Buckingham Palace was eerie at the best of times, and especially at night.

Alfred made his way down the long, sweeping staircase, treading on each step lightly in case it made a sound. He patted his top pocket. The pad and pencil he needed for taking notes were still there. As Alfred drew nearer and nearer to the ballroom, he noticed there were some discordant sounds coming from it. So, when he reached the huge wooden door, he knelt down and peeped through a keyhole.

The entire room was illuminated by candles. They had been placed on the floor in some kind of formation, perhaps in the shape of a star. It was difficult to tell exactly.

Members of the royal guard stood to attention as the Lord Protector, with an old red leather-bound book in his hand for reference, was marking the floorboards with chalk.

So the Lord Protector was behind those strange markings! But what was he drawing or writing? And was that book the mysterious Book of Albion?

When the Lord Protector had finished, the wooden floor was covered in chalk markings.

Then he gestured to a group of guards who were standing in the corner of the ballroom. On cue, they lifted a tall stone statue from behind them and placed it on the exact spot carefully indicated by the Lord Protector.

Alfred immediately recognised it.

It was a statue of a beast.

Not just any beast.

A griffin.

Half lion and half eagle, the griffin was a symbol of divine power.

A power that is impossible to imagine.

A power over life and death.

A power to create or destroy the universe.

Alfred recognised that particular stone statue of the griffin. It had once sat on the front wall of Buckingham Palace. But, like many valuable artefacts, it had been moved to safety inside.

Next, the members of the royal guard took their positions around the ballroom, like figures on a chessboard. Then, on the Lord Protector’s signal, they began to sing. Alfred tuned his ear in as much as he could. It wasn’t a song exactly, more of a chant. The noise they made was unsettling, as if they were conjuring someone from the dead.

The Lord Protector began reading aloud from the book. He was speaking in some ancient language.

The sound of his voice and the chanting from the royal guards grew louder and louder until a figure appeared through the tall double doors at the far end of the ballroom.

It was a man, bathed in the light of a thousand candles burning behind him. He was barefoot, wearing pyjamas.

From his long grey beard, Alfred immediately recognised the man.

It was his father, the King...