“Thanks for letting us use the music room, Mrs. Torch Song,” Sunset said to the somewhat short, somewhat plump music instructor. “Sorry for asking for it on such a short notice.”

Mrs. Torch Song let out a forgiving huff. “The pleasure’s all mine, girls! It’s important to keep your voices in practice, you know.”

“Oh, but of course, Mrs. Song,” said Rarity. She applied to her face some sort of powder that made her skin almost glow. “Singing is much like any art; it requires a lot of practice to make sure it’s your very best!”

Applejack nodded, but she had on a rather unamused expression. “Ah get the sentiment, Rarity, but d’ya also need ta use this room as your personal parlor?”

“Why, whatever do you mean, Applejack?” Rarity turned to the farmer girl, blinking past the obvious gleam of glitz and glam. “I assure you, this’ll be over quick.”

“Ya have all morning t’do that.”

“But I didn’t want to be late to school!”

“Let the lady be, Applejack,” said Mrs. Song. “A lady has to keep herself refined, even at a moment’s notice!” While the girl fumed not nodded, Rarity giggled and expressed her further thanks.

“Well, girls,” said Mrs. Song, “I’ll be going now. Remember to clean up after yourselves. And be sure to knock the socks off those other students coming from the other schools!”

“Of course we will!” came the scratchy voice of Rainbow. “You can count on it, Mrs. S!”

Once she had gone, Sunset took a moment to look around. Next to the doors that led into the music room itself were Rainbow and Fluttershy, helping each other unpack the Rainbooms’ instruments. Beside them were Clyde and Swift. They held onto Pinkie’s drum set, their faces set in concentration—though it appeared Clyde was doing the heavy lifting while Swift limply held on. Pinkie stood a little ways away, pointing and humming to them.

“Move a little left,” she said. They moved there. “No, actually; move it back right.” They moved again. “Back right some more. A little more. Just a teensy bit more—STOP! That’s too far, Swifty!”

Swift let out a gasp. “Pinks, I don’t think I’m entirely to blame for this.”

Clyde frowned. “Come on, man. At least put your arms underneath the drums and look like you’re holding them up.”

Pinkie continued directing them. Sunset watched for a little bit, before turning over on her side to grab her guitar case. She took the instrument out and strummed out a few keys, testing it, and saw that it was properly tuned. The metal strings were cold to the touch. The wood was polished. It was ready.

“Hey, Sunny?” she heard Soul call from behind her. “Where do you want me to set up the speaker?”

Sunset got up and walked over to where Soul stood, right by the big and black speaker that Vinyl had let them borrow.

“Here, it’s not too far,” she said. She and Soul got on one side and pushed the speaker some number of feet to the back corner of the stage.

Soul wiped his brow. “Dang, that thing is heavy. Must be pretty expensive, too. Remind me; why did Vinyl agree to let us borrow it?”

“She said she wanted us to have the best sound playing while the dance was going on,” explained Sunset. “Something about literally blowing the competition away.”

“Crystal Prep, Strident High School, and all those other schools—they have bands?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, but they probably don’t focus on it as much.”

“Or save the world as much as you guys have.” Soul let out a whistle. “So, why’d she let you have it today? Why not, I dunno, give it over during another band practice?”

“Her reasoning was simple. In our school, the students are used to loud noises and they probably won’t care to hear some previews of what we’re going to play. And neighbors are far less likely to show up and yell down our throats—her words, not mine.”

“What if some teacher comes along, like Mr. Cranky Doodle?”

Sunset shrugged. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Besides, isn’t he on his honeymoon with Matilda?”

“Oh, right. I’d completely forgotten.”

“But you’re still right,” said Sunset. “We shouldn’t overdo it. I don’t want to accidentally blow out someone’s ears or the speaker itself.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Soul responded. “You’ll be fine! Unless Rainbow starts going solo all of a sudden, I’m sure nothing bad will happen.”

“Hey!” Rainbow called from the other side of the room. “I heard that!”

“Well, it’s a good idea,” said Rarity. “This is very expensive equipment, and I for one would love to keep my hearing intact for another few years, at the very least.”

“I don’t even play that loud!”

Sunset and Soul pushed the other speaker onto the opposite corner of the stage. They plugged it in and gave it a once over. Soul turned to Sunset. “Wanna test it out?”

She smiled. “Sure thing.”

She grabbed the cord and plugged it into her guitar. Then she played a few notes. The sound came out loud and clear, rich and vibrant. Vinyl obviously had the best equipment in the school.

“Not bad,” she simply said, putting her guitar down. She turned to the rest of the girls. “Are you guys ready to practice?”

The other girls nodded, and grabbed their instruments and joined Sunset on the stage. The boys backed away while they tuned and tested. Seeing that, so far, her friends’ instruments appeared to be working just fine, Sunset turned to Rainbow. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she said. “Let’s hit it!”

