Melnock was beautiful in the past.

  It wasn’t the choking, soot-stained monster Samantha knew in her own time, no iron pipes crawling over rooftops, no smog hanging like a permanent bruise above the streets. Here, the city gleamed. White-and-gold buildings caught the sunlight and threw it back in brilliant flashes. Banners fluttered on clean stone walls. Vendors called cheerfully from bright market stalls, their voices woven with laughter and music. Children ran through open squares without fear.

  And there were no Shoven.

  Samantha walked through it all with a tightness in her chest she couldn’t name. Part awe, part grief. She’d never seen Melnock like this. She didn’t even think it had been real, this version of it, before everything burned.

  A line of royal guards escorted her through the city and up to the palace. The great doors, white with gold inlay, opened into a bright, welcoming courtyard. Light spilled across marble, fountains, and neatly trimmed greenery. The air smelled like clean water and fresh herbs, not smoke and oil.

  They brought her through the courtyard and into the palace entryway.

  “Samantha! It is lovely to see you again.”

  The voice caught her completely off guard.

  She turned, and froze.

  The King of Shahero stood before her as if he belonged in a painting. His armour was spotless white with intricate gold inlay, and a matching robe fell neatly around him. His eyes sparkled with warmth as he smiled, beard reduced to a neat stubble that made him look younger than Samantha expected for a king. He looked… alive. Whole. Untouched by the fate she knew waited for him.

  “Again?” Samantha blurted, confused. “I’ve never been to this time before?”

  The king studied her, gaze sharpening slightly, not suspicious, but thoughtful, as if he were comparing her to a memory. “You are right,” he said slowly. “You look younger than I remember.”

  Samantha’s stomach dipped. “I have been here before… but me from the future?”

  “Yes indeed.” His smile returned, gentle and strangely familiar. He gestured for her to walk with him. “This is not our first meeting. For you it is, but you have been here a few times.”

  Samantha followed him automatically, boots tapping softly on polished stone. The palace halls were airy and sunlit, the kind of place that felt like peace had been carved into the walls.

  “What can I do for you?” the king asked. “I imagine this is part of your quest?”

  “I’m training,” Samantha said, trying to keep her voice steady. Saying it aloud still felt unbelievable. “I’ve come here to find a man called Tink. He has an ability where he pops in and out of time without knowing where he’s going to go.”

  She waited for him to laugh.

  He didn’t.

  Instead he nodded, as if she’d asked him to locate a missing horse.

  “I’m not sure about him,” the king admitted. “This is the first time I heard you mention him. Do you know where he would be so that we can assist you?”

  “I really don’t know.” Samantha rubbed at her forehead, still feeling the lingering heaviness from the time vortex. “I located him in this time, but I lost focus and time just whipped across. I might be in the right time… and I might not. I really can’t be sure.”

  “Well that does sound complex.” He rubbed at his beard like a man considering a difficult chess move.

  Samantha glanced around the palace, weighing every word. She didn’t want to cause ripples. Didn’t want to say too much and accidentally fracture something that should stay intact. But she needed something, a clue, a year, an anchor point.

  She tried to nudge it carefully.

  “So… Shoven?”

  The king’s mouth twitched in amusement, like he’d heard that exact nervous question before. “Always so nervous about your timeline, aren’t you?” he said softly. “They are on Shaln. There are a few mining villages currently set up by the Shoven. All seem to be happy as it is.”

  Relief loosened a knot in Samantha’s chest.

  “Okay,” she said, trying for casual and failing. “That’s… a start. Thank you. I wasn’t sure how much you knew.”

  The king led her down a corridor lined with tall windows, the city spread beyond them like a living map. Green fields. Trees. Blue sky. A world untouched by what Samantha had grown up believing was normal.

  “I know more than I should,” the king said quietly.

  Samantha’s breath hitched.

  He stopped at an archway overlooking the city and leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the stone. Samantha joined him, drawn by the view, then by the sudden weight in his voice.

  “I know I will be killed when the Shoven attack,” he said, calm in a way that felt unnatural. “And I know not to interfere. I have to accept the outcome.” He exhaled slowly. “It is a strange fate, knowing your death, and how you cannot do anything about it. This city relies on me, and I have to face the fact that I failed them… but I do this alive.” He glanced down as if the streets themselves could answer him. “It is like a grief. Not for me—for the city.”

  Samantha swallowed. The breeze lifted her hair gently, the sunlight warm on her face, and yet she felt cold.

  “But if it wasn’t for that,” she said carefully, “the Chosen wouldn’t exist?”

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  “No.” The king’s eyes shifted to her. “Of course you wouldn’t. But is that any better for you?”

  Samantha let out a short, humourless laugh. “I am glad I’m here,” she admitted. “I’m glad I have more purpose in life… however right now I am not much use.”

  The king stood in silence for a moment, simply looking out. Samantha did too, trying to hold this version of the city in her mind, so she’d never forget what they were fighting to bring back.

  “So,” he said at last, turning slightly toward her, “how do we fix your issue? Tink, was it?”

  Samantha nodded, worry returning like a tide.

  “I need to find him so that we can get back to our own time,” she said, leaning her back against the wall. Her head still ached, as if time travel left bruises behind the eyes. “I have to help him. Usually he finds his way back, but… this is for my Chosen training. I can’t just teleport out and leave him behind. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  The king’s expression softened. “Shall we get out of the palace?” he suggested. “Walk the streets. Who knows—maybe someone will know something. Besides…” He smiled faintly. “It gets quite stuffy in this palace sometimes. A good walk is always nice.”

