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All that crap could’ve been summarized in a single message. This entire trip was a waste of my phaaning time.

Rain splattered on my head and dripped down my face as I stomped through the forest bordering the nymph-infested river of Danu. I always left the city of Wast feeling dirty.

The broken buildings of the once thriving metropolis cast a long shadow over the river and surrounding forest as a reminder of the days before the phaanon and galeon war.

Though most of the city had been reclaimed, no one ventured into the ruins on the eastern side of the city. Not after so many went in, and so few returned. That section of Wast was left alone, a constant blemish on the growing city and a reminder of how a world full of technology and culture was so easily destroyed.

As one of the last phaanon strongholds during their ultimately unsuccessful war with the galeons hundreds of years ago, the ancient city had been decimated. Over time, a bustling community reclaimed the area despite crumbling buildings and cracked streets. Now, pickpockets milled in the crowded marketplaces and deadly thieves lurked in the shadows.

The phaanons were long gone now, as were most of the pureblood galeons, but the echoes of their existence remained.

Visiting a city built on death, ruins and poverty wasn’t why I felt dirty, though. No, it was meeting with Queen Titania, the leader of the forest hunters. The queen wasn’t much of a hunter so much as a politician, yet she’d maneuvered herself into a position where she could dictate the actions of everyone else.

Including me.

As one of the few galeons bonded to a familiar, I wasn’t just gifted with an ever-lasting lifespan but also an indestructible one. The queen of hunters had named me, Artemis, Guardian of the Forbidden Forest.

There wasn’t exactly a lot of competition for the role, and given the high level of danger, having an unkillable hunter in place made sense to everyone, including myself.

I protected the familiars who lived in the forbidden forest surrounding Wast—another remnant of the phaanons—but it also meant I had to attend the queen’s monthly meetings.

Despite my success as her one and only guardian, Queen Titania always spoke to me as though I were still the twelve-year-old child she’d pulled from the streets. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful for her intervention or the turn of events that granted me a better life. But she would never let me forget it, nor forget that I served her and always would.

Anger welled up inside of me. Saving twelve-year-old twins shouldn’t require a lifetime of indentured service as payment.

Not that I wanted to do anything else.

I’d never trade my familiar for anything in the world and protecting unbonded ones gave me purpose and validation. I wasn’t a victim of abuse from a rundown orphanage. I wasn’t a good for nothing street rat.

I was a protector.

An image of Nala’s panting face with her tongue lolling out the side of her snout surfaced.

I missed her.

I’d left her at home because she didn’t like the city, or the queen anymore than I did. But now I wished I was already walking through my cabin’s door instead of looking at an hour-long hike through the forest to reach home.

Maybe this rain would wash away all the city filth before I made it to the cabin.

The City of Wast…

I always thought an “e” had been purposefully dropped from the name in an attempt to rebrand the city as something less disastrous.

I preferred the forest to the crowded streets of that city any day.

A growl rose from the surrounding trees. I straightened and turned toward the sound.

Nala? I leaned forward.

The sound of a sharp whistle pierced my ear. The unmistakable hiss of an arrow cutting through the air was a sound I knew all too well from training. The arrow narrowly missed me and struck the base of a tree to my right. Someone had just tried to end my life.

Without hesitation, I dove to the ground, the cold, hard earth meeting my palms as I rolled into a defensive crouch.

With a steady hand, I unsheathed my dagger and faced my attacker, the magic coursing through my veins calling for blood. But instead of a faceless enemy, I saw a man with rugged features and intense light brown eyes. He held his bow steady, aiming directly at me.

All that mattered now was survival. He was close, too close for the bow to be an effective weapon, but if he tried to drop it now and draw the dagger strapped to his thigh, I would gain the advantage.