When he had first moved in, the door had been a much brighter color. The knob had been much shinier, glossed and polished like it was shoe leather. The frame of the door itself had stood straighter, too, and wouldn’t creak whenever it closed. The binds that hung up front used to be a friendly blue, greeting newcomers with a delighted clacking.

Nowadays, the knob had lost its sheen, going from intense to impotent. The frame, under the pressure of too many angry door slams, bent slightly at the middle, and when there was a breeze coming from the hall, sometimes a low whistle would sound through the cracks. The binds themselves had long been replaced, but each time they were, they seemed to grow more neutral in color. The ones that hung outside now were a topaz grey; hardly friendly, but not entirely unwelcoming.

Mr. Solil closed that door with a sigh. The action was a familiar one. He had closed his door every day for the past few years. The first time, he had done so with great hesitance in his hands, not wanting to leave just yet. Just a few more papers to grade, was what he had often thought. But as the years went on, as the action became repetitive, he found it much easier to close the door. The advent of new technology meant that more work could be done at home. There was less paper; thus, less need for the red pen, and more need for the red comment online.

Still, though, closing the door today felt different. It felt wrong, almost like he was closing off something important. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out. He checked his pockets. He had his phone, wallet, keys. He had his bag with all of his work slung over his shoulder. He checked its contents; they were all there. Everything he needed, he had. Yet he still felt empty.

He ran a hand through his dark-brown hair. When he pulled back, a few strands of grey came out. He frowned, and then stepped away from the door.

The halls seemed darkly lit. After-hours at Canterlot High were hardly as bright as they were during the day. Most of the students had long gone home; any who remained were stragglers, and were likely to leave soon. Looking around, he realized that he was actually one of the few teachers who had stayed behind much longer than he feasibly should have. Even Mr. Cranky Doodle, a teacher three times his senior and three times as stubborn, had long gone home; though, that was likely because he had a lady friend to please.

A slightly-humored smile danced on his lips for but a moment.

“Evening, Scrubby,” he greeted the late-night janitor.

Scrubby looked up from his sweeping, and then nodded. “Scrubby say hello, Mr. Solil.”

“Any news?”

“No news tonight.”

“Mmm. Well, as my father used to say: no news is good news. Goodnight, Scrubby.”

“Goodnight.”

Mr. Solil continued walking. The halls weren’t long; the exit, in sight. In fact, it seemed much closer than usual. He couldn’t help but think that it—that is, the whole school—seemed a little lonely without its students breathing new life and virtue into it. Perhaps that was why the exit did appear so close. In just a few short steps, he’d be out the door, into the faculty parking lot, in his car, driving home—

“Mr. Solil?”

He knew that voice. He stopped, searching for less than a second, before he saw the school’s secretary standing at her door. “Ah. Miss Raven. Did you need something?”

“Actually, Mr. Solil,” she said, suddenly pushing the door open, “it’s the principals who need you.”

He blinked, scanning her face for any sort of joke. Sure, Miss Raven wasn’t one to kid, but it never hurt to check. “Well, I was on my way home, Miss Raven. Are you sure this can’t wait?”

She nodded gravely. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Solil. But they can explain it better than I can.”

He sighed. “Dinner will be late, then. Ah, well. I’ll go see them.”

Stepping past her, he paused to pop a breath mint in his mouth. It was largely unnecessary, but it kept his wits sharp. The burst of flavor awakened his senses. He swallowed instinctively.

The office itself wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. Most every teacher had come by at least once in their careers, either to use the copying machine, get their mail, or send in their attendance (on the off-chance the server was down). Miss Raven’s desk, situated up front, made for a nice, welcoming position, once you got past the frosty disposition of the secretary herself.

But the door that led to the principals’ office, however, was more unfamiliar territory. To his memory, Mr. Solil had been there only once. The first time was when he had first applied to be a teacher, and that was for his interview. The second time was when a parent had come in to complain about him giving her kid a bad grade for a “wholly needless assignment.” Thankfully, that time had gone in his favor; the parent was subdued, the kid made up the assignment for several more points, and things had remained calm ever since.

Still, even in a school as zany (he mentally berated himself for using the word “zany”) as Canterlot High, there was this unspoken rule: the principals’ office was for serious matters. When that Twilight girl came through that magic portal, this was where she had cleared her name. When the Rainbooms grew suspicious of the Sirens, this was where they informed Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna of the possibility of dark magic. Indeed, despite the school’s rather cheery and sunny inward and outward appearance, here, in that office, the world felt all the more darker and grim.

