Like many people skilled in doing bad things, he had no name. Instead, contacts knew him only as Pilfer, a thief for hire. Nay, The thief for hire. Fingers aching and forearms burning, his magical gloves made an impossible task simply improbable. It was still a monstrous feat. Heavy wind bit at his eyes and thunder roared out in the distance, adding a timer to his trek.

He almost lost his grip, adrift in thoughts of the giants that had gone before. Wraith had stolen from the King in his own bedroom while he slept. Black Jack had deftly swiped Lord Vidstan’s prized dagger from his very hip. Pilfer’s own father, the Grey King, who had led the thieves guild in the famed city, Gadalfa’Va, for nearly thirty cycles.

Sweat trickled down his brow. He itched to wipe it away, but he was barely holding on as it was. Iron will and deadly focus were the only things keeping him on this wall, aside from the gloves. Without them, he surely would have already fallen. The gear alone for this heist had cost him a small fortune. The pay-off on the other hand, would allow him to live like a lord.

Pilfer’s father left a very long shadow and many considered him a legend. Pilfer nearly scoffed at the term father. His father had always said the reason for his extended survival in this business of thieves and cut throats was to know when a job was too good to be true.

This one was different. Finishing this job would allow Pilfer to finally cast his own shadow. A gust of wind brought his focus back to the task at hand. He looked over his shoulder and saw the storm would be upon him any minute.

Near five spans above the raging torrent that was the Kadassi river, he hung to the wall of the Archmagi’s tower. He had come too far to let this storm interfere as he increased his pace.

The city of Gadalfa’Va stretched across the only pass in the Leviathans Teeth, the mountain range cutting the continent in twain. The city itself was a mastercraft of magic. Seven white towers shot up like snow capped peaks.

The pinnacle of power, sporting a giant crescent pillar at its peak like a man with his arms spread in prayer, was the Arch-magus tower. A feat that no engineer could ever duplicate without magic, stood at the precipice of the river that raged through the pass.

Gadalfa’Va was simply magnificent. And like a filthy bug, Pilfer clung to one of its pristine white walls. He had fortitude, but his fingers held on with the assistance of an enchantment he didn’t trust. Inch by inch he made his way up the sheer tower wall.

The night wind grew stronger, a more consistent tugging against his cloak. He looked up and realized he only needed to make it another ten feet. He let out a sigh as he reached for the next ridge.

There were two gargoyles decorating the window’s ledge. As he perched on the ledge, the tattoo on his neck began glowing red-hot. His eyes glanced to both sides, waiting for one to move.

The thunder cracked only a moment after the light nearly blinded him as a bolt struck nearby. Pilfer nearly jumped from his skin and slipped. For a moment, time felt as though it had stopped. He hung precariously by one power glove over a disastrous drop to certain death.

His other hand connected with the ledge and time returned to normal. This was wasting too much time. He took a deep breath. The enchanted gargoyles hadn’t come alive to tear him to pieces. He exhaled slowly and pulled himself onto the ledge.

He peered inside with no need for a torch. The potion had made his eyes nearly black, but allowed him to see much better in the dark. The tower room was sprawling, mostly covered with cluttered bookshelves.

A single massive desk sat in the middle of the room with its chair facing the window. Detritus covered the floor. There were more books on the table, a staff propped against it, and random scattered trinkets. Everything looked rather dingy in his opinion.

Quickly he spotted his objective. It was a plain bookcase amongst many like it, but his client had told him third from the left of the desk. He looked down at his shoes. He still had no trust in magic but had marveled at the expense of enchantments alone needed for this job.

He would become a legend after this. Robbing the Archmagi's tower at the academy of Gadalfa’Va. No one else had the stones to pull this off. He stepped one foot down on the floor and felt a tingle go through his foot. Nothing zapped him nor burnt him to a crisp, so he mustered his courage and moved on.

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He scanned his hand over the books until he found general knowledge of herbs and pulled. There was a faint, light clicking sound and a small section pulled away from the shelf, revealing the safe behind.

From his bag he produced a small rod with a flat end. As he listened through the rod, each click came easily. Just before the final click, he paused and made a silent prayer to Zenut.

Nothing happened. He let out a sigh of relief. The client had been right about everything so far and warned the last bit would have to be done just right.

