Claire couldn’t stop seeing her brother’s face as she inspected the spot where he’d vanished. She let her fingers trace the split in the tree and the fading scorch marks on the ground, but they revealed nothing new. She’d trekked here every day for the last four since Marcus had gone. It was the same each time; a burst of hope followed by crippling defeat.

It was a hot day, the sun making her squint, rays reaching out for her bare arms. She suppressed a yawn. For most of the last few days, no one had slept, her family enveloped in a bleak silence. In the daylight, her parents threw themselves into work while Claire stayed home from school and after dinner, they’d hold tight to Claire’s hands as they watched TV together on the lounge. At night, they let her go to her bedroom reluctantly. Claire would pause outside Marcus’s room before she went to her own, staring at the vibrant green bedroom wall she and Marcus had painted together when they’d shared a bedroom as kids. She would watch the way muted starlight fell on her window, the way the moon peeked between ghostly boughs, until she drifted into fitful sleep.

This afternoon had been the first time anyone had woken from their stupor. Suranne had returned to the old sheep shed to paint. She’d asked Claire to join her. Normally, Claire would have jumped at the chance – painting together was one of the few activities that made Claire feel close to her mother. But instead, like an itch she couldn’t help but scratch, she’d come here.

Besides, there was a growing distance between her and her parents that she couldn’t shake. It had taken Marcus disappearing for them to finally tell her the truth. If that hadn’t happened, would they have ever told her? And she couldn’t stop thinking about Marcus – he hadn’t known about magic running through his veins. What emotions was he experiencing in Kelnarium, finding out it was a real place instead of a story and discovering a whole past he hadn’t known about? At least Marcus would be good at magic. He was good at everything. But that didn’t make what her parents had done – or not done – right.

“We didn’t want you feeling different to the other kids,” Suranne had said. “Or having the burden of such a big secret at a young age.” She’d shaken her head. “Knowing you could be snatched away at any minute … we couldn’t have left that hanging over your heads.”

Claire begged to differ. Even thinking about it now made her chest tighten. She could have handled it. She and Marcus both could have. Her heart rate increasing, she tried to think of something else. It was no good getting worked up again and again.

“I wish Mum could still use magic and she’d taught me,” she said to the air. “Then I could get to Kelnarium and help Marcus with this stupid task.” Suranne had said she’d lost the knack of using magic when she’d travelled with James through the Rift. She’d explained wistfully that no matter how hard she tried, nothing happened here. She’d also said that if Marcus or Claire had magical abilities, they hadn’t demonstrated them in Shale either.

Claire kicked a pebble through the crack in the tree. It was no use. No one was going to summon her and until someone did, she’d have to wait like her parents, hoping Marcus would be sent home soon. She tried to remember the last time they’d been separated for more than two days. Probably on school camp last year, and she hadn’t enjoyed it then either. If he wasn’t sent home, life would get a whole lot lonelier, and she couldn’t even access the magic in her blood to make it more bearable. Her throat ached, but she was too old to keep crying. She had to be brave, like adults were when things went wrong. She wanted her parents to know that she was mature and courageous. She wasn’t a little girl clinging to her soft toys anymore.

She sat beside the damaged tree, arms wrapped around her knees. She felt cooler. The sun had gone behind a cloud. She thought about magic, imagining being able to light a fire to keep herself warm and putting bushfires out with a single thought. If only she could try it … Claire shook her head. It was no use going over the same thing. She’d have to get home, or her parents would get worried.

As she got to her feet, she tasted it in the air; the tang of meat when it’s been overcooked on the barbecue. Her breath caught. When she glanced up, the sky was white.

Suddenly, lightning flashed, striking next to the tree. Claire took an involuntarily step backwards. It had been like this when Marcus was taken.

There was another flash of white light. And another.

Her vision funnelled in on bright, primary colours, pinning her to the spot, just as James had described.

Was she really being summoned? Was she to find Marcus so easily? How proud her parents would be and how relieved when she walked home with Marcus in tow! They wouldn’t call her a child or keep secrets from her again. She didn’t have time to feel scared as her feet slowly rose off the ground.

She put her arms out to steady herself, somehow staying upright even with the wind tearing at her hair. Her skin smarted as dust whipped into her face. Breathe, Claire, breathe, she told herself, skin goose-pimpling as she picked up acceleration. Dad managed this. You can too.

Taking a deep breath, she made herself stare at her surroundings, the speeding whirl of kindergarten-crayon colours making her stomach churn. She wondered how much time had passed. She hadn’t thought to ask her father how long the journey had taken.

Thinking about time and how it flowed in this place, it took Claire a moment to notice something yellow-brown flickering beside her. At first, she thought she was imagining things, but the harder she looked, the more she could have sworn it was some kind of living thing. Its form flickered as though it wasn’t quite corporeal, making it hard to see, but she could just make out the thin line of a mouth.

Before she could scream, its mouth opened, stretching wider and wider until it took up the space beside Claire. The creature laughed shrilly, thin tendrils of mud-coloured something reaching out from the edges of its ill-defined form to meet her.

“Betrayer.”

The word echoed in the colourful space of the Rift as she tried to lean away from its billowing body.

“Wha—?”