The forest glowed, not with sunlight but with the eerie red shimmer of crystals and veins embedded in bark and in stone. The veins pulse softly, humming beneath the earth, like it is a living entity.

  Shadows stretch unnaturally long between twisted trees. The shadows often feel like they are following you, but not in the way you'd expect, mimicking you as you walk through, the shadows a separate force from the light. The branches cracked and splintered almost as if something violent had torn through them.

  This was the Crimson Forest, a place soldiers feared. Soldiers had vanished into the forest never to be spoke of again. People often say that they can hear voices of the fallen soldiers. There is a dark magic at work in the forest that turns creatures and animals into twisted forms of themselves.

  Animals rustle somewhere in the dark undergrowth, no calls no birds chirping. The noise is a painful silence, to long in the forest chan change your mind and shift your emotions.

  Movement of the ground, rustling.

  A groan broke the stillness.

  “Oh god's...What happened? Where the hell am I?”

  Tyron stirred, pushing himself upright with a sharp breath. Pain stirred instantly. He blinked through the smoke and embers, not helped by the darkness of the forest in general.

  The wreckage of the ship scattered around him, burned metal, fractured panels still hissing with heat. The smell in his chest heavy forcing him to take slower breaths, he knows this might not be easy to get out of.

  The silence felt heavier than the crash.

  For the first time in his life, Tyron knows the meaning of alone.

  Not a leader. Not a Chosen.

  Just a man battling the dark.

  Trees lay around him snapped and broken where the craft had ploughed through the canopy.

  He tries to bring himself to his feet.

  Suddenly the world exploded in pain, every ounce of his body telling him to stop.

  His legs buckled beneath him, with a sickening crack as if a bone had come out of alignment.

  “Oh Skathin, ahhhhh!” Tyron shouted.

  The sound leaving from his throat, but it didn't echo as you'd expect. His shout almost sounded like it fell short. Like the forest didn't want anyone to hear his anguish.

  He collapsed back to the forest floor the unusually soft ground cushioned the blow. Breath ragged, staring at his twisted out of shape leg. It was clearly broken, badly but it hadn't broke the skin. Small mercies.

  For a moment he laid in the soft undergrowth, gasping for air through his pain. He turned his head slowly looking around realising he hasn't heard anything else, no one else.

  “Zara?” he called out weak. “Samantha? Lazarus? Cid? Freya?”

  No answer. He is truly alone. For the first time it occurred to him that the others might believe he is dead already.

  “Well, her visions are spot on.” Tyron chuckles to himself dryly.

  Above him, a deep aggressive thumping echoes through the trees.

  A harsh white light cuts through the canopy, washing through the trees showing the true colours of the forest, teal coloured leaves, ochre coloured trunks, it looked beautiful in comparison to the dark and ominous red glow pulsing through the veins.

  Tyron squints up through the blinding flashes beaming through the gaps in the leaves, rasing an arm to see through the branches.

  A ship, Tyron just hopes it is a Shaheren vessel.

  He waves wildly, shouting until his lungs wouldn't let him shout any more.

  “Oi! Oi! I'm down here! Help me!”

  The thumping fades into the distance.

  The flight flows through the forest, Tyron looks through the forest as the light gently cascades through.

  Silence returned to the forest, more painful than before.

  He returns back to his default current state, back down to the undergrowth. He lays there for a long time, as he looks to the canopy he looks at the red pulses. He feels like it is talking to him, is this magic or has he finally lost it in the dark.

  “No, I can't die here.” He says looking to the trees. “The Chosen would fracture, the world would never know.” He pushed himself to sit up. “The world would never know how close it came to being saved.”

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

  Something glimmered in the undergrowth, catching the red glow from above.

  His sword catches his eye. The red crystals reflected off of its polished blade, casting fractured light across the forest floor. Tyron reached for it, dragging it across the overgrowth to his feet, as he moves it he watches the glow dance along the cool metal blade.

  His attention turns back to the pressing matter... his leg.

  “Alright.” he muttered. “Lets make this work.” He sighs. “No one saved the world feeling sorry for themselves.”

