no subject

[From the path ahead, the trees clear. Or maybe the view was always clear. The field is green. Along one side, a river burbles quietly. Behind them there's a castle, one which ought to be very familiar. Above it all first morning's sun catches in the fog, casting the whole of the view with light, with wet, glittering motes of gold. It's hazy and, the shade thinks, impossibly beautiful. He doesn't look away from it.]

You showed me a cave where you were- What's the word? Turned? Or is that word for the bloodsuckers?

Nevermind. Your home. Was it all caves? Did your people ever dwell in the light?