"And there is another. The most lonely of all, lost and forgotten." Lucy Saxon shivers in a cell, sobbing. The Ood ask after her, and the Doctor is compassionate in explanation: "It wasn't her fault, she was... The Master, he's a Time Lord, like me. The Master took the name of Saxon. He married a human, a woman called Lucy, and he corrupted her. She stood at his side while he conquered the Earth." He swears that year never happened. He wishes it never had. But Lucy Saxon remembered.

"I held him in my arms," the Doctor cries. "I burnt his body! The Master is dead!" But there was more: A strange woman, taking up a ring from the cooling coals, with red nails and white hair. Like the Empress, the Haemovore, the Carrionite Witches: The spooky old witch that hides in the shadows, part of every tale just like the errant nutter that takes you up into the sky. The Doctor tries to run away, to stop it happening, but the Elder is not finished: "Something more is happening, Doctor. The Master is part of a greater design. Because a shadow is falling over creation. Something vast is stirring in the dark." Their eyes burn red. The schism is untempered because it remains broken, a red crack in the world.

"The Ood have gained this power to see through time because time is bleeding. Shapes of things once lost are moving through the veil. And these events from years ago threaten to destroy this future, and the present, and the past. The darkness heralds only one thing. The end of time itself."

The Master laughs again, his madness chasing the Doctor out of that cave and into the snow, under the sun, all alone: "Events that have happened are happening now." The Elder breathes the smoke of revelation. As the Doctor makes his way back to the TARDIS, frantic, a hundred years ago Lucy Saxon is being led down a corridor, into a strange and dark ceremonial room. A woman -- that spooky old lady, Miss Trefusis, standing strong behind her -- explains to her prisoner that she's finally been able to replace Lucy's governor. Finally engineered the murder of her previous captor.

"You kept your silence well, Mrs. Saxon. Your trial was held in secret, with no jury, so no one knows who Harold Saxon was. Where he came from. Why you killed him." They make Lucy kneel; they drop her to her knees once again. "There are those of us who never lost faith. And in his wisdom, Harold Saxon prepared for this moment: He knew that he might die, and he made us ready. Tonight, Mrs. Saxon... He returns!" And somewhere, the Master laughs, and Lucy screams, as they place the ring upon an altar.