Chapter 30

  Nduja’s Morning Glow

  Morning arrived quietly in Nduja.

  Above the village, the chasm caught the first sunlight and poured it downward in long, slanting beams, orange and warm, but tinted strange by the protective veil Tif held over them. The shield shimmered like thin glass stretched across the sky, a faint blue sheen threaded with tiny flashes and hairline cracks of energy that never quite broke. Even in the stillness, it hummed, steady, constant, alive.

  Zara had been awake long before most of the village.

  She sat where she could watch the paths, knees drawn up slightly, bow resting beside her. People walked past in ones and twos, not rushing, not fearful, just living. And that, more than anything, made her feel out of place. They looked like villagers… but she knew what they really were.

  They all had abilities.

  And she didn’t know where to start.

  For the first time since being separated from the others, Zara felt truly alone , like her strength only existed when someone else stood beside her.

  How do I learn them? she thought, watching a man pass with a basket on his hip. How do I know what’s useful? What if I pick the wrong thing? What if I’m wasting time while the others are—

  “Zara, good morning,” Tif’s voice echoed through the village, warm as the sunbeams.

  Zara looked up fast, relief flickering across her face. “Morning, Tiff,” she said, trying to sound brighter than she felt.

  Tif approached at an easy pace, robes brushing stone. Even tired, she carried herself like the village’s spine, quiet strength holding everything upright.

  “Have you been up for long?” Tif asked.

  “Couldn’t sleep all too well,” Zara admitted. “Lots of thoughts going through my head.”

  “I can imagine,” Tif said gently, a small laugh escaping her. “Your life has been thrown into turmoil a bit, hasn’t it?”

  Zara’s gaze drifted to the shield overhead, where blue light skittered across invisible edges. “It really has,” she murmured. “I was living in the palace, serving Slamm… and here I am.”

  Tif studied her for a moment, truly looked, like she was reading the tension Zara tried to hide behind her armour and jokes.

  “Well,” Tif said at last, voice steady, “today your training begins. And I want to be honest with you, it won’t be easy.”

  Zara straightened without thinking.

  “You will learn some of our abilities,” Tif continued,

  “But your body and mind can only hold so much at once, control matters more than quantity.” She says in a serious tone. “and you will absorb them, learn to access them when we are not there. I know you feel useless without the others, but the truth is… you have the abilities to be so much more.”

  Something in Zara’s chest tightened, like those words had found a bruised spot and pressed gently anyway.

  Tif’s expression softened. “I imagine you’re hungry. Let’s get some breakfast, and we can begin after that. Walk with me.”

  “Of course,” Zara said, grabbing her bow and following.

  They moved through the village together. It was quieter than last night, most fires still dim, most doors still closed, but the hum of the shield never stopped. Zara couldn’t help glancing up at it again and again, watching the little bolts dance like trapped lightning.

  They reached a wide hall and Tif pushed the door open.

  Warmth and noise spilled out immediately, long rows of tables crowded with people laughing and talking, bowls and plates being set down, steam rising from food in thick, comforting waves. It smelled like grease and bread and herbs, like being safe.

  Zara stepped in and spotted Ezmay right away, sitting with Dumba and Sierra.

  Zara hesitated only a second. “Could I join you?” she asked politely.

  “Oh absolutely,” Dumba said with a smile, shifting to make space.

  “Thank you,” Zara said, her own smile returning, small, real.

  She sat, and almost immediately a young woman arrived with a plate and set it down in front of her.

  “From Tiff,” the girl said before hurrying off.

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  Zara glanced across the hall. Tif wasn’t seated, of course she wasn’t, but Zara still lifted a small wave of thanks. Tif noticed and nodded once, like that was enough.

  Zara looked down at the food: sausages, bacon, thick slices of bread drowned in sauce. Her stomach growled so loudly she almost laughed. She ate fast—too fast—clearing the plate like she’d been starving for longer than she wanted to admit.

  Then a hot drink arrived. Zara lifted it and froze.

  The smell hit first.

  Emberbrew.

  Her dad’s emberbrew.

  Made from Emberleaf beans, brewed until the steam carried that smoky sweetness that clung to memory. Zara took a sip and warmth unfurled through her chest, emberglow, they called it. The kind of warmth that didn’t just heat your hands, but made you feel human again.

  “That is better,” she sighed, wrapping both hands around the cup like she might keep the warmth forever.

  For a moment, she could almost see her father across a palace kitchen table, placing a mug in front of her like it was the simplest kindness in the world. If she survived this. if she became strong enough, maybe one day she could sit across from him again.

  She swallowed hard, finished the drink in slow sips, and let herself breathe.

  When she stood, she nodded politely to Ezmay and her parents and slipped out into the village again, full, steadier, more awake.

