This idea suddenly came to me when I was thinking about "Afa's Drops"; why are they called that? So I wrote something on the background of the item. Enjoy it, thanks.

… Teardrops …

The Scouring had begun. This war, that humans called "the Scouring"—because to them, the dragons were scum, stains to their homeland of Elibe. But had it ever been their homeland, truly? It had never been accorded to the race that thought themselves superior.

The dragons and humans had lived in harmony, strained, nonetheless, for centuries. Suddenly, it had broken. The peace had broken between the two, like glass succumbing to pressure, and they had gathered armies, ready to destroy each other.

Afa reflected slowly as she stood in her home, a shallow hollow in the rock near the battlefield of Bern. All around the world, she knew, there were battles raging, and here she had to stay, watching the battle of Bern, waiting for the injured to come for her service.

Why had the Scouring started? Afa still wished that they had not lost their patience, that the humans had not lost their patience and decided to wipe them away. The dragons would easily win, she knew. Their magic was almost nothing compared to the dragons', so many years older.

She sighed and looked upon the skyline, marred and torn by the wings of wyverns bearing passengers, those traitors to the dragons, their diminutives. Equally fast, the dragons on the other side of the battle rose on their wings with alarming power. It was a battle to death, a fight that both sides were equally unwilling to lose.

Why did this have to be so? The humans were foolish. They should have admitted defeat, or kept the peace. They should have protected their fragility, known that the dragons were too much to handle in battle.

They had taken her daughter. Her own blood, the little dragonling whom she had loved the most, the joy of her life. And all for the sake of ridding their world of them. She had escaped, but that was the worst part of it. Now, she would use her life to the fullest, to help others to survive, especially the young.

As Afa continued to watch, she saw houses go up in flames, snow sliding down the mountainsides from impacts of powerful magic attacks, crushing homes as the chaos reigned supreme, destruction brought about by those who believed that they fought for the safety of their own race.

This was all stupidity. Her skills were put to better use, healing to help dragons achieve more, giving them a new lease of life to achieve to their fullest potential. Not so that they could return to battle with the humans…

Far on the facing mountain, a man suddenly stepped out of a house. He flew a few feet into the air, and a black aura began to surround his heavily cloaked body, carrying him up higher on its dark energy.

Afa had not known what to expect. In her cave, she was warm and satisfied, with nothing much to make her feel worried, or panicky, or troubled. She had not thought to protect herself, should anything happen. He was half a mile away, after all. Why should she fear?

Then sudden blackness exploded against her front, and she flew to the back of her cave, hardly knowing what was happening, only feeling the deep-running pain that now tore through all her bones and joints, and hearing the roar of darkness that burnt like flame though it was no warmer than ice…

She folded her wings away from the onslaught of burning darkness, for they were the most fragile part of her, and one of the most important. Then she shut her eyes from the rage of the attack, willing herself not to scream for all the pain it was wreaking on her scales and skin, only shocked that a mere human's spell could do so much…

Unable to see, unable to hear but for the roaring wind, she curled up and screeched in pain. Would she live through this? How could humans do this? Where had all the power come from?

Then as suddenly as it had started, it ended. The flow slowed, ceased, like a calming blizzard, and then it dissipated completely into the cool Bern air. Afa looked down at her body. Her scales had been polished down to thinness, and would take a month to heal completely. Every step she took stung with pain. Who had that been, that human master of darkness?

She knew, she suddenly realised. She had heard the name before—someone named Bramimond, hadn't it been? Growling to herself, she crawled to the entrance of her cave to survey the damage.

Entire mountainsides had been torn down to stone, no trace of any snow or any wood left. No wood. Everyone had been destroyed…but her.

Up above, the skies were empty once again. Bramimond stood alone on the facing cliff, cloaked deeply and not showing any sign of fear, surprise, even jubilation. He vanished on the spot. Afa blinked.

Down below, dragons and wyvern riders cowered on the ledges, some wyverns nursing dead riders, some riders holding the necks of their fallen mounts in sorrow. The dragon healer looked away, back into her cave, all her possessions vanished in the spell of darkness.

Suddenly, she heard a scream ring through the mountains. Again, she looked out the cave, and saw, deep in the valley, a woman running towards her—terrified, eyes full of fear, and in her arms, the delicate body of a young girl.

Afa's instant reaction was for anger to flare up in her heart. Was it that this human, who had once hated her, now wanted her help? Did she think that a dragon would actually give her assistance?

The woman appeared at the entrance to her tiny abode, covered in scratches and bruises. She was panting as if she had not breathed for minutes, and in her arms, the girl didn't move, didn't blink. The skin on her left arm had been torn away by some large object, leaving a few splinters deep in her flesh, and carmine lifeblood running down her arm.

Skin…why didn't humans have scales? Afa turned away. She had had a splinter in the base of her claw once, and that had been enough torture. What of a girl with huge splinters that had drawn so much blood?

