As I splashed water to my cheeks, Iskar itself seemed to watch me from its shadows, seemed imbued with death and all that was wicked. It was there in the air, in the ailing whistle of wind in the pipes and the unnatural silences that occupied the gaps of sound.

Mary was subdued when I woke her, the sky outside a smoky grey. I had collected the pebbles the night before and placed them in a bag. I needed to be rid of them, but as I brushed through her hair it seemed a small gesture.

It was spitting rain but Mary did not protest when we left the house, and soon we were on the sand, the waves tossed with spume and a mist rolling in fast from the horizon. Gulls mewled on the air and I sensed the coming of a storm.

Occasionally, Mary paused to pick something from the ground – a shell or stone – and Iskar fell further behind us. We passed the caves and came upon the wide ledge beneath the cliffs. The smell of seaweed and brine was strong. Waves mounted the plateau, but holding to the rocks, we continued on until we were in the force of the wind.

I drew the bag of pebbles from my coat and took one out. Mary watched as I lifted it up and, as an afterthought, unbound the hair from the figure and let the wind rip it from my fingers and then I threw the stone to the ocean. I did it again and again until I came to the very last. My palm wrapped about the cold surface but I stopped and paused, something in me inexplicably resistant, and instead of disposing of it, I returned it to the bag.

We made our way back towards Iskar’s cold reach. A row of gulls preened on the roofline, but my eyes were dragged upwards to the attic where shadowed behind the glass someone stood and watched us.

I stopped. Mary was ahead, her braids and coat tugged in the gusts. I tried to read from the indistinct shape who it was but darkness blurred the edges. Was it Greer? I could not tell. I did not move but stared back until my eyes burned, and it was only as we reached the path that the pane lay empty.

I felt it then, a sense of loss, of defeat. In spite of my efforts, Skelthsea was beginning to slip away from me. I no longer saw the shining curve of the bay or the sensuous sweep of the valley; once again, my eyes sought out the land beyond the ocean to the place that had once been my home.