The obnoxious high pitched shriek of a cockatryon jolted her awake. Springing upwards, she glared out the window to see the creature gloating from its roost upon a dark oak fence. His beady little eyes jeering at her, as he cocked his antlers back. Sighing, she rolled out of bed and padded into the quaint, but mildly cramped kitchen of her family home. Early morning sunlight streamed in through the cottage windows, warming the wooden floorboards beneath them. She grabbed the ketal and filled it with fresh water that had been gathered from the well the previous morning. Placing it on metal hooks above the sunken cobblestone hearth, she relit the dwindling embers that remained, and began to boil the water for the morning tea. As she waited, she spied her gran from the other room, sitting in her rocking chair, breathing heavily from a deep slumber. She couldn’t remember when the sickness first came, but the old woman’s health had been declining ever since. She could, however, recall a time when she was about 11 years of age. She had crept into her unknowing grandmother’s room and waited silently at the door, watching her. The woman sat on the edge of her bed in a hunched heap, clutching an old picture frame of a more youthful woman. The photograph of the lady was one she and her gran had looked at so many times, that if she closed her eyes at night, sometimes she could swear the lady was still right there with them. As the 11 year old girl watched on, the glass of the photo becoming more and more spotted with tears, it was then for the first time that she began to understand just how hard her grandmother worked. How hard the death of her daughter, the girl’s mother had been for her. It was then that she swore she would take care of her grandmother as long as she could. But even now, 7 years later, she could still remember her saying, so clearly, and with so much love in her eyes,

“My little starlight, Astraea. I don’t know what I would do without you…” and she knew now more than ever how much she still depended on the woman.

The sudden whistling of the tea kettle drew her from her reverie. After pouring and steeping the herbal drinks, she brought one to her gran’s side table and rested on the stool by her feet for a moment, sipping at her own. This had become part of Astraea’s morning routine. Afterwards she would dress herself, clean up the home and tend to any plants in the garden before returning to her grandmother’s side. Lately though, the old woman had been sleeping for longer and longer periods throughout the day. This worried her some, but it was better than if her grandmother was in constant pain.

“Do you remember the guild I told you about, gran?” She asked, knowing she wouldn’t get a response. “They’re giving me more work tonight. Kolas said it’s supposed to pay a lot. Doesn’t that sound great? Maybe then I could actually afford the nicer medicine they sell up in Cleaso! I know it’d be risky, but I’d make sure to hide my ears…” Astraea smiled at the woman. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ll see you soon, granny, rest up!” She rose from the stool and grabbed her cloak that hung near the door. She opened it for a second and looked back, “Please understand, I’m just doing this for you…” Then raising her hood to cover her pointed ears, she left, closing the door with a soft click.

Astraea lived in the southern outskirts of the town known as Oberon. The northern region was highly populated with lower class humans and anthripes, commonly working as merchants or in taverns to scrape by. North of Oberon was the higher class city known as Cleaso, where the rich humans resided. And finally, Highland. The central human kingdom of Ioshon, ruled by the racist, anthripe hating, tyrant, king Lucian. She gradually left behind the grassy farmland of her home and made her way into town. She climbed up towards the stony bridge that acted as the entryway to the main heart of Western Oberon, noting the wooden sign perched by its side reading Welcome to Oberon! with a side note of anthripes welcome! She gave a half-hearted sigh and continued her journey. Taking the less traveled cobblestone back roads to the tavern where her guild members would meet. It would probably be safest anyways, considering the giant looming castle in the distance that served as a constant reminder that her kind wasn’t really welcomed here. Astraea rounded the corner and spotted the tavern up ahead. Despite its outward appearance of peeling paint and a missing sign that was most likely stolen by drunken hooligans again, it’s business fared surprisingly well in the evenings. As she entered, she was relieved to find that the early afternoon crowd was slim to none, part of the reason why her guild reserved a space in its hold during these hours. The few guests that were gathered, were busy drinking and eating in small groups near the main bar, far from the back rooms, tables, and lodging. She headed towards her destination, a door in the far corner and checked, just in case, to make sure no one was following her. Inside the room, the other members stood gathered around a large table covered with several wrinkled maps, scattered books and a few tankards of mead. At the head of the table was the saurian guild leader, Kolas. He looked up with a displeased mug as Astraea entered.

“You’re late.” He growled.

“I needed to make sure I wasn’t followed.” A partial truth. Kolas simply snorted in disbelief and returned to explaining his plans. She drew closer to the table and found a spot next to Sage, the talented, lycan, artificer who had taken it upon herself to become Astraea’s mentor.

“You’re lucky all we had time to do so far was set up. You need to be here to listen to the entire briefing.” Sage hissed in her ear. Astraea nodded apologetically. After coming closer, she began to notice what some of the maps were of. The largest one in the center of the table looked like an archive of a large building’s layout. Next to it looked like two letters. One was sent from Alcor, a different guild member who was off investigating in Preale, the other, addressed to a noble Lady by the name of Earenadell, with an invite to a gala the king would be throwing tonight.