  A large branch lay nearby, torn loose in the crash, it glows red at the end like it's bleeding. He dragged it towards him self, gritting his teeth as he tried to reach out for it. He braces it against his leg and sizes it up. His hands trembled as he tears a strip of cloth from his shirt and binds the branch to his leg. As he pulls it tight his leg makes a crunch, like his leg bones realigning or worse.

  He looks at his handy work. It wasn't pretty but it should hold.

  Driving his sword into the soft ground Tyron pulls himself to his feet, slightly shaking as he stands. He swayed, teeth clenched. Sweat drips from his brow. He made it he is on his feet, even if his body protests.

  He connected the sword to the bracket on his back and noticed a perfect shaped branch in front of him, roughly his height, he snaps a foot or so off and wedges it beneath his arm. Turning it into a crude crutch.

  “Ok, just one step at a time.” He whispered. “I can do it.”

  If he didn't survive the Chosen would lose more than a sword.

  He limped further forward in to the Crimson forest.

  The glow followed him, pulsing. Tyron for a moment thought the crystal was matching his heartbeat.

  After some distance he felt steadier. Still in pain, but he was moving, Then the undergrowth shifted.

  Rustling.

  Tyron froze.

  Silence.

  Tyron looked back around.

  No sound. No wind.

  Tyron looks out into the dark, a red set of eyes appear and vanish again, followed by scuttling. He didn't have enough time to count how many sets of eyes there were.

  He begins to walk again, feeling uneasy, nervous to carry on, but he knows he must.

  The rustling continues, closer this time.

  Tyron back up against a tree, he raises his arm up and tightens his hand around the hilt of the Sword of a Thousand Souls. He slows down his breath, controlled, as something pushes through a bush behind him.

  He covers his mouth, with the other hand firmly on his hilt, ready to strike.

  There is a slow deliberate sound of something moving through the undergrowth.

  Suddenly a leg, black, furred long with multiple joints.

  Then another.

  Eight long black furry legs in total.

  It moves through the shadows. Red fangs glisten like blood. It moves past Tyron, one of its legs brushed against Tyron's injured leg, sending a spike of pain through him, pressing his hard harder against his mouth.

  He didn't move.

  He didn't breathe.

  The creature passed him, it's body scraping close. The legs on one side brushing his injured leg every time another leg moved past. Tyron slowly edges around the tree, trying to slip away unnoticed.

  Snap!

  A twig broke beneath his foot.

  Silence, even from the spider.

  The scuttling returns getting closer.

  Tyron covers his mouth again, heart pounding out of his chest. It crept towards him. The creature begins to analyse him, all eight eyes piercing his soul. The breath on him arm slowly moving upwards, cold, damp. The red fangs hover inches from his face, barbed hairs graze his exposed skin slick with some greasy residue.

  His grip tightened around the hilt.

  He tried to resist but he couldn't any longer.

  He drew the sword.

  With a sharp upward motion he sliced clean through one of its legs. The creature screeched, rearing back and recoiling away. Tyron lunged forward, adrenaline over riding pain as he vaulted on to its back and drove the blade deep into it's carapace.

  The creature collapses into a violent heap letting out a death breath as the lungs collapse.

  Tyron staggers back, chest heaving, blood splashed across his clothes and face. Pain returning to his leg after the adrenaline. He pulls the sword free with a bit of a yank. He wipes it against his torn and dirty trousers, now more grubby. Latching the sword to his back.

  The blade felt heavier than before.

  For a moment, Tyron thought he heard something, a whisper beneath the steel.

  Tyron looks to the body of the creature, the body almost looks like it's glowing, it begins to get brighter. With that the forest begins to glow a fierce red around him. It's almost as it the forest itself had taken notice of the loss.

  Tyron felt the shaking return.

  He limped away until his strength gave and sank against the base of a tree. The crimson light bathed him as he closed his eyes.

  “Just a minute.” He whispered.

  The forest around him starts to get darker the glow above him lowers like it knows he needs sleep.

  For the first time since the crash, Tyron let himself rest.

  High above him something moved.

  And what ever it was... it had been watching for a long time.

  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