And her mother. She knew, they both knew, that the girl would die soon, if she hadn't yet died. Afa knew how that felt. She didn't want anything like that to happen again, when she had the chance, the means, the ability to avert it.

Memories flew back into her mind—her own daughter…her closest loved one, dead…

Who cared if they were humans and she was a dragon. They all knew motherly love. They all knew how it was like, or how it would be like, to lose someone they loved so dearly, someone they had birthed and raised so tenderly. Would she allow another's heart to be shattered because of her own grudges? She could reciprocate hurt with kindness. Maybe that would heal that old wound, give her some peace with herself…

"Please…" the woman begged, presenting her dying daughter to Afa. "She was hit by a piece of wood, when the darkness started…the door…don't let her die, please!"

Afa nodded with understanding. How could humans kill other humans, she wondered to herself. Dragons didn't do such things, especially in the way Bramimond had done it. Their own cruelty and mercilessness was not only wrought on dragons, but on themselves. Since this was a result of human violence, there was more meaning in reversing it.

If she failed, she would never, never forgive herself.

She turned back instinctually to find the pots of herbal pastes and liquids that she always used to treat her patients—to find none. They had all been destroyed, burnt away, by the dark spell.

"I—I don't have any medicine," the dragon explained quickly, though she knew that humans could not understand the dragons' language. "Never mind that, I'll try to heal her without it." Immediately, Afa raised her right paw, her talons on the last two appendages filed down to bluntness to prevent accidents. Using those two claws, she touched the girl's wound, the child flinching sharply at sobbing, not strong enough even to cry tears.

The healer closed her eyes. The wound was deep, too deep, its depth hidden by the constant rush of blood in shallow torrents. She was dying from the blood flow. Looking down at the mother's arm, she saw the blood that stained a dark line on her skin. Afa felt her eyes sting with empathy, wanting to bless her with more, with compassion. But she might not…

This might not be enough, she thought worriedly while her own energy poured slowly from her mind into the girl's. But it's all I have! Please…heal her…stay alive…

She was losing the girl's heartbeat, Afa realized all of a sudden. Instantly, worry attacked her more deeply. No, come back, come here, she urged hopefully, desperately, trying to grab on to her soul with the threads of energy that she had been reaching to the girl's heart. You can live. You will live! I won't…

Afa was struggling. She was spilling as much energy as she could into the girl, at the same time reaching out to her spirit, trying to call her back. If she had been able to heal her wound, it would have given her soul one less way to leave. And she was submitted already, ready to embrace death, sure that she would die. She refused all the hopeful offers Afa had given her, refused any help.

Suddenly, she felt as if something had slipped from her grasp, and flown away into someplace unreachable, a place from which it would never come back. Afa gasped, drew back the strings of power after reaching a little further, then she fell back, her mind came back to the real world, the woman watching her face fearfully.

The healer flinched and suddenly realized what had happened. The woman looked down into the girl's face, then back at Afa. "H—how is she?" she was half fearful of Afa's response, she could tell from the expression in her eyes. Guilt welled up in her eyes and she turned away.

"I…let her go," she answered, voice shaking uncontrollably. "I didn't try hard enough."

Those words were all it took to break the human's show of strength and draw endless tears from her eyes, screams from her throat. She did what every mother would do, pulling her daughter's body close, kissing her hair as if in hope that it hadn't really happened. Drawing back and shaking her daughter in terror.

Suddenly, Afa saw herself, holding her own daughter, taking her in her claws, wishing that she could bring the life back into her, wishing she had come earlier…

Afa understood, and she began to cry as well. She cried with the woman, shiny tears wetting the ground and pouring over her scales.

When dragons cry, they cry a lot. Now, tears pooled around her feet, splashing onto her scales with ever drop she shed. She felt so useless. It was another's child, and she had failed to bring her soul back to safety, failed to save another mother's pride and joy, blood and tears. And for sorrow, for guilt, she continued to shed tears.

"A—Afa," the woman said through her tears. "I'm so sorry...it's not your fault. It's not your fault that she was beyond saving. It's…ours. It was a human's deed."

"But I understand, I know how much you'll miss her," Afa answered, looking at the woman's scarred face, even though she didn't understand the dragons' language. But the woman understood, all the same.

And they sat there in silent sharing of sorrow while they watched the woman's daughter. There was no difference between human and dragon, now. Human, dragon, bird and beast alike understood love. It was something universal, something that Afa had realized only now.

Afa's Drops. Teardrops. They are known to give the user more understanding, realize things they have never known before. They were found, frozen, in a cave of Bern, a puddle that had survived centuries, dating back even further than the Scouring, shining even in the darkness of the small earthy mountain cave.

They are a reminder, a lingering trace of the sorrow, the understanding, the helplessness of a dragon that once lived there, who finally understood the world when she lost a human girl's soul to the shadows.

Thank you to the people who read this. I think the ending can be improved.