There was a noise outside, the snapping of a twig. Then light, even footfalls on the path outside. The creaking of the remainder of a door, as it was pushed to give easier access. A dark robed figure entered, its face hidden under a hood, and Hortencia could be forgiven if for a moment she thought the grim reaper had come for her. But the figure seemed not to mind her, perhaps not even notice her, and instead, with the click-clack of hard heels on paved floor, made its way to the middle of the transept and turned to face the cracked altar.

Here, rays of sunlight hit the creature, and the ‘dark robe’ was transformed into an elegant black silk dress and a black, tight-patterned mantilla over black hair. The lace fabric moved as the woman looked up to inspect the remains of the dome. “What an excellent place to revisit the ruins of the past,” her soft but clear voice echoed off the walls of the apse. The woman turned around, reached up, and pulled the mantilla down to her shoulders. Anne Carrington beheld the slender form of her past nemesis. “I was told I could find you here.”