Genre: YA Fantasy
Every time I kill a dragon, it’s like I lose a piece of my soul.
The high winds rushing off of The Colony sweep a shard of my humanity away to the Thubar Plains whenever one of my arrows dances to the slowing cadence of a dragon’s heartbeat. I am not heartless. This is the way the Drákon Akademie trains me.
With a short bow in hand I narrow my eyes. The edges of the scale-less space between the Stoker dragon’s pectoral muscles and deltoids become crisp, exactly one-and-a-half inches on each side—a one-point-one-two-five square inch target. From two-hundred feet away, it’s a speck, but dragon serum coursing through my veins forces my eyes’ lenses to reshape and refocus the light. The dragon’s heart throbs beneath its thin leathery skin, the slow pulse fueled by magic.
I release the bowstring, my long braid disturbed by the fletchings as the arrow catapults over my forearm. The arrowhead cuts through the dust-infused air, the shaft quivering back and forth. The streamlined object speeds toward the metallic green dragon in my sight. My pulse kicks up a notch in anticipation of the inevitable Stoker screech when the arrow hits it target. A sound that is both glorious and heart-wrenching. The sound of death. The sound of my soul splitting. But it never comes. The arrow misses by a sliver, bouncing off the harder-than-metal scales.
Dammit, Kaliyah. No doubt this will cost me my rank.