As Pinkie banged out the basic beat, Rainbow opened with a few guitar strums that rang sharp and true thanks to the speakers. The song began, loudly, pumping and pulling with the strength of a million horses. They worked together like a well-oiled machine; their voices combined into a uniquely beautiful harmony; and, for the guys in the room, it was truly a sight to behold, more so thanks to the girls all pony-ing up at the end and floating in the air.

The final notes played. With their ending pitch, the song ended. Yet the girls momentarily remained in their ponied-up forms. Sunset came back down to the ground, checking herself out. “Huh,” she said. “Still can’t believe that’s how we do that.”

“I quite agree,” said Rarity, glancing down at the long “tail” that extended from her waist. “I like music as much as the next person, but this seems a bit… cheesy.”

“Hey, if it lets you beat bad guys and turn them good,” said Soul, “then I say don’t question it.”

“At least it still works,” said Rainbow. “Even if it’s only for when we’re playing our music.”

Eventually, their “manes” and “tails” vanished into sparkling clouds of what amounted to dust. Sunset, as an afterthought, looked to the door, expecting to see some curious teacher, perhaps even another student, clumsily enter. It had happened before, with Flash, and then Soul; so why not someone else, she wondered, even if it was a far-flung, farfetched thought?

Surprisingly, just as the band began packing up and preparing for their classes, someone did.

“You guys sounded great!” Sonata exclaimed, bursting through the doors, a skip in her step. Behind her, Sunset saw, were her sisters, Aria and Adagio. The former appeared just as grumpy as ever; and the latter, to her confusion, seemed despondent. The way her chin was tucked down, and how her eyes seemed blank, suggested she was thinking deeply about something.

“Oh, well, thank you, Sonata,” said Fluttershy, twirling her hair behind a finger. “But, um, maybe it was the speakers that helped.”

“Oh! That explains why it was pretty loud.” She looked at the speakers in question. “Where’d you get those from?”

While Fluttershy patiently explained them to the girl, the other two ex-Sirens walked up to Sunset and Soul. Aria, of course, was frowning, and had her arms cross. “Hmph. Bet if we had these we would have won the Battle of the Bands.”

“Still hung up on that?” Sunset asked.

Aria glared at her. “Of course I am.”

“Just not as much, I’d imagine.”

“Oh, what do you know?”

Sunset turned to Adagio. “At least your sister’s okay. How about you?”

“Hmm?” Adagio gave a start, and rapidly blinked her eyes. “What do you mean, Sunset?”

“You don’t seem yourself,” Soul clarified. “Like, you’re less… forward today.”

Adagio smiled, but Sunset could already tell it was weak. “Why? Do you prefer me if I were more playful with my prey?”

Soul blushed. “That’s not—”

“Cut the act, Adagio,” Sunset interrupted. “You’re obviously upset about something. So why not tell us?”

Adagio regarded her with a set gaze. Her eyes drifted to the microphone, then back to the girl before her. She seemed to be suggesting something, silently, with only her eyes—sharp and cutting, yet equally pleading and sad—as any indication. For a moment, Sunset remained confused. Then it clicked.

She turned to Soul. “Hey, babe? Can you pack up my stuff for me?”

“Hmm? Sure. Why?”

“Adagio and I need to have a private talk.”

She ignored Soul’s confused look as Adagio led her back the way she came. The other girls and guys didn’t pay them much attention.

Sunset closed the music room’s doors behind her. She looked at Adagio with a frown. “So? What’s up?”

Adagio didn’t seem at all willing to talk at first. Her eyes were closed, her arms crossed. She leaned against one of the lockers, a slightly irritated expression crossing her features. Sunset took to the opposite wall and waited.

“How long has it been since the Battle of the Bands?” the ex-Siren suddenly asked.

“Not too long,” Sunset replied. “Maybe a year? Or a bit less than that?”

“That sounds about right. You and your friends blasted my sisters and I with a magical cannon of magic fired from some abstract horse entity made entirety out of music.”

“That… sounds about right.”

“We never stood a chance against that kind of power.”

“Adagio? You’re not also still mad about that, are you?”

Adagio’s eyes snapped open. “Wouldn’t you be? All of your goals crushed by mere mortals? Having your entire physiology altered from Siren to human?”

Sunset had expected there to be some old feelings of bitterness lingering in the ex-Siren. It was natural, and was something she and the others had initially been wary of once the three began re-integrating themselves into society. But this?

This was somehow less than she expected. Adagio sounded tired and bitter; not angry and bitter.

“So much changed since then,” Adagio continued, as if not bothered at all by Sunset’s perplexed look. “We became mortal humans like any other person. At first we were angry, bitter; all except Sonata, who wanted to try and do something good for once. She became good friends with you all, much to both, I’d imagine, of our surprises. She even almost worked up the guts to ask Soul out.” She looked pointedly at Sunset. “Of course, she wasn’t the only thing that changed. You did, too. You got a boyfriend, met with your parents, rectified old mistakes. You turned your reputation back around. You’re practically the heroine of Canterlot High.

