The clock ticked rhythmically on the far wall, each second cutting through the still air of the classroom. Sunlight streamed through the tall window panes, dust motes swirling lazily in its beams. Rows of students sat at their desks, quiet and attentive,

  Outside the class room the streets move constantly. Kaldrins crossing never seemed to rest. Bells chime in the distance caravans coming through the city controlled by Shoven, pulled by men. The distant call of traders and the low hums of hover cars drifting along.

  Colour moved constantly outside making it hard to focus in the class room. Desert robes beside northern furs, merchant silks brushing past the travellers, come to visit and trade in the city. All flowing through this cross roads city like a relentless cascading tide. Even here, in the stillness of the school the sounds crept in. Shoven patrols pressed along the outer road, armour glinting between the market awnings, the conversation in the room dipped for only a heart beat before rising again, careful, measured.

  The clock still kept on ticking, steady, rhythmic, as though the city was counting down to something no one could see.

  Samantha.

  Her long blonde hair was tied neatly into a bun, though a few rebellious strands had already escaped, framing her curious face. Her eyes were fixed on the window. Samantha noticed how people walked here. Humans moving aside when Shoven approached, not in fear, but habit. The Shoven would never linger too long in one place, it's as if even they understood that pressing too hard would drive the city ito open conflict. It was a careful dance, practised, fragile, and exhausting, as she looks out she sees a Kharin, brown in colour, this animal has features like a cat but the size of a dog, as loyal as a dog, as caring as a cat. It runs along in front of its owner, looking back now and again, the Kharin makes a cry as it looks back as its owner.

  Then her smile vanished. The sensation was never gentle, more like being dragged a step sideways out of her own body.

  A hover car glided swiftly around the corner, its red exhaust burning hot against the morning light. The dog darted across the road, straight into its path.

  Samantha shot upright, her chair scraping across the floor.“Watch out!” she screamed.

  The whole class turned, startled. But it was too late. The vehicle passed, and in a blink, the dog was gone, vaporized in a shimmer of red smoke.

  The scream still echoed in her throat when the teacher’s chalk clattered against the board.

  “What is the meaning of this, Sam?” Miss Quint snapped, her face tight with irritation.

  Samantha blinked, looking from the teacher to the window. The city appears calm again, trades being completed just a stones throw from where she is sat, but Samantha notices something, a tension, behaviour changes she had her vision but something didn't feel right. The Kharin, gone. The hover car gone. Everything looked normal.“I’m… I’m sorry, miss,” she stammered. “I saw a Kharin, he was hit by a hover car.” She knew the difference between imagination and this; this felt solid, inevitable.

  “There is nothing there, Samantha,” Quint said sharply, gesturing to the window. “Do not interrupt my lesson again.”

  She turned back to the board, picking up her chalk as if nothing had happened.“Now, let’s hope we don’t see any more outbursts. Everyone, turn to page one hundred and fifty-four: The Enslavement of the Shoven.”

  The classroom filled with the sound of rustling books and flipping pages.

  “Can anyone tell me the myth of the Chosen?” Quint asked, placing heavy emphasis on the word myth.

  Samantha’s hand shot into the air immediately, her face lighting up.

  “Yes, Samantha?” Quint said, half-smiling in amusement.

  “The story says there are six special people,” Samantha began eagerly, “children created by the gods to save the world. On their eighteenth birthday, they’re told of their abilities—of their destiny.”

  “Very good, but not quite, these Chosen intend to destroy the Shoven, the Shoven who have done so much for Kalrdin's Crossing.” Quint smiles, in an odd tone, like she can't quite believe what she is saying. “Let's not forget they brought unity to our small city.” Quint said, nodding approvingly as she turned back to the board. She wrote The Chosen in large white letters. “At least someone’s been paying attention.”

  Samantha sat back, a small, satisfied grin tugging at her lips.

  “Now,” Quint continued, “does anyone know what abilities the Chosen were said to possess?”

  Samantha’s hand shot up again, so did another’s. Korla, the boy in the back. Slicked hair. Glasses. The type who always had the answer and made sure everyone knew it.

