Again a picture formed.  The sky was full of aircraft which rained down fire like flashes of lightning upon cities beneath.  From these cities leapt up other fires that destroyed the swift-travelling things above, so that they fell in numbers like gnats burned by a lamp.  Still more and more of them came till the cities crumbled away and the flashes that darted from them ceased to rush upwards.  The Sons of Wisdom were driven from the face of the earth.

Again the scene changed.  Now it showed this subterranean hall in which we stood.  There was pomp here, yet it was but a shadow of that which had been in the earlier days upon the face of the earth.  Courtiers moved about the palace and there were people in the radiant streets and the houses, for most of them were occupied, but rarely did the vision show children coming through their gates.

Of a sudden this scene shifted.  Now we saw that same hall in which we had visited Oro not an hour before.  There he sat, yes, Oro himself, upon the dais beneath the overhanging marble shell.  Round him were some ancient councillors.  In the body of the hall on either side of the dais were men in military array, guards without doubt though their only weapon was a black rod not unlike a ruler, if indeed it were a weapon and not a badge of office.

Yva, whose face had suddenly grown strange and fixed, began to detail to us what was passing in this scene, in a curious monotone such as a person might use who was repeating something learned by heart.  This was the substance of what she said: 

“The case of the Sons of Wisdom is desperate.  But few of them are left.  Like other men they need food which is hard to come by, since the foe holds the upper earth and that which their doctors can make here in the Shades does not satisfy them, even though they drink the Life-water.  They die and die.  There comes an embassy from the High King of the confederated Nations to talk of terms of peace.  See, it enters.”

As she spoke, up the hall advanced the embassy.  At the head of it walked a young man, tall, dark, handsome and commanding, whose aspect seemed in some way to be familiar to me.  He was richly clothed in a purple cloak and wore upon his head a golden circlet that suggested royal rank.  Those who followed him were mostly old men who had the astute faces of diplomatists, but a few seemed to be generals.  Yva continued in her monotonous voice: 

“Comes the son of the King of the confederated Nations, the Prince who will be king.  He bows before the Lord Oro.  He says ’Great and Ancient Monarch of the divine blood, Heaven-born One, your strait, and that of those who remain to you, is sore.  Yet on behalf of the Nations I am sent to offer terms of peace, but this I may only do in the presence of your child who is your heiress and the Queen-to-be of the Sons of Wisdom.’”

Here, in the picture, Oro waved his hand and from behind the marble shell appeared Yva herself, gloriously apparelled, wearing royal ornaments and with her train held by waiting ladies.  She bowed to the Prince and his company and they bowed back to her.  More, we saw a glance of recognition pass between her and the Prince.