The night sky, a choking black velvet cloth pierced by the iron spines created by the envy, jealousy, and greed of the world, shone each individual star; pierced remarkably similarly to Silvara’s heart.

The dragoness currently made her way around the world, training with the sages of the east, battling the wizards of the west, and prevailed with enough skill to call herself a Gifted Mage.

After recovering from the shock and horror of the beastly savagery those of the Homo sapiens classification, it was simple; her life. The female dragon studied with the best, desperate to attempt any activity that would aid her in forgetting her early life.

Yet, one would ask, ‘what could have been so terrible, that a dragoness, with thousands upon thousands of years to live, would want to forget her adolescent years?’

Love. It is this rose that leads many down the winding road of life. Although, with every rose, comes its thorns. Silvara and Zerin had a flowering bud of this clichéd emotion, but with complications their perfect flower wilted and soon became the remnants of dust on the wind.

This brings us back to the tragic occurrence that befouled the earth’s crust and rocked Silvara’s grip on reality as well as sanity.

The dragon had, in her human form, been traveling towards the next renowned Wizard Tower in the most desolate desert she’d ever set foot on, when the wind picked up. Its invisible, chilly hands caught her hat and carried it away, lifting her eccentrically large cloak up, buffeting the ‘human’ it kept warm.
“W-wait!” Silvara called out towards her hat, patting her cloak down to race after that precious hat. After all, it kept her silver tresses from blinding those around her during the mid morning and late afternoon rushes. “Please!” She raced, jumping at times when she thought she could reach it, typically ending up unsuccessful with each leap. Perhaps one should tell her that reasoning with an inanimate object would do nothing other than take her breath away.
After a ten minute dash, the dragoness froze, reaching heavenward. A small, almost unnoticeable tremor traveled under Silvara’s soft heeled boots. Her sharp senses were suddenly attacked as soon as the wind ceased, the stench reeked of death and decay. Ears picked up the coarse, deep breathes of a giant creature, its esophagus nearly fully clogged.
The beast behind the gasps coughed, trying to rid itself of the flemmy substance that ceased its breathing.  
Silvara, being the companionate type, listened carefully before heading off towards the source of such ragged breathing…