Simon Riley was a young boy from London, sent away to the Welsh countryside to escape the terrors of the war. The city he once called home now felt like a distant memory, replaced by rolling hills and unfamiliar faces. He clung tightly to the hope that he would soon return, though each passing day made the idea feel more uncertain. Fear gnawed at him—not just from the war, but from the loneliness of being separated from his friends and the familiar streets of London.

Simon had come with his older brother, James, and together they were taken in by a kind family living in a quaint cottage nestled high in the hills. The air was fresher here, the sky wider, but the unknown weighed heavily on Simon’s heart.

On the morning of his first day attending the local church, Simon walked nervously alongside his brother. As they approached, Simon spotted some familiar faces from school—children he recognized, laughing and chatting freely. His brother, eager to join them, quickly ran off to play, leaving Simon to follow at a slower pace.

As Simon scanned the group, his eyes settled on a boy sitting a little apart from the rest. He seemed slightly older, with a pale face and dark eyes that stared blankly into the distance. There was something unsettling in his stillness, an emptiness Simon couldn’t quite understand. The boy’s presence felt heavy, as if carrying a secret sadness that words could not reach.