"How old do you think the world is?" Xenan asked.

"Old." Chyra replied. "Very old. Beyond our comprehension at least. Every Archivist or Chronologist I ask has a different answer, saying this dusty artifact or rock or plant impression in clay points to something sure."

They both lay in a forest clearing gazing at the sky. The dark side of the inner ring partially occluded light generated by the Core. This day cycle was nearly over.

Xenan's gaze followed the track of their ring, the middle, as it arced overhead, crossing the distant blue and white face of the illuminated outer ring beyond.

Chyra continued: "I'm not so sure I can believe such scattered disciplines. When the Rings were formed from dust--"

"Don't tell me you buy that story." Xenan interjected, turning to look at Chyra.

"The world is old, absolutely. Stupid old, but you think our system came from an accretion disk?"

"Well, I mean *everything* shares the same orbital plane: the rings, those satellites, I haven't exactly come up with a hard series of events but it's what makes the most sense to me. Those points of light that come out at the beginning and end of each day cycle, they gotta be like the Core right?"

"You're starting to sound like those archivists you don't believe" Xenan jabbed. "No. I don't buy that story either. It's too...convenient."

"How then?"

Xenan grew contemplative, before laying back down to gaze up at the Core, and it's half dozen or so mini-rings configured in a sphere. The first shade layer had passed over them, dampening the daylight in preparation for nightfall. With it, a smattering of faint points of light were now visible. Two more shades would come before the sky became completely covered;

this was the only time those points of light could be seen with any clarity.

Xenan sighed. "I couldn't say. It starts with the Core though. Of that much, I'm certain"