“And Aria, too… she became a little less bitter. She found a job that she liked. It kept her mind off of other things, off of what we lost. And, in time… I guess I began to move on. I wasn’t necessarily forgetting what had happened—”

“Obviously.”

“Yes, indeed, obviously.” She laughed a dry laugh. “I was getting used to my new life. Trying to figure out if I could do something with it. So much like Sonata, I tried to be better.”

She fell silent, staring at the floor. Sunset waited again.

“It hasn’t been easy,” the ex-Siren said. “There’s still some bitterness left over. And sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have beaten you. To have taken over the world and had an entire population of worshippers at my feet, groveling and begging like animals. And then…”

She looked back up at Sunset. “And then I think about Sonata. About how happy she is. It at first made me mad, but now… now it makes me happy, too, I think, seeing her like this. She’s… probably the best out of all three of us.”

Sunset quietly agreed.

“In a way, she makes me want to be like that. Of course, I can’t act like her, but I can try to be a better person for her.”

“Adagio? Where are you going with this?”

“I don’t know.”

At Sunset’s further perplexed expression, Adagio, this time, let out a true laugh. “I’m serious, Sunset. I don’t know where I’m going with this.”

“Then why’d you ask—sorry, imply—that you wanted me out here to talk?”

“Why’d you bother?”

“Because… I wanted to help.”

“Then maybe I needed your help.”

“That’s impossible. Adagio Dazzle doesn’t and hasn’t needed my help. Ever.”

“True. But things change, Sunset. Things always change. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn that quite quickly.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, it really doesn’t.”

Adagio sounded truly tired. Sunset looked a little closer. There were some bags under her eyes. “Adagio? How have you been sleeping?”

“Poorly,” she answered, surprisingly without any hesitation. “Coffee helps keep me up, but it isn’t always enough.”

“Maybe you should go to bed earlier.”

“It’s not the hour that matters, Sunset. It’s what’s done in that time between consciousness and unconsciousness.”

“Okay, you’ve lost me.”

Adagio sighed. “It’s… hard to explain. I don’t quite get it myself, and I’m not exactly sure why I’m coming to you. Maybe because I think you’ll understand—or at least are more likely to understand—where I’m coming from.”

Sunset glanced at the clock. There was still some time before the buses arrived and, thus, before school began. “Alright. So tell me.”

Adagio pinched the bridge of her nose. “Remember what I told you about a week ago? When I saw Artifex?”

“Yeah. He showed up at your apartment in the middle of the night thanks to his cat. What of it?”

“We talked for a good while. Eventually I tried to ask him what was going on with him.”

“Ooh. He didn’t respond too well, did he?”

“At first it seemed like he would have, actually. There was something in his eyes. He was desperate. Vulnerable. He looked like he wanted to tell me anything and everything.” Adagio sighed again. “In short, he looked like he was experiencing a deep and profound pain. It made me remember when we first met…”

“That’s behind you,” Sunset immediately said. “Besides, he said he forgave you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s what he said. And I’d like to believe him. But…”

“But the way he acted towards you on that night made you think otherwise,” Sunset finished.

Adagio nodded. “He and I were having a pleasant conversation; and then he just walked away. I saw the pain in his eyes, Sunset; and then I saw anger. I saw a lot of it. And I thought: was it because of me?”

She held up a hand before Sunset could speak. “Yes, I know. The likelihood of that is fairly low, given what he’s said before and his insistence that we’re fine. But knowing that Artifex has changed so much, can you not say that it was understandable of me to assume that I was the reason for that change?”

Sunset could indeed not. “But that doesn’t strike as who Artifex is,” she argued. “I mean, sure, it makes sense for him to be mad at you. But for over a month? And then so suddenly, even when the two of you were having a nice talk? It strikes me as there being more to the story than just holding a simple grudge.”

“Which is also what I’m thinking.” Adagio rubbed her eyes. “And because of that, I spend more nights awake and wondering than I do actually sleeping.”

She looked back at Sunset. “And that makes me wonder more things. Primarily: why do I suddenly care so much for that boy? Why him? What about him makes me want to help?”

“Because you care about him.”

“But why?” She uncrossed her arms. “Sunset, you know me. I don’t help mostly anyone beyond my sisters. So why him? What about him makes him special enough to warrant my worry?”

Sunset opened her mouth to answer; then she closed it. Adagio nodded. “I thought so.”

“So you’re confused?”

“That and more, Sunset. Which is unlike me.”

“All because of Artifex?”

“So it seems.”

Sunset rubbed the back of her head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Adagio. It’s natural for people to worry about others. But I also get that Artifex is… different. More different than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not expecting some magical, friendship answer, Sunset,” Adagio said. “But I think you know Artifex just as well as I do.”

