"Thanks for helping out today," Danny tells me when I return to the front after finishing my shift. "See you tomorrow, Kieran."

"See you, Danny," I tell him, then give a small wave to the two workers who showed up for their shifts. "Good luck."

I turn and leave the restaurant, then set off in the direction of home. Since I only worked six hours, I didn't get a lunch. Since I didn't eat lunch and it's been more than six hours since I ate breakfast, I'm pretty hungry. There's a good chance Danny would've given me a free meal if I'd asked, but I didn't want to do that. The restaurant is probably barely scraping by and I don't want to contribute to that.

Only a minute after I leave the restaurant do I notice something unusual. Again. This is happening far too much lately for my comfort. Sovirna, the fear petitioner, and now this. In less than two weeks.

Leaning against the front of a shop, dressed in a better-quality jacket over a rather nice hoodie, a scarf around his neck and hands in the pockets of his jacket, is a pretty good-looking guy. He's about my height, but I'd put him probably at my age, not younger. His jeans and boots are pretty decent, too. They look new.

Though he's cute, and his brown hair is ruffled slightly, his eyes are hidden by a pair of sunglasses with black plastic frames. Sunglasses aren't a common thing in the lower districts. Hell, they can be pretty pricey in the middle districts, and considering that his look like they have comfort grips on the legs and they're not the kind that simply sit in front of the face, but actually touch up against it to block sunlight from coming in on the sides or above, they're definitely not of the cheaper variety of sunglasses.

I'd better hurry on before whatever he's waiting for shows down. If he's a dealer of some sort, I don't want to get caught up in the mess that'll occur when vigilantes show up.

Just as I start to pass by him, he speaks.

"Kieran," he says, and I jump a little, turning to face him. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

Oh, hell no. It's bad enough when Sovirna is waiting for me, it's worse when some guy I've never seen before does it.

"Who are you, and how do you know my name?" I ask. "I'm not into the trade, if that's what you're-"

"I'm not into that stuff," he chuckles. "I was hoping to maybe get some lunch with you? For old times' sake?"

"Sorry, but I don't have anyone I'd have 'old times' with, bud," I say. "I-"

"There's one friend who didn't die in the incident," he says.

A runt my age…

"Isaac?"

"Got it in one," he says.

"Weren't you blond?"

"My hair had started darkening back then," he shrugs. "It was fully brown by the time I turned thirteen. Eyes are still blue, though. And still sensitive to light. Thankfully, I can afford these now, and can even afford to buy backups."

He taps the sunglasses. Isaac always got headaches when it was too bright for him back when we were younger, and his family couldn't afford sunglasses to help him with that. They probably wouldn't have lasted long, anyway. Someone would've stolen them. Or broken them. He was skinnier than most and a frequent target of bullies, so either was plausible.

"I can't really afford to go out for lunch," I tell him. "But we can walk."

"I can afford lunch," he tells me. "It's a small expense, when compared to… what I did. Especially what I did to the survivors."

He took away our friends, caused us to need to travel further if we wanted to attend school more, and hurt us all.

"It wasn't your fault," I say. "You couldn't have known or controlled that. It's clear you feel bad over it, even now. The way you work… your focus is more on protecting children."

"I can never truly repay what I took," he says. "But I can try to protect others. Let's go to the middle districts. There's a place there that you'll like."

Isaac wouldn't have approached me today if he wasn't ready to face me after what happened. This is probably a big deal for him, and me rejecting him might have a bad effect on his psyche. That's not good for a vigilante, especially not one as powerful as him.

While I don't want to have someone buying me a meal at a restaurant again, I don't hate Isaac anymore. I've forgiven him after understanding he didn't have any control over that. I'd rather not see him hurt, especially since we were friends back then. The only one I lost who I didn't lose to death.

"Can we stop by my apartment, first?" I ask. "A walk to the middle districts is pretty far, and I have-"

"Training, yeah," he nods. "Your apartment isn't that much out of the way, so that's fine."