  They stepped outside into the bright day. The sun was high, warmth sitting heavily on stone and skin. It felt like a world that didn’t know fear.

  “It’s beautiful,” Samantha murmured, taking in the colours, the open sky, the sound of laughter. “I’ve never seen it like this.”

  They walked together through the streets, and Samantha, almost without realising—began to talk. About the past few days. The chaos. The pressure. The constant running. The mission that didn’t allow her to breathe.

  The king listened with patient interest, like her words mattered.

  “What happens if you can’t find Tink?” he asked hesitantly. “Are you stuck here?”

  Samantha stopped walking.

  “You know…” she said slowly, dread creeping into her voice, “I never thought of that.”

  The thought made her stomach twist. The Chosen waiting. The mission moving forward without her. Zara. Freya. Lazarus. Everyone scattered and struggling.

  “I really hope not,” Samantha whispered. “I can’t leave until I find Tink.”

  The king’s gaze sharpened. “There is a brew bar up here,” he said. “They may know something? Worth a shot, right?”

  They stepped inside.

  The entire bar went still.

  Conversation died mid-sentence. Heads turned. A king entering wasn’t a common sight—and certainly not with a stranger in armour.

  “Go back to your drinks, guys,” the king called easily, taking the tension out of the room with a smile. “Just here with a friend.”

  They sat at a table. A bartender hurried over and curtsied.

  “Can I get you anything, my lord?”

  “Emberbrew for me,” the king said, then glanced at Samantha with a knowing look. “And for you, Samantha… it’s a desert fire tea, isn’t it?”

  Samantha blinked. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I remember more than you think.”

  A few minutes later, a steaming mug arrived for the king, and a small ornate pot with an empty cup was set before Samantha. The scent of desert fire tea curled upward like comfort.

  Samantha stopped the girl before she could leave. “Sorry, before you go, we’re looking for someone. Goes by the name of Tink. Has anyone come through here today under that name?”

  The girl nodded immediately. “Yes, I know Tink. He lives near here, just down the street. He is usually hanging out in the street.”

  Samantha’s breath rushed out in relief. “Great. He’s here. Let’s go.”

  They left the bar and walked the street, scanning faces. Samantha’s eyes darted over crowds, searching for someone who could flicker out of existence at any moment.

  She spotted a group of teenagers messing around near a wall, laughing loudly, shoving one another like the world was endless.

  “These kids might know,” Samantha said. “Let me ask them.”

  She stepped forward. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Tink. Do you know where he is?”

  One of the teenagers turned slowly.

  “That would be me,” he said. “Who is asking?”

  He stood with jet black hair down to his shoulders, face still boyish but eyes already sharp, already carrying the hint of someone who had learned to watch the world carefully.

  Samantha froze.

  “Oh…” Her throat went dry. She turned toward the king, dread and realisation colliding. “You are Tink… Oh no.”

  She swallowed hard. “This is Tink as a teenager. I must have located him in time only it was the younger version of him…”

  Her thoughts tangled. What do I do now?

  The king’s expression shifted instantly, concern and calculation. “Oh. This is not good.” He hesitated, then his face brightened slightly, like he’d reached for an answer in a pile of memories. “Wait. Samantha told me, well, you told me, about an anchor being. Zara, was it? She can draw you back into her timeline and you can get back.”

  Samantha stared at him, stunned. “That’s… that’s amazing. Thank you.”

  She clutched her amulet, fingers tight around it. “I’m glad I’ve met you before,” she breathed, “but haven’t.”

  She closed her eyes, forcing calm. Focusing on Zara. On her timeline. On the pull she’d felt before, the thread that tied her to her present.

  Time warped around her.

  Scenes whipped past her mind in violent flashes, like pages torn from a book and thrown into the wind. Her head throbbed instantly, pain blooming behind her eyes. She clenched her jaw and kept searching.

  Zara. Zara. Zara—

  Nothing.

  The pounding grew worse, like nails driven into her skull. She tried harder, forcing her concentration forward, but she couldn’t move forward, only back, or back toward her present.

  And Zara wasn’t there.

  Samantha’s breath hitched. The vortex became chaos. Her amulet burned cold in her hand.

  “She’s… not here,” Samantha gasped, voice cracking as panic surged. “She’s not in my present—”

  The headache exploded.

  Samantha screamed and collapsed.

  She woke on a bed.

  Her mouth tasted of metal, throat dry, head still aching like it had been split. She blinked at a ceiling she didn’t recognise, then turned her head.

  The king stood nearby.

  And beside him, young Tink.

  “You’re awake,” the king said quickly. “What happened?”

  Samantha pushed herself up slightly, wincing. “I couldn’t find Zara,” she whispered. “Something happened to her. She isn’t in my present day. My anchor is missing.”

  The king’s face tightened. “Oh,” he said softly. “That’s going to be an issue.”

  He watched her with something close to pity. “Well… you are more than welcome to stay in the palace for the time being.”

  Samantha’s eyes stung, not from tears, but from the helplessness of it.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Then, quieter: “I just hope Zara is okay… and that I can get back eventually.”

  She sank back into the bed, closing her eyes against the pounding in her skull, and against the fear that had settled deep in her chest.

  Because for the first time since the High Council had called her “Chosen,” Samantha had to face a terrifying possibility:

  She wasn’t lost in the future.

  She was stranded in the past.

  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