Weeks later, Arteja stood at the gates of the orphanage, her spear in hand and her heart racing. She had been chosen for her first mission—a simple escort job, Corliss had said. Just a supply run to a nearby village. But Arteja knew better. Nothing was ever simple outside the orphanage walls.
Lirael was beside her, her expression tense. "You ready for this?"
"No," Arteja admitted.
Lirael snorted. "At least you're honest."
The journey started uneventfully, the small group of Wardens walking in silence as they escorted the wagon through the dense forest. Arteja kept her eyes on the trees, every rustle of leaves setting her nerves on edge.
When the attack came, it was swift and brutal. Bandits emerged from the shadows, their weapons gleaming in the fading sunlight.
"Form up!" Corliss shouted, her spear already in hand.
Arteja's training took over. She blocked a blow from a sword-wielding bandit, her spear lashing out to catch him in the leg. He stumbled, and she drove the blunt end into his chest, sending him sprawling.
Around her, the other Wardens fought desperately. Arteja caught a glimpse of Lirael, her spear flashing as she defended the rear.
"Arteja, behind you!"
Arteja spun just in time to see a bandit lunging toward her. She raised her shield, the impact jarring her arm, and countered with a quick thrust of her spear. The bandit fell, blood pooling beneath him.
By the time the fight ended, the ground was littered with bodies. Arteja's hands trembled as she lowered her weapon, her breath coming in short gasps.
"You did well," Corliss said, her voice cutting through the silence. "But this is just the beginning."