Chapter 3

  Sunlight spilled through the tall, arched windows of the great hall, though not great any more, metal plates covering the slightly dilapidated hall, reinforcing beams across the ceiling. Symbols of the old Shaheren empire still remained in some way, either there covered in scratches or covered by Shoven trinkets and weapons. Banners covering up Shaheren craftsmanship. A beautiful home now occupied by filth.

  At the head of the table sat a Shoven noble, his scales a sickly bronze that shimmered in the light. The table groaned under the excess of his weight. Roasted fowl glazed in spiced oils. Split fruits imported from Southern valleys no Shaheren had walked in decades. His broad snout slick with grease, jagged with teeth tearing into a haunch of meat, grease dripping from his chin to the embroidered sash across his chest, silk woven by hands that would never wear it.

  This is Slamm the Shoven Emperor.

  He did not use cutlery.

  He did not need to.

  Food falls to the floor carelessly, fruit tumbles across the grubby mud trodden floor. Wine dribbles out of his mouth and down on to himself. Slamm did not care, for it was his domain. Food to him is a symbol of rule.

  “Oi, you!” he growled, his voice like gravel dragged across iron. “You there, the girl with the drink! Bring it over here.”

  The servant girl didn’t move. She stood by the window, lost in the sunlight, her mind far from the gluttonous lizard before her. She was young, slender, her long dark hair tied neatly behind her shoulders, and her emerald eyes fixed on the city skyline beyond the palace. The wind carried the faint hum of the streets of Melnock, a sound she loved more than any music in the palace. Smoke rises from grand chimneys across the city thick and dark, what they smelted she never knew. Guard towers on roof tops constantly observing for any rebellions.

  A bone clattered across the table and struck the wall beside her. She flinched, as another girl walks across the hall with a gold plate of meat draping over the side. She keeps her head down to not attract any attention to herself, giving a side eye to the other girl as she leaves.

  The Shoven snorted. “Oh, finally you’re alive.”

  Zara blinked, regaining her composure. “I’m very sorry, my lord,” she said softly. “Here you are.”

  She stepped forward and filled his chalice, careful not to spill a drop, her hands steady even as her stomach turned. She'd learned long ago that obedience was safer than defiance, but it didn't mean she believed in it.

  Slamm took a long gulp and grunted. “You can go now. Your services are no longer required.”

  She knew servants who had been dismissed that way before, and they were never seen again. Zara curtsied, murmured a polite “Yes, my lord,” and slipped away through the tall double doors.

  The cool corridors outside felt like freedom, well as much as they could here. Guards stand attentive at staircases separating the servants from everyone else. She has learnt to look down when walking through the palace for eye contact can cost your life in the palace.

  As she walks through the corridors she hears clanging of armour, Shovens talking with harsh consonants in their language and the light whispers of Shaheren servants. Foot steps that change from thuds to light stepping.

  She made her way to the kitchens, where the air was thick with steam and the clatter of pots. The head chef, a round man with kind eyes and a tired smile, looked up as she entered.

  “So he let you go, did he?” he asked, wiping his hands on a cloth.

  “Yeah, finally,” Zara replied with a breath of relief.

  “I tell you what, if Slamm gets any fatter, we'll have to widen the palace doors...” Jaren abruptly stops talking as the metallic thunk of armour echoes through the hall outside.

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  He cleared his throat and chuckled lightly, setting down his knife. “Then go on, girl, head to your quarters. I think your father’s got a surprise waiting for you.” Helping her, even in this little way was enough to cost him his life if the Shoven ever noticed.

  Zara’s expression brightened. “A surprise?”

  He nodded, reaching for a small card sitting near the counter. “Before you go, take this. It’s just a birthday card, but don’t open it till tomorrow, you hear?”

  She smiled, curtsied again, and tucked the card into her pocket. “Thank you, Jaren.”

  The corridors of the palace stretched endlessly, lit by wall-mounted lanterns that flickered like trapped fireflies. Zara ran her fingertips along the stone walls as she walked, the faint chill grounding her. The grand staircase spiraled upward to the servants’ quarters, far from the noise of the nobles’ hall.

  Her father was there, standing by the window, looking out over Melnock. The city sprawled below them, its rooftops glowing gold in the late afternoon sun.

  “Zara,” he said, turning as she entered. His voice carried a tired fondness. “You finished early?”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling softly. “Thankfully.”

  He studied her for a moment, his face caught between pride and worry. “Tomorrow, you’ll be an adult,” he said. “And from then on, your life is going to change.”

  She rolled her eyes playfully. “I know, Father. I’ll have more responsibilities around the palace, I’ll take care of myself, I’ve heard this before.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, Zara. That’s not what I meant.”

  His voice deepened, serious now. He walked to the fireplace, resting a hand on the mantelpiece, eyes reflecting the dancing flames.

  “When your mother died,” he began quietly clutching the ring tightly on his finger. “I was entrusted with keeping you safe. But I can’t do that anymore. You have to take care of yourself, out there.”

  Zara froze. “What do you mean?”

  He turned toward her, his expression tight with fear and resolve. “You have to leave...” He hesitates for a moment looking at Zara, tears heavy in his eyes, knowing what he must say, but can't find the words. “You have to leave tonight. Under the cover of darkness. I need to get you out of this palace, out of the city.”

  Her heart leapt. “We’re leaving? That’s amazing!” she exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face. The smile faltered as she realised she had no idea who she would be without the palace walls.

  But he didn’t return it. “Yes… you’re leaving,” he said quietly. “I’ve been tasked with helping you escape.” His hands trembled.

  Her excitement faltered. “Why me? Why do I have to go?”

  He turned back to the window, the light painting him in silhouette. “For years, some have dreamed of freedom, of a world not ruled by these beasts. The enslavement, the control... the endless obedience.” His voice grew distant. “There is a story whispered across camp fires of every Shaheren town. One day six people, The Chosen, will rise a break the chains that bind us.”

  He turned to face her fully now, eyes bright with something fierce. “Some say they will save us from this imprisonment. These people will have power beyond our imagination, abilities that defy the laws of our very world.”

  Zara’s brow furrowed. “Father, why are you telling me this?”

  “Because, my dear,” he said, stepping toward her, “you may be one of them.”

  The words hung between them like thunder before the storm. Zara felt her chest tighten. “Me?” she whispered. “No, not me, I serve drinks, bring food.” Almost sounding quite annoyed by this news. “No it can't be me, I'm just Zara, the palace servant. “Why choose me?” She looks out the window back to the city. “How, why? Dad I don't understand?”

  He nodded solemnly. “It will all become clear tomorrow. But tonight, we have to move. I’ve arranged for safe passage out of the palace to take you beyond the city walls. You’ll be safe where I’m sending you, and I will find you soon. That’s a promise.”

  He stepped forward and drew her into a long embrace. She could feel his heart pounding against her own.

  “I love you, Father,” she whispered.

  “I love you more,” he replied, his voice breaking.

  When they finally pulled apart, he gave her a gentle smile and gestured toward the door. “Go now. Pack what you need. We don’t have much time.”

  Zara hesitated in the doorway, torn between fear and wonder. She didn’t understand everything, not yet, but something deep inside her told her that this was the beginning of something far greater than escape.

  As she left the room, the flames flickered strangely.

  For a heartbeat, the flames bent towards her, then steadied.