“Yeah, I guess… Maybe after the Fall Hallows’ Eve Event, he’ll be better.”

“We can only hope.”

Sunset hesitated. Looking at Adagio, she saw that the ex-Siren truly was worse for wear. Not only did her eyes droop, but so did her hair. Where was that uniquely sinister sharpness? Had it left just as Artifex had left?

Sunset walked over and placed a hand on Adagio’s shoulder, surprising her. “If it’s any consolation, I think it’s great that you want to help Artifex. I think he needs all the help he can get, even if—”

“—he doesn’t seem to want it,” Adagio finished. “As cheesy as it will sound, I don’t intend on giving up on that boy just yet. He… he deserves a life without all that pain, wherever it stems from.”

“That, we can agree on.”

Suddenly, the bell rang. They heard the distant tremble of buses arriving on the school grounds. “Anyway, I’d better get my stuff,” Sunset said. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Let’s,” Adagio said. They walked back into the music room.

Some teachers and students had heard the band playing in the morning. As Sunset went to get her lunch, she was hailed by these few, and they complemented the music they had made. Hearing all this brought a small smile to her face. She grew more excited for the Event with each passing moment.

That did not mean, of course, that she was completely exempt of any stomach butterflies. There was still the fact that other schools would be there. Would their music impress them, or turn them away? Principal Celestia had also not specifically requested any type of music, so Rainbow told them all to go with what they usually played. What if one of the schools asked them to play some slow dance? Or some other style they were unfamiliar with? Plus, there was still the issue of apparently some Crystal Prep kids showing up. From what she had heard and gathered, the level of animosity between them and the Canterlot High students was toxic. And surprisingly so, over something as nice-sounding as “The Friendship Games.”

But she knew that she didn’t have butterflies just from those thoughts alone. Adagio’s words had continued to bother her throughout the morning. Now was no different. Combined with her previous worries over Artifex, they plagued her with worry.

What truly had changed, she sought to know. What made the boy act the way he did now? These were, of course, mere repetitions of questions she had asked and been asked. No answer was given; no answer was received.

Pondering over it yielded nothing; but not pondering over it somehow felt worse. What was that old saying? To not act was to act, but action moved the world, while inaction did not.

The tray in her hand shook under the weight of the cafeteria’s food. She walked over to her friends’ table, and saw that they all had sat down as well. She sat next to the open seat left by Soul.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Rarity began, “how were everyone’s morning classes?”

“Fine” was the most common answer, with a little bit of explanation from each. Rainbow, surprisingly, was the most vocal. “Mr. Solil decided to expand our quote project to the day after the Fall Hallows’ Eve Event,” she said.

“Why is that?” Clyde asked.

“Something about it being bad luck to have to turn in something on an important day, I think.”

“How is your quote project going, by the way?” Sunset asked. “Were you able to find anything good?”

“A lot, actually,” Rainbow said. “But I’m having a hard time trying to pick which one to choose.”

“But you just need to pick one quote, right?” asked Swift.

“Not quite. We also have to interpret it, and explain the quote and our interpretation to the class.”

“That don’t sound too bad,” said Applejack. “But d’ya at least have some idea how to explain yer quotes, Rainbow?”

Rainbow shrugged. “A little. But, like I said, I still have to choose which one to use.”

“Maybe we can help?” suggested Clyde.

Rainbow took out her binder and turned to where she had her notes. As the others mulled over what she had written and offered their own insight, Sunset turned to the doors that were right next to their table. They opened, revealing Sonata and her sisters. Once Sunset had waved to them, they sat down at the table.

“We’re still allowed?” Aria asked.

Sunset offered a smile. “Well, you’re free to sit anywhere else if you want. No one’s stopping you.”

Their conversation drifted to something that had been on everyone’s minds since the beginning of the month: the Fall Hallows’ Eve Event. “Have you picked out any dresses yet?” Sonata asked the girls.

They all looked to Rarity, and she nodded. “Not to worry; I’ve got all of them covered. Yours, too, Sonata.” The ex-Siren squealed happily.

“Kind of disappointing that the principals didn’t make it a costume party,” Soul said. “You know, what with it being October 31st and all.”

“They probably wouldn’t mind if some of us did show up in a costume,” Sunset said. “I heard some freshmen say they’d do that.”

“Yeah, but they’re freshmen. Doing stupid things is kind of their whole deal.”

She sounded a little more bitter than she should have. At Sunset’s questioning look, Sonata said, “Don’t mind her. She got a bad grade in chemistry, while the freshman next to her got a better grade for telling a dumb joke on the front of the paper.”

Sunset took a bite of her food, then swallowed. “What about you, Adagio? How was your morning?”

She at least looked a bit more at peace, though her eyes were still that contrasting combination of sharpness and tiredness. “It was fine for the most part. History was boring, though.”

