Chapter 24

  Ancient

  The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of gold and crimson. Freya sat perched on the edge of her seat, her breath catching as she stared out of the craft’s window. Shahero stretched endlessly below her, mountain ranges, scorched lands, glowing rivers of heat, beautiful and terrifying all at once.

  She had never seen the world like this. For the first time, she understood how small she really was.

  Then, without warning, the craft jolted violently.

  Freya was thrown forward, hands flailing, before crashing back into her seat as alarms began to blare. Warning lights flickered across the console in frantic reds and oranges.

  “What...what is happening?” she gasped, heart pounding.

  She scrambled upright and looked down at the console. A single message flashed repeatedly:

  DESTINATION UNREACHABLE

  Her stomach dropped.

  “Oh no… how am I supposed to get down?” she whispered.

  She stood and peered out the window again. The ground was impossibly far below—too far to jump, too far to survive. Panic crept in, sharp and suffocating.

  “There has to be something…” she muttered, tearing open panels inside the small craft, hands shaking as she searched desperately. A larger compartment popped open—and a parachute tumbled out onto the floor.

  Freya stared at it.

  “…I’m really going to have to use this, aren’t I?” It felt wrong that something so ordinary might save her when magic couldn’t.

  She swallowed hard and looked out the window one last time.

  “Yeah,” she sighed, voice trembling. “I don’t have a choice.”

  She strapped the parachute onto her back, tightened the fastenings with unsteady fingers, then raised her hand and slammed it down on a large green button.

  The door slid open.

  A massive gust of hot air tore through the craft, whipping her cloak wildly behind her. Freya gripped her staff tightly and stepped toward the opening, heart hammering in her ears. She paused, glancing back at the console in one last hopeful check.

  Nothing changed.

  She turned back to the open sky, staring down at the distant ground.

  “Well… for Shahero, I guess.”

  She turned her back to the opening, squeezed her eyes shut, spread her arms, staff held tight, and stepped backward into nothingness.

  The world vanished.

  Freya opened her eyes as she began to plummet.

  “This was a terrible idea!” she screamed as the ground rushed toward her.

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  The wind roared past her ears. Heat intensified with every second. She fumbled wildly at the straps, hands searching desperately for the pull cord.

  Her fingers brushed metal.

  She yanked.

  The parachute snapped open with a violent jolt, wrenching her upward as the canopy caught the air. Freya gasped, chest burning, eyes wide as she looked down.

  Her heart nearly stopped.

  Below her stretched a vast sea of molten lava, endless, bubbling, glowing orange and red. Heat rolled upward in suffocating waves.

  “Oh gods,” she whispered. “It’s all lava… just lava.” There was no room for mistakes here.

  She twisted in the harness, desperately scanning for anywhere, anywhere, to land. The ground rose closer, time slipping away.

  Then the lava shifted.

  It swirled and parted, churning violently, until a massive chunk of blackened rock rose from its depths. Atop it stood a woman, tall and composed, holding a staff aloft. A shimmering blue dome surrounded her, crackling softly with power.

  The woman looked up, and raised her hand.

  Freya felt it instantly.

  An invisible force gripped her, slowing her descent, guiding her gently downward. It wasn’t power, it was precision. Her boots touched solid ground, soft and controlled. Behind her, the parachute drifted into the lava and was consumed in flames.

  Freya collapsed to the ground, gasping.

  “Thought you were a goner for a minute there, didn’t you?” the woman said with a warm chuckle.

  Freya laughed weakly, staring up at her. “Yeah… you could say that.”

  The woman extended a hand. “My name is Blanche. I am the Ancient you were sent to find.”

  Freya took her arm and rose unsteadily to her feet.

  “Thank you,” Freya said earnestly. “It’s an honour. I can already tell, you’re incredibly strong.”

  Blanche smiled. “So are you. You have the same abilities I do. You just haven’t learned how to bend them yet.”

  Freya steadied herself and looked around. “So… this is the Caves of Alsamar?”

  “Almost,” Blanche replied. “Ready to go down there?”

  “I’m ready for my training,” Freya said firmly.

  “Good,” Blanche said. “Then we’ll need a force field to sink through the lava. You can manage that, can’t you?”

  Freya hesitated. “Uh… yeah. I think so.”

  She raised her staff, summoning a flickering blue dome around them. It shimmered, unstable but holding.

  Blanche clasped Freya’s arm and lifted her own staff as the land beneath them began to descend. Lava surged upward, crashing against the dome like fiery waves.

  Freya’s arms trembled. Sweat poured down her face as cracks spidered through the barrier.

  “HOLD IT!” Blanche shouted.

  “I’M TRYING!” Freya yelled back, teeth clenched.

  The dome shattered.

  Lava surged in...

  But Blanche reacted instantly, throwing her staff skyward. A new dome exploded outward, forcing the molten tide back and sealing them safely inside.

  Freya sank to the ground, breathless. “I’m sorry. I failed.”

  “You tried to overpower the world,” Blanche said quietly. “That’s not control.” Blanche said gently, “is how we learn.”

  They descended deeper, the lava’s glow bathing them in orange light.

  “I just wanted to prove myself,” Freya whispered.

  “You don’t need to,” Blanche said firmly. “You are The Chosen. They wouldn’t send six eighteen-year-olds into this world if they didn’t believe in you.”

  Freya stood, gripping her staff.

  “I am The Chosen,” she muttered.

  Then louder, with fire in her voice:

  “I AM THE CHOSEN!” The lava pulsed in answer.

  Blanche laughed. “That’s the spirit.”

  The lava parted into a vast cavern, revealing a powerful blue barrier holding it back. Beneath it lay a small, warm home carved into stone, light streaming in from above.

  “This was built for me after Melnock fell,” Blanche said softly. “It does the basics.”

  Freya stared in awe.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Twenty-seven years… I think,” Blanche said. “It’s hard to tell without seasons.”

  “Do you ever miss it?” Freya asked.

  “Every day,” Blanche admitted. “That’s why you’re here, to change things.”

  She opened the door to her home.

  “But first, you must be starving. Come in. Tomorrow, your training begins.”

  Freya nodded.

  And for the first time since leaving the council, she felt ready. That frightened her more than fear ever had.

  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