Only his snout had not been touched, still wearing the happy smile he had died with.
"Grampa Valtak!" The illusion was so perfect that for a moment Aran believed it.
"Grampa Valtak, wake up!" He ran to the colossal Elder Wyrm, believing it had all been a cruel prank and that Valtak was having a pleasant dream.
"Grampa Valtak?" Aran stopped after a few steps, feeling something was wrong.
The Fire Dragon was too still. His nostrils didn't move and his chest didn't heave. The final straw that broke the illusion was the cold air surrounding the Wyrm. Valtak's inner fire was warm and kind, just like him.
Every time Aran was around the Father of Fire, it was like being wrapped in a hug yet now there was nothing.
"Grandpa?" Aran started to sniffle, touching one of the massive fingers and feeling it devoid of life.
The Dragon was no more, only a thing remained in front of the young boy.
