Samantha slept lightly.

  The tavern room was quiet now, the chaos of Dalan reduced to distant footsteps and the soft murmur of the harbour beyond the walls. Exhaustion clung to her bones. After the battle, after hours spent helping in the hospital tents, binding wounds, holding hands, watching lives flicker, sleep had come only in fragments.

  Morning arrived gently.

  A thin blade of sunlight slipped through a crack in the shuttered window, cutting across the cream-coloured walls and exposed wooden beams. Dust danced in the light. Outside, traders were already calling to one another, trawler men hauling nets and crates along the streets below.

  Today, training would finally begin.

  A knock broke the stillness.

  “Samantha,” came Tink’s voice from the other side of the door. “Get up. Training begins.”

  She groaned softly and rolled out of bed.

  Piece by piece, she dressed with practised motions, white-and-gold armour secured, cloak settled around her shoulders, pistols slid into their holsters. She paused at the small mirror on the wall, brushing dirt from her cheek and adjusting her long blonde hair. Despite the fatigue in her eyes, she smiled faintly.

  “There we go,” she muttered.

  She stepped out onto the narrow ledge that wrapped around the tavern’s upper floor and descended the wooden stairs. Tink was waiting below, seated at a small table. Even sitting, he seemed tall, his cloak draped loosely, the sword on his back catching the morning light.

  “I’m ready,” Samantha said, her voice bright despite her weariness. “Shall we go?”

  “Eat first,” Tink replied, nodding toward the plate set across from him.

  “Oh, lovely. Thank you.” She sat and began cutting into the food just as a young serving girl arrived with a steaming mug.

  “Emberbrew,” the girl said cheerfully.

  “Oh, sorry,” Samantha said awkwardly. “Do you have any Desert Fire tea?”

  The girl blinked. “No, miss. Emberbrew or ale?”

  “Emberbrew will be fine,” Samantha said quickly.

  Steam curled up from the mug. She cradled it in her hands and took a cautious sip.

  “Not a fan?” Tink asked.

  “Never really tried it,” she admitted. “I heard it warms the heart.” She took another drink—and smiled. “Not bad.”

  “So,” she said, excitement creeping in, “training starts today?”

  Tink leaned closer, lowering his voice. “From now on, you don’t mention who you are or why you’re here. Don’t talk about where you’re from either. Too many people would love to hurt you.”

  Samantha’s gaze dropped to the table. “I’m sorry about what happened. If I’d known—”

  “It’s not your fault,” Tink said gently. “You followed orders. I didn’t handle last night well either.” He paused, then smiled. “Let’s start fresh. My name’s Tink.”

  She laughed softly. “I’m Samantha. That is better.” Her smile faded slightly. “Is Tyron still around?”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “I haven’t seen him. Word is he was at the port this morning, with a woman. They left on a steamship.”

  “A steamship?” Samantha frowned. “Who would he be with?”

  “Green cloak, blonde hair,” Tink said casually. “Apparently very pretty.”

  Samantha stared into her mug, annoyance flickering across her face. She drained the rest of the emberbrew in one go and stood abruptly.

  “Right. Let’s go.”

  “Oi, wait!” Tink protested, setting down his half-finished drink. “Could’ve let me finish.”

  Outside, the market square buzzed with life. Samantha marched ahead, determination written in every step.

  “Why are you so eager?” Tink called after her.

  “That’s why I’m here,” she replied without slowing. “To save the world.”

  “You don’t even know where we’re going!” Tink shouted.

  She stopped dead, turned, and winced. “Good point.”

  They moved through the market more slowly after that, weaving between stalls stacked with food and trinkets. Eventually, Tink turned down a narrow alley cluttered with overflowing bins and laundry strung overhead. He stopped at a small door, unlocked it, and shoved hard when it stuck.

  Inside, the house was quiet and cold, lived in, but barely. A few mugs, a couple of bowls, and a heavy silence.

  “Make yourself at home,” Tink said, gesturing to the sofa.

  “Do you live alone?” Samantha asked, glancing around.

  “Yes. Turns out not many people want to live with someone who disappears through time.” He lit a candle, its flame flickering warmly.

  “You can just… travel through time?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “Not exactly,” Tink replied. “It started when I was six. One moment I was with my parents—next, I wasn’t. Somewhere else. Somewhen else.” His voice grew distant. “It kept happening. School. Dates. Sleep. No control.”

  “That sounds awful,” Samantha said softly.

  “I wanted a normal life,” he continued. “Not hiding. Just living. I learned some control—enough to get back close to when I left.”

  “So what can you teach me?” she asked.

  “Focus. Control. And how to find people in time,” he said lightly. “Which is handy—because sometimes I vanish.”

  “So you disappear, and I track you down?” she grinned.

  “Exactly.” He leaned back. “So now, we wait, if I disappear, don’t panic,” he added lightly. “That’s the lesson.”

  He stood a moment later. “Want a drink? I’ve got Desert Fire tea.”

  “Yes, please.” Samantha smiled.

  Tink disappeared into the kitchen.

  Minutes passed.

  Too many minutes.

  “Tink?” she called.

  No answer.

  She stepped into the kitchen to find boiling water, a shattered mug, and no Tink.

  Her heart skipped. “Skathin… he’s gone.”

  She closed her eyes and clutched her amulet. Locate people in time, she reminded herself. The metal grew warm. Green spirals of light bloomed, swelling until the world tore away.

  She was falling.

  Time screamed past her in fractured images, faces, places, moments she didn’t recognize. Panic set in. The faster she panicked, the faster it went. Her stomach lurched like she’d been dropped from a great height.

  “What am I doing?!” she screamed.

  Her focus fractured, the pull shifted, something else grabbed hold. She let go.

  Pain exploded behind her eyes.

  When she opened them, she wasn’t in Dalan.

  She was standing before Melnock, beautiful, unscarred, green. No smoke. No pipes. No Shoven.

  Before the fall.

  “Oh gods,” she whispered, rubbing her head. “I hope this doesn’t happen every time.”

  She walked toward the gates.

  “State your business,” a guard demanded.

  “I’m looking for someone,” Samantha said steadily.

  The guards exchanged glances. The guard’s eyes flicked to the faint green glow still fading around her amulet.

  “You may enter,” one said at last. “But under escort. Someone wants to meet you.”

  The gates opened.

  Ten guards surrounded her as she stepped into a past she wasn’t sure she could change.

  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