He heard Raven close the door behind. She walked around him, and then sat back down at her desk. “You can go on in,” she said, waving at the door.

He nodded slowly. He found his grip tightening on his bag ever so slightly.

The door reached him before he reached it—at least, that’s what it seemed. Choking back a gulp, he grabbed the knob, twisted, and pulled.

The room had its lights on, but despite the brightness, he was treated to a sore sight. With a mix of surprise and disgust on his face that mirrored his own, Superintendent Discord stood in the center of the room, glaring at Mr. Solil.

Well, this can’t be good, he thought dryly. The mint became stuck to his cheek.

“What are you doing here?” Discord asked.

Before he could answer, Principal Celestia’s voice interrupted him. “Ah, Mr. Solil, there you are. I trust you got our request?”

His eyes flicked to the desk where Principal Celestia and her sister stood. But whereas the older sister appeared more open and friendly, wearing a light smile, he detected from Luna a trace of hesitance. Her eyes flicked from him to Discord, and he guessed already the source of her hesitancy.

“A bit abruptly,” he said to Celestia, “but yes, I did get it.”

“Excellent,” she replied. “Would you please close the door behind you?” He did so. “And lock it, too, please.” He nodded, and with a click, the door locked.

Celestia’s smile fell once he had finished. “I know that this is rather sudden, and I apologize for the short notice, but it is rather important.”

“It’s fine, Principal. It was beginning to look like a boring Tuesday evening for me, anyway.”

“Please, Mr. Solil, just call me Celestia.”

“And call me Luna. We’re all friends here.” Luna glanced at Discord. “Relatively friends, I mean.”

It didn’t feel right—Discord was the oldest in the room, followed by Celestia, then Luna, meaning that Mr. Solil was the youngest by at least five years—but he obliged anyway. “Alright. Celestia, Luna. Can I ask why I’ve been called here?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Discord muttered. “Celly, if this is all just a way to get under my skin, let me tell you that 1) you are far more devious than I remember, and 2) it’s working.”

“Hello, Superintendent Discord,” Mr. Solil said, giving the man a half-lidded stare. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Yes, yes, whatever, Mr. Solil. Hello, hola, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”

“If you two would settle down,” Luna said, “then perhaps my sister and I would be able to explain.”

“Hey, he started it.”

“Discord…”

“Fine, fine. Just don’t blame me if this guy starts yelling some Manehattan slur.”

“Tempting, but I promise that I won’t.”

“Boys.”

“Sorry, Luna.”

“Thank you, Mr. Solil.”

He nodded, then leaned his back against the wall, waiting for Celestia to speak.

“To business, then,” she said. The sounds of a drawer being pulled indicated her shuffling about her desk, presumably for some papers. “Mr. Solil, you teach Language Arts, correct?”

Caught off-guard by the question, he answered with a nod rather than his voice.

“And you have Artifex Frost in your class, do you not?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

Celestia pursed her lips, as if not wanting to ask her next question. Mr. Solil waited patiently.

“Are you aware,” she finally began after what seemed like forever, “of some of Artifex’s… less-than ‘star-citizen’ activities?”

This time, even though he was caught off-guard, he managed to answer with, “I beg your pardon?” He raised his eyebrow, voice dripping with unexpected anger.

“Activities, huh?” Discord rubbed his weird chin, coaxing his fingers through the beard. He had on a sinister grin. “I had a feeling that boy was up to no good.”

“Discord—” Luna began.

Mr. Solil turned to the superintendent with a glare. “What are you insinuating, Discord? That Artifex is in a gang of some sort? Or is doing drugs on the side? Maybe part of a satanic cult, while you’re at it!”

“Mmm.” Discord rubbed his chin, the glint in his eyes becoming more amused. “Well, that last one does sound particularly enticing. And I admit, while I do enjoy a dash of questionable actions every once in a while, clearly this is something we must look into. I’ll drum up the papers for expulsion as soon as I can, Celly, don’t you worry.”

“Discord,” Celestia warned, “we don’t want to expel Artifex—”

The superintendent may have been his bosses’ boss, and a man far older and keener than he let on, but that did not mean that Mr. Solil was willing to back down. He marched right up to the taller man, and prodded his chest with his finger. “If you really think that I wouldn’t have noticed those things that you think Artifex is doing, you’re wrong. I come from Manehattan, Discord; I’ve seen the signs of needles. I know them. Do you honestly believe that I would miss something as degrading as that?!”