“Really? I’d thought you’d like it since, you know, you lived through it,” Soul said around a mouth of mashed potatoes.

Adagio smirked. “Trust me, when your teacher says the wrong things about Leonardo Da Vinci, it makes the class much harder than you’d think.”

She looked back at the couple. “So I’d imagine you two are going to the Fall Hallows’ Eve Event together, then.”

“Of course we are!” Soul exclaimed.

“Are you going to match up, then? Wear identical or similar outfits?”

“Well, I mean, that’s what I wanted to do, but Sunset wasn’t having it.”

Sunset lightly smacked his shoulder. “Soul, I told you. There is no way I’m wearing that chain bikini when it’s cold out.”

“See? She doesn’t want to have any fun.”

“Come now, Sunset,” Adagio said, “I’m sure it’d be interesting to at least wear something like that.”

“Now don’t you encourage him, too…”

“Besides, I’m sure you’d look absolutely… ravishing.” Adagio winked. Soul went red-faced while Sunset gave her a half-lidded stare.

“You’d like that sort of thing, wouldn’t you?”

Adagio didn’t immediately answer. She turned away, and Sunset could still see a lingering smile on her face. Well, at least she doesn’t seem as down as she did this morning.

Adagio’s face then turned downward. Her gaze sat upon the empty seat beside her. Then she turned back to Sunset. The two shared an understanding nod.

“What about the rest of you girls and guys?” Sonata asked. “What are you planning to do for the Event?”

Rainbow made a face. “You mean besides play the music? I dunno. Party, maybe, if we can. Hopefully Principal Celestia would allow us that.”

“I thought you liked playing, though.”

“Hey, I do. But I also like to do other things, too. Sure, I wouldn’t mind flaunting how awesome I am, especially to those Crystal Prep kids and the other schools, but it’d be nice to just dance and have fun.”

“I’m sure the principals will let us do that,” Fluttershy said. “Maybe we’ll be like the, um, what’s it called?”

“The opening act?” Rarity suggested.

“Yeah, that. Maybe that’s what we’ll be. We’ll play for a bit, and then maybe Vinyl will play some of her music and we’ll be able to take a break.”

“That would be pretty nice,” Applejack said. She sipped a bit of her juice. “Ah wouldn’t mind dancing to one of Vinyl’s new beats.”

“Preferably with a boy.”

“Consarn it, Rarity, Ah told you; Ah’ll date when Ah’ll date, and there ain’t no point in roping me in with some random guy!”

Rarity turned to Soul. “Soul? Tell Applejack that she should get a date.”

Soul shook his head. “No way! I don’t want to die.”

“Smart move, cousin,” Applejack murmured as Rarity let out a disgruntled groan.

Their conversation continued to be nice and light. In some sense, that was how it should have been. Girls and guys, heroes and former villains, all sitting at one table, talking about their day. Sunset briefly wondered if Twilight would be proud.

Then she looked to the empty seat and remembered what was missing. Or rather, who.

It didn’t last long; it being the emptiness, the missing seat, the sense that there was someone who belonged there but wasn’t.

The doors to the cafeteria opened. He stepped through them, wielding a simple, wooden, curved cane. He had taken the time to curl the back of his cut so that the ends of his hair no longer resembled straight daggers, but instead were like waves of ice. It seemed that was the only change on him; still did he wear that yellow, long-sleeved jacket, that black-and-white striped undershirt; still did he bear those hurting eyes, those pained expressions; still did he limp; and still did he appear colder.

Soul was the first to spot him, and immediately he poked Sunset in the arm. At her questioning, he pointed to the boy who stood there. She turned and saw him, stopping whatever conversation she was having with Sonata midway, and in turn the ex-Siren also turned and saw him. Then the others, noticing their gaping maws, turned and also saw him. It culminated with Adagio, who turned so slowly that Sunset might have thought she had hurt her neck. Her mouth didn’t open, but Sunset already knew that a silent question pressed against her lips.

The boy scanned the cafeteria. His eyes stopped on them, particularly on Sunset. While his mouth did not at all move, his lips twitched, and his gaze sharpened. He asked a silent question, one fraught with more emotion than he let on. Sunset answered with an equally silent answer, nodding her head.

The boy walked slowly over. His cane made light tap-tap-tap sounds against the floor, but to Sunset, they were like hammers banging against the wood. His limp, she saw, had worsened; each step resulted in a pained expression crossing his face, and he dragged his leg through it all like it was a wounded animal. His journey was slow; slow enough that they had enough time to all scooch over a little more to give him a little extra space.

No one dared speak. Even if they did, what would they have said? “Oh, hi, how are you? Where’ve you been? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Sunset knew these questions weren’t at all necessary. She figured he’d either answer them on his own, or not at all; it had proven pointless in the past to goad him.

