Sebastian Eels holds the egg in his two hands. He murmurs to it in a voice too low for us to catch, and its light blazes. Mist boils again from the water all around, swirling and twisting. But instead of gathering around Sebastian Eels on the nest, it encircles Boathook Man in the eye of a storm.

Before our astonished eyes, we see Boathook Man lifted out of the water. His ruined form straightens, his wounds close up, his clothing mends. His beard shrinks back to a neat trim, and his face fills with colour. The boathook on the end of his right arm evaporates, and a new hand appears in its place, pink and perfect.

And now, where once had been a ghastly wreck of a human, a healthy and shipshape naval officer – in the prime of his Victorian life – is set down on a girder.

Boathook Man has gone, and in his place is Captain Kraken.

“It is a marvel!” declares the captain, gazing over his remade body. “My nightmare is ended.”

“Perhaps,” says Sebastian Eels. “But, I wonder, has mine begun?”

“What do you mean by that?” says Captain Kraken.

“Well, you wanted the egg for yourself once,” says Eels. “Maybe you will try to take it again now.”

“I paid the heaviest price for it,” the captain replies. “I lost everything – my ship, my fine men, even my family in the end.”

“With the egg,” Eels says, in a taunting voice, “you could wish it all back.”

“Perhaps, but the egg is not made for the likes of you or I,” says Captain Kraken. “I see that now. It will destroy anyone who tries to use it. I never want to see the damned thing again in my life.”

“Ah,” says Eels with a leering smile, “then your wish is my command.”

And he raises the egg, whispering to it.

Sea mist swirls again, and the water in the cavern starts to boil. But no, it’s not the water this time; it’s something in the water.

It’s the body of the malamander.

As we watch, the scaly corpse of the monster quivers and splits, and dozens of fleshy tendrils shoot up from it. They wrap themselves around the arms and legs of the astonished Captain Kraken, and begin to pulse and thicken, becoming tentacles.

“What are you doing?” cries the captain. “You promised —”

But a purple squid tentacle slaps across his mouth, and cuts off his words. The man struggles, but more and more tentacles are bursting from the sea now, wrapping him tightly, as the body of the malamander is transformed into a mass of writhing, quivering sea life.

“I think I liked you better with the hook,” says Sebastian Eels, his face alive with fascination as he watches his terrible creations. “Or shall we try something else? A crab claw, perhaps?”