The Art Of Catching And Letting Go

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Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Casting magic is a lot like juggling; the start is frantic, your attention fractured, trying to get a dozen things to flow while bringing them up to speed while desperately maintaining control. And then - assuming you haven’t dropped everything - there’s a point where it all stabilises, your mind and soul finding the rhythm.
Past that, it’s simply a matter of holding concentration. Keeping everything going.
And then… then you reach the point you need to stop. And it gets complicated again.
Magic, unlike juggling balls, does not cope well with being dropped. You cannot simply step back and let gravity sort it all out. If you can imagine juggling with eggshells filled with liquid fire, that is the best analogy I can muster.
But assume that it is impossible to get out of reach in time. For while you are casting magic, it is within you. You might as well try and flee your own blood pressure.
Usually the sensation of holding magical power is pleasant. Indeed, most describe it as invigorating, the energy lighting up your veins and setting your nerves fizzing. A heady buzz. Some find it a distraction, while others say it actually aids their concentration.
Regardless, peeling it out of yourself is… gruelling. All the more so because it must be done quickly and precisely.
Release the spell too slowly and it will crumble, snap back, flood your system with uncontrolled magic that burns. Not your flesh, but your vitae itself. Corroding the seam between soul and body.
But if you cast it away too vigorously, it will pull your vitae with it. Rip your being off in shreds.
Both types of injury will heal. In time. So long as you didn’t lose too much vitae; if the magic you were wielding is greater in volume than your being… well. I have seen such a mistake only once, and I do not wish to dwell upon those memories.
So you must unwind the rhythm you painstakingly established, catching each part in turn, hold them gently yet with no risk of dropping them. Then, carefully, pour them away.
It feels like peeling dead skin off and finding yourself heavier. Like stepping through ice water into a sauna. Like dragging yourself from bed after far, far too little sleep. Energy which, while never yours, was briefly part of you, ebbing away and leaving aching emptiness behind.
To hold the essence of reality manifest is almost divine. Of course it is a lurch to be purely mortal once more.
But you must not let yourself grab after the magic. Let it return to the cycle. Treat it as the air you exhale; its job is done and it should now continue on its way. If you bind your being to it at this point… well.
I wonder how much of you would be left?

Prompt was “Describe the sensation of magic leaving the body after a powerful spell.”