There is an eerie beauty to the idea of a memory, once there is no one left to recall it, simply choosing to carry on in a new form. Wei Wuxian does not expect it to latch onto his heart as it does -- but then again, what has he become but a memory that has stubbornly refused to die? Perhaps that is why he appreciates it so much.

(Perhaps it is nice to think that his own memories -- of the Wens, especially -- might not have died with him.)

"So the sacrifical magic," he says, "that is always rooted in violent action? Or is it something else?"