“Whatever it was, it ripped the qwortzite right out,” said Edwin. “It’s quite scary to see that. I know this is a second life, that it’s almost a bit greedy to have two, but I don’t remember being alive before. Seeing what I just saw makes it, well, it makes it feel like it could be snatched away again so easily, and then what? I go back to being a frequency lost in some dark world beyond? And even if I happen to become a personifate again, I probably won’t remember any of this life. But I like my second life. I don’t want to die.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Agapantha said gently.

Cora burst into the room. “You’ll never guess what happened by the forest today!”

“We’re meant to keep quiet until Master Woolstenbury handles it,” said Prue.

Cora’s shoulders slumped. “You already know?”

“We were with Master White just after it happened,” said Prue.

“Larkin overheard Master Sollentude talking to Master Ashby. Apparently, there were bits of internal mechanism all over the place,” said Cora, spreading her arms wide.

“Cora!” Prue snapped, glancing at Edwin whose muscles were rigid.

“Look, it was probably a confused fox. Things happen,” said Cora matter-of-factly. Then she sniggered. “Imagine expecting food and getting a mouthful of wires.”

“Let’s hope others are as compassionate if things happen to you,” Prue snapped.

Edwin jumped off the bed and left the room.

Prue scowled at Cora.

Cora shrugged. “What?”

*

Smoke trailed from the factorium chimney, gently rising to be captured by the breeze and sent twisting above the neighbouring forest. The dense trees stretched for many miles to the south, unbroken, apart from an abandoned and forgotten cluster of buildings deep in the forest’s heart, with crumbling brickwork, tiles hanging, and shutters unhinged. In the dusk, a single light shone.

Chapter 11: The Hall of Lost Personifates

THE HALL OF LOST PERSONIFATES

That night, Prue slept fitfully. She dreamt Francis was in the forest all alone, calling to her.

She sat up in bed and took the photograph of her brother from beneath her pillow. It was too dark to see anything except the vague outline of his wild hair.

“Hurry up and take the picture, Prue. Let’s race to the post.”

“Only if I can pick my horse.”

“All right, but not Lucky. I’ve just fitted a turbo to his front legs!”

“Well, that just leaves Pippi and Admiral. Dibs on Admiral.”

“I knew you’d choose Admiral.” He smiled. “But I’m still going to win!”

Click.