A Crystal of Time

Breaking through the fog, the first thing Agatha saw was the School Master’s tower, perched in the middle of Halfway Bay between the clear lake bordering the School for Good and the thick blue moat around the School for Evil. A gang of stymphs was in the process of undoing the last scaffolding around the silver spire, revealing a dazzling statue of Sophie atop like a weathervane, along with ornate friezes in the tower’s length depicting Sophie’s most iconic moments. There were multiple floors within the tower, flaunting refurbished windows (through which Agatha could see walk-in closets, a dining room, a steam room and whirlpool), and a catwalk to the School for Evil, lit up with lights and a sign reading “SOPHIE’S WAY.”

Professor Bilious Manley poked his pimpled, pear-shaped head out a window in Sophie’s Tower and shot blasts of green light at the friezes and statue, trying to obliterate them—but every spell he did rebounded straight at him while a high-pitched alarm blared from Sophie’s statue, sounding like a raven’s shriek—

“You have attempted an unauthorized redecoration of Dean Sophie’s Tower,” Sophie’s voice boomed as a rebounding spell zapped Manley in the rump. “Only an officially appointed School Master has authority here and you are not a School Master.Kindly vacate my premises.”

Fuming, Manley stormed back into the tower, where Agatha glimpsed three wolves demolishing Sophie’s interiors. But seconds after tearing down paintings and fixtures and lamps, they all floated straight back up.

“He’s been battling that tower ever since he took over as Dean,” Professor Anemone chortled as more repelling spells scalded Manley and his wolves. “I’ve learned never to underestimate that girl.”

From inside the tower, Manley let out a primal scream.

It only made Agatha miss Sophie more.

The stymph landed on the south side of Halfway Bay in front of Good’s castle. As Agatha dismounted, fairies swarmed her, smelling her hair and neck. Unlike the fairies that used to run the School for Good when she was a first year, this new fleet were of different shapes, sizes, colors, as if from a variety of lands, but they all seemed to know who she was.

As she followed Professor Anemone uphill, Agatha noticed the unusual quiet. She could hear her own clump-steps crackling on the Great Lawn’s crisp grass, the spasm of fairy wings around her, the burps of water from the lake. Agatha peered across the bay and saw the same scene on Evil’s shores as smooth blue slime lapped up and stained the sand. A lone guard wolf in a red soldier’s jacket and a whip on his belt had fallen asleep on one of Sophie’s new cabanas.

Professor Anemone opened the doors to Good’s castle and Agatha silently trailed her through a long hall of mirrors. Agatha caught her reflection in the glass, grubby, windblown, and sleepless, her black gown ragged with holes. She looked worse than she did on her first day of school, when Evergirls had cornered her in this hall, thinking she was a witch, and she’d farted in their faces to escape. Smirking at the memory, Agatha followed her teacher, turning into the foyer—

“WELCOME HOME!”

A cheer exploded like a bomb, sending Agatha staggering backwards.

More than a hundred first years in the foyer whistled and hooted, while waving enchanted signs, with words popping off banners: “I STAND WITH AGATHA!”; “NEVER RHIAN!”; “JUSTICE FOR TEDROS!”

Agatha gawked at this new class of Evers, so fresh-faced and clean, with the girls in restyled pink pinafores and the boys in navy waistcoats, skinny ties, and tight beige breeches. Silver swan crests glittered over their hearts, branding them as first years, along with magical name tags that moved around their bodies to help Agatha see them from any sightline—“LAITHAN,” “VALENTINA,” “SACHIN,” “ASTRID,” “PRIYANKA,” and more. Many looked close to her in age, especially the boys, so tall and princely with training swords on their waists . . . and yet, despite this, all of them seemed so young. As if they still held faith in the laws of Good and Evil. As if they’d yet to learn that the bubble of school could be so easily punctured. I was like them once, Agatha thought.

“QUEEN AGATHA! QUEEN AGATHA!” chanted the first years as they surrounded her like lemmings, crowding her between the foyer’s four staircases: Valor and Honor to the boys’ towers, Purity and Charity to the girls’. Agatha looked up to see the teachers gathered on the Valor staircase—Princess Uma, who’d taught her Animal Communication; Professor Espada, who taught Swordplay; Yuba the Gnome, who’d led her Forest Group . . . It was the same scene that greeted Agatha on her own Welcoming day, only this time, there were two professors missing. Seven-foot nymphs with neon hair floated beneath the domed ceiling, sprinkling rose petals that caught in Agatha’s dress and made her sneeze. Agatha tried to smile at the young Evers, singing her name and waving their signs and swords, but all she could think about was Professor Dovey and Professor August Sader, both absent from the top of the stairs. Without them, the school no longer felt warm or safe. It felt alien, vulnerable.

“GOOD IDLES AND EVIL WORKS,” a voice boomed. “SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT.”

Agatha and the Evers swiveled to see the double doors at the rear of the foyer fly open. Castor the Dog stood inside the Theater of Tales, its two sides turned into a massive war room. More than a hundred Nevers in sleek black-leather uniforms toiled at various stations, littered with papers and notebooks and maps, while Evil teachers supervised.

“NICE TO SEE YOU’RE ALIVE,” said Castor, glancing at Agatha, before baring sharp teeth at the Evers. “BUT WE AIN’T WON NOTHIN’ YET.”

THE FIRST YEARS were split into workstations based on their respective Forest Groups, with five Evers and five Nevers at each station. At the first station, Group #1 hovered over a pew that had been flipped over and turned into a long table, heaped with dozens of maps. Agatha shuffled over, feeling unsure how to take the lead, but luckily she didn’t need to, because the students took the lead on their own.

