She made her way down the winding corridors of her ancient home. Lost as it was within the most forsaken quarters of Equestria, there could be no more private form of lodgings afforded to one such as her. The only sound echoing through the decaying structure was that of her own hoofsteps as she made her way to her quarters. Briefly, she stopped and turned. A broken shard of glass, milky and warped with age, lay upon a windowsill long overtaken by a growth of an ancient, gnarled oak that blocked the view. She gazed down at it to see her own reflection. She raised a hoof and touched her face, specifically one part that was at once both there and missing. She closed her eyes and walked on.