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Petron still felt the echo of the moment when he had held that spark in his hand. The feeling of being more than one mind, in more than one place, in more than one time. It comforted him, though he knew trying to pin down the thought, interrogate it and pick it apart, would only cause it to dance out of reach. It was a breath of wind at the back of his mind, something he was aware of but could not access. Much like the ability to change form, something he could no longer do, a doorway that still existed somewhere in his mind but was now walled off and hidden. He didn’t feel this was a loss, however; it was a distant, reassuring memory, vague and unreal yet undeniable.
He shook his head and realised he hadn’t been listening to the report the young soldier in front of him had been givin
