Several grubby boys were sitting on the porch of Progar's shack, sheltering their hole-ridden shoes from the rain.

"It's cold," one of them muttered.

"Yeah, freezing," replied a second, watching his breath condense.

"What is there to do?" whispered a third, shivering.

The ragged group sat like that for another hour. Then, one by one, the children reluctantly shuffled inside. Progar's shack was their current abode, but they would do anything not to go back there. The run-down dwelling could have been a real palace for the homeless children, if only it weren't for Progar himself — a vile, cruel tyrant who forced the children to work like slaves. He captured, tricked, or bought the boys from slave traders and made them beg on the streets of Strongford. They gave everything they could collect to Progar.

If the greedy man wasn't satisfied with what they brought home, he gave them a serious beating. The boys who worked as thieves usually got away with just a few cuffs, but the beggars got the full force of Progar's wrath. But it was Helios and Pax who found themselves in the direst situation. These poor souls turned into punching bags as soon as they arrived on the tyrant's doorstep: they were unsuccessful beggars, yet refused to steal, saying it was beneath them. They tried to make extra money by performing juggling tricks in the street, but it was all in vain.

Every time he got drunk, Progar came into the beggars' room and brutally punished the first kids he could get his hands on. In order to avoid this, some of them decided to start thieving and moved into the pickpockets' room. The rest, hiding their tears and rubbing their bruises, climbed into bed and anxiously waited until dawn. On such nights, Helios couldn't even close his eyes. He turned over and over in his hands the round white stones he so loved to juggle in the street. They were his talismans, his only solace and comfort.

Another day on the street with an outstretched hand. Another orphan failing to escape. Another beating. And Helios once more lay awake in bed, shifting his stones from one hand to the other. The first stone, the second, then the third, around and around…

A new day. Tasteless gruel and a kick in the back, out into the cold streets. Come home empty-handed again. A beating. The first stone, the second, the third... Another sleepless night. The first rays of light came shining through the bars of the window. The first stone, the second, the third, the fourth. Wait. What? Helios did a double take — there was one stone extra. In his open palm lay a bright, luminous orb. "Wow, it sparkles so beautifully!” the boy whispered to himself. A sudden wave of calmness and wellbeing came over him. He got up, dressed and, for the first time in a very long time, went out into the street with a light heart.

The fourth stone came and went, seemingly by its own volition, and soon Helios got used to its sudden visits and was no longer surprised. The glowing orb would obediently jump into Helios' hands and rest there, as if responding to his every thought.

One night, Pax was gone. Helios and this frail boy had felt a deep connection through their shared misfortune, and now the drunken Progar had simply swept the child out of his way like unwanted trash. And everyone in the shack knew another tragedy was about to come. Having gambled himself penniless in the tavern, the monster was fuming and thirsty for blood. Returning home, he started turning the place upside down in his rage, smashing furniture, dishes, and anything else that got in his way. He seemed to have completely lost his mind this time.

Hearing him coming their way, Helios rounded up the injured boys and pushed them into the beggars' room, shutting the door tightly behind him. He then began to barricade the door using beds, chairs, brooms, and anything else that came to hand. But he hadn't thought of any further plan, and the doors were already rattling treacherously under the heavy blows of the child killer. Helios desperately squeezed the stones in his hand: the first, the second, the third... Wounded children cried out for help in the darkness, while others stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear. Something had to be done. But what? Helios clenched his fist even tighter, and — ah, there it is! The fourth stone had appeared. At that moment, the door splintered into pieces with a terrifying crunch.

But when Progar burst into the children's room, he was hit by a blinding ray of sunlight that streamed down from somewhere above, engulfing him in an unbearable wave of pain. He screamed and howled curses as he flailed his arms wildly, still trying to reach the children. Meanwhile, he was completely surrounded by flame-spewing spheres of light which flooded the room with bright radiance. A moment later, the reign of the terrible Progar was over.

The glowing light warmly embraced the boys, healing their wounds, and then gently faded away. As the dust settled, the beggar children looked up to see Helios standing with open hands, on one of which a small golden orb was floating peacefully, like a miniature sun. Then it shrank and disappeared, seeming to merge into his hand. His eyes flashed golden for a moment, like the light of the stars, and then returned to normal.

"You and I are now one," Helios said, internally addressing the stone. As if in confirmation of these words, his body was filled with a pleasant warmth.

Having understood and absorbed his new gift, Helios himself approached the Guardians and was immediately accepted into their ranks.