He swapped the rod for a long thin piece of quartz. This piece had been given to him personally from his employer and was the final key to opening the safe. Pilfer had no idea who the man was, but from cursory judgment, he was rich and wore his power like a cloak.

Eyes closed he muttered “Magikus Darkania'', then snapped the quartz. A faint glow washed over his hands and the safe before disappearing. As instructed, he made sure to keep it as far from his body as possible. Although he was certain he felt the outrageously expensive enchantments on his gloves and boots dissipate.

He reached forth and opened the safe. Not having been blasted to bits, he quickly grabbed the treasure and stowed it in a thong about his neck. Turning around to leave, the sound of footsteps came from behind the only door in the tower.

He had been warned the disenchantment would signal the Arch-Magus immediately. Rushing to the window and knowing there wasn’t much time, Pilfer moved to the ledge while making a silent prayer to Xena, Goddess of night, that the merchant hadn’t lied about this cloak.

Because activated magic behaves differently, it was supposed to survive the disenchantment device, but you could never fully trust a black-market merchant. Especially one that dealt in illegal magics.

Lightning flashed in the sky as thunder rocked the tower as. The storm had arrived, and he was out of time. As the wind buffeted him with rain, it felt surreal how fast the storm had come upon him. He barely heard the door open behind him and…

“STOP!”

He heard the raspy, roaring shout behind him, but lept and spread his arms. For a second he hung in the air, life in the balance. After only a moment the enchantment kicked in as the cloak turned into glider wings.

A rush of excitement enveloped him as he began to glide. It was done and he smiled victoriously. The chuckle rolled out as he considered life being rich beyond belief. There was a flash of blue in his peripheral vision and a brief white heat that made his body scream in pain.

He felt the air rushing past him as he plummeted toward the river, the cloak in tatters. Fear gripped him. Realizing now, that no one would ever even remember his name. The black water loomed ahead of him. Right before he struck the surface, he muttered “and so it ends”.

Everything went dark.

……………………………..

The Arch-Magus awoke when he felt the snap of his magic alarm. “No, not now.” He grumbled, while rubbing the sleep from his eyes and swinging his feet to the ground. His plush bed took up a majority of his modest bedroom, assuming one could find it in the cavern of books.

His bones ached and the last thing he wanted was to rush up a flight of stairs. He had no energy for this but worry pushed him through and he willed his magic forth. “Enrius Virtalum” his voice was strong, regardless of his body.

After he spoke, he felt a bolt of energy rush into him like a shot of adrenaline. Even with the boost, there were a lot of stairs ahead.

The Archsuite had a bedroom, a Solar, and an Atheneum on the floor above. Each well protected against intrusion.

As he ambled up the stairs, he felt a growing dread. There had been constant pressure from the council, for months, calling for him to retire. And now this? Big things were moving in the neighboring Kingdom of Agothir. The guild needed strong leadership now more than ever, but that snake Gilram had been chomping at the bit to take over.

The mages guild kept an uneasy peace between the kingdoms on either side of the mountain, simply because of its location and power. Kingdoms could not war when they couldn’t move their soldiers to do battle.

While Saurex had easy access to the ocean, Agothir was only accessible through Gadalfa’Va, and no army had ever breached the city of mages. The city of Gadalfa’Va had always been impartial to Kingdom politics. It had always been neutral and would remain so.

But some on the magic council could not cut their ties from home, regardless of the ramifications. As the Arch-Magus opened the door to his Atheneum, he immediately noticed the figure in the window.

“STOP!” he shouted as he watched the figure gracefully leap from the ledge. Despair gripped his heart.

The Arch-Magus was too late. He looked to the open safe in the corner, his heart skipped a beat. He knew why the thief was here, but it was so much worse when confirmed. There had been one item in particular that was a secret known only to the council.

The man had touched nothing else, going straight for the prophetic item. How the man had done it, was a question for later. The Arch-Magus strode to the window and prepared to cast a spell.

“Retu--”

BOOM. Thunder shook the tower, and a flash of lightning struck the man attempting to glide away. The momentary surge of energy in the air prevented the Arch-Magus from gathering his mana. He gripped the edges of the window, long white hair blowing in the wind.

He watched in silence as the cloaked man plummeted half a dozen spans into the raging river. All the magus could think was… “and so it begins.”

Another flash of light and the body was gone.