The county of Somerset lies in the English West Country, a green and pleasant land steeped in millennia of history, folklore, and superstition, often overlooked as a rural backwater good for nothing but strong cider and tall tales. Yet something powerful and ancient is stirring in the county’s hills and valleys, and mysterious lights flicker by night on the slopes of Glastonbury Tor, rising like a beacon from the marshes of the Somerset Levels. Old even before the heavy tread of Roman sandals pushed back the darkness, strange blood has flowed through the families of Somerset since the thawing of the last ice sheets. Legend even says King Arthur is buried here, sleeping on the lost isle of Avalon, to rise again in the hour of the land’s greatest need. But what else lies out there, across – or beneath – those lonely desolate waters?