I begin walking, and Isaac steps to my side, the two of us making the trip to my apartment in silence. He waits outside while I go up and grab my bag, then we begin the walk towards the middle districts.

"It's kind of sad," he says as we draw near them. "How times change."

Something tells me he's not talking about our lives, specifically. They've definitely changed massively since we last knew each other.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Seventy years ago," he says. "We'd be standing in middle districts right now."

"Really?" I ask.

"Yeah," he answers. "But rising populations combined with resource scarcity can be a pretty big problem. Slowly, over time, there's less per person. It becomes harder to afford things, and those once considered well-off find themselves not making enough. That's why the Lusvaris Training Center is so fancy despite being in the lower districts. It was originally sitting a mile into the middle districts."

"Have you been keeping tabs on me?" I ask.

"You were my best friend," he mutters. "I wanted to make sure you were okay, even if I couldn't face you."

That kills conversation for a bit, and it gives me time to ponder over his words. The fanciness of some of the places around the training center makes sense now. This stuff wasn't afforded recently, it was afforded back when it was still in a 'better' area. And then they kept drawing people who could afford it even after the area went down, and that helped buff up some of the businesses nearby, like the restaurant that Sandy works at.

"I've forgiven you, you know," I eventually tell him. "Though I guess 'forgiven' is too odd of a word for it. I blamed you, yeah, but then I realized it wasn't your fault. If you've been keeping tabs on me, I'm sure you've figured that out."

"Yeah," he says. "It's just… hard to face someone who you've hurt, you've taken away all of the friends of. I mean, you were traumatized by your power's manifestation. Imagine mine. It awakened and killed thousands, Kieran. Only through a miracle did anyone survive, myself included. I still have nightmares over it."

That's right, his awakening was far, far worse than mine. Mine was just a feeling of humiliation and embarrassment that faded after a few years. I didn't use my power again until less than two weeks ago simply because I didn't see a need for it once I'd gotten over that.

Isaac killed people. He was trapped in the rubble, too. Just like me, he was wounded and suffering, he spent a couple of days buried and unable to escape. Yet he was using his power again within a year. He'd trained his power after he disappeared, resurfaced as a vigilante who saved people using the very power that killed others.

How does he manage it?

"Well," I say. "I'm glad you've come to me, Isaac. You don't feel obligated because we ran into each other earlier, though, do you? I'd have understood if you took longer. It's got to be hard."

"No, earlier had nothing to do with it," he sighs. "Those people… we've been running around for the last couple of weeks dealing with them. Then the Patron sent a message last night: they were becoming a problem. A six-year-old power user was killed by someone who had joined the cult. If there's another death because of the cult… the guardians are getting involved."

"That's pretty bad," I say. "Wait. The Patron sent a message? I've never heard of that before."

"That's because it's not something you can overhear," he tells me. "The Patron prevents people from 'observing' certain topics. Even if you're told directly, you won't catch it without his permission. It's to help keep things secret. The identities of the Sivalshi Guardians, most of the vigilantes, and a few other things."

No wonder the identities of most of the vigilantes seem impossible to find. The Patron prevents it entirely. If what Isaac's saying is true, then that means that everything he's telling me, the Patron's intentionally letting me hear, too. Was Isaac told to talk to me? Or did he choose to, and then received permission for it?

"That's… pretty nice of him," I say. "And he sends messages, too?"

"He has a guardian tell the central enforcement group for the city," he nods. "Which then spreads it to the different districts' stations and vigilantes. Yeah, vigilantes work with the authorities a little, despite what some people think."

While I'd suspected the Patron had no issue with the vigilantes, just like I told Lucas when I went off on him, I'd never expected that the Patron actually communicated with more than just the guardians, even if he did so through them. That only raises my opinion of him more.

"I'd kind of figured they did," I say. "So he sent one out last night?"