Discord pried the young man’s finger off his chest. “Careful, Mr. Solil. You and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms. If you want to keep your job, you won’t be defending such destructive behavior.”

“Destructive?! The only destructive one here is you!”

Celestia tried to intervene. “Discord, Mr. Solil, please—”

“Mr. Solil, if you want to be fired, you can just ask. You Manehattenites are all so silly.”

“Keep talking, and I’ll show you how silly we Manehattanites can be.”

“Carter!”

Luna’s voice was sharp, penetrating Mr. Solil’s conscience like a spiky barb. He immediately seized up. No one used his first name unless it was absolutely important. Few even knew it; he preferred to introduce himself as “Mr. Solil.”

“You two,” Luna said. She pushed in between them and spaced the out. “Enough.”

Whereas Mr. Solil nodded and stepped away, Discord pouted. “Party pooper.”

“Don’t make me have to throw you out myself,” she growled.

“Fine, fine.” He then stepped back as well.

A moment passed, with Luna looking quickly between the two, gauging their reactions. Mr. Solil averted his gaze, obviously ashamed; and Discord glared at the floor, as if willing it to combust on the spot. Another moment came and went. Luna nodded, and walked back over to the other side of the desk.

Celestia cleared her throat. “There are two things I wish to discuss here, gentlemen. Two things that I believe you will both be interested in. The first, as I have already stated, consists of Artifex.”

She raised her hand, revealing in it a manila folder with a bunch of papers sticking out. She directed it towards Mr. Solil, a grim frown set on her lips. “Carter, I know you’ve had some special students before, but this one requires your full attention.”

He took it with a raised eyebrow. “Celestia, I can assure you that I give all of my students my entire attention no matter what their background is.”

“I know you do,” she replied. “But… well, read what’s inside. It’ll explain mostly everything.”

He detected an audible, snooty sniff from Discord, but other than that, the older man did not as much as whisper. He looked back at Celestia, then down at the folder.

“How did you get all these documents?” he asked.

“Public records. Law enforcement records,” Luna answered. “Whatever the city was able to provide, we have.”

“Well, at least you bothered doing a background check on this ‘Artifex Frost,’” Discord muttered. They all gave him harsh glares. “What? I’m complimenting your thoroughness, Celly, Lulu; really.”

Mr. Solil took a deep breath. He sincerely doubted that Artifex could be up to anything but good; the boy didn’t appear the malevolent type. Nonetheless, the stoic stares from the principals only increasingly alerted him to the magnitude that these files had. Could he stomach whatever it was that he found?

I’ll have to. They wouldn’t have given me this if they thought otherwise. He glanced up once more, locking eyes with Luna. She gave a-not-quite-reassuring, not-quite-off-putting nod.

He opened the folder, and began to read.

As he did so, the folder and papers began to shake. He hardly noticed. A deep coldness welled up in the center of his chest, and then dropped into his stomach. He leaned slightly in, as if trying to figure out whether what he was reading was indeed what was written. He paused at the bottom of the first page. He blinked. Then he turned to the second.

At the mere sight of the hospital record, he sucked in a breath. Then he nearly gasped as he realized that there were two. Then he muttered something inaudible when he realized that those two were nearly identical. Most of the details had been blotted out, which was to be expected, but the one that wasn’t was smack in the middle. And though it was written in standard font type, size, and color, with nothing at all exciting or intriguing about its display, his eyes drew to it like morbid moths to a ferocious flame.

“He-he—” Mr. Solil had no words.

Celestia gazed at him sadly. “Yes. He did.”

A lump welled up in his throat. “I—I should have known. I should have known! I should have—I—I—”

The room spun. He felt queasy. He blinked, and the room was steady. But in the place of his nausea was a sickening feeling: guilt. Deep, disturbing guilt.

“Is he alright?” he whispered.

Celestia nodded. “For now. As far as we know, he hasn’t tried anything since.”

“What?” Discord tilted his head. “What’s going on now?”

They ignored him. “But things have changed. You’ve noticed it, too, haven’t you?” Celestia asked.

“He… he has been acting a bit differently,” Mr. Solil admitted. “He’s almost… reclusive. Withdrawn. You… you don’t think—” He stopped himself by biting on his knuckle, a habit he had long tried to forego. Only now did he realize that the mint in his mouth had melted; but he could not find the will to pull out a new one.

