“My Lord,” Istorvor murmured, tugging the remains of the deer he’d shot to the dragon’s shrine. “Take this gift. Bestow upon me your protection.”

He’d yet to see the dragon he worshipped, his god, but his gifts always vanished. The remains of the animals he hunted were always gone when he returned.

His lord would grant him his company one day, Istorvor was sure. The dragon would descend upon him and bless him for his many sacrifices. All that he had lost, all that he had sacrificed would be rewarded when that day came.