Chapter 39

  Ashes of Their Own Kind

  Cid walked through the village toward the dojo with fire in his chest and purpose in his stride. His fists clenched and unclenched as he moved, feet shuffling back and forth in a restless warm-up. Today was meant to be his last. Two fights remained, Tronka and Drongo, and then he would rejoin the rest of the Chosen.

  The thought steadied him.

  He reached the dojo steps and stopped. Drew in a long breath. Let it out slowly. The air was cool, damp with the ever-present marsh mist, but his blood burned hot beneath his skin. Whatever waited inside, he was ready.

  Cid pushed the doors open.

  The dojo stood empty.

  No Shoven. No grunts. No shifting weight or scraping claws against wood. Only silence, thick and wrong.

  Cid stepped inside, boots echoing against the floor as he turned in a slow circle. Confusion crept in, sharp and unwelcome. Then the doors opened again behind him.

  Master Keno entered, calm as ever.

  “Cid,” Keno said, his voice low, almost gentle. “They’ve had to leave. I suppose that ends your training. You’re free to rejoin the other Chosen.”

  Cid frowned. “Leave?” He glanced back toward the empty space where Trunka usually stood. “Where have they gone? I’d have liked to say goodbye. At least to Trunka.”

  Keno’s gaze dropped to the floor.

  “There was an attack on their village last night. Shoven military forces. They don’t approve of deserters. The village was targeted.” He exhaled slowly. “They ran back as soon as word reached them.”

  Cid’s blood went cold.

  “And no one came to get me?” he asked.

  Before Keno could answer, Cid was already moving.

  He bolted from the dojo, snapping his gauntlets into place as he ran. The village gates burst open under his hands and he launched himself down the slope toward the marshlands below, speed carrying him across the distance in minutes.

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  Smoke met him first.

  Then fire.

  Huts burned low and angry, flames licking at collapsed roofs. Shoven lay scattered across the ground, some unmoving, others screaming or clutching wounds that would never heal. The air stank of scorched wood, blood, and wet earth, the marsh fighting the flames, turning them into choking smoke.

  Cid slowed, horror rooting him to the spot.

  This wasn’t battle.

  It was slaughter.

  He moved through the ruins, eyes searching desperately for familiar faces, Tronka’s towering shape, Drongo’s scarred hide, but there was nothing. The fires crackled and spat around him, embers drifting like dying stars.

  A sound caught his ear.

  Cid turned and saw a Shoven lying on the ground, chest rising shallowly. He rushed forward and dropped to his knees.

  “Stay with me,” Cid said, hands trembling as he pressed them against the Shoven’s side. “Keep breathing.”

  Tears burned behind his eyes, an emotion he never thought he’d feel for one of their kind. But this one had laughed with him. Trained with him. Shared food and stories.

  “I… can’t…” the Shoven rasped. “They… took them. All of them.”

  Cid looked down and saw the truth of it, a deep laceration across the Shoven’s side, torn flesh dark with blood. There was nothing he could do.

  “Where did they take them?” Cid asked softly.

  “I don’t know…” A ragged breath. “It was dark. They got on a ship. It flew… I couldn’t see where.”

  The Shoven shuddered once more, then went still.

  Cid closed his eyes gently.

  He stood alone in the smoke, surrounded by the dead.

  There were no answers here.

  He ran back toward the village above.

  Master Keno was waiting when he returned, standing still as stone.

  “They were taken,” Cid said. “That’s all I know.”

  Keno nodded grimly. “Then go. Rejoin the Chosen. Put your heads together.” He placed a hand on Cid’s shoulder. “Convincing them to save Shoven lives won’t be easy.”

  Cid met his gaze.

  “Good luck,” Keno said quietly. “May Seris watch over you.”

  Cid packed quickly, slinging his belongings over his back. As he passed through the gates, Keno spoke once more.

  “Remember,” he said. “Your strength comes from within. Not the gloves.”

  Cid nodded and moved on.

  A ship descended in the distance. Royal Guard.

  Cid approached as it landed, engines whining low.

  “Welcome back, Cid,” the guard said. “I trust your training went well?”

  Cid nodded. “Could we make a detour?”

  “No time,” the guard replied, already moving toward the cockpit.

  “They were attacked,” Cid said urgently. “The Shoven village. They were taken because they left their ways.”

  “That’s not the mission.”

  “They’re good people.”

  “Seat. Now.”

  “As one of the Chosen, I’m giving you a direct order.”

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  The guard turned, towering over Cid.

  “They’re Shoven,” he said coldly. “Good or not. They’re part of the problem.”

  Cid’s jaw tightened, but he stepped back.

  “Fine.”

  He took his seat, anger burning hot in his chest as the ship lifted off.

  Below, smoke still rose from the ruined village.

  Cid stared at it until it vanished from sight.

  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