Celestia and Luna exchanged looks. “We don’t know for sure,” the Principal admitted. “But… we need to keep an eye out.”

Mr. Solil nodded. His arm became lax even as it trembled; suddenly, the folder became heavier than it should have.

And then Luna was there, taking the folder from Carter and placing it on the desk. She hugged him close; he reciprocated almost immediately. “I know… I know…” she whispered.

His left wrist burned with unprecedented guilt and shame. He clenched his eyes shut, and focused on breathing.

“So is anyone else confused?” Discord asked, but they did not notice. Celestia gave him a saddened look. “What?”

She gave him the folder. He read it quickly. Then his face lost all of its scorn, and his voice dropped down into a miniscule whisper. “Oh. I… I see.”

The two watched the Vice Principal and Language Arts teacher with pity in their hearts, for no one should have had to know their pain, their anger, their indignation. The evening grew cold, and the lights grew dim. The clock ticked. The room grew heavy under a decade-old burden.

The generator kicked itself back into high gear, resulting in the lights brightening up back to normal. Four, gloomy individuals stood in the office, their grim expressions illuminated in the copper glow.

There was a knock on the door. “Celestia?” Raven the secretary called. “I’m going to head home, now. Do you need anything?”

“We’re fine, Raven,” the Principal replied. “You can head on home.”

There was a pause. “I don’t think I have the authority to speak on the manner, but… for what it’s worth, Celestia, I think Artifex is far stronger than he appears.”

A brief silence ensued. Then: “I think so, too, Raven. Thank you for your input.”

“Goodnight, everyone.”

“Goodnight.”

They heard her footsteps increasingly grow softer and softer. Then another door creaked open, closed, and the footsteps no longer were there. She was gone.

Mr. Solil ran his hand through his hair. It did not bother him how bedraggled it now appeared. Luna stood next to him, keeping a comforting arm on his shoulder. They all were silent, but their minds brewed with questions.

“Carter,” Celestia finally said. He snapped his gaze back to her. “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” he said. “Just shaken up, that’s all.”

She nodded. “That’s understandable, given the circumstances…” Her voice trailed off. It only then occurred to him how uncertain she looked, like she, too, was lost. How funny, he thought, even knowing it really wasn’t. Here is the Principal who has taken on magical anomalies one after another, unsure, and devoid of insight.

She cleared her throat. “Well, Carter… I know that this situation makes you very… uncomfortable. And under normal circumstances I wouldn’t want to drag you into this. But—”

“I understand, Celestia,” he said. “Really, I do.”

Still she appeared uneasy. “I don’t want to make it sound like your past would be a tool to use here, though.”

He nodded. “I know, Celestia. But… experience is experience, not matter what its nature is.” He looked down. “Even if it hurts to be reminded of it; if I can use that knowledge to not only help someone, but potentially save someone else, then I should.” He paused, and then looked back up. “It would be irresponsible to do otherwise.”

She nodded in response, but kept silent. She thumbed through the papers on her desk, almost as if distracting herself. Discord, as well, kept the peace.

Suddenly, Luna’s hand fell from his shoulder and into his hand. She squeezed it a little.

Finally, Celestia spoke up. Her voice carried an aura of authority and purpose. “I doubt I’ll have to formally ask you to do this, Carter, but... beyond giving him passes to come to here, there isn’t much we can do but wait and see. So I ask you, please, look after Artifex when we cannot.”

His voice returned with just as much clarity and with a bit of strength to it. “I will, Celestia. I promise.”

And at that, his bag suddenly felt lighter.

“Alright,” Celestia said. “Thank you for your time, everyone. But it’s getting late; we’d all better head for home, now.”

She stood up, grabbing her belongings and jacket. Luna gave Mr. Solil’s hand another, gentle squeeze, before she also grabbed her items.

Discord was the first to go. Surprisingly, he clapped Mr. Solil on the shoulder, firmly. He said nothing, but a level of understanding grew between them. Mr. Solil nodded, and Discord left.

Then the other three followed, with Mr. Solil walking out first.

“Carter.”

He paused. “Yes, Celestia?”

“Will you be alright?”

“Yes.”

“Until tomorrow?” Luna asked.

He looked back at her, and offered a tired, but sincere nod. “And forever onward.”

The doors swung behind him as he made his exit.