The moment Diarmad opened his eyes, it felt as if the light singed the inside of his skull. Quickly, he averted his face from the window as nausea roiled his stomach. He only dared look around when the menacing pulsar in his head calmed down. A presence had touched his mind. His heartbeat quickened. Who is there? Squinting at an undefined, grey blob to his left, he blinked a few times. Finally the blurry shadow switched into focus: Ronan was sitting in a chair in front of the door looking grim—a