Their voices were drowned by the screeching. I gasped, hands clasped to my ears as I sank to my knees. The noble addressing me bent closer.

‘Are you quite all right?’ she said, apparently untroubled by the sound.

I nodded but could not answer; the pain was too debilitating. Instead, I mumbled some vague words of apology before getting back to my feet and turning away, Kikazar trailing me like an overbearing nursemaid. I thought the seer-skull the problem, its aural recorders latching onto a feedback loop. But as I staggered away from the festivities the sound intensified until I felt my teeth would crack. I found an alcove and leant against the wall, struggling to control my breath.

‘Kikazar, break connection,’ I whispered.

For a second there was blessed relief.

Then the pain came again, not as sound but as a throbbing behind my eyes. Each time I opened them lightning thrashed inside my head, along with broken images I could not process: screams and fire, utter chaos all around.

I heard a woman shriek. With a supreme effort, I raised my head, following the sound. She was intent on the window, pointing to something unseen. Two of the burlier servants were already approaching the glass, though I noted Shard and the officers had not moved.

Something stared through the window. I caught a flash of a gleaming red eye, and a leering grin.

Then the glass shattered and a terrifying spectre burst into the room. It stood taller than a man, or would have if only it had legs upon which to stand, for its form was comprised of tangled vines and swamp filth draped in a vaguely humanoid shape. Its only true feature was the glowing red eye now surveying the room, seeking something.

It took a moment for me to recognise it.

‘Mizar?’ I whispered.

The swamp-stained seer-skull veered towards me, dragging broken gnarl-vines with it. I could feel its machine-spirit clawing at my thoughts, anxious to be reunited after so long apart. With a whine of anti-grav motors it flew closer. Kikazar demurely deferred to its sibling and ducked aside. Too late, I realised what was happening – Mizar was desperate to sync with me and share all it had seen.

It was too much, beyond what I could process. Hours of navigating the swamplands, pursued by vile insects and terrible beasts, the thud of gunfire and roar of explosions. All were forcibly driven into my mind, the memories supplanting my own. I tried to scream, but all that emerged was a rasp. I saw Stylee rush over, his face etched in horror, presumably at the festivities being threatened.