  Tif followed her outside, cloak edges stirring in the chasm’s breeze.

  “Well?” Tif asked. “Are you ready?”

  “I am.” Zara turned to her and smiled—this time with more confidence behind it.

  Tif’s eyes flicked across the village. “Okay. Point to someone out here. Anyone.”

  Zara blinked. “Oh… anyone?” She turned, suddenly aware of how many people were moving around them. How many unknown abilities. How many chances to choose something useful—or completely pointless.

  She stared a little too long, weighing faces, trying to guess.

  Finally she pointed across the path at a young woman about her age, dark hair tied back, hands tucked into her sleeves.

  “Ummm… her. Why not?” Zara said, half shrugging, hoping she didn’t sound as uncertain as she felt.

  Tif’s mouth quirked. “Interesting choice. Let’s go and speak to her.”

  They crossed the village and approached.

  The girl looked up, cautious. “Tiff? What can I do for you?”

  “Dani,” Tif said, calm and familiar, “this is Zara. She’s here to learn our abilities to help her in her quest. Teach her what you can.”

  Dani’s gaze flicked over Zara, bow, armour, that restless readiness. Then she nodded slowly.

  “Of course,” Dani said. “I can try.”

  Dani crouched and held her hands over a patch of grass. A soft green glow spread from her palms. The grass shivered, then surged upward, growing taller, thicker, crowding together like it had been waiting for permission all along.

  Zara stared. “Wow… you make plant life grow? That must be really useful for the village here.”

  Dani smiled, modest. “It has its uses.”

  She motioned Zara closer. “Gently hold your hand over the plants. You’ll feel a tingle.”

  Zara did, hovering her palm above the grass.

  Nothing.

  No movement. No tingle. No magic.

  Zara frowned and tried again—closer this time, concentrating harder.

  Still nothing.

  Dani didn’t look surprised. “Try again.”

  Zara did. Still nothing.

  Dani tilted her head. “Talk to them. They are living things. They want to know you won’t hurt them.”

  Zara stared at her. “Really. Talk to the plants?”

  “Trust me,” Dani said, completely serious. “Let them know you’re a friend.”

  Zara huffed, half laughing, half annoyed. She held her hand over the grass again and muttered sarcastically, “Hello plants, I won’t hurt you, I just want you to skathin grow!”

  Dani’s eyebrows lifted. “Not like that. Speak to them. Ask them what they want to be. Ask them how their day is. How long they’ve grown for.”

  Zara’s smile slipped. “Are you serious?”

  “Deeply,” Dani said, and there was something gentle behind it. “Don’t say it out loud. Just focus on them and say it in your head.”

  Zara grimaced. “Ugghhh… okay. This feels so blazet.”

  Tif watched quietly, arms folded, expression unreadable but patient.

  Zara took a breath, closed her eyes, and reached out again.

  This time she didn’t perform. She didn’t joke. She just… tried.

  Okay, she thought, directing it downward like a whisper. I’m not here to hurt you. I need you. Please, help me.

  At first there was only silence.

  Then, something.

  A faint tingle in her fingers. Like static before a storm. Zara’s breath caught. She focused harder, letting her thoughts soften, letting the feeling spread.

  Something brushed her knuckles.

  Then something wrapped around her hand.

  Zara opened her eyes slowly.

  The grass had grown, long and bright, and it curled around her fingers like it was holding on. Not tight, not threatening. Just… there. A living touch.

  “Oh my gods,” Zara breathed. “It’s worked.”

  Dani squealed and jumped up and down, clapping. “Zara!! That was amazing! You did so good!! I’m so proud of you!”

  Zara’s cheeks heated. She tried to hide her smile and failed completely.

  “Thank you,” Zara said shyly. “I don’t know when I’ll ever use that ability, but… thank you.”

  Tif’s expression suggested she already knew exactly when Zara would need it.

  Dani winked. “Well, if ever you need a cup of Emberbrew…”

  Zara laughed. “You could be right there.”

  Tif stepped closer and rested a hand lightly on Zara’s back, small, grounding, approving.

  “Amazing work,” Tif said. “This was your first ability you learned. But there is still more to learn. Then we need to teach you to unlock those abilities, to use whenever.”

  Zara nodded, still staring at the grass like it had just spoken.

  “Let’s have a quick rest,” Tif added, already guiding her back across the village. “You can try another one this afternoon. I don’t want to overload you on day one, now do I?”

  Zara exhaled, the tension easing from her shoulders.

  For the first time since everything began, since she’d been dragged from the palace and told she was part of a prophecy, she felt something solid under her feet.

  Not certainty.

  But possibility.

  But for the first time, it felt like something she could build on herself.

  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.

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  Question for readers:What moment in this chapter stood out to you the most?

  See you in the next chapter.

  — Matthew Cooke-Sumner