The last thing Cenric remembers was staggering through a forest, leaving a trail of trampled wildflowers and sliced spores in its wake from the sword dragging against the foliage which he held loosely in his hand. One of his gauntlets was missing, a burnt and tattered cloak draped across his shoulders. He could feel the stinging pain of a new burn on his neck, the heat still emanating from the raw flesh.

He remained as the lone survivor of the brutal battle against an oppressive dragon. His fellow knights fought valiantly beside him until their lives succumbed to the gruesome and firey rampage of the beast,  the weight of their loss etched into every muscle and sinew.

As Cenric's eyes slowly fluttered open, he was greeted by the sight of countless orange leaves drifting down from the trees above. They cascaded to the ground like a gentle shower to blanket his weary form  and face. His senses were hazy, leaving him disoriented and bewildered to finally realize that he had collapsed and fell unconscious at some point.

In a daze, he sat up slowly and surveyed the unfamiliar woodland surroundings to orient himself and get his bearings. As his gaze moved about the circle of mushrooms surrounding him, he finally noticed another pair of eyes staring back at him. It took a moment for his mind to register what he was seeing – a winged creature, a fairy.

"Who are you?" Cenric confoundedly asked. His eyes marveled at the gossamer wings, only ever hearing of them in myths or folklore back in his kingdom. He tried to move again, but a groan escaped his lips as the pain from his injuries took hold of his body, clenching his teeth and straining to get his next words out. "I would like an explanation, faerie. Where am I and how did I come to be here? I was traversing the forest on my way back to my kingdom. This is not the same woodland, is it? It all seems unfamiliar."