"Yeah," Isaac nods. "With the way the cult is, we're expecting it to last not even a day."

How would it work, taking down a cult like this? I'm assuming that they'd have to take out several people who might be scattered across the city. Would a single guardian do all of that? Or would he send several guardians? What about the members who still go about spreading after?

Isaac and I don't talk again for awhile, eventually reaching the restaurant he's leading me to. It's on the fortieth floor of a business building, and it looks kind of cozy. Carpeted floors, cared-for booths and seats, and polished wooden tables. The lighting isn't bright, but it's not poor, either. Actually, judging by how it's just-right for that cozy feel, it's intentional.

"Two, please," Isaac tells the woman standing at a small podium a little bit inside the restaurant. "Booth, please."

"This way," she grabs two menus and rolls of silverware, then leads us to a booth in a corner.

Isaac takes the seat facing the restaurant, leaving me facing the wall. He pulls off his jacket and hoodie, and I realize that it's actually kind of warm here, so I pull off my hoodie, too. He's wearing a tight-fitting grey tee with a v-cut neck. It's showing off his lean form pretty well, and I notice after a moment that he's caught me ogling.

"I do have a girlfriend, by the way," he comments as he pulls off his sunglasses, which somehow stayed on when he pulled off his hoodie.

Man, are his eyes even more beautiful than I remember.

"That's neat," I say. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. I don't normally, actually, but the last couple of weeks-"

"Training your power's done that to you," he nods. "I know. I'm flattered to know people think I'm attractive. I try to keep fit and healthy."

My eyes drift down to the necklace around his neck. Hanging from a silver chain is a brown crystal sphere maybe a quarter of an inch or so in diameter, set into a silver claw with a loop in it for the chain.

"Nice necklace," I say just as a waiter approaches.

"Hello," the waiter greets us. "I'm Chance. Are you two ready to order your drinks, or do you need a few more minutes?"

"I'll have an iced tea," Chance answers as I quickly try to find the drinks in the menu. "They're on the back."

I flip the menu over and examine the drinks for a moment.

"Could I get a lemonade, please?" I ask.

"So a lemonade for you, and an iced tea for you," the waiter indicates each of us. "Would you like that tea sweetened or unsweetened?"

"Unsweetened," Isaac answers.

"I'll be back with your drinks in just a minute," Chance says.

"It's not just a necklace," Isaac says after Chance leaves. "It's the token for my spellsuit."

"Your…"

Crunalz has always had the same spellsuit design. Always. I'd assumed he'd found a rich sponsor who put the money in for a spellsuit for someone who wasn't finished growing yet, but that's not what happened?

"How did you find it?" I ask.

"I didn't," he fingers it. "The Patron gave it to me."

"The Patron?" I ask. "Doesn't he only give those to the guardians?"

He stares at me.

"Wait… you're a guardian?" I ask. "But wouldn't you have started when you were twelve, then?"

"Yeah," he answers.

"None of the guardians have your ability," I say. "I know the capabilities of each of them, and-"

"I'm the one who rips space," he tells me.

There's a guardian who will slash the air, and a tear will form, traveling through it as an attack or remaining static as a defense. It usually fades after a few seconds, and the tear only lengthens in a few cases rather than the entire tear traveling.

"Normally," he says. "The Patron doesn't, ah, offer it to anyone under twenty-one. But I was a special case. While I was learning to control this power and use it properly, I'd pleaded with him regularly to let me fix things. Shortly before I was going to return to school, he made me the offer and let me know about that particular aspect of my ability. I managed to train it well over the course of a month, and then I received this token."

Chance returns with our drinks, then leaves so that we can take a few more minutes to look through the menu. I spend that time processing what Isaac's revealed to me. He's not just a vigilante, he's a Sivalshi Guardian, one of the most badass members of our society.

After Chance takes our orders and leaves, a thought comes to me and I have to ask it.

"If you're a guardian," I say. "Does that mean that you know about the offer I was made?"