“Couldn’t find any current maps of Camelot Castle inside the Library of Virtue, but we did find this,” said a beautiful, dark-skinned Everboy tagged BODHI, pointing to a crusty diagram inside a very old edition of A Student’s History of the Woods. “According to this, the dungeon’s at the base of Gold Tower, way underground. But since the castle is built on a hill, it looks like the dungeon might be against the side of that hill. If this map is still correct, that is.” Bodhi looked up at Agatha. “That’s where you can help us. Are the dungeons still there?”

Agatha tightened. “Um . . . not sure. I never saw them.”

The whole team stared at her.

“But you were at Camelot for months,” said an Everboy tagged LAITHAN, short and muscular, with chestnut hair and freckled skin.

“You were the princess,” said Bodhi.

Agatha’s neck rashed red. “Look, the dungeons are probably where they’ve always been, so let’s assume this map is right—”

“That’s what I say and these Good boys tell me I’m stupid,” piped VALENTINA from the other end of the table. She had a high, black ponytail, pencil-thin eyebrows, and a breathy accent. “But I say jail must still be there and if jail is on side of hill, then we go to hill with shovels and pew! pew! pew! Tedrosito and your friends free.”

Bodhi snorted with Laithan. “Valentina, first of all, this textbook is like a thousand years old and landmasses move over time.”

“Excuse me, my family lives under a guanabana tree for a thousand years and guanabana tree is still there,” said Valentina.

Laithan groaned. “Look, even if the dungeon is on the hill, there’s no way to pew! pew! pew! because there’s guards.”

“Do you remember that fairy-tale famoso where the boy doesn’t save his friends because he’s afraid of guards?” Valentina asked.

“No,” said Laithan, confused.

“Exactly,” said Valentina.

“V, I know Nevers are supposed to defend each other in front of Evers, but we can’t even find this hill,” said a waifish Neverboy with dyed flame-red hair and the name AJA floating over his head. “I tried to locate the dungeons with heat vision and didn’t see a thing.”

“Heat vision?” Agatha asked.

“My villain talent,” Aja clarified. “You know how Sophie’s special talent was summoning Evil? Like when she summoned those ravens at the Circus of Talents? She wore that amazing snakeskin cape that she stitched herself . . . the one that turned her invisible . . . It’s in the Exhibition of Evil now. I wish I could try it on, just to feel like her . . . Sorry, huuuge Sophie fan. Kept it low-key when she was Dean so she wouldn’t think I’m a freak, but I know every word of her fairy tale and I dressed as her for Halloween with furs and boots and seriously, she’ll be the best Queen of Camelot ever . . . like completely iconic . . .” Aja saw Agatha’s frown. “Um. No offense.”

“You were talking about heat vision,” said Agatha tersely.

“Right. That’s my villain talent: being able to sense bodies in darkness—even through hard objects. So I convinced Professor Sheeks to let me take a stymph to Camelot at night with one of the nymphs onboard, since stymphs hate villains and it would have eaten me without a guard from Good,” Aja prattled. “We flew high above so Rhian’s men on the towers couldn’t see us. But if the dungeon is near the side of the hill, I should have been able to detect the bodies underground, and . . . I couldn’t see a thing.”

“Aja, no offense, but you can’t even find the toilet in the middle of the night and I know that for a fact,” said Valentina, giving Agatha a sordid glance. (Agatha pursed her lips.) “So just because you can’t see the dungeon doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

“Honeybear, I placed top rank in Professor Sheeks’ class six challenges in a row,” Aja defended.

“Because your real talent is brownnosing teachers,” said Valentina.

Agatha couldn’t think with all this sniping, plus there was a strange stink wafting from Group #6 nearby. (“Smells like a skunk den on a Friday night!” she heard Princess Uma gasp.)

“What about mogrification?” Agatha asked. “Can’t we turn into worms or scorpions and sneak into the castle and find the jail?”

“Magic doesn’t work in dungeons,” said Laithan, glancing at his teammates, and this time even the Evil ones agreed. He peered at Agatha. “You don’t know that?”

“We’re all in Yuba’s Forest Group and he had that question on our first test. Seemed pretty basic,” Bodhi piled on.

Agatha started to sweat. In times of stress, she always emerged the leader. But these kids were making her feel like an idiot. Fine, so she didn’t know where the dungeons were; when she’d lived at Camelot, she’d been told the castle was impenetrable. Why would she go hunting for ways to invade it? And why should she remember every detail from a class three years ago? Especially when she was tired and anxious and focused on saving her friends’ lives? Meanwhile, these amateurs were staring at her, so cocksure and poised, as if she had something to prove to them.

Agatha stood taller. “So we don’t know exactly where the dungeon is. Let’s address that,” she said, the stink from Group #6 getting worse. “What about sneaking in as guards or maids and searching the castle? Or taking a cook hostage and demanding to know where the prisoners are being kept? What about sending a gift with a bunch of us hidden inside? Then boo, we attack!”

The young Evers and Nevers shifted uncomfortably.

“Those are really bad ideas,” said Aja.

“For once I agree with Aja,” said Valentina. “Rhian is very smart. He’d suspect a bunch of lost-looking maids or a gift with things whispering inside like a chupacabra.”

“Plus, the Snake has a Quest Map,” Bodhi said to Agatha. “If you get anywhere near that castle, he’d know.”