He finally reached them. He hesitated, staring at the seat beside Adagio. The ex-Siren watched him, cautiously, warily, and her arm stretched out a little, as if beckoning him to sit down. He did not move. He did not speak. He did not yield.

Only when he shuffled a little forward and made a little groan and prop his cane against the side of the table did he finally and stiffly sit down. Shoulders slumping, he rolled his backpack down and onto the floor. He didn’t’ seem intent on eating anything.

They watched him in silence. He had his hands locked together, arms bent, face down and hidden beneath his shadow. It looked like he was praying; Sunset could have sworn she saw his lips move, even as no sound came out.

He tilted his head, just enough so that, with one eye, he could see everyone, but they still could not see his face. Through that cerulean gaze, he looked at them all. It might have seemed he was searching them, but to Sunset, it was more as if he was remembering something. He stopped at about equal time on each person, blinking like a lens, then moved on to the next. Then he lowered his head so that they couldn’t see his face anymore.

Adagio’s arm came back around to her body. She kept her gaze on him. Sunset knew she was feeling doubtful. She suspected they all were.

Aria was the first to clear the silence. “Well?”

The boy didn’t answer; he didn’t even give an indication that he had heard her. Aria huffed. She turned to the others, to her sisters. “So are you going to say something, or should I?”

“Now isn’t the time, Aria,” Adagio sternly said. Her voice was soft, yet scathing. It seemed to be enough for Aria, though, as she somberly clambered up.

The boy still said nothing. Adagio hesitantly raised her arm again, and made to place it on him, perhaps to rub his arm, as little comfort as that would provide. Just before she did, though, the boy raised his head again, this time all the way.

Sunset saw the complete opposite of what she’d been seeing for the past month. He looked tired. There were bags underneath his eyes that stuck out from his pale skin. While the back of his head had been stylized, his front was a mess, like not even a steamroller could have straightened it out. Judging by the redness that appeared in the corners, he had either not slept at all, or had been crying; either option felt somehow right. His lips seemed thinner, and his face seemed leaner, like he hadn’t been eating—a horrifying thought.

More surprising, still, was that he stared at Sunset blankly. He was seemingly in another world, an entirely different plane. Behind those eyes she couldn’t see his thoughts, but it was clear he was trying to understand something. The corners of his eyes slackened; she saw more exhaustion in them then she had ever seen in her life.

No, wait; that was wrong. She had seen them. In fact, she had felt them herself.

Suddenly Sunset knew one thing: she understood one part of Artifex that no one else here would. His eyes at first appeared blank, but now, as she stared at them, she realized she was seeing a sea of utter emotional turmoil, even if the waves were low, the tide non-existent. In his eyes, she saw it.

Guilt.

Memories flashed through Sunset’s mind. Memories of after the Fall Formal, and all that pain she felt, the guilt she had when she saw what she had done and almost done. It brought an unpleasant sensation to her body.

Her eyes glanced at Adagio and, surprisingly, she thought she saw something similar going on with her. She flinched like she’d been hit by something.

Then Sunset looked back at the boy. Her throat suddenly felt dry. She swallowed.

Finally, Adagio spoke up.

“Artifex?”

It was if someone had turned on the light in the boy’s head. He blinked; his eyes were no longer blank. He turned to Adagio and, while his movements were still stiff, managed a weak nod.

And when he spoke, it came out like he hadn’t used his voice in a lifetime; but the mere fact that he did speak was enough to momentarily quench Sunset’s fears.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

He turned away, murmuring again, “It’s me…”

No one made a move, not even Aria, who, to Sunset’s surprise, also stared at the boy. Sonata looked to her, making vague gestures. Sunset shrugged, at a loss for words.

Artifex’s hands trembled like he was shivering. Once or twice, he opened his mouth, probably to say more, but each time his voice simply would not form.

He really did look vulnerable. Broken, even, if Sunset stretched the definition of the word.

It truly was like looking into a mirror.

Adagio cleared her throat. “How… how are you?”

Sunset expected a terse answer, but he gave no such thing. Instead, heaving a sigh, he said softly, “Not well.”

“Not… well?” Adagio asked.

He shook his head, fists clenching and unclenching. “Nope.”

Sunset looked to the others. They had on her same look: one of uncertainty. She turned back to Artifex, frowning. “Do… do you want to talk about it?”

“N—”

He cut himself off with another sigh. He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even further. He looked back up at Sunset, voice still small and fragile. “I… I don’t know.”

“Oh.” She looked away for a second, before forcing a smile. “Well, that’s okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“No.”

“Um… what?”

He slipped his hands into his pockets. His shoulders shook. There was fire in his eyes, a cold, blue fire. But it didn’t seem directed at any of them. He muttered a curse under his breath, and his voice was hard and frustrated, filled with that anger, oozing with that anger; it was poisonous to hear, to see him rendered in such a sorry state.

“I don’t want to,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t. That doesn’t… that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t.”