  “Ahh, Korla,” Quint said, pretending not to see Samantha’s raised arm. “Please, go on.”

  Korla straightened, his tone confident. “It’s said one can see the future, one has incredible speed, one commands black magic, and one is destined to lead them. Another is a long-range marksman. And then there’s the Catalyst, the one who connects them all. She can use all their abilities, though weaker.”

  “Excellent, Korla! That’s completely correct.”

  Korla leaned back, smirking in Samantha’s direction. She slumped in her seat, folding her arms. No one met her eyes, and that hurt more than the laughter.

  “But isn’t it possible,” Samantha interjected, “that the Chosen could appear soon? I mean, the legends say...”

  “Yes, Samantha,” Quint cut her off, her tone icy. “But these are just stories. Old tales told to make people feel safe. The Shoven have brought order to our world, funded this very school. We owe them gratitude, not suspicion.”

  Quint looks to Samantha almost like she is directing her words to her alone. “Kaldrin's Crossing has never been attacked, that is the cost of wisdom.”

  She turned back to her desk, scribbling notes. From the corner of the room, Korla snorted.

  “Yeah, right,” he muttered loud enough for the class to hear. “You think you could be one of them? Please. The gods wouldn’t pick the biggest dork in the world.”

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  Laughter erupted. Samantha lowered her head, cheeks burning, staring at the floor until the noise faded. She forced herself to look back out the window.

  Her heart stopped.

  The same Kharin was walking along the fence.

  She whispered under her breath, “Déjàe lune?”

  “Samantha!” Quint barked. “Sit down this instant!”

  But Samantha was already on her feet. She bolted for the door, ignoring the shouts behind her as she runs through the corridor, teachers stepping out of the class rooms to see the commotion unfold, Shoven and humans trying to stop her. She pushed the door with such force, splintering the frame, as she tore down the corridor and out the school gates.

  Outside, the world seemed to slow. The Kharin was halfway across the road now—the same hover car humming toward him, exactly as before.“It’s the same,” she breathed. “I’ve seen this.” Every detail matched the first vision perfectly, right down to the Kharins uneven limp.

  Without thinking, she lunged forward, diving into the road. Her arms wrapped around the dog as they tumbled together, rolling across to the other side just as the hover car screamed past. The red heat of its exhaust brushed her skin but missed.

  For a moment, everything was still. Then the dog licked her cheek, tail wagging wildly. Samantha laughed, breathless. A Sharp ache bloomed behind her eyes, like time itself protesting the change.

  Behind her, the school gates creaked open. Quint stood there, pale with shock, and beyond her hundreds of students pressed against the classroom windows, watching.

  Quint hurried over, kneeling beside her.“Samantha… how did you know?”

  Samantha hesitated. “I don’t really know,” she said honestly. “It’s like I black out and see things before they happen. Sometimes I can change them. Sometimes I can’t.”

  Before Quint could respond, an elderly woman came running down the street, tears in her eyes.“Oh, thank you! You saved my Khea! I don’t know what I’d have done without him!” She clutched Samantha’s hands, pressing something small and wrapped in silky white fabric into them. “Please, take this. But don’t open it until tomorrow, it’s a birthday surprise.”

  Samantha blinked. “How did you know it’s my birthday tomorrow?”

  The woman smiled. Then a golden pulse rippled around her, and she vanished into thin air. Whatever the woman had been, she was not human.

  Samantha gasped. “What… what just...”

  Quint’s hand gripped her shoulder. “We need to go inside,” she said quietly. “Now.”

  “But I didn’t do anything wrong,” Samantha protested. “I saved a kharin!”

  “I know,” Quint murmured, voice low and uneasy. “But I think you’re right.”

  Samantha frowned. “Right? About what?”

  Quint didn’t answer. They walked in silence through the hallways. Students whispered as she passed, eyes wide with curiosity and fear. By the time they reached the headmaster’s office, Samantha’s stomach twisted into knots.

  “Wait here,” Quint said, slipping inside.

  Samantha sat outside, fidgeting with the white-wrapped parcel. Through the thick door she could hear muffled voices, then the unmistakable sound of Shoven grunts. Outside the office she heard armour ringing as it hits together and heavy breathing, they were taling out the front but it was only murmurs.

