The sun dipped low over the horizon, bathing the land in a deep blue glow as the five remaining crafts cut silently through the dusk sky.

  Below them stretched a vast, unfamiliar landscape, cliffs, valleys, and distant plains catching the last light of day. The ships slowed as they approached the sheer face of a cliff, its stone surface smooth and unbroken.

  Then, with a low, ominous hum, the cliff began to move.

  Stone slid aside with mechanical precision, dust spilling down through the widening crack as a concealed hangar revealed itself within the rock. One by one, the five ships hovered inside and gently touched down. The empty space in the middle where Tyron’s ship should have been felt louder than the engines. Their engines powered down, leaving only a quiet echo in the vast chamber.

  A hum lingered in the air, even after the engines died. Low, steady, as if the mountain itself was breathing around the. For a moment, Samantha felt as though something was watching her, not the guards, not the Council, something...older. The hairs on her neck stand on end, the chill going down her spine.

  The Chosen stepped out of their crafts, boots touching polished stone, it feels almost familiar, the hangar feels exactly the same as the one they just departed, the marble, the metal grating, the orange lights brightening the hangar up.

  A man clad in pristine royal armour approached them, his expression polite but alert.

  “I am glad you all arrived safely,” he said. His gaze swept over the group, counting. His brow furrowed. “Wait, there are only five of you. Where is Master Tyron?” He says with a stern look at them.

  Lazarus stepped forward, shoulders heavy.

  Samantha opened her mouth to speak, then let Lazarus answer instead. “He didn’t make it,” he said quietly. “His craft was shot down over the forest outside the old base.”

  The guard’s face fell slightly.“Oh… I see. Please wait here a moment. I will take you through shortly.”

  He turned and walked toward a cluster of guards nearby, speaking in hushed tones.

  Zara stared at the ground, fists clenched.“Do you think we’ll find him?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “It’s going to be harder now,” Lazarus replied softly. “At least in daylight there was a lot of dark smoke. Let’s hope we can find him before anyone else does.”

  The conversation was cut short as the hangar erupted into motion. A large group of guards boarded sleek fighter crafts. Engines roared to life, filling the chamber with noise and vibration. Dust whipped into the air as the fighters launched one after another, shooting out through the hangar doors and vanishing into the sky. They fly over the heads of the Chosen waiting in the hangar, heat and blasts cutting through.

  Then, suddenly, it was quiet. Painfully quiet.

  The royal guard returned to them. “Let’s get going. They are waiting for you.”

  He gestured for them to follow.

  They walked through familiar marble corridors, tall white halls adorned with gold detailing, echoing faintly with each step. Eventually, they reached two massive doors like those they had passed through earlier that day. The doors swung open, revealing a grand hall beyond.

  The chamber was elegant and imposing, its marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. At the centre of the room, a soft beam of light shone down from the ceiling like a spotlight.

  “My lords,” the royal guard announced, his voice echoing through the hall, “I present to you… The Chosen.”

  A single chair rotated atop a raised platform. A man sat there, smiling as he regarded them. Six other empty chairs flanked his own.

  “Well,” he said, his tone curious and measured, “so the day has finally come. I get to meet the famous Chosen. It’s good to...” He paused, counting. “Master Argon, he fell into the Crimson forest I hear?”

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  Before anyone else could speak, the royal guard stepped forward. “My lord, I have dispatched a reconnaissance team to locate him.”

  The Elder’s smile faded, concern clouding his features. “Very well. Let us hope he is safe.”

  He rose from his chair and descended the wide steps of the platform until he stood before them.

  “Now then,” he said, “you are The Chosen. You have been summoned to save the world we once held dear. I believe the best place to begin… is at the beginning.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly as he spoke.

  “Hundreds of years ago, an event occurred that plunged our world into turmoil. The Shoven mothership cloaked itself and landed on our moon, Shaln, which orbits this planet. Shaln had a breathable atmosphere, green fields, and no intelligent life forms.”

  “So Shaln went first?” Cid asked. “Didn’t you think they’d attack eventually?” Cid shifted restlessly, speed trapped beneath his skin with nowhere to go.

  The Elder sighed, turning toward him.“No. We did not. The Shoven landed on Shaln, and for many years we lived in harmony. They would often visit Shahero, and we exchanged goods. We had agreements. Peace.”

