We are all born with a fate

Which we’ll come to love or hate

-prophecy of the duskbringer

Third day of the Fifth week of Autumn, First bell of the morning…

Sylvia was awesome, she knew this of herself, it was an indisputable fact.

These were her thoughts as she carefully lifted the jeweled necklace from the display stand while hanging upside down with her leg curled around a rope.

Sylvia secured the loot in a special pouch that hung at her side before flipping upright and ascending the rope rapidly, her calgaree heritage turning the climb into an easy one.

Indeed, she felt that she was born for this job, her five foot four inch lean and sinewy stature made it rather easy to slip into places others would desire to keep her out of.

Her glossy black fur made nighttime concealment a natural affair, one would think those defining silver streaks and contouring in her fur made it easier to spot her but she kept well wrapped in dark cloth whenever she went on a nightly strolls to prevent them betraying her identity.

Sylvia only had to be careful of her large luminous green eyes, however she hid those by wrapping a thin gauze over them, she was still able to see fairly well but they were far less obvious than before in the dark.

While many professionals in her line of work were in their twenties or thirties, Sylvia was merely fourteen years old last month, eighteen in human years if you were counting.

She was fully grown despite her diminutive frame and near impossible to stop with any lock, mundane or magical, they all fell before her alike.

Indeed she had broken no less than three to gain entry here, and then another two securing the display cases themselves.

Sylvia reached the roof and flipped herself onto it, landing silently thanks to both the pads on her feet and a sound dampening field she had cast with the aid of her wind magic.

She gave her rope a tug with her mana and waited a moment as it wrapped itself quickly around her waist, the enchanted cord thin and light, then she disappeared from her location, only a blurry figure traveling silently over the rooftops at night.

Sylvia was a dual affinity mage, wind and fire, a prodigy for a Calgaree, but it was a special magic she had developed and experimented with that truly set her a cut above the rest and paved her larcenous path.

One evening when she was twelve Sylvia had been trying to meld her attributes to create lightning magic just like her childhood storybook hero Flanagan Rodgers.

She had been at it for months and was close to succeeding, yet that night something went very wrong, or depending on your perspective, very right…

The mana Sylvia had been struggling to compress and mix finally did, although the effect was not what she had anticipated.

The hair on Sylvia’s right arm had all poofed, standing on end as she felt the mana flow and convert into a current through the magic circle she created at the tips of her fingers.

What happened next was a brilliant arc of… nothing?

Sylvia had felt like she had succeeded, yet there was no electricity appearing, nothing appeared to have changed.

Sylvia frowned, her ears flattening to her head in frustration, the magic had to have done something.

She had felt no mana rebound, neither had the magic circle collapsed. Everything indicated that a magical effect had occurred.

“Did I just create invisible lightning!” Sylvia gleefully exclaimed.

So her curiosity and pride stoked Sylvia naturally started experimenting.

Starting with ordinary mundane objects scattered around her room she started poofing, with no apparent results.

There did not seem to be any discernible difference before and after her new magic was applied, no grounding effect, no discernable damage, at least until she pulled one of her favourite rodent snacks from its cage.

Sylvia placed the fat juicy luppie into a box and took aim.

The fingers of her right arm splayed wide and her left arm supporting it for increased steadiness, she closed her left eye and concentrated.

Poof, her arm hairs rose once more, Sylvia stopped and looked at the luppie, examining it for any changes.

It squirmed a bit and twitched its whiskers before baring its teeth at Sylvia.

Great, even her snack was mocking her now.

“Ha defiant little luppie aren't you.” Sylvia norted, “Well lets see how you like being a midnight snack later then.

At this point, Sylvia was tired and running low on mana despite having meditated several times to restore it.

She pointed her hand once more and constructed the magic circle and blasted the impudent rodent with all she had left.

Once done she rubbed her tired eyes, only to hear a soft hissing of sparks.

Startled she looked up to see the magitech examination tool her mother had given her for her tenth birthday sparking with its magitech circuits melting.

She had been using it to try and discern the effects of her tests and had lain it next to the box, it seemed she had hit it as well in the last blast.

Drat, how was she going to explain that to her mom, a swift paddling would be imminent.

Picking it up she tried using The tool, only to confirm that it was now no better than an ordinary looking glass.

Sweat rolled down her back as she thought of the variety of canes her mother would possibly when she found out it was broken, the tool was not a cheap one and was meant for her training for the next couple years.

Sylvia quickly hid it under her mattress for now, she would think of something to tell her mother soon.

That done her ears twitched, a sickly coughing had sounded from the luppie.

Sylvia bounded back to the box before recoiling.

There the luppie was lying on its side in a pile of its fallen fur, disgusting lumps and bulges were growing on its bare skin as it swelled and bloated, its weak screechings pitiful to the ear.

Sylvia watched this in wide eyed horror until the luppie had reached critical and exploded, splattering her face with its remains.

Her mother had found Sylvia sobbing and shivering in the bathroom when she came home, smelling of things best left untold.

Wrapping the weeping child in her arms she made no mention of the silver streaks that had appeared on Sylvia’s fur, instead focusing on comforting her.

It took her hours to do so, until she finally laid a cried out child to bed, having heard the whole story and extracting a promise from Sylvia to never use the magic on another living thing ever again, a promise Sylvia eagerly gave.