  “Okay, Samantha,” Quint said softly. “Froug is ready for you.”

  Samantha stepped inside. The office smelled faintly of musk and ink. Froug, the Shoven headmaster, loomed behind his massive desk. His scaly snout glistened in the light as his small eyes tracked her carefully.

  Before he could speak, Samantha blurted out, “I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just wanted to save him, I saw it happen before it did, and I thought, well, I thought I could stop it! Please don’t expel me, I...”

  “Breathe, Samantha,” Froug interrupted, his deep voice rumbling. “You are not in trouble.”

  She paused, confused. “Then… why am I here?”

  Froug stood, shuffling over to a tall shelf. He retrieved a heavy book and returned to his seat, the chair creaking under his weight.“Ever since you arrived at this school,” he said, “I’ve known you were different. You absorb knowledge like no other. You are not… ordinary.” His interest felt clinical, not curious.

  Samantha frowned. “Sir, you can’t honestly think I’m one of the Chosen. That’s ridiculous. I’m just... me.”

  “Is it ridiculous?” Froug’s tone darkened. “You see things before they happen. You are brighter than any other student. You call that normal?” He clears his throat with a deep almost sickening croak. “You see Samantha, the Chosen are a rumour, but if this is true they would create disorder in this world, we have all tried to create unity and get along as two races.”

  Her heart pounded. She shook her head. “No. It’s not possible.”

  Her vision began to blur. The room tilted. Suddenly, she saw—vividly—a glass of water slipping off the desk, shattering as Froug reached to catch it. The phone ringing. A voice shouting on the other end.

  She gasped and blinked. Everything was still again. The glass sat safely on the desk.

  “Samantha?” Froug said, watching her carefully. “Your eyes just glazed over.”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. “Just… thought I saw something.”

  “Another vision?” His voice sharpened with interest.

  Before she could answer, she felt herself sway. Froug turned to fetch water.“Here, let me...”

  His tail swung, knocking the glass from the desk. It fell, exactly as she’d seen.“Don’t catch it!” she shouted. “Just answer the phone!”

  The phone rang instantly. Froug froze, staring at her, then slowly picked it up.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “I have her right here.”

  Samantha’s blood ran cold. Quint locked the door behind her.

  “She isn’t going anywhere,” Froug said, his grin widening. “We have her.”

  Samantha’s breath caught. She closed her eyes, forcing the fog to form again—searching for any glimpse of what would come next.A vision struck her like lightning.

  Shoven guards. Marching. Dozens of them. Their boots thundered through the school halls, stopping outside this very door. A heavy knock.

  She opened her eyes. Froug’s excitement was unmistakable. He knew what she was.

  Her hand slipped into her pocket. The parcel. The amulet.

  She unwrapped it quietly. If she was wrong, this would be the moment everything ended. Inside was a white pendant, and a card.I knew one of the Chosen wouldn’t wait. Put this on.

  Samantha smiled faintly. “Guess I’m impatient,” she whispered.

  As she clasped it around her neck, the amulet began to glow, soft at first, then blinding. A pulse of energy burst outward, consuming the room in white light.

  When the light faded, she was gone.

  Outside, she appeared by the gates of the school. The pendant still shimmered against her chest. She glanced back to see the Shoven guards flooding the yard, their weapons drawn.

  “What just happened…” she whispered.

  A voice came from behind her.“Like you thought,” it said. “You are one of the Chosen. You have to run. You’re the only hope this world has left.”

  She spun around. Korla stood there, expression unreadable. The answers he always had suddenly made sense.

  “Korla?” she breathed. “You...”

  But before she could finish, the guards approached.“Master Korla!” one called. “We’ve breached the school, but she’s escaped.”

  Korla’s gaze flicked toward the empty alley where Samantha had stood moments before. A small smile crept across his face.“Very good,” he said calmly. “Check the perimeters. We cannot lose her. The chief will kill us for this failure.”

  He turned and strode back into the school, his tailcoat flicking behind him.The smile never left his face.

  Somewhere beyond the school walls, time adjusted itself around the girl who had slipped free.

  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