Where had the wind gone?

As a war cry, it had entered; and as a whimper, it had left.

Artifex didn’t hear any leaves rustle. The fog beneath him didn’t so much as move. The figure in the distance with the red hair drifted away on its own accord, as if bored with him, before suddenly simply disappearing into the night. The lights from the school were no longer as bright. The rest of the world, down the street to the city, around the neighborhood and the suburb, inside the houses and homes that crowded round the road, were dark and lonely.

So was he, he supposed.

The memories of the present still had done little to ease the pain that came with bringing up the memories of the past. He could still, if he closed his eyes, see Ruby’s body in a pool of her blood. He could recall the cold rain that fell from the sky on the day of her funeral. And the blade that struck his skin? He remembered that all too vividly, and he knew he’d carry that mistake with him for a very long time.

They hurt—the memories, that is. And because they hurt, they silenced his voice, and all he could do was reflect on them and remember.

Risking a quick glance up, he saw that Clue’s gaze was hidden beneath a clump of his blue hair. He felt a light tickling in his chest. Looking down, he saw that the flower—the snowdrop—had fallen slightly over. He lifted it with a finger, stroked its petals, and tried to help it stand.

No Clue took a deep breath, and he raised his head, looking at Artifex directly. His mouth opened; he struggled to find the words. Artifex waited on his cane.

Finally, the boy found his words and his nerve. “How long,” he began, “has it been?”

“Since?” Artifex replied.

“Since your sister…”

He needed no more. “Six years,” he said. The number felt meaningless at this point.

Clue nodded.

More silence. Artifex didn’t find it at all surprising. Here and now, words had to fail; they couldn’t describe everything, could they?

Clue gulped. “Artifex,” he said. “Artifex…”

“Yes? What is it?”

“… I’m sorry.”

He tilted his head. “What for?”

“I… I didn’t know—”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I mean—”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Artifex held up his free hand. “How could you have known? I didn’t tell you. Don’t feel guilty on my behalf.”

He looked away. “That is my burden, anyway.”

Then he looked at Clue, adopting a harsher stare. “And besides. We weren’t exactly friends. We still aren’t.”

Clue returned with an even softer one. “Why aren’t we?”

Artifex didn’t answer.

Neither of them did. Neither of them could. Neither of them knew how.

But neither of them didn’t want to not try.

“Artifex, I…” Clue stopped himself and took a deep breath. “Okay. Um. I don’t have any words that could even remotely match what you’ve just said in terms of intensity and meaning.”

“No. I don’t imagine many would.”

“And…” He licked his lips. “I… appreciate you telling me this.”

“It was… bound to be discovered.”

“I just have one question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Clue rubbed the back of his head. “I mean, it’s like you said. We’re not exactly friends. Not enemies, but not really on good terms. So why tell me anything? You could have gone all night without even telling me this. Heck, you could have ignored me, or punched me, or just left.” He gestured with his arm and shrugged. “So… why?”

“Because you asked.”

“It’s more than that, and you know it.”

Artifex regarded him with a quiet gaze. Suddenly he regretted not talking to Clue all that much. Clearly he was perceptive, rational. He had a feeling he would have enjoyed many a debate with him.

More importantly, he was right.

Artifex rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Because… you deserved to know.”

Clue was quick to express his bewilderment.

“Look.” Artifex took a deep breath and let it out. “Ruby’s taught me a lot, No Clue. And I’ve tried to live my life by what she’s taught. I mean, I feel like I owe her at least that much.”

He paused. “She taught me to be brave, to be smart, to be honest in what I say and in what I do. She taught me how to forgive, how to trust that deep down, everyone was good, that everyone had some common decency, and that all you had to do was show that you believed in that, and they would respond in kind.”

He threw his hands up and down. “And, and, she taught me more practical things, like how to make my bed, or that the reason soda cans have that little stopper thing on top is so that you can turn it around and put your straw in it, or how to fold my laundry, or how to take care of a certain cat, or how important it was that you don’t lose yourself in the spectacle of your surroundings and instead focus on what happens now. And…”

His voice fell. He felt his throat constrict, and tears welled up in his eyes. “The one time I didn’t listen… cost me her.”

He swallowed hard. “If I didn’t listen to her in life, then I… I’ll listen to her in death.”

Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Clue. I was never mad at you. I was mad at myself, and that’s because I was betraying what my sister had wanted me to be.” He threw his hand down against his one good leg.

“You could have told me—”

“That’s the worst part,” Artifex interrupted. “I didn’t want to tell you anything. I felt angry, even though at the time I didn’t know at who or for what reason. Maybe I would have told you during week, or the month, or at the party—”

Clue slowly realized where he was going. “But I never showed up.”

“No, you didn’t!” Artifex shouted. He couldn’t stop his voice from cracking, nor could he stop his eyes from overflowing. “You didn’t, and you know what the worst part about that whole stupid thing is? I understand why you didn’t!”

He rubbed his eyes. “Everyone else whom you’d met on your first day—they’d welcomed you. Rainbow did, Sunset did, Mr. Solil did. You were the new kid, like me. But whereas they let you in, I pushed you away! I didn’t tell you anything about myself, about my past, because I didn’t know you that well, but instead of giving you the time and day, instead of really trying to get to know you, the real you, what did I do?” He let out a laugh, filled with sorrow. “I ignored you and pushed you away! And in response, you did the same thing to me! You didn’t show up because you felt you weren’t wanted.”

Sniffling, he said between broken breaths, “But that just makes me feel even guiltier. I wanted you to come, Clue. I wanted you to have fun. I wanted to let you in, become your friend. Maybe even help you eventually get with Rainbow if I could. But it was all in selfish abandon. I wanted what I wanted, but I didn’t care for what you wanted.”

His voice became soft and beaten. “All you wanted… was a friend.”

“Artifex—”

“And Ruby told me that that was very important. Having a friend. Having someone to confide in. Having someone you could trust. Having someone who’d love you for who you are. And I couldn’t even give you that!”

Through the tears that gathered in his cerulean eyes, he looked at Clue. “What kind of person does that make me, Clue? What kind of person does that to someone who’s never done him wrong? This guilt inside; it’s tearing me apart just even thinking about it!”

The tears dripped off of his face and onto the concrete sidewalk. “I was never mad at you,” he repeated. “I was mad at me… because I was no longer living by what was right. By what my sister taught me.”

Artifex’s entire body trembled. He fell down against his cane, covering his face with his arm. All the bad memories, the dreams, the nightmares, the anger, the sadness, the pain and frustration and sorrow and guilt, washed out of him like a great, flowing river.

“She taught me how to live, how to learn, how to love,” he whispered. “And I didn’t listen.”

He fell into a deep silence. He sat on the ground, hunched over, knees tucked to his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the other boy.

Thus he didn’t notice until it was too late that the other boy walked over to where he was and sat down right next to him.

For Artifex, the amount of time that passed was uncountable. Gradually, his eyes dried. His sleeve, while soaked with his tears, slipped away. He sniffled. His eyes stung. But he was calmer, quieter, and his mind felt slightly more at ease. The tearing in his heart stopped, and he felt he could breathe normally again.

The silence that was shared between them was just as loud and just as heavy as the one that they had started out with—only, this time, after a few seconds, it was broken by the sound of clamoring feet clashing against hard steps. Artifex dared to look up. His eyes widened.

All of them?

Indeed, all of them: Sunset, Soul, Clyde, Rarity, Swift, Pinkie, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Princess Twilight (surprisingly), Lone Wolf, Treble, Gaige, Sonata, Aria, and Adagio. They all walked down the school’s steps, and they looked worried and nervous. Behind them was another group, a smaller group, and Artifex recognized them from where No Clue had stood.

Clue, next to him, gasped. “Blueblood’s coming out, too?”

Rapidly, they stood, with Artifex wobbling on his cane. Unsure of how to act—if they should step forward to greet them—they reached their decision too late, for Artifex’s group reached them.

Adagio suddenly appeared in the front. Her expression had changed; she was more animated. She pushed past Sunset and Twilight without care, and marched straight up to Artifex. He almost instinctively stepped back.

She looked like she was about to hit him. She raised her fist, and Artifex was sure she would.

Only when her fist came down and around his shoulder and her arm pulled him close did he realize he was wrong.

“Adagio?”

“Are you okay?”

“Adagio—”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Adagio—”

She stepped back, glaring at him. “You don’t look fine. Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?” She whipped her head and glared at Clue. “Is this your fault?”

Before he could answer, Artifex interrupted, “Dagi, calm down. It’s no one’s fault but my own.”

She looked back at him. Her gaze softened. “You keep saying that. Why do you keep saying that?”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer. Suddenly she held him close again. He could smell her hair; it was tangerine-scented. “You just so suddenly ran off,” she murmured.

Artifex blinked. Then he closed his eyes and let himself hug her back.

They only separated when Rarity let out an awkward cough. Artifex was lightly blushing, while Adagio was still frowning.

Another girl broke through the crowd. Her rouge-pink hair was tied back into a bun, and she was a little shorter than everyone else. Instead of going for Artifex, though, she rushed into No Clue and wrapped him up in a tight hug. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay!”

“Gah! Aurora, I’m fine, really!”

“Are you sure? Did you get punched?” She gasped, then glared at Artifex. “Did he punch you?”

“Why would he have punched me?”

“He punched Blueblood!”

“Okay, you’ve got him there… but that doesn’t mean that he’d punch me!”

Artifex’s eyes darted back to the group. In the way back, he could see the long, blonde locks of Blueblood. At the moment, he seemed intent on avoiding Artifex’s gaze.

“Okay, wait.” He heard Aurora step away from Clue and march over to him. She put a finger on his chest. “Listen here, uh…” She tilted her head, embarrassed. “Sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Artifex.”

“Right! Listen here, Artifex, I don’t appreciate you punching my cousin.” She suddenly paused. “Even if he is Blueblood and he has a face that anyone could punch. I mean, I guess if he pissed me off, I’d punch him.”

“Love you, too, cousin,” Blueblood called from the back.

“But that doesn’t make it right. Satisfying, maybe, but not right.” She jabbed the finger further into his chest. “So I want you to apologize, mister, and if I have to beat that apology out of you—”

“I’m sorry.”

“—then I will shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll taste the grime on by boots and whoa, wait, what?”

As entertaining as her little threat was, Artifex didn’t laugh. “I said, I’m sorry.”

She blinked. “Just… just like that?”

“You’re right. This can’t be justified.”

“I… huh.” She blinked. Artifex suddenly got the feeling that she probably wore glasses. “You know, I didn’t think you’d be this reasonable.”

Artifex sighed. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ve been reasonable as of late.”

“Did anyone just feel a huge tonal shift?” Treble asked. “Or is it just me?”

“No, I felt it, too, bro,” Gaige said. “But that’s just because—”

“Quiet, you two!” Pinkie whispered. “We’re having a moment!”

A loud clambering broke out. Everyone wanted to know how they were, what had happened, and why they were out here. Artifex and Clue tried to answer their questions as best as they each could, but even then, there remained a level of tension between them. Not everything had been resolved. Not everything had been discussed. In between the questions, they glanced at each other, a question riding in their eyes, but no answer forming in their mouths.

Insistent as their friends were, though, one broke through the most. Still holding the hankerchief to his nose, Blueblood parted them all to the side. He walked with refined dignity, doing his best to ignore the tickling sensation of the cloth. Artifex heard Rarity let out a disgruntled huff. Blueblood paused, then let out a sigh. It sounded almost remorseful.

The others quieted when they saw him reach Artifex. They stood at equal height with one another. Blueblood slowly lowered the cloth from his face, and Artifex was able to see that it was swollen right where he had punched him. He winced sympathetically. The action was not lost on Blueblood, and he shrugged.

Clue watched them, as did everyone else.

“I’m sorry.”

Two pairs of blue eyes blinked. “Did we just…”

Blueblood gestured at him. “You first.”

Artifex sighed. “It should be obvious, Blueblood. I’m sorry for punching you. That was wrong of me.”

Blueblood tried for a haughty sniff, but with his badly injured nose, it sounded more like a defeated whistle. “Yes, it surely was. My word, I had never imagined you capable of such barbaric actions.” His attitude quickly diminished, though, and he himself sighed as well. “But I do owe you an apology, Artifex. I shouldn’t have egged you on like I did.”

He looked at him carefully. “Just so we’re clear. What you said about your sister—”

“It’s true.”

“Ah. Please excuse me while I feel even worse.”

Blueblood had been looking away, but once he had made that comment, he looked back at Artifex and offered a tiny, albeit cautious grin. Artifex, for his part, returned a small one of his own.

Then Blueblood turned to No Clue, and his face became rigid once more. “Nostradamus,” he said, “I trust that you are all right?”

“Yeah, I am,” he replied. “Artifex and I, we… we were just talking.”

“It did not look very pleasant.”

“It wasn’t,” Artifex said. “And it shouldn’t have been said so late.”

Blueblood, of course, didn’t understand. That much was evident by the way he regarded Artifex, confused and a bit wary. But he nodded anyway. “Very well. I shall… leave you to it.”

He turned to leave, but was stopped by Clue calling out his name. “Yes? What is it?”

“… thanks for being a friend, Blueblood,” he said. “Even if you do get under everyone’s nerves.”

Rarity scoffed again, but Blueblood was smiling. “What kind of Blueblood would I be if I didn’t?”

So it was that he and his group left them, with Aurora visibly the most hesitant of the bunch. After some quiet reassurance from the other girl in their party, though—her name was Blossomforth, Artifex recalled—she, too, left.

Artifex’s turned back to him. Sunset walked up to him and placed a worried hand on his shoulder. “You gonna be okay?” she asked.

He looked at her with tired eyes, cheeks drawn down. In the moonlight, he seemed like a phantom himself. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I can try.”

She let go. “Well, then let’s head back in, then,” she said. “Unless… are you planning on leaving early?”

He shook his head. “No… I can’t just run away, can I?” He rolled his shoulders, and tapped his cane on the ground. “I’m sorry to have caused such a disturbance, though.”

“It’s no problem, Artifex,” Sunset said with a smile. “We’ll be there when you need us no matter what. That’s what friends do.”

He glanced at Clue. “I suppose you are right. You guys go on ahead. I’ll meet up with you all inside.”

It wasn’t a particularly popular request, and it was met with their worried murmurs, but they nonetheless turned and walk away without protest. Artifex gathered himself and took a deep breath. He still felt a bit cold, and more obvious was the fact that he felt empty.

He fell into line at the rear. Clue was quick to join him. They walked in relative silence, with the noise coming from the school growing louder and louder with each step.

They followed the others and went back inside the school, where it was still loud and bright and there were more people than they’d ever meet and there was food and warmth and all good things and where it was alive and well. The doors closed behind them.

When the doors opened again, it was not to welcome any more students who were arriving, but rather to see them all leave. In great droves, they filed out, a colorful sea of tired but satisfied young men and women. Excited murmurs rose from the crowd. They talked with their friends about the events of the evening. Some had hooked up; others had simply danced. All said they had had a good time.

Because there were so many students, leaving was a hassle. Sidewalks became crowded, but they at least were lit up. The streets became backed up with non-walkers’ parents’ cars. Moreover, it was loud, and you could not walk a single foot before you heard some girl squealing, some guy bragging, or some parent wondering if their kid was the same person as they had been when they had first entered.

Traffic was thus long. So it came as no surprise when a number of students stayed back, both to wait for the numbers to thin and for their parents to arrive. They hung out in the hallways and cafeteria. The talks and conversations nonetheless continued. They all sounded relatively the same.

The gym, however, was still somewhat full. Stragglers were here and there, loitering about, their hands gripping red, plastic cups like they were holy chalices. They stood in the corners, looking incredibly guilty yet nervously excited. A rumor spread; had So-And-So hooked up with Student B and done the dirty in the bathroom?

So-And-So and Student B were the first to leave once the rumors began flying. They were stopped by their respective parents and taken into custody. Something that the others found quite funny.

Not all were of that variety. While the stragglers sat in their corners, still others came back to help out. There was much trash to be found, and they had to wheel in three garbage bins to clean up everything. Paper cups, plates, and streamers were the most common. Someone brought in a ladder from the storage room, so they could unscrew and unfasten some of the lights. Pinkie managed to procure plastic containers (“Emergency Plastic Container Stash Number Four-Four-Three,” she had breezily explained in regards to location) for the food leftover. But thankfully, there wasn’t much; Sugar Cube Corner’s Party Platter had been an obvious hit.

Thank goodness for that. Pleasant as this school was, for No Clue, a night of rampant partying was a night best spent in the company of friends, not spent in the aftermath of a harrowing argument. Sweeping the floors with a broom, he could not help but fall back on what he and Artifex had talked about.

Could they be friends after all this? He certainly hoped so. And something told him that, finally, Artifex was willing to at least try. Maybe that’s all he could hope for. Maybe he ought to be content with just that—

“Oof!”

He bumped into someone, and he heard something drop. Whirling around, he saw one of the light fixtures on the ground, shattered into glass fragments. “Oh, geez!” he gasped. “I am so sorry for that—Aurora?!”

Aurora Veil turned around and gasped as well. “Clue? Gosh, I’m sorry to have bumped in to you! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. But your lightbulb isn’t.”

She looked at the mess and sighed. “Yeah, I guess it isn’t. Oh, well. Pinkie said she still has extra, so it probably isn’t all that bad.”

“Here, let me sweep that up for you.”

Aurora stepped away, allowing him to swiftly start to push all the pieces into a pile. Someone came by and saw the mess, and volunteered to get him a bag.

As he swept, he and Aurora kept talking.

“Did you enjoy it here?” he asked her. “At Canterlot High, I mean.”

“Oh, definitely! It’s smaller than Winnipiac, that’s for sure, but it’s definitely boatloads of fun!”

He nodded. “Yep, you said it. It’s definitely got its surprises, that’s for sure.” He looked all around him, at the walls, at the tables, and most especially, at all of the people he’d met. “More than I could ever have thought.”

“It really is a magical place.”

“What tipped you off, the flying girls?”

She giggled. “Not quite, Clue. I was thinking of it in a more… sentimental light.”

“Sentimental? Man, you really are Blueblood’s cousin.”

They laughed together. The person came back with a bag, and Clue swept all of the shards into it, careful not to leave a single piece out in the open. Then he tossed the bag into one of the larger garbage bins. “Well, that takes care of that,” he said. He turned to find Aurora staring at him oddly. “… What? Is there something on my face?”

“Actually, yes. Hold still, would you?”

He did, surprisingly. She reached out, picked something out of his hair, and held it in front of him. It was a strand of one of the party streamers, pink and thin. “Huh. How’d they get in there?”

Aurora giggled; it was a nice giggle. “I guess they just like your personality.”

They laughed again, but then their laughter died away. When it was gone, though, their smiles did not leave. Aurora looked at him with those sapphire eyes, and despite his exhaustion, he felt his heart flutter at the sight, and he felt like he’d been granted a huge energy boost.

She twirled a lock of her hair shyly between two fingers. “Hey, Clue…”

“What is it?”

“Um… I really enjoyed my time here. At the Fall Hallows’ Eve Event. And… with you, even if it was kinda short.”

“Really?” He, embarrassed, rubbed the back of his head. “W-well… I enjoyed dancing with you, too, Aurora.”

They kept talking, and soon Clue felt a bit more at ease. The tension drained out of his body.

Meanwhile, over at another part of the gym, Rainbow watched the two talk. She crossed her arms. A smile covered her face.

“Cute, isn’t it?” she heard someone call out to her.

She didn’t turn around. “I think you should keep that tissue on your face, Blueblood. It’s definitely an improvement.”

“Har har har, Rainbow Dash. Your sense of humor knows no bounds.”

He walked up to her. She didn’t walk away, nor push him aside. They just stood there, watching No Clue and Aurora Veil.

“What did you mean by ‘cute?’” she asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He looked at her and gestured blindly towards the other pair. “Look at my cousin and our mutual friend. See how they’re acting?”

“They’re just talking.”

“Perhaps, but it might be more.”

“You think?”

“Look again.”

She did. They were actually kind of close. With light coming from the ceiling and reflecting on Aurora’s face, her eyes absolutely glowed, and they were wide and set on No Clue without once looking away.

Rainbow knew she wasn’t an expert on love, but she’d had enough experience being party to several blossoming couples. And maybe it was just those experiences rubbing off on her, but the first word that came to mind as she and Blueblood continued to watch the pair talk was “romantic.”

“You know what, Blueblood?” she said. “You might be on to something.”

Adagio would not leave his side. Had it been any other day, Artifex would have found this humorous and a bit embarrassing, but at the moment, he was too focused on cleaning up to shoo her away. Besides, together they covered more ground; though, he didn’t exactly think she’d have it in her to stay behind and help.

“Let’s just say I’ve changed quite a lot over these past few months of being an ex-villain,” she said when he had mentioned this, and she had said this without a hint of offense. It seemed she was just content to be working alongside Artifex. He had to admit that he felt the same way.

“We’ve all changed,” he himself said, though it was mostly to himself.

Adagio offered a nod. “And hopefully for the better?”

“And hopefully for the better.”

They tossed the paper table covers into a nearby trash bin, then set to work putting the food into the plastic containers that Pinkie had bought. It was messy work. Artifex had to resist the urge to wipe his hands on his suit, and Adagio was careful not to let any of the cake’s frosting within a foot of her dress. Soon, they had several neat packages of desserts in those packages.

“I didn’t eat any of this stuff,” Artifex murmured.

“Do you want to try one?”

“No, I think I’ll pass.”

“Shame. I’ve heard that this Super Scrumptious Fruity Fruit Cake is quite a delight.”

“Is that its real name?”

“Might not be. But you’d fitting if you tasted it.”

“Mmm.”

He could feel her gaze burning into him. He sighed. “Okay, what is it?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not, Adagio. I’ll never be okay.” He turned to meet her gaze. “But I have to try, don’t I?”

She put down one of the containers and sauntered up to him. There wasn’t a trace of malice in her eyes. Just concern. Just deep, deep concern. “You shouldn’t think of it as a burden.”

“I don’t. It’s just a hard fact that being ‘okay’ is a far-off possibility.”

“You aren’t obligated to be okay, Artifex. If you want to get better, you have to take that step forward. Don’t do it just because we want you to get better. Do it because you want to get better.”

He raised an eyebrow. He still felt a bit empty. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“Only a little,” she admitted with a sigh.

The last of the food was piled away, and they were left standing by the table. The others saw them and they had some conversations, but the talk was brief and they had to go back to whatever they had been doing before. Throughout it all, Artifex did not feel himself grow any colder, but he didn’t feel himself grow any warmer or any fuller. He frowned, unsure what to make of himself.

Then, to his surprise, Nostradamus Clue walked over to him.

He tried not to show it, but seeing him brought up a whole bunch of… messy emotions. Namely, nervousness, anxiety, and a heavy amount of awkwardness and uncertainty. They’d already talked; what was he doing over here? Weren’t they done?

“Um… hey.”

Artifex blinked, then said, “Hey yourself.”

“You done?”

“For now. Food’s all gone. Why; do you need any help?”

Clue shook his head. “No. Aurora and I just finished cleaning up as well. And… I guess I figured I ought to come over here since you’re here.”

Artifex saw Adagio smile, and he shot her a questioning look. She ignored him, and focused on Clue. “If you don’t need our help, what do you need?”

He shuffled on his feet. “Uh… I just want to talk, that’s all. To Artifex.” He blinked, then shot his head straight up. “Uh, not that I don’t want to talk with you—I’m sure you’re a nice person and all and we’ve never really met before but I don’t want to make it sound like I’m discriminating or anything—”

Adagio’s laugh cut him off. “Ah, calm down, Nostradamus,” she said with a grin. “You and Artifex are just so easy to tease.”

“Uh…”

She flipped her hair. “But I understand what you’re saying. And while at the moment I wouldn’t want to leave this fool by himself—” She pointedly looked at Artifex, and he made it a point to glare back (not that she seemed to mind); “—I believe that you and he won’t be at each other’s throats.”

She waggled her eyebrows. “After all, you’re both so kind, aren’t you two?”

They’re responses were the same: confused “Uh’s.” She laughed again. Artifex’s lips twitched. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to it, then,” she said.

Before she left them, she walked over to Clue and leaned in so that her mouth was next to his ear. Artifex couldn’t hear her, but whatever she said made Clue freeze up and his face became deeply heated. She let out another one of her coquettish laughs, and this time, seeing Clue’s blush and hearing her laugh and laugh, Artifex had to grin.

Ever the tease...

Once she was gone, the silence returned. Clue chuckled to break the silence, but it sounded so obviously forced. Artifex kept silent, leaning slightly onto his cane, peering at Clue with an intense gaze.

“Uh, hey.”

“Hey… again.”

“Yeah… heh, heh. Sorry. You can probably tell I’m awful at small talk.”

He offered a smile; it seemed like the right thing to do. “Well, we’ve at least something in common.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Clue paused. He looked directly at Artifex like he was searching for something. Then he took a deep breath. “Listen, Artifex. Can I ask you something?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“… can we start over?”

He blinked; had he heard him right? “I’m… sorry? Did you say ‘start over?’”

“Y-yeah.” Clue’s gaze faltered. “Start over. Start anew. Fix… things between us.”

The next word out of Artifex’s mouth was not the one he expected: “Why?”

It came out harsher and harder than he’d wanted, and Clue visibly cringed at his tone. He tried to salvage the situation: “I mean, a-aren’t we already on neutral terms?”

“We are.” Clue sighed. “But… I don’t know. Aurora was talking to me and we just started talking about what happened earlier. And she said that I should try to talk to you over it. Like really talk to you. One on one.”

Artifex’s brow furrowed. “So you’re here not of your own accord.”

“Don’t say that.” Clue’s tone was strong, affirmative. “Maybe on any other day I’d just be here because Aurora said I should, but it’s not like that, Artifex. I’m here because I think this is something I have to do.”

“Clue—”

“Look. I know we haven’t had the best relationship. We started off strong, and then we petered out, to both of our faults. And that’s not right. You know it and I know it. We drifted and we shouldn’t have.”

“What’s done is done.”

“Maybe, but then again, does that mean we allow it to just be as it is?” Clue regarded him with a careful stare. “What’s that one saying: that the one constant of the universe is change? Maybe we shouldn’t accept things for how they are. If there’s an opportunity to not only change things, but to change things for the better, maybe we should take it.”

Artifex pursed his lips, and straightened out, coming off of his cane. “And do you really think that fixing… this… will change things for this perceived better?”

Clue’s shaking of his head was swift. “I don’t know. But I have to try. I owe you that much.”

“Owe me? If anything, I owe you after all the needless suffering I put unto you.”

Again, Clue shook his head. “Deep down, Artifex, I think you’re a good guy. I don’t think you meant to hurt anyone, ever. It will hurt what you did, but like anything, it’ll fade in time. Everything changes eventually.”

“So it seems.”

Artifex looked away from Clue, at all of his friends and all of the students who remained. What changes would come their way? Would they be all the stronger because of them? He hoped so. They were a hardier bunch than he ever could be.

“And because it seems that way,” Clue said, drawing his attention back to him, “then I forgive you for whatever you’ve done. And I hope you can forgive me for whatever pain I might have caused you.”

He spoke eloquently, like it was a well-rehearsed speech. But Artifex could feel his honesty, his strength, his commitment through his words. Something splashed into his stomach and spread all throughout his body. It was warm.

“And,” Clue added, offering a shaky smile, “it’s what… Ruby would have thought was right, right?”

Artifex didn’t respond at first, and he saw Clue’s smile slowly slip off of his face.

If they’d been friends before, perhaps they would have had similar conversations. Perhaps they could have talked about their do’s and don’t’s of their worlds. Perhaps they could have talked about life and death or something like that or nothing at all like that. They could have talked; and Artifex knew he would have enjoyed it.

But they weren’t friends, were they? They’d drifted apart. They’d fallen apart. Little remained between them other than mild animosity and a chasm of guilt. What exactly was Clue offering other than a hopeful hand that barely stretched across that vast distance?

But his words…

His words. They rang true, like big church bells that told one not just of the end of a life, but the beginning of another. Clue’s arm was short, but his reach was long. Maybe, just beyond that reach, beyond that chasm, he’d find her again.

Was it really that, though? It couldn’t be something more. It was just Clue reaching out and hoping that there was a connection, that things could still be saved. That he could still be saved—

He stopped.

Did he need saving? Hadn’t he already been saved? Hadn’t his friends on his first day at Canterlot High saved him from a life of monotony and sadness? They had, hadn’t they?

Did he really need more saving?

Unless…

Unless this wasn’t about saving anymore.

This was about continuing. Restarting the game, the life, his life. Maybe that was what it was all about.

But he didn’t know, did he? No, he didn’t. He couldn’t. Clue’s reach stretched far enough to reach him, but he couldn’t see all the way past him. He couldn’t see where this line stemmed from. He couldn’t see where it led him.

But Clue’s words rang again in his heart. It was what Ruby would have thought was right.

He recalled one of her lessons, something that had always struck him as odd, because it wasn’t one of hers but someone else’s. “Do unto others what you would have unto you, Artifex.”

If he were in Clue’s position, confronted with the things he knew, would he still reach out and tell Artifex that he was willing to try again?

Artifex thought back to his first day, how he encountered everyone, how he’d responded. He thought about what had happened, with himself, the others, the Sirens, the collapse, the release, the party. He remembered it all. All of it, in fact. He remembered what he’d felt that day.

The warmth in his body grew. Clue… perhaps Clue was feeling something similar.

Either way, they both needed an answer. And luckily for the both of them, Artifex had found one.

He put his cane to one side. “To start over… I’d like that very much.”

Clue’s smile was as wide and warm and fulfilling as his. His arm now came out, palm facing inside. “I’m Nostradamus Clue, but you can call me No Clue if you want.”

Artifex took the hand in his. “I’m Artifex Frost, but you can call me Arty or Chronicler if you want.”

They shook. It was a strong action.

“Nice to meet you finally, Artifex.”

“Likewise, No Clue. Likewise.”

When Artifex Frost returned home, Francis was waiting for him. The cat saw him coming and met him halfway down the driveway, purring and meowing all the way. He did not expect Artifex to bend down and affectionately rub his cat, nor did he expect Artifex to grab him by his torso and carry him in his arms.

They approached the door. Artifex took out his keys. The large, red jewel that stuck out was nice and warm. He inserted the key into the door and turned it. He heard a click, and he pushed the door to enter inside.

“Artifex?” he heard his mother call. She and his father emerged from the kitchen, wearing frowns. “Oh, there you are. It’s rather late.”

“Are you okay?” his father asked. “Did you enjoy the party?”

He put Francis down. He walked over to his parents and hugged them both. They were hesitant at first, but they hugged him back, and they hugged him warmly and completely. He thought he heard his mother sniffle, but he chose not to question it.

“I’m fine,” he said with a smile when they broke the hug. “And I did. Very much.” He turned and looked back through the window. “I learned a lot, actually. Today was a good day.”

Later on, once he had taken a shower, changed, brushed his teeth, and bid his parents both a good night and a better tomorrow, Artifex quietly slid into his bed, and in no time at all, he closed his eyes and fell asleep. He would dream, finally, and it would not be a nightmare, but a slumbering utopia of his thoughts. He would see Ruby and his friends, hand-in-hand. He would see all of them.

He would no longer be alone.