  His expression darkened.“But they destroyed Shaln’s green fields. They mined it relentlessly, turning it into an industrial world devoted solely to production and construction. And one day… those resources began to run out.” The Elder looks towards the large window, the day slowly turning to night.

  “Well, at first, we thought nothing of it. But the scholars... they began to notice... changes. Seasons behaving strangely. Crops failing without reason. Tides shifting, sporadically. It was as if the world it itself was protesting.”

  Lazarus folded his arms.“So we lived in harmony for years. How did the invasion begin?”

  The Elder let out a short, humourless chuckle.“Harmony, yes… at times. But when the old Shoven lord died and Slamm took power, everything changed. As they mined Shaln, they built more ships. Some Shoven colonised Shahero, building towns here. We thought little of it. They were neighbours. We lived without open attack.”

  “So we were next-door neighbours?” Freya asked. “How did it begin?”

  The Elder smiled faintly and glanced at Freya’s staff.“One day, a bright light streaked across the sky, trailing smoke. My father—then Elder of Shahero—sent royal guards to investigate an attack on a small village called Slaten.”

  Cid’s eyes widened.“My hometown? But why Slaten?”

  The Elder shook his head.“No one knows. Perhaps… bad luck.”

  He continued, voice heavy.“The guards arrived to find Slaten burned to the ground. No survivors. Only an old chest, damaged by the blast. They loaded it onto their transport. Just before takeoff, a guard noticed strange footprints leading away from the village.”

  He paused, pacing again.

  Zara felt the story tug at her chest, as if it were being told for her alone.

  “They followed the tracks to a Shoven military craft. Nearby lay a wounded Shoven. We brought him in and healed him.”

  Murmurs rippled through the group.

  “Soon after,” the Elder continued, “reports came of more villages under attack. Mostly military Shoven. The mining villages tried to keep to themselves, Shoven who wanted an honest life. But tensions rose. Fights broke out. War has two sides.”

  Lazarus spoke quietly, but firmly.“And the Shoven you saved? Was he grateful?”

  Pain flickered in the Elder’s eyes.“He was. We remain in contact to this day. He warned us of the full-scale invasion. Helped us prepare.”

  Freya’s fingers tightened around her staff, fire flaring briefly before she forced it down.

  He met Lazarus’s gaze.“There are good Shoven, Lazarus. You will have to trust some of them.” The Elder says looking to Lazarus. “The war is not as simple as you believe.” The Elder states. “There are forces at work, far greater than any of us, the Shoven are not here by chance...”

  Lazarus said nothing, but his jaw locked like a gun being cocked.

  “Let’s get back to the story,” Cid said quickly.

  The Elder nodded.“Yes. Once we knew war was coming, we assembled an army. Men. Women. Anyone who could hold a weapon. We waited, knowing they would strike first.”

  His shoulders sagged as he spoke.

  “And then… the sky tore apart, ships coming through, like the skies heavens had tore open.”

  Samantha flinched, already seeing fragments of it unfold in futures she couldn’t change.

  The hall was silent.

  “They came. War rooms formed. Camps built. Those who could not fight were hidden away. Bunkers. Safe houses.”

  Zara swallowed.“So… they arrived. Then what?”

  The Elder exhaled slowly.“Then came the battle that would shape all of your futures.”

  Somewhere deep in the mountain, alarms murmured, quiet, constant, and unresolved.

  And for the first time since they had been named Chosen, each of them felt it.

  The war had already begun.

  But something else had awakened with it.

  Thanks for reading!

  Every time someone spends a few minutes in the world of Shahero, it honestly means more than I can properly put into words. Seeing people follow the journey of Tyron, Samantha, Lazarus, Freya, Cid, and Zara makes all the hours of writing worth it.

  If you enjoyed the chapter, feel free to leave a comment or follow the story. I read every comment, and it genuinely helps the story reach more readers here on Royal Road.

  A few people have also asked how they can support the project as I work toward eventually publishing the book. If that’s something you’d like to help with, there’s a support link below that goes toward editing and preparing the story for print.

  No pressure at all though—reading the story is already huge support.

  Question for readers:What moment in this chapter stood out to you the most?

  See you in the next chapter.

  — Matthew Cooke-Sumner