanished into thin air.
“Me,” Anadil said.
Red eyes narrowed, she took one last long look around.
“Nick, I saw her over here!” called Chaddick, nearby.
Anadil smiled wickedly and headed in his direction.
In the dark, silent glen, two shrubs shivered side by side.
The night had just begun.
Outside the golden gates, the unchosen Evers and Nevers waited for Sophie’s name to vanish off the scoreboard like Kiko’s and Arachne’s. But as the hours passed and more names vanished—Nicholas, Mona, Tristan, Vex, Tarquin, Reena, Giselle, Brone, Chaddick, Anadil—Sophie’s stubbornly remained.
Had Sophie and Tedros united? What would their victory mean? A prince and witch … together?
As the hours passed, Good and Evil shared looks across the Clearing—first threatened … then curious … then hopeful … and before they knew it, they were drifting into each other’s sides, sharing blankets, crepes, and cherry grenadine. Evil thought it had corrupted Good and Good thought it had enlightened Evil, but it didn’t matter.
For two sides soon turned into one, cheering on the Prince-Witch revolution.
Inside the cold pine glen, two shrubs waited.
They waited through silence, split open by screams. They waited through sounds of classmates fighting enemies and betraying friends. They waited as something snared child after child with angry splashes in the Brook. They waited as drooling trolls stomped past them, brandishing bloodstained hammers. They waited as red and white sparks painted the sky, until only four competitors remained.
Then the Blue Forest went quiet for a very long time.
Hunger tore at their stomachs. Cold glazed their leaves with frost. Sleep attacked their senses. But the two plants stayed rooted still until the sky bruised blue. Sophie held her breath, willing the sun to break through …
Tedros limped into the glen.
He had no cloak, no sword, only a brutally dented shield. His tunic was torn to shreds, the silver swan on his bare chest gleaming against welts and blood. The prince gazed into the lightening sky. Then he crumpled against a skeletal pine, sniffling softly.
“Corpadora volvera,” Agatha whispered. “That’s the counterspell. Go to him!”
“When the sun comes up,” Sophie whispered back.
“He needs to know you’re okay!”
“He’ll know in a few more minutes.”
Tedros bolted straight. “Who’s there?”
His eyes moved to Agatha’s and Sophie’s shrubs. Someone stepped from their shadows.
Tedros backed against the tree.
“Where’s your witch?” Hester hissed, unscathed in a clean cloak.
“Safe,” Tedros said hoarsely.
“Ah, I see,” Hester smirked. “So much for your team.”
The prince tensed. “She knows I’m safe too. Otherwise she’d be here to fight with me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Hester said, black eyes flashing.
“That’s what makes us Good, Hester. We trust. We protect. We love. What do you have?”
Hester smiled. “Bait.”
She thrust out her glowing and red fingertip and the tattoo peeled off her neck, swelling with blood. Tedros backed up in shock as her demon engorged with blood, tighter, tighter, about to burst. Hissing an incantation, Hester’s eyes grayed and her skin lost all color. She sank to the ground in agony and howled in fury as if tearing her own soul apart. Then the demon’s body parts detached from each other … head, two arms, two legs.
Five fractured pieces, each one alive.
Tedros turned snow white.
The five demon pieces blasted towards him, conjuring daggers instead of fire bolts. He bludgeoned the stabbing head and leg with his shield, but an arm sank a dagger into his thigh. With a cry, he batted the arm away, pulled the knife out of his leg, and clawed up the only tree in the glen—
Agatha’s shrub whipped to Sophie—“Help him!”
“And end in five pieces?” Sophie shot back.
“He needs you!”
“He needs me to be safe!”
A demon leg hurled a knife at the prince’s head and he jumped just in time to a higher branch. The other four limbs ripped toward him, daggers raised—
Trapped, he glanced down at Hester, weak on her knees, directing the demon fragments with a glowing finger. Tedros’ eyes widened, spotting something through the leaves.
Red silk. In her boot.
The fragments unleashed five knives point-blank, all aimed for his organs. Just as they pierced his shirt, he jumped out of the tree and landed on his wrist with a sickening crack.
Hester saw him scraping towards her. She circled her finger savagely, bringing the demon parts back around with new knives. Tedros held her glare as he crawled towards her. Sneering, Hester raised her finger high and the demon limbs coiled back to kill him. This time there would be no mistake. She roared and the knives stabbed down—the prince lunged for her boot—
Hester’s mouth opened in horror as Tedros pinned her red handkerchief to the ground. The knives clinked limply to dirt and the demon parts vanished. Then Hester vanished too, eyes shocked wide.
Tedros collapsed on his back. Heaving for breath, he squinted into the pink sky. The sun was coming.
“Sophie,” he croaked.
He