The image of Liliya flickered again, like the static image of a television show, her expression changing as if she was jumping between two different scenes of her life. She opened her mouth to say something else, but faded completely before she could. The stone sat inert in Skulduggery's palm.

"A memory," he agreed. His voice was hollow. "A recording of her life, not of her. I appreciate the thought, but I hope it comes with some sort of intangible gift receipt."

That, or Skulduggery could throw it into the sea. At the very least he could stand on a beach and hold the stone out and pretend he was capable of throwing it into the sea.