He turned to look out the windows. The stained glasses were simple affairs, coloured panels, each window representing something simple. The left one depicted two wings and looked like they belonged to a butterfly. The one on the far right depicted a curved horn, not unlike a unicorn’s, but it was smooth and did not have the distinctive spiralling ridges unicorns possessed. The central window held nothing, for it was smashed, and Handy lay in its ruination. Beyond the windows, Handy could not see much, for a waterfall blocked his vision. The changing light was distorted by the moving water and further distorted by the glass, creating an ever changing array of soft light that bathed the dark room. It was… oddly soothing.