He used to be great, conquering the monsters that strayed into his path. He showed no mercy. They were scum under his feet, things that didn’t belong in the world, things that should never be seen.
He was given tasks to accomplish, to take care of those that were helpless. He did well when all those required no emotion, no secret, no weakness.
Then, one day came when he was given a plea to slay the witch with the hair of snake heads and the beauty of a siren. He went, ready and full of pride. His sword ready, his body rushing with adrenaline. He had no knowledge of the witch’s powers.
The dragon that he had tamed so long ago was to his side, ready as much as he as he entered the lair, but surprised all the same to see the ceiling above merely a crater to allow in the sunlight.
There, in the darkness, stood the beautiful witch, her hair moving on its own accord. She hissed, calling him forward. He stepped in the light ready to face her, but only to widen his eyes in shock, as his own being turned to stone.