"Maybe? Kind of? I don't know," Aggie says, clearly less certain with each phrasing. "They used to read the stories every year at my grave and it would send me back to sleep, kept me from waking up." Maybe, once, the ritual had been one of good intentions but over time all it had done was maker her angrier and angrier, less herself until there was nothing left but hate.

"I don't know if it was their magic or the book or what. But I don't want to sleep for years, not again."