"It's beautiful," I breathed, clasping a hand to my breast. Something stirred there, a warmth, a yearning, for the emotion that twisted the remnant's voice. The same feelings I'd felt for Westfall Village, the same sorrow I had at leaving it. The feelings of home.
But they weren't my feelings, but Jasrin's. Perhaps it was only fair. They bore my strong emotions, and I resonated with theirs. My eyes still misted, nostalgia for a time I'd never lived and a place I'd never been, welling up within me.
"You call this a keep? Anything less than a fortress seems inappropriate," Avrass murmured, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "But then again, why not a work of art? Perhaps Lady Xiviyah sums it up best. This place is a beauty to behold. I can only imagine its glory back then."
"Yes, it was glorious." Jasrin straightened, reclaiming his smile. His sorrow faded from my heart, yet I still felt fond of this place. An imprint of his emotions, or my own, I couldn't tell. Nor did I care.
