Moonlight cut a narrow line through the crack beneath the bedroom door, a pale blade of light slanting across the floorboards. The faint creak of hinges broke the quiet as the door eased open. A tall figure stepped inside, his silhouette framed in the glow of the hallway.

  “Zara,” her father whispered. “It’s time. You need to wake up. We have to leave before dawn.”

  Zara stirred, her golden hair falling across her face. She rubbed her eyes and blinked up at him, still half lost in sleep.“Dad? What’s going on? I still don’t understand why I have to leave.”

  Scythe crossed the small room, the lines in his weathered face deepened by worry. He reached for a leather satchel resting by the bed and set it beside her.“I’ve already packed your things,” he said quietly. “You won’t need much, but these clothes will help you stay hidden.”

  He handed her a folded set of dark garments, midnight blue and black, light and flexible. Zara hesitated before taking them, sensing the urgency in his voice. As she changed, Scythe turned away, his broad shoulders trembling faintly. When she faced him again, his eyes glistened.

  “We have someone helping us escape,” he said, forcing his voice steady. “We’ll meet them soon. Once you’re out, you can’t come back, not for a long time.”

  Zara nodded nervously, shouldering the satchel. She had always felt slightly out of step with the world, like she was listening to a rhythm no one else could hear. She tried to smile, and Scythe smiled back, though his lips trembled.

  “I know it’s confusing,” he murmured. “But I promise, I’ll explain everything once we’re safe.”

  They slipped out of the servants’ quarters, their footsteps echoing softly through the stone corridor. They keep on their guard, as there are often patrols at night, they pass restricted areas as they move through the halls, a servant sees them but they say nothing, they just watch, which is more concerning than saying nothing, servants would often report unusual behaviour to get them a higher position in the palace. This time they hope nothing will be reported. Every familiar turn felt like it was being carved out of her memory. A Shoven guard stood watch near the end of the hall, hulking, armored, reptilian. His yellow eyes flicked toward them as they approached. Then he gave a short nod and a smile, very odd indeed from a Shoven, you never see them smile.

  “Thank you, Krivnarr,” Scythe whispered. “I owe you one.”

  The Shoven nodded back solemnly. “It’s fine, Zara. I’m on your side. Not all of us believe in this way, we would rather co-exist, in fact I quite like humans they are more polite, and honestly you have done a lot more for the Shoven.” He smiles again. “May the gods watch over your path.” She had never imagined hearing kindness from a Shoven.

  Zara blinked at him in confusion but followed her father through a narrow service passage that smelled of oil and dust. They emerged through a small wooden door at the edge of the palace grounds, the cool night air brushing their faces.

  “Well, that was easier than I thought,” Zara whispered, half-smiling.

  “I told you,” Scythe said. “I had help.”

  They walked in silence for a time, weaving through the sleeping city. The distant sound of laughter and old tavern songs drifted through the streets, mingling with the low hum of hover engines in the far distance. The world felt strangely still—like it was holding its breath.

  Finally, Scythe spoke.“There’s something you need to know,” he began. “Something I should have told you long ago.”

  Zara looked up, uncertain. “What is it?”

  He exhaled slowly. “You’re not my daughter. Not by blood.”

  She stopped walking. The words struck her like a physical blow.“What… what do you mean?” she stammered, eyes wide.

  “I raised you as my own,” Scythe said quickly. “But you were given to me—eighteen years ago. Entrusted to me by someone far greater than I could ever hope to be.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Dad…” Zara says.

  Scythe tries to look away from here.

  He placed a rough hand on her shoulder. “You’ve heard the story of the Chosen, haven’t you? The six born to save humanity?” He hesitates Zara nodded.

  Zara nodded slowly.

  “Well,” Scythe said softly, pride and sorrow blending in his tone. “You are the Catalyst.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  For a long moment, Zara just stared at him. “I’m the Catalyst?”

  “Yes. And that’s why we must get you out of here tonight. At dawn, the Royal Guards of Shahero will arrive. They’ll take you to the High Council, and to the others. The gods have protected their gathering for centuries. Soon, you’ll meet the rest of the Chosen.”

  Zara’s confusion turned to astonished excitement.“This… this is amazing! All my life, I thought we’d be slaves forever!” Even as she smiled, her hands trembled.

  Scythe smiled faintly. “Not you, my girl. I will stay here. This is my life. But knowing I raised the Catalyst, the one who will save us all, that’s more than I ever dreamed. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

  Zara threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too,” he said, voice breaking.

