The Erelim Graveyard. Deep in the coral maze in the ocean laid the rusting bodies of a thousand ships, huge ribs of wood jutting like the carcases rotting beasts from the rocky expanse. Fluorescent fish and sparkling schools flitted in and out of the huge wrecks. Clad in bronze armour three figures shuffled through swirling patterns of dust, thrown up by their footsteps. Great black trunks reached from the back of their heads and stretched to the glimmering lapis lazuli of the ocean surface. “So, Mr Brysworth, would you endorse it?” “HECATE!” “Here what, Miss Hecate?” Tanis asked. “HECATE!” “NO!”