They had been about to battle - Eight had gathered them in the battle grounds and divided them into pairs. Romek had been his opponent. But then hell had opened its jaws wide, swallowed them all and spit them back out upon this godforsaken land. Some benevolent fairy. 

He has regarded the new mountain with malice ever since it had stripped him of his powers. He assumes that it has hoarded all of their magic there on its peak, lording it over them like an ever-constant reminder of what had been. The fairy is no more than a dragon, guarding its hoard, and he must find a way if not to kill it, then at least loosen its grip. He is pointless without his mistress and he can’t stand the loneliness of this new world without her. 

There is nothing to do now. Sure, he could meet with people, discuss the weather, shoot the breeze. But why? Before there had been purpose. She had given him that. Now she was gone, and what was he to do?

He finds himself in the forest once more (this doesn’t surprise him, his legs have barely stopped moving since descending from the forsaken mountain). He recalls with something akin to sadness the last time he had been here. He had been playing with a female. Why had he bothered with such diversions when his time with his true love would be cut so short? But he is left with little time to consider this regret for he finds himself suddenly in the presence of the one he had been meant to battle. Of course the battle had meant little, even less now that the world had been wrought asunder, but he recognized the male nevertheless. 

He closes the remaining distance between them and nods in greeting; his dark eyes dull with sleep deprivation beneath a cascade of tangled and matted locks. “Romek” he says quietly, voice still tense from all of the uncertainty. “Have you found your brethren in this chaos?”