He finally found his way to the dragon’s head. The fall’s impact had half buried it, and the side of its face that was turned up to him snarled, its slimy, pink tongue pressed against the white, ivory prison of its teeth, a prison which had closed irrevocably over so many—”Since before time began…” the priest’s cant floated in his memory.
“No more,” he said aloud, and his own voice sounded strange and rough to him, like the voice of another, much older man.
He lifted his sword and began hacking into the scales he’d proven could be pierced.
Tale Told 