This had not stopped her using it entirely though, as Sylvia continued to grow she watched as the poor and the hungry grew more numerous on the streets, at first she would sneak some of her own food to give to a beggar boy called Justin, but she had quickly realised how little she affected the overall suffering she saw.

At this point most individuals would give up, either rationalizing away the situation, or turning their eyes from it.

But not her.

When she was thirteen she liberated a sack of grain from a wealthy merchant after watching from the shadows as he feasted on meat and wine while the beggars outside his gate froze and starved.

The magitech locks he employed to secure his warehouse fell before her magic with such ease.

Sylvia took the grain and made porridge, and with the help of Justin they fed the neighbourhood destitute for three days.

There was no stopping her after that, food, valuables, she liberated them all from the uncaring wealthy in order to fund her growing projects.

Of course she tried, and failed to hide it from her mother, Anastasia had gotten word of what she was doing, and when she got home sat her down and waited.

Sylvia hadn’t lasted five minutes of twitching and sweating before she crumbled to her mother's stern look and the awful silence.

She came clean and confessed what she had been up to.

She got an earful that night, but not on the topic she thought, her mother was mad at her for hiding it and stupidly selling goods to whichever slick hander fence would take it, not only would they cheat her of its value but it could be traced back to her.

Instead Anastasia proposed that they funnel it through her workplace, Avarice’s Descent, thereby ensuring maximum value and confidentiality.

With these plans in place Sylvia started an orphanage and soup kitchen, claiming an anonymous wealthy donor as the funder, she ran them by day with her growing cadre captained by Justin and ran across the rooftops at night, ever seeking wealth to liberate from the callous and uncaring.

Back in the present Sylvia reached the roof of Little Paws orphanage, and sliding off the edge and down a narrow pipe she swung into her open office window.

Sylvia landed silently on all fours and waited for a moment to ensure the coast was clear before she rose and stretched, enjoying the feel of her tired muscles after a long moonlit run, then made her way to a couch.

There she curled up as she sank into its luxurious plush softness.

It was one of the few things she legally owned, having saved up from some of her more legal side businesses to purchase it.

In truth Sylvia had never touched a cent of what she stole, it was never something she ever considered, the money being destined for needier hands and paws than her own..

The door opened and her ears twitched but she recognised the familiar quiet footsteps, how could she not, having heard them all her life.

“How did your weekly stroll go my little mushka?” Anastasia enquired

Sylvia answered by lifting an arm over the back of the couch, handing over her swag bag to her mother who hefted it before peering inside.

“Good, this should bring in enough for most of this year's graduating children to get apprentice assignments in the crafter’s quarter. I shall make the necessary arrangements for them tomorrow, now I must be off to the council, the other matriarchs do so hate it when I’m late.” Anastasia leant over the couch and kissed Sylvia’s cheek, eliciting a squim from her to which she responded with a gentle smile.

“Sleep well now my little mushka, I will see you later.” She murmured.

Anastasia covered Sylvia with a blanket and left the room, her footsteps firm and sure as ever.

…………………………..

Anastasia Rebekah Calgaree stored the bag of valuables in a floor safe, which she locked with both glyph and key.

She then raised her hood and left her house through a secret passage that opened from her closet, travelling for a time along secret Calgaree paths under the city.

She reached her destination after a time, and showing a particular signet ring to the guards at the door she was granted access, entering a room lit only by small sconces set into the stone walls behind each of the twelve chairs.

All the current occupants sat at the round table, ten of them in total excluding Anastasia who swiftly took her seat.

“You’re late R” a mellow voice purred, “No trouble I hope?”

“None that need concern you V.” responded Anastasia.

“Enough!” demanded a cracked and dusty, but nonetheless commanding voice, “Save your bickering for later, we have much to discuss. The Matriarch Council of the Calgaree is now in session.”

A figure, bent with age and infirmity reprimanded the two of them, D had never been a patient one, and age certainly hadn’t mellowed her.

“H! What's on the agenda this evening?” demanded D

“Yeees!” squeaked H, as the youngest of them she was tasked with the duties none of the others wanted, and she still struggled to adapt to the presence of all the other matriarchs.

Anastasia remembered filling that role not so long ago and felt a drop of pity for her, but at the same time was quite thankful it was no longer her duty.

“We have the distribution of Calgaree welfare allotments across the different nations to decide on, and then the new security measures for the banker's guild to discuss and ratify.” H finished reading from her notes and sat down.

“And what about R’s spawn?” inquired V, “Her child flouts our rules, stealing as she wishes and riling up the human nobles with her antics.”

Another matriarch lent forward, one of R’s allies on the council and the one who had first invited her here, M.

“Peace V, we have already discussed this matter, the child is young and will grow in wisdom as she gains in years, her heart is in the right place.” M persuaded, her tone soft.

D cut in, her tone rather less amiable. “And last I checked we cared little about the wants of nobles and far more about our own, we are allies, not their pets V, I would hope you know the difference between the two.”

The air thickened with tension for a moment, before V backed off.

“Of course, I was simply worried about how her actions reflect upon our people, and upon R.” V snidely replied.

“The child does more good than most of your precious nobles combined.” Anastasia bitingly snapped, angry at the continued attacks on her daughter.

She hated the politics on the council, but still came nonetheless, someone had to represent her people to make sure it was done right, and it may as well be her.

“We are getting sidetracked” spoke P, “Let us refocus and perform our duties ladies, before the males think they can do it better.”

This brought some chuckles all round, and the mood settled down as the council did what it did best, keeping the peace and looking after their own...