The forest was Artemis’s domain. She moved through the pines without snapping a twig, a silver ghost on the trail of the greatest quarry she had ever tracked.
In the valley below, Bahamut rested.
He was colossal. A dragon of platinum scales that shone like mirrors, each one the size of a shield. He did not look like a monster; he looked like a king. His eyes were closed, seemingly asleep, but the very air around him hummed with a low, protective resonance.
Artemis knocked her moonlit arrow. She respected this beast. She felt the divinity radiating from him. But she was the Huntress, and he was the prey.
The Silver Shot
She loosed. The arrow flew true, a beam of moonlight aiming for the gap beneath the dragon’s wing—the classic weak point.
Clang.
The arrow bounced. It didn't shatter; it simply reflected, spinning harmlessly away into the grass.
Bahamut opened one eye. It was golden, ancient, and filled with a terrifying intelligence. "Peace, Little Sister," he rumbled. His voice sounded like church bells.
Artemis scowled. She moved instantly, sprinting through the canopy, firing three more shots in mid-air. Eye. Throat. Underbelly.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The Platinum Dragon didn't even flinch. His scales were not just armor; they were absolute law made solid.
The Aegis of Law
"I said peace," Bahamut commanded.
He spread his wings. He didn't breathe fire; he exhaled a wave of shimmering force—the Wyrm's Righteous Breath.
Artemis leaped back, dodging the wave, but the forest around her... didn't burn. It bloomed. The breath was cleansing, pushing away shadows and calming the wild aggression of the woods.
Artemis felt her own battle-fury dampen. It was hard to fight closer to a creature that felt so... right.
"You are not a beast," Artemis realized, lowering her bow slightly. "You are an anchor."
"And you are a hunter who has forgotten why she hunts," Bahamut said, rising to his full height. He eclipsed the moon. "You hunt to protect the wild. I protect the world."
Artemis realized with a sinking feeling that she could empty her entire quiver and not scratch him. He was not an enemy to be slain; he was a mountain to be navigated.
She slung her bow over her shoulder. The hunt was over not because she had lost, but because there was no victory to be had.
"The forest is yours tonight, Dragon," she muttered, fading into the shadows.
Bahamut lowered his head and went back to sleep.