In the front were the tracked Leaders, with gold swan pins over their hearts and new forest-green berets on their heads—Beatrix, Ravan, and Chaddick amongst them. In the middle pews, she spotted Reena, Nicholas, Arachne, and Vex amongst the tracked Henchmen, with silver swan pins and no hats at all. And behind these sidekicks, to Sophie’s astonishment, was the final group: the lowest-ranked students, with bronze swan pins, who’d already begun the process of mogrification. Kiko sniffled back tears, trying to hide limbs covered with white goose feathers; Tarquin snorted through a pig’s nose; Millicent itched at the deer antlers growing out of her red hair; and Brone’s arms were already sprouting fresh, green leaves.

Serves them right, Sophie thought, for being hopelessly incompetent. She assumed Dot would be amongst the Mogrifs, turned into a chocolate-guzzling cow, but she couldn’t spot her in any of the groups. Or Anadil for that matter, or . . .

Where were the witches? Sophie wondered, scanning the room.

But the only other people in the room were the Evil faculty against the back wall, with the Good teachers still nowhere to be found. Professor Manley and Professor Sheeks looked blissfully proud of their student-turned-queen, as did Castor, whose ferocious canine head had been reunited with his brother Pollux’s on their dog’s body. (Pollux waved at Sophie and dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, pretending to be happy for her.) Next to them, Sophie could see Lady Lesso, seemingly pleased she’d returned to Evil, while her son and fellow Dean stood at her side—

Sophie recoiled. Because Aric didn’t look like a Dean anymore at all. He had a blackened eye, deep claw marks across a swollen nose, and the word “CREEP” had been slashed into the skin of his forehead and was only just starting to heal. He glowered back at Sophie, as if daring her to keep gawking.

Sophie turned away and caught her first glimpse of the raised stage at the front of the theater. The stone surface was cracked down the middle as always, but now there was a frost-blue mist seeping through the crack from beneath. If it was for magical effect, it was rather pitiful, Sophie thought, given the heft of the occasion. Unless it isn’t magic at all. . . . As Rafal led her up the steps, she squinted through the crack, trying to see if there was something below the stage—

But then Sophie noticed what was above the stage.

A black crown of spikes floated high in the air, glimmering in the green flame light of a skull-shaped chandelier. It was the same crown she’d seen herself wearing in the E-V-I-L murals back at the old Good castle, her smiling, painted self wrapped in Rafal’s arms.

Sophie matched the smile now, clutching her handsome love, as they took center stage. Two years ago, the Circus Crown dangled above this spot the same way, awaiting the winning student of the first-year talent contest. She’d won her crown that night by disavowing Good and embracing Evil . . . just as she would tonight.