Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,

And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.

Sometimes you just had to get out of the house and smell the fresh air. Thoughts have a tendency to grow stale and repetitive if mulled over too many times, and the worst thing the filly knew was to do things over and over again. Hers was a spirit of creation, of discovery and exploration, a mind to question and learn and contemplate. The problem was that everyone kept treating her as the child her body suggested she ought to be, even though the workings of her thoughts matured at an almost alarming rate. Boredom was a very real thing now that the world was at peace, and the child who had been at the center of world-spanning events almost from the moment she was born was growing restless.

Slowly, hampered by gimpy legs and the inability to make use of her pearly wings, Erthë made her way south from the forests of the Edge. With no particular goal in mind she drifted to whatever place on the horizon that caught her interest at the time. Trees bore peculiar signs of frostbite in her wake and there was no flower, grass or herb left undiscovered where she had passed. But for all that she enjoyed exploring, the things she discovered usually left her with more questions than answers. Frustration was almost as bad as boredom, and when both issues combined they left a restless and agitated girl with too much time on her hands.

It was early afternoon when she came upon the old ruins. Curious, with dark mist billowing from the godly feather in her mane and steps accentuated by the sound of softly clinking chains she circled around the forign structure. With all the awed amazement of youth Erthë gorged in the sheer age of it, enamored by the beauty of glittering glass and verdant vegetation. Scuffing the always present bow into a better position beneath a wing she tried a few tentative strides up the stone steps, wary of yet intrigued by the shimmering dome that glowed even in the faint light of the clouded day.

"I wonder who built it" she mumbled, addressing no one in particular. It was a habit developed over long time spent alone, where silence was a companion that sometimes had to be pushed a bit further away. "Where did they go, the builders? It would be interesting to talk to them... maybe they could tell me why they built it."

Mist trailed around her feet as she drifted about in the rotunda, milky white and somewhat out of place; it had followed her all the way from the Edge forest, clinging to her legs like a lonely child. Sometimes the filly thought she could make out shapes in the mist - small animals, birds and fluttering butterflies - but for the most part she paid it no heed.