Midnight struck.
The world seemed to hold its breath as moonlight slid across the rooftops of Gavaldon. Inside her prim, flower-scented room, Sophie stood by her window in a pink nightdress, her hair shimmering like silk. She had scrubbed every inch of herself, polished her nails, perfumed her sheets, and arranged a plate of gingerbread hearts by the sill — a gift for the one who would take her away.
She was ready.
Ready to be chosen. Ready to be taken to the School for Good. Ready to become a princess.
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees.
Suddenly, her candle flickered.
Then died.
Sophie gasped.
A gust of wind blew through the window. The gingerbread cookies tumbled off the plate. The curtains flew up like wings.
And then — a black shadow appeared. Tall. Silent. Faceless.
Sophie stared at it, heart pounding.
"You're here," she whispered. "I've been waiting."
The shadow lunged.
In one blink, it wrapped itself around her like smoke. She was yanked from the floor and flown into the night sky, arms outstretched, her nightgown fluttering like petals. Her heart soared.
It was happening.
Below her, Gavaldon shrank into a patchwork of rooftops and forest.
But Sophie wasn't alone in the sky.
Across town, Agatha had been sleeping soundly, her cat curled beside her. Then a blast of wind blew open the window, scattering potions and dried herbs everywhere.
Before she could scream, another shadow — darker than night itself — reached in and dragged her from her bed.
"LET ME GO!" Agatha thrashed and kicked. The cat lunged at the figure, hissing and clawing. But it was no use.
Agatha was ripped from her home, flying into the same black sky.
She spotted Sophie, floating ahead of her, arms open like she was embracing the stars.
"This isn't a dream, is it?!" Agatha shouted, twisting in the shadow's grip.
Sophie turned, hair whipping in the wind. "We're being taken!"
"I KNEW YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS!" Agatha shrieked.
Sophie ignored her. Her eyes were locked on what lay ahead.
Two glowing castles came into view — one bathed in gold and sunlight, surrounded by waterfalls and roses. The other was jagged, black, with spiked towers, breathing green smoke and perched atop a dead forest.
The two schools.
One for Good.
One for Evil.
Sophie stretched her arms toward the golden towers. "Take me there…"
Agatha wriggled and cursed, struggling to escape.
But the shadows had already made their decision.
With a terrible whoosh, they dropped the girls.
And everything went wrong.
Agatha tumbled through a glowing mist and landed in a bed of soft petals, under warm sunlight.
Sophie fell through a whirlwind of smoke and crashed into a pit of thorns, mud, and bones.
She looked up.
Spiked towers. Fire-lit skies. Screaming gargoyles.
This was not the School for Good.
"No," she gasped, her voice cracking. "This… this is a mistake."
But the gates had already shut behind her.