At the Altar of Dragons

There is a moment when someone dies—despite years of killing I still never quite know when to expect it—when you feel the disconnect. The soul becomes unmoored from the body and all of a sudden the animated person beneath you becomes a husk. It's clear when it happens though. The vibrancy of the skin dissipates, the brightness in the eyes dims, the once full body genuinely feels empty. All from the departure of an intangible thing.

You can’t hold a soul in your hands. You can hold a life–I’ve done that enough times that I’ve lost count. You can hold a heart–I’ve felt Perona’s delicate touch wrapped around my own solidly enough to know that is a fact. But a soul? Maybe a god knows that sensation. Maybe when we die you get a brief glimpse into that feeling as your soul leaves your body.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Or when a draconic spirit that’s become a part of you fades before your eyes.