Black-bleeding eyes, one green as a tropical sea and the other white, pallid and dying, watched each mare in turn as they answered her questions, Evaneska even going so far as to reveal things the child had yet to even inquire about. The way she absorbed it was almost too focused, because there was no hint of impatience or restlessness even when the answers turned out to be both long and complicated. Instead the childish brows furrowed in concentration as she struggled to understand not just the words but the meaning behind the words.

It was a difficult subject, for sure. Basically what the brown-flecked girl said was that it might have been wrong to kill the Bear, and it might have been wrong to help the Time God when he asked her to. This didn't sit entirely well with her. If Time had been wrong, wouldn't that mean that Moon was wrong too? Erthë had been only impressed by what she had seen of the dark goddess until now, and had completely disregarded all the mutters she had heard about her being mean and doing bad things. Porcelain hued wings pressed tighter against slender shoulders as if to protect her from the new feelings of doubt that began coursing through her, and it was with a new kind of desperation she turned to Evaneska and her different perspective.

That the foreign gods had been ill was quite apparent to the girl. After all, wasn't she standing there, dripping black filth into the gleaming layer of water that covered the ground, so that the illusion of serene perfection ended up spotted and blemished, imperfect? Were the inside if her thighs not pockmarked by the scars left behind from bleeding boils that only recently had healed? But...

"If they are sick, why aren't we helping them find a cure instead?" she asked, believing as most children that everyone older than herself had to have the answer to all questions. "Why did the gods fetch the red forest and the green forest and this place here? If the Rift gods are so bad, why don't we send them back to the Rift instead of killing them?"

She twisted, gazing down upon the glowing black tooth at her chest with clear unease.

"I don't like hurting them" she confessed, saying out loud for the first time what had been plaguing her ever since the first battle had begun. "They look scary and say scary things but I don't want them dead. Is it really okay to pick them apart like that..?"

She shook her head to push away the all too vivid imagery of the gods handing out the body parts like trophies, the pretty ink-stained face downcast and troubled. It took her a while to remember the head-winged mare's offer to reveal more, tough once she did recall it Erthë pricked the woolly ears and turned to the Rift mare with renewed attentiveness.

"There aren't... more of them, are there? Mr Sun said that there would be no more fighting so there will be no more, right?"

She believed the words of the fiery lord. He had sounded so confident when he promised them peace, and she had no reason do doubt him. Just because something had happened twice before didn't mean it had to happen again.

Right?