*This just in: The Author is taking a short leave of absence from his headmaster position to track down the notorious Ten Silver, who has been at large since last summer...*

When the city speakers blared the news across the street, Tenley, dangling her legs over the edge of a roof, couldn't have been more delighted. Hearing that 'The Author' is looking for you is enough to make grown adults cry, but she, in her eternal combative spirit, glowed with pride.

The Author-- *The* Author, Francis Amado, creator of the most influential book of spells to ever grace the Earth-- found her dangerous enough to go after himself.

The Author hadn't included any illegal spells in his book, but certain magic was made off-limits due to criminal combinations. For example, an alchemized "sharp" and "flying" spell could create invisible daggers with deadly aim. In Tenley's own work, her main tool was a creation she had accurately dubbed 'pickpocket', a mix between "probe", "hush", and "summon".

Normally, in the case of magical crimes, The Author would send one of his mages, and if that didn't work, he would send more. They would soon close in on the criminal and rip their powers from them, leaving their eyes dull and their soul a hollow shell of itself. But Tenley was fairly sure he'd already tried it on her and failed.

About two months ago, she'd spotted a man in a cloak too extravagant for the part of town she was in. It would've been innocuous enough if not for the mint-green and marigold detailing along the hems, the classic School of Mages and Magic colors. The moment he was turned away, she whispered to the alley shadows to cover her as she slipped through them, continuing to flee until she arrived at a completely separate area, one she hadn't frequented as a thief before. She never saw the man again.

Since then, she had been especially wary of anyone, cloaked or not, that watched at her a bit too closely. Sometimes it was individuals, sometimes it was entire groups, sometimes it was a scrawny black cat perched on a nearby branch. She had made so many quick escapes she was starting to wonder if she was actually escaping anyone at all.

This news, that The Author was after her, proved her suspicions correct. She had outwitted him, and she wanted to do it again.

Despite the threat of capture, she had been carrying out her usual activities for the past few days. Going into hiding was a coward's game, and a losing one at that. So, from the roof's high vantage point, she once again scanned the populous below for potential victims.

There was a man with a leather cross-body bag-- she didn't bother probing him, most likely just work papers and the like.

Then, there was a family passing with two kids, possibly a day out at the carnival a couple blocks over? They were sure to have brought money for snacks and prizes.

Her musings were interrupted when something caught her eye. A woman dressed in silks was wearing a beautifully-bejeweled bracelet, glinting in the sun.

Her breath practically caught in her throat at the sight, and she waited for the perfect moment to strike. When the woman's hand was pointed toward the ground, Tenley slipped it off the wrist it was on and lifted it so that it flew to her own palm like a magnet. She pocketed it, and the plink of metal falling into itself was like music. The woman continued crossing the street as if nothing had happened.

The rest of the day passed like usual: loose change here and there, an old watch, a pair of brass dice from a gambler. Her most valuable pull remained the bracelet.

Throughout her mini-heists, she kept an eye out for the man himself, but saw no trace of him whatsoever. She wasn't expecting to recognize him; no one but the elites who studied under him knew what The Author looked like. Some said he could shape-shift, changing form effortlessly and as often as he wanted. But Tenley hadn't even seen anyone so much as look her way.

As the sun set the sky ablaze with orange and pink hues, she tightrope-walked the edge of the building and scaled down the ladder, using a float spell to keep her balance on the jump near the end. She skidded past vacant streets in the quickly closing darkness, making her way back to hideout, her pocket full and happy.

That is, until it began to rattle.

She stopped in her tracks, checking to see if the noise was an invention of the mind. It wasn't. She dug into the pocket, pulled out the trembling bracelet, and tossed it to the ground in front of her. It shook as if possessed. The gold slowly crept upward, melding into something else, creating a new form. It reached higher and higher until it was taller than Tenley herself.

It was then that she recognized its new form as a human shape with a head, shoulders, arms, legs, each of which was becoming more defined by the second, until everything was filled out by gold and the bracelet's texture slowly faded back into skin. By this point, every muscle in her body urged her to run, but she was afraid to look away.

Then, the person moved, tilting his head back and rolling his stiff shoulders. It was man, not young, but not old yet, only bearing the beginning of creasing around his honey-brown eyes, with a short beard and light hair that came to his shoulders. He bore the School of Mages and Magic insignia on his coat's lapel, and he was staring straight at her.

"Hello, Ten."