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With a sense of déjà vu, Agnes packed her things. She was going to be staying with her grandmother in Hova again. She picked up her fully packed suitcase and as she started to go downstairs, the thoughts began running through her head. It was as if something was missing, something she ought to remember. Something hideously black. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what. In the top of the tower on the smaller of the islands that made up the Samloqs sat that night’s watch. He looked up at the starry sky through the opening that was the tower’s only window.

Agnes sat with tears rolling down her cheeks, cradling her grandmother’s bloody head in her lap. She had managed to stem the flow of blood, but she could barely feel Astrid’s pulse. Beside her lay Knox, brother of the Emir of Thulisia’s late wife. The old mariner was unconscious, but breathing steadily. A dim red light pulsed in the otherwise darkened chamber, fluctuating in brightness as if the thing emitting it was alive. And as it flashed, two formless beings could be glimpsed by the door. They appeared amorphous and seemed to be covered in week-old ash.