“Until now, I’ve kept this mission secret from all but a trusted few scouts in charge of gathering more intel. It was important to make sure no word got out of what we’re going to attempt tonight,” Kolas went on. “The scouts we have in the kingdom were able to confirm the whereabouts of the score, thanks to Sylvan’s research, and Alcor was able to get us access to the gala.” Uriel scoffed at the mention of the human spy. It was obvious the dwarf didn’t trust Alcor, but Kolas made it clear that he trusted him with his life.

“We’ll wait until after all of the guests have arrived, allowing the perimeter security to thin out more. Whoever remains will be knocked out by Merek and Cyrus who will then pose as guards by the main entrance.” He held up one of the guard’s uniformed chest plates he had in possession for example. “The same scouts I mentioned earlier will pose as the help, and get in position to meet Sylvan at the drop point,” He pointed to a place outside of the building's walls, where a river flowed into a lowered cave-like tunnel, blocked off by a metal grate in the hillside. “Once Sage sets off the distraction in the main hall, allowing our mole to grab the score and make a run for it. The mole will exit through this window at the South end of the main hall, using the rope that I and Uriel will put in place after the guard changes, the mole and Sage will descend the wall and meet the scouts by the castle’s drain system,” Kolas moved the top map to reveal a scroll sketched with a network of tunnel systems. “Sylvan was also able to plan out the route we’ll take back to the tavern,” He traced the faint red marks on the map. “Memorize it and make sure it doesn’t get into anyone else's possession. Once we meet back here, we’ll discuss how to split the profit. Any questions?”

“Yeah, who’s the mole gonna be? And what exactly are we stealing?” Cyrus the triclops spoke up from the opposite side of the table, his shaggy hair pushed away from his third eye.

“Do you know why the king is throwing this gala?” Sylvan mocked from his spot near the wall. The river drelki adjusted his glasses and turned over the few papers he held in his blue webbed hands, revealing a sketch of an encased elegant golden crown perched upon a silk pillow. The front piece of it was laden with spindly overwrapping branches of the precious metal that joined in the center to hold an enrapturing emerald green gem stone. Beneath it, the gold branches fell away to a pointed spindle at the base of the center. No one answered him, and Kolas simply looked on with an amused expression.

“Tonight, king Lucian will be displaying a rare, and expensive relic he came across on his travels. This crown, rumored to be 30,000 marks, is supposed to be for the 12th birthday of the human princess, Carina, but instead will be the next score of our guild.” 30,000 marks?! Astraea couldn’t believe the number she had just heard. Even split between the 10 of us, I would have enough to pay for a warlock’s services to heal grams! I’d even have enough to buy us a new home!! Excitement and hope began to fizz through her. She could tell the other guild members were as equally delighted.

“Alright, but who’s gonna be this mole you keep talking about, Kolas?” Cyrus continued, still slightly skeptical.

“Astraea is.” The saurian turned to look at her.

“What?!” Her jaw dropped open. The other guild members roused their inhibitions. “You can’t be serious, Kolas! Why me?! I’m the least experienced out of all of you!” Kolas brought down an orange scaled fist upon the great oak table, silencing the guild with an icy look in his amber eyes.

“Astraea, you are the only member of this guild that passes close enough for the human, Earenadell,” He paused for a moment, his gaze locked with hers. Then his armoured shoulders relaxed, and he crossed his scaly arms over his broad chest. “And I believe you’re ready for the task. But the choice remains yours. Are you in?” Astraea’s mind raced with doubt. She worried over all of the things that could go wrong. If she failed, everyone would suffer for it… But if she succeeded..? Could she actually do it? Her gaze swept across the room. Her guild, her family, the anthripes that had taught her everything she knew about this life. Did they believe in her the way Kolas did? They seemed to realise what she was thinking, because one by one they gave her a subtle nod of approval. After all these years, tonight she would truly prove herself. She looked back to Kolas and gave a small smile.

“Definitely.”

After the meeting ended, and the guild slowly began to disperse, Sage found Astraea and pulled her aside.

“Are you sure you’re up for this…?” Every inch of her seemed to be trembling with worry.

“I have to be…” Astraea insisted. Gran needs it… Sage gave a heavy sigh, then turned her green eyes back up and nodded sympathetically. Sage knew all about her grandmother’s condition.

“After tonight, if we succeed, do you think it’ll be your last heist with the guild?” They began to leave the back room and entered the main dining hall of the tavern.

“I hope so. If it all goes according to plan, I’ll have enough to hire a warlock to heal her! Then we’ll probably repair the garden to sell more crops to merchants in Oberon and Cleaso.” Just thinking about it made her spirits soar. I can’t wait till she’s on her feet again! We’ll have to do something to celebrate!

“That sounds wonderful, but…” Sage stopped mid step, and placed a tender, worn hand upon Astraea’s shoulder. “I just want you… Need you, to recognize how risky this job is. I’m sure you know the price if we fail... All of our heads will be on the stakes…” That’s when she understood. She’s not just worried, she’s scared..! Everyone else must be too… She hadn’t really realized until now, but Kolas was right. She looked the most human out of all of them, and even for the other guild members to be posing as servants was extremely risky for them. They would be walking straight into the King’s grasp and then stealing from him. If they were caught, the consequences would be worse than death…