And so it was that the Secret One returned at last to the Palace of Glass with Sylvie Chanson and Whisperer, the magic horse.

As they slowly drifted down through banks of heavy grey clouds, the Secret One knew at once that all was not well here. The Palace of Glass no longer sparkled in the sunshine as it had done once. As they came closer he could see that no-one had cleaned the glass in a very long time. The Palace of Glass was dull and grimy. Cobwebs festooned the doors and weeds and thistles had grown up around it.

And where were the Queen's Andalucian horses that used to prance in the meadows tossing their fine heads ? Only a single lame horse remained by the fence. And the Secret One knew at once that it was his brother's horse Lightening.

The Secret One looked down at his father's vineyards and wept. For not a tree remained living. All that was left was dead wood and gnarled stumps for disease had devastated the place and not one good branch remained. The bee hives that he had once loved lay upturned in the long grass, the bees long since flown, scattered on the four winds.

As he stood there silent in the midst of this devastation, the Secret One heard the flapping of wings. And he spun around looking for what thing it was that lurked there among the dead trees. But he saw nothing.