Breath escaped out of his nose. “I don’t understand it myself. I don’t understand what’s going on, or why things are they are, or… or… well, you know. Or you don’t. I don’t know…”

Was he confused? Delirious, perhaps? He sounded deeply perturbed, deeply troubled. Sunset’s concern grew.

“Uh… Artifex?” Sonata asked. “Are… are you sure you want to talk about this? Because it sounds like you aren’t.”

“Of course I’m not sure,” he said, not even looking up. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m saying anything.”

“That…”

“Doesn’t make any sense? Of course it doesn’t. Not to you. Not to me. It’s not supposed to.”

Sunset stared at him. What was he even saying? It made no sense. She doubted there was an ounce of clarity in—

She paused, some faint recollection of a darker moment shimmering in her mind. Of a dark house, and the creaking sound of a door opening, and a friend showing up at the doorstep, and her mumbling and rambling about highs and lows, about pain, about trying to pick herself up.

Another point of understanding had been crossed. She nodded to herself.

“Try us,” she implored, leaning slightly forward. “Talk to us.”

He responded with a nod. Then, after a moment of collecting his scattered thoughts, he asked, “How much have I changed?”

“What do you mean?” Soul asked.

“From when we first met. From the first day. To now.”

They all looked between each other. Rainbow answered for them. “You’ve changed… a lot.”

“I know.” He sighed. “And… you’ve worried.”

Rarity also sighed. “That’s putting it mildly, darling. We were—”

“Super worried,” Pinkie put in. “Like, super-duper worried. It was like you were a completely different person!”

He didn’t say anything, but he did stare at Aria for several seconds, like he was expecting something from her. She huffed. “Or maybe it was like you had regressed.”

He nodded. “You wouldn’t be wrong.”

He looked away. “How would you… describe me back then?”

“Nice,” Fluttershy immediately said.

“Quiet,” said Clyde, and Swift said that, too.

“Contemplative,” Sunset added.

“And thoughtful,” Soul said.

“Intriguing,” Adagio muttered.

Each one expressed similar thoughts and ideas, but he didn’t smile at any one of them. He then asked: “And… how would you describe me now?”

“Different,” said Fluttershy.

“But how?”

“You’re… you’re—”

“Colder. Distant,” said Rainbow. She had a sour look on her face. “Altogether angrier, really.”

“Much different than when we first met,” added Applejack, pulling her Stetson down a little. “Or maybe more similar than Ah can imagine.”

Artifex nodded. “I… I have been angry. I’ve been… very angry. Angrier than I ever should be. Angrier than was reasonable.”

He sadly shook his head, adopting a familiar frown. “In turn, I turned that anger onto you all. I… I was rude. I was mean.”

“Oh, you weren’t that bad,” Fluttershy tried to reassure him, but he shook his head again.

“Doesn’t matter what you think. That’s how I feel. That’s how I am.”

He placed his head between his hands. “Point is,” he said, though his voice was obstructed by the angle, “I messed up. Badly. I pushed you away without thinking, without meaning to. All because I was angry.”

Adagio mumbled something, and Artifex shot his head up. “What was that?” he asked, turning to her.

She did not wilt under his harsh gaze. “I said that that begs the question: why were you so angry?” In a smaller voice she added, “Was it because of me?”

To her surprise and Sunset’s relief, Artifex almost immediately shook his head. “No. Not you. Not again.” Briefly he glanced at Sonata, then at Aria, as if including them in his answer. “It isn’t because of you,” he repeated.

Sunset asked what was all on their minds: “Then why were you mad in the first place?”

At this, he let out an annoyed grunt. “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? Why, indeed…”

He stared into empty space. “One day, you wake up and see that all other options are exhausted; the only one left is the one you wanted to choose the least. You look around and you see that everything has changed. You go to the bathroom and stare at the mirror and you can’t even recognize yourself anymore. And then you feel it: the resigned realization that not everything is okay, that everything isn’t as you wanted it to be. And then you’re left alone with your thoughts, and they swarm and badger you, and you can’t answer every question they raise without bringing two more. All of a sudden, you’re so confused that you can’t even properly think. You don’t even know why you are the way you are. All of a sudden, you don’t know anything anymore.”

“So… you’re confused,” Sonata said.

He glared at her, before his gaze dropped. “Yes, Sonata. I am confused.”

Tapping his finger on the table, he continued, “Maybe… maybe that’s why I’m back. I don’t want to be confused anymore, but I don’t know where to start.”

Sunset heard Rainbow heave a pent-up sigh. “Rainbow?” she called. “Is there something you want to add?”

“You’re damn right there is!” She leaned forward, glaring daggers into the boy. “Dude! Just tell us why you’re so angry!”

“That’s just it, Rainbow,” he said. His voice subdued her by a great deal. She flinched at the softness in it; if he didn’t sound tired before, he did now, and somehow more than ever. “I can’t.”

