"Guardian Harper is a servant of the Darkness," said Reuben.

"Oh yeah?" Connor replied. "Prove it."

The two boys sat on the shore of the lake within the walls of the Last City. Each were armed with a fishing pole, and gazed raptly at their lines in the water, despite the lack of any interest from the fish.

Reuben voiced his observation after a long silence. He was a pale, thoughtful boy, scrawny for his ten years, with blue eyes that seemed to look through, rather than at people.

"I can't prove it," he said. "It's just a feeling I get sometimes, especially when Guardian Harper has his ghost out. They don't like each other."

"My mom fights with her ghost sometimes," Connor replied. "She doesn't serve the Darkness."

"Your mom's ghost is a jerk," Reuben agreed. "But Guardian Harper ... there's just something off. I'm glad he goes on assignment next month. Your dad's a better teacher."

Connor was a chubby eleven year-old, his skin the color of coffee with a dash of cream. He was also a future Guardian, already attended by a ghost. She floated nearby, a little robot in a rounded, child-safe shell. Her single blue eye was half-extinguished in a sleepy expression.

Connor grinned. "My dad is a lot more fun. Like when he showed us the Battle of Twilight Gap in Light constructs."

"That was awesome," Reuben agreed. Then he sighed. "I wish I could be a Guardian."

Connor didn't reply. Reuben said this sometimes, and Connor could never think of something to say that didn't sound mean. Although Reuben's father was a Guardian, Reuben was not - or, at least, no ghost had ever come for him.

Connor's ghost, Varan, blinked her blue eye. "It doesn't matter whether you are or not, Reuben. We love you anyway."

A tinge of pink crept into the boy's pale cheeks. "Thanks, Varan," he said. "Have you noticed anything about Guardian Harper?"

Varan paced back and forth in midair, and both boys watched her. "I'm not sure," she said at last. "He and his ghost are having problems, but I'm not certain he's involved with the Darkness."

"See?" Connor said. "Ghosts know everything."

Reuben nodded and watched his fishing line. "It's why I wished I had one."

They fished a while longer, catching nothing but lake weed. Then Varan said, "Four o'clock, boys. Time to head back to the Tower."

The pair reeled in and folded up their rods. Then they crossed the lakeside park to the nearest bus stop, where they waited. The sight of two children accompanied by a ghost was enough to make other people give them a wide berth. Children of Guardians were uncommon, but not unheard of, and one did not mess with them.

"When we get home," Connor said, "I've got to show you my latest glider design. I built a scale model, and it flies great."

"A new one?" Reuben said. "The wings fell off the last one."

"I found new documents in the Archives," Connor said, his eyes gleaming with fanatic delight. "It helps that Mom and Dad are warlocks. They have all the passwords. This new glider looks like a real ship, and the wings are anchored right into the frame."

Reuben shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Would it be strong enough to carry you?"

"I did the math," Connor said defensively. "I know I weigh a lot, but this glider is meant for a grown man. I'm nowhere near that much."

"Will your mom let you build it?"

Connor rolled his eyes. "Of course not, dummy. I'm still on restriction from tying Neko to the ceiling fan."

Reuben swallowed a laugh, imagining a ghost being flung around and around a room. "My Dad would kill me if I did that to Wand."

"Wand's nice," Connor agreed. "I'd never do that to him. Neko had called me an ungrateful hell spawn. So I got him back."

Reuben glanced at Varan. "You were okay with that?"

Varan blinked. "I stayed out of that one. Boys have to settle things sometimes."

The bus arrived. The boys paid their fare and climbed aboard.

"I'm almost tall enough to ride Dad's sparrow," Reuben said.

"I can reach the pedals on Mom's," Connor said proudly. "I can drive it, too."

"No you can't."

"Yes I can! I'll show you next time Mom and Dad go out. I'll give you a ride, and we'll explore the City. Maybe go see a movie."

Reuben imagined a colossal wreck where Connor's ghost resurrected him, but Reuben stayed dead. "Maybe."

The bus dropped them at the Tower bus stop. The boys walked the short distance to the Tower lift, where they waved to the guards. Connor and Reuben were a common sight around the Tower, and everyone knew them on sight. The guards waved them through.

The lift carried them ten stories upward, to the top of the Last City's wall. Here a large section of wall and a hanger had been repurposed into a new Tower space to replace the old one that had been destroyed in the Red War. The boys mingled with crowds of Guardians and civilians as they made their way toward the dormitory stairs.

"Anyway," Connor said in a low voice, "I found the perfect place to build the full sized glider. I'll show you tomorrow, after school. This is the best hiding place ever ..."

Reuben tried to listen. But a chill was creeping over him, and Connor's chatter was becoming background noise. Reuben halted. The ground seemed to vanish from under his feet. He was standing still, surrounded by people. Yet he was falling, falling through the void, toward dark water.

Varan noticed. She spun toward Reuben and swept him with a healing beam.

Without a ghost of his own, Varan couldn't heal Reuben as she could her own Guardian. But the touch of her Light snapped him out of the vision, grounding him in the reality of the Tower. He drew a gasping breath and stared around. "What was that?"

"What?" Connor said, oblivious.

Reuben shivered. "I just want to get home."

Reuben told his mother and father about the vision at dinner.

Despite being a Guardian, his father, Charles, worked only in the Tower or the City. The Vanguard respected his wishes to stay with his family, and found plenty of things for him to do nearby.

Reuben's mother, Naomi, was big and pregnant, her delivery date only a month away. She and Charles listened to their son's story in dismayed silence.

"What do you think it was?" Reuben asked.

Charles and Naomi exchanged a long look. Then Charles sighed. "We'll make an appointment to have your Light checked. You might be a Guardian, after all."

Reuben straightened, brightening. "I am?"

"You might be," said his father. "Don't get your hopes up."

"Even if you have the Light," added Naomi, "it may take years to find your ghost. And it might never happen."

Reuben ate his dinner and thought about this. Creepy visions would be worth it if he could be a Guardian. Having a ghost like Varan would mean he'd always have a friend nearby to share thoughts with. He'd often thought that Varan was wasted on Connor - he took her for granted and didn't talk to her much.

What Reuben wanted was a ghost like Wand - his father's devoted, intelligent ghost who joined in conversations like a family member. Right now, Wand floated over his father's shoulder, listening, wearing a green shell with gold trim.

Reuben addressed him. "Wand ... if I don't find a ghost, will the visions get worse?"

"I don't know," the ghost replied. "You've only had one so far. You may have been responding to external stimuli. Or the Traveler may have been speaking to you. It's hard to say."

The Traveler! Reuben shivered a little. Connor's father, Jayesh, reverenced the Traveler and conversed with it often. Overhearing him talk about it had filled Reuben with holy fear since he was a toddler.

"I don't want the Traveler to talk to me," he said in a low voice.

"Like he said," Charles replied, "it was only the one time. It probably won't happen again." He glanced at his ghost. "Make an appointment for Reuben to have his Light measured."

"Working," Wand replied, and vanished.

"Don't worry so much," Naomi said, reaching across the table and stroking her son's cheek. "Finish your dinner and we'll read more of our book."

Reuben cheered up and obeyed. His mother was reading him books she had found in the archives, fantastic adventures about pre-Golden Age children solving mysteries in the ancient countries that no longer existed. He loved every word.