Chapter 12: Way of the Thief

Over the rooftops of Ravnica, far from the Transguild Promenade, the world seemed almost undisturbed. All was quiet above the street, save for the distant cawing of crows that perched across the vista. If it had been any other day, it would have been a picturesque scene. But it wasn't any other day, and even this peace could not last long. It was shattered, unceremoniously, by a flash of prismatic light carrying Dack Fayden, the Greatest Thief in the Multiverse.

There was a moment, a split second, where Dack was still on the plane of Innistrad, in the deserted banquet hall of the Voldaren manor, just about to make off with the vampire family's ancestral blade. His hand was still outstretched, fingers poised to curl around the magnificent jeweled hilt. But then the moment evaporated, and Dack found himself plummeting to the Ravnica street below.

"Shit!" he yelled in surprise as his brain finally caught up to his body. He looked down and saw the ground beneath rapidly approaching. Thinking quickly, Dack reached out to the building he was falling next to. He searched his mind for the right incantation, and his gloved fingertips began to glow with a silken white light. They caught onto the building's side, sticking quickly and stopping his fall.

Thank the gods for that Amulet of Tarantual, he thought as he began to scale the building's side. I'll have to thank those eight-legged freaks if I ever get to go back to Thyrolis. An execution order can't last forever, right?

Dack hoisted himself over the building's guardrail and deftly landed on the deserted rooftop. He deactivated his spell, straightened out his leather waistcoat, and looked to see just where he was now.

"Ravnica," he grumbled under his breath, "why the fuck did it have to be Ravnica?"

He nervously paced on the roof of the unidentified building, running a gloved hand through his long brown hair. Dack was never a fan of the plane, with an entire section of the population dedicated to forming a military-police, and another one creating a weaving web of surveillance and bureaucracy. For someone who's life revolved around stealing magical items, it wasn't exactly the most hospitable plane.

That wasn't to say that Ravnica was squeaky-clean, and Dack was well-acquainted with the seedy underbelly. Unfortunately, that was another place where Dack was not entirely welcome at the moment. On his last trip to Ravnica, he had borrowed a hefty sum from a man named J'dashe, a dangerous elf with an unhealthy obsession for magical baubles. Dack had borrowed the Cloudstone Curio from him, only needing it for a little while. This was a few days before J'dashe died, and Dack had neglected to return the piece. On any other plane of existence, this would be a lucky break, but on Ravnica, where the Orzhov guild kept a spirit's debts alive, payment was always due.

The blade of the Voldaren was meant to pay off the rest of his debt, but now he was transported to Ravnica against his will with nothing to sell.

"How did this even happen?" he couldn't help but mutter to himself. It was a terrible habit for a thief to have, but at this point in his life, talking to himself was the only time he heard another voice addressing him besides the nagging one in his head. "One minute I'm on Innistrad, and now I'm here. Un-fuckin'-believable. I know I didn't planeswalk, so it must be something here. Maybe those damned zealots finally found a way to summon their debtors. Wouldn't that just be perf…"

His voice trailed off, and his mouth hung open in stunned silence. Though his eyes had been scanning the city since his forced arrival, he hadn't really been paying attention to the usual tiled rooftops and far-off guild spires. He had seen it plenty of times before, since his preferred route was either bounding between buildings or ducking in and out of alleyways. He never paid too much attention to specifics in his hasty leaps across the rooftops, and he had been content to think of the Ravnica skyline as nothing more than reddish-brown streaks in his free-wheeling periphery. But now, his attention was pulled to three anomalies on the horizon: a jet-black pyramid, a limestone statue of a leering dragon, and a glowing portal to another dimension.

"Huh, those are new."

Dack did not know what any of those things were doing there, but he knew for certain that they were not put there by Ravnican hands. They carried no guild symbols, and their positions put them squarely around the neutral Tenth District and Transguild Promenade. And though he had no clue what these new constructions meant for the city, it was clear from the ominous aura they exuded that it was nothing good.