  They walked again, the silence between them full of unspoken words. Finally, Zara looked up. “Dad… what exactly is a Catalyst?”

  Scythe smiled. “It’s a rare gift. When you meet the others, you’ll absorb their abilities, you’ll be the thread that binds them together. Their leader in spirit.” It meant she would always feel what the others felt, whether she wanted to or not. “And you are the one who balances their powers.”

  Zara frowned. “So… on my own, I’m useless?”

  Scythe laughed, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief. “When you put it that way—maybe a little. But once you find them, you’ll become unstoppable.”

  She kicked a pebble along the cobblestones. “Still feels like I should have a weapon or something.”

  “You will,” Scythe said, eyes brightening. “The gods made one for each of you. Yours has been kept safe… until now.”

  Zara’s head snapped up. “A weapon? What kind? A sword? A gun? A, oh! A giant staff?”

  Scythe chuckled. “Wait here.” He disappeared into a nearby alleyway, leaving her alone in the moonlight. Zara crouched down, tracing idle patterns into the dirt with her fingertip, trying to make sense of everything she’d just learned.

  When he returned, he carried a long, heavy object wrapped in golden cloth—and a leather-bound book.“This,” he said reverently, “is your weapon. And this... your history.” The weight of it felt heavier than any weapon.

  Zara set the book down gently and unwrapped the golden fabric. Her breath caught.

  Inside lay a bow of pure white wood, its handle traced with golden filigree that shimmered under the moonlight. It was light but strong, elegant but deadly.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “What is it?”

  “The Bow of the Saints,” Scythe said proudly. “Forged from the Life Tree—the last tree destroyed by the Shoven during the Battle of Melnock. Only enough wood remained for two weapons. You’ll see its twin soon enough.”

  The bow felt warm in her hands, as it if still remembered the world before it burned.

  Zara ran her fingers over the smooth surface. “I can’t believe I’ve been trusted with something so perfect.”

  She slung the bow over her shoulder and picked up the book.“Let’s go,” Scythe said. “Shift change is soon.”

  They continued toward the city gates. The air grew colder as they approached the walls, the first hints of dawn glowing faintly over the plains.

  When they reached the gate, Scythe turned to her. His eyes were wet, his hands trembling.“Well, Zara,” he said softly, “I guess this is goodbye. It feels strange to say it.”

  Zara’s throat tightened. “I’m going to miss you, Dad.”

  “I know.” He smiled through his tears. “Be strong. This is the beginning of a new chapter, for you, and for all of Shahero. One day, they’ll write your name in the histories as the Chosen who changed the world. Just… promise me one thing.”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t forget me.”

  Zara stepped forward and hugged him one last time. “Never.”

  She pulled away, took a deep breath, and wiped her eyes. With a final, trembling smile, she stepped through the small side door and into the open plains. Before closing it, she looked back, one last glimpse of her father standing beneath the moonlight.

  The door shut softly. She did not know it then, but this was the last time she would see him free.

  Hours passed. Zara sat alone in the tall grass, watching the night fade into pale gold. Ships streaked across the sky like falling stars, their engines humming faintly. She wondered which one might be hers.

  Then she heard it, a low, deep hum from the horizon. A shadow emerged against the rising sun, growing larger until it filled the sky above her. The ship descended slowly, dust swirling beneath its thrusters. When it landed, the hum faded to a series of precise clicks, mechanical and rhythmic.

  The door hissed open.

  A man stepped out, clad in brilliant white and gold armor, a long blue cape whipping in the wind. He removed his helmet, revealing sharp features and eyes that gleamed like steel.

  “Are you Miss Zara Almasey?” he asked, his voice carrying the weight of command.

  For a heartbeat, she considered running, and then chose not to.

  Zara stood tall and nodded, smiling with newfound pride. “Yes. I am Zara Almasey, Chosen Catalyst.”

  The soldier placed a hand over his chest. “By order of the High Council of Shahero, I am to escort you to the capital. The others await your arrival. We must leave immediately.”

  Zara dipped into a small curtsey. “Then let’s not keep destiny waiting.”

  He smiled faintly, replacing his helmet as she stepped aboard. A moment later, the engines roared to life, the ship lifting gracefully from the earth. The plains fell away beneath them in a cloud of dust and light as they soared into the morning sky.

  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