Only she could see Sophie’s shadow again now, looming in front of one of the graves ahead. Agatha’s gut tightened.

“Did you find a way out?” she pressed. “Is that a secret doo—”

Sophie didn’t answer.

She was staring at a beautiful woman in a silky white dress, her eyes closed inside her coffin, her face serene, like a princess waiting to be kissed. Unlike the other decaying corpses, she had flawless, vanilla skin, luscious lips, and the most beautiful long, blond hair, like hand-spun gold. From the pallor of her mouth and the waxy complexion of her skin, it was clear she was dead and embalmed long before she was ever placed into her frozen grave.

“Who’s that?” Agatha said.

Sophie didn’t answer.

Behind them, Sader’s recorded voices had all gone quiet.

Agatha frowned. “Sophie, we don’t have time to sit here and ogle random dead women who happen to look like you—”

Her heart dropped. No.

“That’s . . . that’s her?” Agatha blurted. “That’s—”

“My mother,” said Sophie, her voice flat and numb. “Her body was here in the Woods all along. The grave on Necro Ridge wasn’t a mistake. Someone must have moved her here.”

“But that’s impossible!” said Agatha, before she looked up at Vanessa again and saw just how much she resembled Sophie. “Isn’t it?”

“Only one way to find out,” Sophie rasped.

Agatha followed her gaze to the placard on Vanessa’s tomb and the silver dots carved into the steel.

“Her story is inside those dots,” said Sophie shakily. “The answer to why she has a headstone on Necro Ridge. To why she’s here in Evil’s dungeon.”

Sophie looked at her friend. “And maybe to why the both of us are in this fairy tale together.”

Agatha held her breath, watching Sophie reach out a quivering hand and brush her fingers across the dots.

A cloud of silver leapt off the placard, melting into Sader’s miniature silhouette once more. Only this time he was no longer smiling or at ease. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw tight, and his glassy hazel gaze locked on them.

“We don’t have much time, girls. If you’re seeing this, then my visions held true and you are nearing the end of your story.”

Agatha reddened. “But Professor Sader, what happens at—”

“Dead seers still can’t answer questions, Agatha, though I knew you would ask one because I am a seer and foresaw it. But from now until this recording runs out, neither of you will interrupt me again. There is no time for interruptions.”

Agatha and Sophie glanced at each other.

This means everything turns out happily, Agatha thought, hope swelling. Sader sees the future . . . he knows we come out alive—

“I do not know how your fairy tale ends,” Sader said starkly.

Agatha snapped back to him.

“My visions stop after you and Sophie appear in front of me, listening to this very message. From here, I do not know whether you live or die, end as friends or enemies, or whether either of you will find a happy ending at all.”