The door opened fully, hissing and squeaking slightly. As the cryogenic vapour dissipated, Miles slunk closer. No klaxon had sounded, no warning lights blinked, only the fizzing gasses slowly sublimed around him. Dim red light illuminated a frosted crystalline sarcophagus held by heavy metal clasps and thick wrought iron chains.

With trepidation Miles reached out with his sleeve and polished the surface of the casket above the shoulders hoping to see the face of the occupant. He was staring at the most beautiful face he had ever seen, the only imperfection being a nasty red scar that ran from her temple across her cheek to the corner of her mouth. He leaned closer and breathed on the glass in order to get a clearer view. Vigorously he rubbed with his sleeve once more and when he looked again he noticed with a shock that her ice-blue eyes were open and were gazing straight into his soul.

Miles staggered back, caught himself, and raced down the corridor towards Marie-Louise’s chaotic workshop.