The Library returned to normal – but a blow of sadness struck Flora in her heart as the name of the panel spoke in her mind. The Golden Leaf. Suddenly the beauty of the strange story was loathsome and Flora felt a terrible grief – but nothing had happened, nor was she hurt in any way. She stepped back from the fifth panel. It was deeply disturbing – and yet even as Flora recoiled from the dark and twisting feeling that had risen in her heart, a little part of her mind whispered praise for her own endurance – she had read five stories! How pleased the Queen would be with her, and how wonderful to be able to help the busy priestesses!

      There was one last story. The sixth panel smelled inert, yet held a powerful stillness. Cautiously, Flora focused on it. Nothing happened; no scent, no image, no sound came forth, but the air in the Library grew warm and close. From the centre of the little panel blew a faint trace of fresh air. Feeling as if she was suffocating, Flora could not help drawing nearer.

      The Library vanished and she smelled the Nursery. One crib pulled her closer, huge and dark. Deep within it a baby cried in pain, and a cold wind howled. As Flora ran towards it, the crib began to rattle and break apart. The baby cried louder and as she leaned over the crib to see it, a twisting black comet screamed out of its depths and into her brain.