She smiled, since it was the only thing Maren could ask for. It was a bittersweet agreement.

"The Gods are never wrong." But as she said it an echo rolled like an orchestra along the walls of her mind, a reflection of the shattering of glasses in the water; the drum. The Gods were never wrong about this world —But the Rift is not actually their world, it was a voice of shattering glass and she deja-vu'd to the time she had stood in the rotunda; watched the broken glass in the fading light of the day. And she had closed her eyes. She couldn't do that this time, not while she so clearly heard the glass shatter and her ears drum in the same beat as her aching heart. Light was not fading now when a fresh hatred flashed so violently before her eyes. In this forsaken world of shadows; now more then ever; I am not blind. And she never was, not when it came down to what actually mattered over time; the bigger picture. Blind? —don't make me laugh. She won't ever be as long as she is alive; for there was no one who saw the lifespan of this land fade into chaos so clearly.  

— Perhaps this is how its suppose to end.

And she wondered. She wondered and she wondered again and again. But it was only in the very back of her mind that she was aware of how, even though it sharpened all the others (senses), the darkness, the unknowing that had itself around  her in such a frightening tight embrace... it was poison to her state of mind. She did not want to see the darkness (the grip tightens). She wanted to see Erthë doing well, but she couldn't even say that. And she probably didn't wanted to hear that from her, either.

She scraped her throat, although there was still an unplanned roughness left when she attempted to speak her normally smooth tunes. "The World's Edge? You and your dad, that's good." It was a nicely hidden place, a good one for the filly to be kept save. Me and dad. More flashbacks of a ruined childhood flashed through her mind. The only difference was that her mother wasn't dead. Which, ironically, was exactly the problem.

She sighed. She wouldn't tell Erthë, but families sucked. "Could you perhaps lead me to the rotunda? I haven't sat down on soft, smooth marble for way too long," she suddenly realized how convenient it was to have someone close by. Even if only for a little bit. So Maren's awkward legs started to wander into the direction she had thought she had to go. "Just tell me if I'm getting warmer," she suggested as she held her wings in front of her to feel for branches.

"Must be cozy there," she murmured out of the blue, meaning living at the Edge with her dad. "Is Mauja doing alright, then?" The words had slipped out without her realizing it until it was already done. It surprised her. She hadn't thought or talked about him in ages. The only thing she knew is how he walked off after the battle with the Tiger-God and  wherever it was because the whole day had been strange — but it had not felt right.

Nothing had felt right that day.

Maren

BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY