Sunset sat in the teachers’ lounge, angrily swiping through the photos she’d taken of the MB-24 case files which included notes taken from Bright Hope’s apartment after her disappearance. There were a couple in there that must have been written by her hand. The only problem was, none of them were in English, or even the English alphabet for that matter.

“Argh!” She couldn’t help but vocalize her frustrations. “Who writes their research notes in Cuneiform, their memos in Phoenician and their damn shopping lists in Linear B!? That’s some next level nerd shit. It’s like the woman never even considered the possibility of vanishing under mysterious circumstances, leading to a totally unqualified teacher having to do a handwriting analysis against some letters she may or may not have written to her abandoned daughter years ago! So inconsiderate!”

“Yeah, some people are just rude like that,” Gladys Harshwhinny replied from where she was sitting at the coffee table together with her fellow teachers, swiping through her own phone. “I hear some people even start shouting out of nowhere in a place others are trying to have a quiet lunch break."

“You guys are the ones always telling her to vent her frustrations in here,” Ms. Cheerilee chided gently, turning the page of the lifestyle magazine in front of her. “I find it very healthy to shout random gibberish sometimes.”

Sunset looked over towards Cranky who was calmly reading his newspaper and hadn’t bothered to engage in the conversation so far. “You’ve been here since just after the dinosaurs walked the Earth, Cranky,” she said.

“Rude,” Cranky muttered while continuing to read, “also not entirely inaccurate.”

“Did you ever have a student named Bright Hope? Would have gone to school here around twenty years ago, maybe a little less.”

He rubbed his five o’clock stubble in thought. “Can’t say the name rings any bells, but I had a lot of students over the years. You sure she went here?”

“No, but it would make sense,” Sunset explained. “I know she went to CU. If she was local before that, I’d say the odds are pretty good. Our school district only has a handful of high schools.”

The acting vice-principal shrugged. “Like I said, name doesn’t kick off anything in the old noodle. But you can always check the yearbooks.”

“Hang on a minute,” Ms. Harshwhinny said, actually putting her phone away and looking at Sunset. “Is this about some magic bullshit?”

“Uhm,” Sunset hesitated. “It’s … certainly magic bullshit adjacent.”

“Then leave us out of this mess, kid,” Gladys told her flatly.

“And here I thought we’d established this sardonic but well-meaning mentor-mentee relationship,” Sunset replied in mock hurt.

“I’m here to give you teaching advice,” she said sincerely, “but remember this: We’re the experts in what our subject matter is. When it comes to your ‘extracurriculars,’ you gotta figure this shit out on your own. You wouldn’t try and tell me how to do quadratic equations, would you?”

Sunset held that look for a moment, even as her phone began to ring. “Fair enough, Gladys. It wasn’t my intention to drag all this back in here when I came back to CHS.” Picking up her phone, she accepted the call as she stepped out into the hallway. “Hello?”

“Sunset? How have you been?” The voice at the other end was a familiar one.

“Cadence. Hi. I’ve been … alright, I guess. Why are you calling?”

“I was just on my lunch break. Figured you would be, too. … Shining told me about your little disagreement at the station the other day.”

Ah, of course he did, and of course you wouldn’t be able to just leave it be. You’re too good for this world, Cadence.

“Listen, sweetie,” Cadence went on, “I’m not trying to excuse his behavior, but Shining has been under a lot of stress lately.”

“Let me stop you right there,” Sunset interrupted. “It’s okay. I get it. I knew I was gonna get a frosty reception going there unannounced, and he’s got good reasons for feeling the way he does. I’m the closest thing to someone responsible for bringing magic into this world, so who else is he gonna vent his frustrations at? I was hoping it might have been a good thing to get some of this off his chest when I left.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. “I think it might be, in the long run, but after he calmed down, he really was ashamed of himself for how he treated you.”

Sunset smiled. “Of course he was, because your husband’s a good guy. Tell him it’s alright, and that I’m doing everything I can to not let things get out of control like they did three years ago.”

“You really think it could be that bad again?” Cadence asked. She masked it well, but Sunset knew her well enough to pick up the hint of fear in her voice. Who wouldn’t be scared, knowing what they all did? Especially if they had a toddler at home.

“I don’t know, Cadence,” Sunset admitted. “There seem to be a lot of threads that connect back to that incident. I just don’t know how yet. Speaking of which, has anything strange happened at Crystal Prep lately?”

“No, thankfully. I’ve been watching like a hawk for anything out of the ordinary since Twily gave me the rundown of what’s been going on. Nothing so far.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Sunset said. “As long as it’s localized to CHS, maybe there’s a chance we can stop all of this before it gets out of hand. Just keep your eyes open, and give me a call if anything happens, okay?”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“I don’t thi…” Sunset paused mid-sentence as a thought occurred to her, something that might both help her and alley some of Cadence’s fears by giving her something useful to do as well. “Actually, there is something you could help me with. You’re the principal of Crystal Prep. Could you check your school records and see if you ever had a student by the name Bright Hope? She would have been a student around twenty to fifteen years ago.”

There was the sound of a post-it note being ripped from its stack, shortly followed by a pencil moving across it, on the other end of the line. “Bright … Hope … Is there anything in particular you need to know?”

Sunset pondered that for a moment. “Does Crystal Prep keep mid-terms and finals on file? What I really need is a sample of her handwriting.”

“We do keep those on file, yes,” Cadence said carefully, “but anything with personal information on it other than the report cards are supposed to be destroyed after ten years.”

Of course, Sunset thought to herself with a sinking feeling in her stomach, damn you, modern privacy protection laws!

“However,” Cadence went on, “we’re still in the process of digitizing all our old records, and we’ve been going newest to oldest, shredding irrelevant papers only after we’ve made sure everything we need to keep from that year has been properly scanned in. Cinch really used to drag her feet on that issue before I took over. You said this was twenty years ago? There’s a chance they might still be sitting in a box in the archive somewhere, waiting to be disposed of.”

“Could you check?” Sunset was standing straight up at the news. Even if nothing came of it, even if Bright never even went to Crystal Prep, at least it would rule out one avenue in the investigation.

“Of course, sweetie. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, Cadence. You’re the best.”

She had barely ended the call and stepped back into the teachers’ lounge when the PA system came on. “Ms. Shimmer, please report to the principal’s office. Ms. Shimmer to the principal's office.”

A shudder ran down Sunset’s spine. “Hey, when does that stop feeling like being a teen who has done something wrong?” she asked the room at large.

Cranky and Gladys gave each other a look, turned back to Sunset and replied in perfect unison: “Never.”

Sunset quickly made it the short way from the teachers’ lounge to the principal’s office where she paused momentarily, spotting a pale-faced young man sitting in a chair in front of the office, hugging his backpack like a life preserver and looking like he was about to face a firing squad. “Sprout? Is everything okay?”

He looked at her, swallowed hard and shook his head wordlessly. Then he looked apprehensively towards the door that led into Principal Celestia’s office.

What did you do this time? I’ve never seen you this freaked out before. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Sunset walked into the principal’s office and closed the door behind her. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Ms. Shimmer. Please have a seat.” Celestia indicated a chair in front of her desk, then indicated the middle-aged woman sitting in the chair next to it. The woman had her blonde hair done up in a beehive and was wearing pink-rimmed glasses. “This is Mrs. Phyllis Cloverleaf, Sprout’s mother. I don’t believe you’ve met.”

“No,” Sunset said, extending her hand, “but I remember seeing you at the dress rehearsal. We didn’t get a chance to talk. How are you?”

“Concerned is what I am, Ms. Shimmer,” she replied coldly, ignoring the offered handshake.

“Okay,” Sunset said, trying to ignore the slight and stay professional. “In regards to what? Sprout’s grades have shown some steady improvement since the start of the school year.”

“I’m not worried about my son’s academic record, Ms. Shimmer,” she said in a tone that made Sunset wonder if her middle name might be Karen. “I’m concerned about some unsavory habits he might have picked up in this environment.”

“Like what?”

Mrs. Cloverleaf ran her eyes up and down Sunset’s body in a way that was slightly creepy before she picked up a sketchbook that had been lying on Celestia’s desk. “Something like this.”

Sunset looked over towards Celestia who gave a slight indication with her head to go ahead while her expression remained otherwise impassive.

Sunset began flipping through the sketchbook, raising an eyebrow almost immediately. “Hmmm … interesting angle … ah, his backgrounds have gotten more detailed … oh, that’s an interesting use of that shading technique …” When she’d gone through the entire thing, she put it down calmly and said: “He’s improved quite a lot, hasn’t he?”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t get in a word edgewise before a furious Phyllis Cloverleaf got all up in Sunset’s face. “I didn’t come here to discuss my son’s artistic talents! Don’t you find the subject matter a little concerning?”

“Maybe a little, but he’s a healthy young man finding out about his sexuality in his own way,” Sunset replied earnestly.

She could see Celestia lightly face-palming from the corner of her eye, but Mrs. Cloverleaf had already picked up the sketchbook, opened it to a random page and shoved it in Sunset’s face. “That is you, isn’t it!?”

By sheer coincidence, the page she had landed on did not only clearly feature Sunset in a very explicit situation, but also Sprout (or at least Sprout’s image of himself, since she didn’t think he was actually hiding an eightpack under his shirt,) engaged with her in that very explicit situation.

“Oh, I see what you’re getting it,” Sunset said, nodding judiciously. “Yes, I think his current fixation is going to stifle his growth as an artist if he keeps going like this. I’ve been nudging him to give landscapes a try. I think he’d be really good at those, but no luck so far.”

Phyllis Cloverleaf was making strangled noises in her throat, clearly enraged, but the sudden onset of speechlessness finally gave Celestia an opening to jump in as she rose from her desk with a cough. “Mrs. Cloverleaf. Why don’t you wait outside for a moment while I talk to my teacher?”

She stared first at Celestia, then Sunset and finally turned her nose with a harrumph, storming out of the office and slamming the door shut behind her.

Celestia sank back down into her chair and began rubbing her temples. “Wasn’t that response a little blasé on your part, Sunset?”

Sunset shrugged. “I’ve just been trying to roll with the advice everyone I’ve asked has given me. It’s gonna happen, and there’s really not much to do other than wait it out.”

The principal rested her chin in the palm of one of her hands and looked off into the distance. “That’s usually the best way to go about it,” she admitted. “I’ve got my own folder of pictures students have drawn of me over the years back at home. But the situation drastically changes when a parent finds out and comes banging on my door.”

“Speaking of which,” Sunset pointed out, her eyebrows knitting together in consternation, “isn’t she kind of at fault here, too? Or are we just gonna ignore the fact that she obviously went through her son’s belongings without permission? Sprout’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I don’t believe even he would just leave that lying around the house for her to find.”

“Dammit, Sunset,” Celestia groused, “stop making salient points. We need to deal with this situation right here and now, or do you want to give that fire breather a reason to keep snooping around until she finds out that you’ve been moonlighting as a teacher for dangerous magic on top of being her son’s favorite jerk-off fantasy?”

Sunset sat up a little straighter. “That would probably be bad,” she admitted. “Let’s not do that.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re finally on the same page here, at least.”

“Any suggestions?”

Celestia closed her eyes and put her hand on her chin. “I know the type,” Celestia sighed. “The important thing is that we make her feel like she scored a decisive victory here today. Then she’ll go home with a smug sense of superiority and unleash her personality on some poor assistant manager at Starbucks instead of us.”

“Okay,” Sunset muttered. “How do we do that?”

“Quiet. Thinking.” Sunset watched in amazement as she was brought back in time to when she’d observed her mentor calculating a complex political move while sitting on her throne in Canterlot Castle. This Celestia had the very same expression on her face at the moment. “Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do,” she said when her eyes finally opened.

Sunset nodded wordlessly, putting her absolute faith in this version of Celestia.

“When I start us off with the signal, I need you to play along. When you leave my office, you will give Mrs. Cloverleaf a very contrite look as you pass her but not say anything. I’ll handle the rest. You got all that?”

“Uh, I think so?”

“Good. Oh, and sorry in advance. I’m only going to enjoy this a little bit.”

“Sorry? What for? Also, you haven’t told me what the signal is yet.”

Out of nowhere, Celestia smacked her desk with her palm so hard that the windows rattled for a moment before launching herself into what Sunset could only describe as the Principal Canterlot Voice, which might actually be more impressive than the Royal Canterlot Voice on account of not being boosted by magic, that was certainly loud enough to be heard outside. “AND LET THAT PAYCUT BE A LESSON TO YOU, MISS SHIMMER!!! IF YOU WISH TO REMAIN A TEACHER AT THIS SCHOOL, YOU HAD BETTER START PAYING ATTENTION! INEXPERIENCE WILL ONLY EXCUSE YOUR INATTENTION FOR SO LONG!!!”

Sunset, on sheer instinct, shot to her feet and stood as straight as a first year Royal Guard cadet at his first parade. The chair she had been sitting on clattered by her feet as it fell over. “I … uhm … er …” she stammered while her pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Celestia roared. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!!”

“I’m sorry, Principal!” Sunset yelled in sheer terror. “It won’t happen again!”

“GOOD!” Celestia went on relentlessly. “NOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE WHILE I DO YOUR JOB AND EXPLAIN TO THIS YOUNG MAN HOW INAPPROPRIATE HIS BEHAVIOR WAS AND HOW YOU’VE BEEN CARELESSLY LEADING HIM ON WITHOUT EVEN REALIZING IT!!!”

Sunset stood frozen on the spot until she realized Celestia was indicating the door with her chin. She turned on her heel, opened the door and simply fled. She had completely forgotten the instruction about the contrite look, but she later realized that a look of abject terror would probably also suffice for Celestia’s plan if Mrs. Cloverleaf’s shit-eating grin she saw in passing was any indication.

She was fully on the other side of the school building by the time her old pony instinct to stampede in the face of panic subsided. Resting against a wall while catching her breath and wiping some cold sweat from her brow, the cold and calculating part of Sunset’s brain couldn’t help but admire Celestia a little. The part of her brain that had just gone feral with fear while overlapping the image of her boss with an angry sun goddess simply went: Holy shit! I think I just had a glimpse of how Equestrian history would have come to a sudden and definitive end if our Celestia had ever snapped on the job.

Brrrt! Brrrt!

Sunset easily jumped two feet in the air at the vibration her phone made in her pocket. After shaking out her hands to stop the shaking, she checked it to see that there was a message from Principal Cadence that read: “Is this what you were looking for?”

After tapping the attached photograph to make it fill the screen, Sunset’s eyes went wide. Even in the low light of the apparent cellar archive, the handwriting on the page in Cadence’s hand looked immediately familiar. It seemed to be an old mid-term essay from 19 years ago, a time just before it was universal for every student to have access to a computer and a printer. The first two lines read:

Why archaeology is important in the modern world

By Bright Hope, Class 1-B

With a manic grin on her face and the existential dread from just a few minutes ago immediately gone, Sunset texted back frantically: “Yes! You are a national treasure, Cadence! Thank you so much!!!”

Author's Note

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-Daedalus Aegle