He felt a sudden rush of energy course through him as he watched the looming structures. It was something deep within him, grasping hold of his planeswalker spark. Grabbing his soul and pushing forward his truest thoughts. A city that had provided him with so much was in peril, and he knew exactly what to do. He pointed a finger towards the leering monuments and, with a swashbuckling bravado, declared:

"Fuck that shit," before quickly turning on his heel and leaping to the next rooftop in the opposite direction of the Tenth District.

As he bounded from one rooftop to the next, he couldn't help but reflect on the emotional surge he felt at the sight of the new erections. It was something he had felt before, a key instinct in his title as the Greatest Thief in the Multiverse: knowing when a fight is yours to take.

I don't know what's going on over there, but I know for damn sure that it has nothing to do with me. I'm just gonna planeswalk away, I'm sure whoever's here can handle this without me.

Dack concentrated on his spark and readied himself for the jump back to Innistrad. He was midair when he let his planeswalker energy flow. He closed his eyes, and he let the magic overtake him as he had done so many times before. Silently, he was grateful to get away from Ravnica before whatever threat it faced came for him.

There's nothing I could've done, he thought, trying to convince himself that his retreat was the best move. It's not my fight, and even if it was, that shit is way above my pay grade. I hate those damned Boros, but even they probably can't stop a mile-tall portal from tearing this city apart. If there's one thing I know, it's when to get the hell out of dodge.

Even with this conviction, something about his words left a hollow feeling in Dack's stomach. He shook his head. Doesn't matter, I'm not going back.

He felt his feet hit solid ground once again, and he opened his eyes. He expected to see the rustic architecture of Innistrad bathed in silver moonlight, but all that stood before him were the shingled roofs and far-off spires of Ravnica.

"What the fuck!? Why am I still here?" Dack's mind reeled, and he was swiftly greeted by the gold projection of the Azorius symbol from his forehead. He squinted at it with pure disdain.

"Of course, it's those fucking Azorius. I don't know how they've shut off my planeswalking, but if anyone was gonna stop a planeswalker from having fun, it'd be those pencil-pushing dickheads."

Dack began to pace across the limited flat space on the rooftop. He idly kicked at a loose tile, nearly prying it from the roof in annoyance. He wracked his mind for the next course of action, now that he knew he couldn't just run away to another plane.

Should I head to the Azorius and see if I can turn off whatever's causing this? Maybe the Izzet could help with some kinda gadget. I could always head to Tin Street, as long they either don't recognize my face or left their pitchforks at home.

None of these options appealed to him, but neither did the thought of just sitting around twiddling his thumbs. With a huff, he aimed a swift kick to the loose tile he had been pushing. It broke free from its nails and fell into the adjacent alley, a soft clattering sound following its descent. Dack stared at the shadowed gap between buildings for a moment, listening to the deafening silence that followed the tile's fall. It was then that something odd finally clicked.

There's no one around here. Well, no one outside at least. Maybe they're hiding from whatever that portal is doing.

Then, just as he resigned himself to solitude, a sound flew into his eardrums. A sound that all but confirmed there were still some people out and about on the streets of Ravnica. A woman's scream rang through the air for half a second, only to be prematurely ended.

A sudden panic seized Dack's chest. He leaned his ear in the direction of the cry, hoping to hear the voice reappear for some reason, any reason. He did not hear it, but his focus revealed a different sound: the rushed clamoring of feet on cobblestones.

I'm not going over there, Dack thought, this has nothing to do with me. My first priority should be getting off this plane.

He looked to the direction of the unknown threat, the sounds of charging through the city streets resonating in his ears. And still, the voices he had heard were silent.

Dammit…

With a scowl across his face, Dack took off towards the far-off sound, leaping from building to building with a purposeful haste. When his home plane of Fiora was beset by an extraplanar threat, he had not been there to save anyone. He had not heard Mariel's final cry before her voice faded to oblivion…

Dammit, dammit, dammit!