“Why? Why can’t you just tell us that?” she asked.

He turned to face her. “Because I don’t know why, Rainbow. I just don’t. I’ve been saying that for a while now. I don’t know at all.”

He waved an arm. “Don’t you see? I don’t understand what is going on with me. The only thing I understand is that I don’t understand, and that’s a paradox in it of itself. Don’t you see? No, of course you don’t. How could you? You’re not me. You’re nothing like this. None of you are.”

He nearly slammed his hands onto the table, but somehow he found the will inside to stop himself. “God, I’ve been so stupid… so idiotic. It was a mistake to come here without anything definitive.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Sorry for wasting your time. I’ve messed up, and… and I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know anything. I’m just a confused boy, nothing more. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll go now.”

Once upon a time, Sunset would have let him go quite easily. It was his choice, after all, and she didn’t have a right to intrude nor infringe upon his decision. Once upon a time, she would have said “Alright” and waited for him to come to her, to them, in his own time, once he was ready.

This wasn’t one of those times. This was different.

“Artifex, wait.”

She didn’t grab his hand, but the way he reacted, she might have thought she had. He stiffened up, midway through his departure, one hand already reaching for his cane. With his face turned away, and his medium-length hair covering the sides, she couldn’t see the rest of him; but somehow, she knew that his eyes were trained on her, and that his lips were pressed into a tight frown.

Sunset considered her options. The words had flown out of her mouth like it was nothing. Instinct had driven her, nothing more, nothing less. She knew he was waiting for her to say something, and she knew she had something to say. But how best to phrase it?

She glanced at Soul, and he made an almost imperceptible nod. She thought about Twilight, about what she would do. Then she realized she already knew, because she’d been here before.

She stood up. Artifex flinched at the sudden movement. He was so caught up in his surprise that he didn’t think to move away as she walked over to his side and stood in front of him. She set a level gaze on him, determined not to sway underneath his sharp one. “Sunset,” he whispered. It was not a direct question, but it did carry with it an inquiry.

“Artifex. You’re confused.”

“Yes.”

“I get that.”

“Do you?”

“More than you can hope to know. But listen to me, Artifex. You don’t have to be confused alone.”

“Confusion is better left that way, I thought.”

“In some cases, maybe. This isn’t one of them. Or, it doesn’t have to be one of them.”

He didn’t respond. Sunset stared into his eyes. “Arty. We want to help. You know that, right?”

Surprisingly not bothering to correct her, he nodded. “But I’m not sure you know how,” he murmured.

“I don’t know if we know exactly, either,” she admitted. “I mean, you said it yourself: this doesn’t make much sense. But pain usually doesn’t.”

“Pain?”

“You’re in pain, Artifex.” She looked at his cane, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t try to deny it; you know it’s true.”

“Alright, so I’m in pain. And?”

“People, when they’re in pain, seek a remedy. Sometimes they go to the doctor for that prescription.”

“You’re no doctor, Sunset.”

“Believe me, I know. But we can help you, Artifex.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Maybe I don’t. But you don’t either. That’s why you bothered showing up at our table, isn’t it? You wanted to know if it was possible for you to get better.”

He didn’t answer.

“So you’re here now. And so are we.” She placed a hand on Artifex’s shoulder. “Let us try to help you, Artifex.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then we can’t. It’s a nice thought, thinking we can solve anything we put our minds to, but I think you, I, and several others know that that isn’t always the case. But we won’t know,” she added, looking directly into the boy’s eyes, “unless we try.”

Her hand slipped away. “We’re friends, Artifex. We’ve been for a good while, now. And I think I can safely speak for all of us that we will not abandon you even if you want to slip away. We’ve pestered you for a month—” At that, the barest hint of a smile, so faint that Sunset almost missed it, appeared on his face; “—and, if we have to, we’ll pester you for another month. Because friends want to help each other out, Artifex. They’ll be there for you at your best and at your worst.” She looked at the others. She smiled. “Take it from me; they’ll be with you always.”

She stepped away. “I’m not going to force you into doing anything you don’t want to. But just know that I think this is what you want, deep down. I think you should take it.”

She walked back around to her seat and sat down, and she watched Artifex carefully. Still the boy did not answer; still the boy did not move.

He suddenly turned to look at them all. His cerulean eyes were bright once more. It was a welcome sight to see, even if it was a small one. He didn’t say anything, but Sunset knew that he was thinking it through. They stared back, expectant.

“Let us help,” Adagio whispered.

He heard her, somehow. They may have been the same words that Sunset had used, but they spoke to him on a different level. He nodded.

Artifex sat down again, and set his cane down, and his backpack, and, after some moments had passed, took out his lunch and tried to at least look like he had been there the whole time.

The bell rang only minutes after, but that didn’t matter. Artifex was with them now. Sunset hoped he’d be there for a long time.