‘Take your hands off that device,’ the Castellan called sharply.

Galen looked up. His face was wild and triumphant. ‘Too late,’ he hissed.

The thought-bolts burst from him like fire; they exploded among the Watchmen, who yelled and scattered and dropped their bows. Two turned and ran. Instantly the doors slammed tight.

‘Pick those weapons up!’ the Castellan raged. He grabbed one, raised it and shot the bolt straight at Galen. Raffi gave a strangled yell, but the bolt had already burst into brilliant flames of green and black; then it shattered, sending pieces crashing across the hall.

Astonished, the Watchmen stood still.

‘Take their weapons,’ Galen said harshly.

After a second, the Sekoi pushed past him. It snatched the bows quickly from the men’s hands, gripping them with its seven fingers, a wide, happy smirk on its face. Then it dumped the pile against the wall and stood over them.

‘What… who are you?’ the Castellan muttered.

The lights flickered, turned green. Galen was standing upright above the device; power from it filled him, flowed from him; he was flooded with it, Raffi could feel it, a wild, exulting joy that surged out of him.

‘I am the Crow,’ he breathed. His voice was raw and strange; in the brightness his eyes were black.

Raffi found himself trembling, shaking with fear, his hands clutched in the sign of blessing. The Sekoi crouched beside him, one hand on his shoulder.

It was Carys who answered, tense with excitement. ‘How can you be?’

Galen was taller, his face dark and hooked. Energy surged through him in crackles and sparks of colour; Raffi saw blue and purple and silver threads of it flicker through the dark. Immense shadow loomed behind him, seeming to rustle and flap.

‘I am the Crow! I have been buried too long in the dark,’ he cried, and his voice was harsh, both Galen’s and yet changed. ‘Now I arise and look, Anara, I have summoned your Makers back to you; through the darkness and emptiness I call them! In ships of silver and crystal they’ll come, Flain and Tamar and Soren of the trees – even Kest will come – and they will dispel the darkness and scatter the towers of the Watch. This is the prophecy I make! This is the truth I speak! They have told me they will come, and no one will stand against them!’

He flung out his hands; the shadows jerked wide. All around him the walls were hissing and sprouting; Raffi saw that the trees were alive, growing, slithering out leaves and fruit. The Watchmen called out, some of them crumpled on the floor, terrified, and behind them the great doors thrummed with a strange electric hum, and the symbols on them glowed green and gold.