Author Note: Hey guys, I'm back! It's been SO LONG, but I finally cane up with the courage to post a fic that I've been constructing in my mind for a while. I tried to get feedback on DeviantArt to no avail, so i really hope you guys like it and please PLEASE let me know what you think and how I can improve it...I really want this to turn out well and I want my OC characters to be strong characters and I want to be able to write from Murtagh's POV without having it suck. For now, I'm posting this small prologue to set the tone. Let me know what you think !

Urû'baen, midnight

The Cathedral of the Gods was cloaked in an ominous silence. A man draped in a golden robe stood before a sacrificial altar, which had been covered in sand. Four additional figures flanked him on either side each carrying vials of various sizes. In the sand, a map of the kingdom had been drawn from memory.

Tonight was the night of the king had sent word to the head priest years ago; he was planning on giving young Lord Murtagh the position of the King's Hand the day he turned eighteen. If he was to accept, he would take his late father's place at Galbatorix's side and officially be recognized as a member of the currently nonexistent royal family. In order to sway his opinion, the king decided that he would also present him with a myriad of eligible brides that night at a banquet to be held in his honor. That day was now 9 months away, and ancient tradition dictated that all women who were to marry into the royal family be chosen from a town picked directly by the gods.

The head priest placed a gilded bowl upon the table. One of the priests at his side handed him a long, black blade. He unsheathed it slowly, chanting a prayer in the Ancient Language. The other four men quietly joined in as he placed his arm over the bowl and drew the blade across it. Blood flowed into the bowl, yet the man continued to chant , unfazed by the pain. After a minute had gone by, he placed the blade upon the altar and brushed three of his fingers across the gash on his arm. The wound quickly healed itself. He continued to chant as the four priests began pouring the contents of their vials into the bowl. Fire erupted from the bowl as the final vial was poured. The head priest picked up the flaming bowl and quickly poured its contents onto the sand. In seconds, flames covered the table. The sand began to melt, and the head priest threw his arms into the air, shouting an ancient prayer which rang through the massive cathedral. He then crossed his arms over his chest, and the flames extinguished themselves immediately. On the altar, all of the sand had turned to a clear pane of glass, with the exception of one small spot. The head priest's brow furrowed, perplexed. The other priests looked at him anxiously, wordlessly asking him what city resided in the small, unmarked pile of sand.

One of the large cathedral doors opened with a loud, reluctant groan. The men at the altar looked up. A line of moonlight flowed into the building, bathing the altar in a silver glow. The tall silhouette of a man entered the cathedral, walking toward the altar with long, confident strides, his red eyes glowing venomously as they stared directly at the head priest, who clenched his jaw.

"To where must I ride, oh Wise one?" the man asked with a sly, somewhat mocking grin, quickly flashing a set of white, pointed teeth.

"The gods have just spoken, Durza."

" I am aware, old man," The red haired shade barked back, without any attempts to hide his annoyance," What city have they chosen?"

The old man cleared his throat. "Cantos."

The shade blinked, his look of annoyance immediately turning into one of disgust.

"That traitor- filled slum?!" he shouted, voice ringing. " The halfbreed vermin that live there are barely fit to be considered citizens of Alagaësia, let alone marry into nobility. I refuse to allow it?"

The head priest, fearful of the wrath of the angered shade, nodded and replied, " It is the decision of the gods, my Lord. They have spoken, and we must honor their wish. The king himself ordered that I ask the gods to choose the city where Lord Murtagh's bride resides years ago, and I have done such every day since in preparation for this day of Choosing."

The shade snarled angrily, "Surely Galbatorix would scoff at the mere idea of-"

"Who are we to go against the wishes of the gods! They see and know all. The king has been troubled by the treacherous radicals that have been hiding in the town. Perhaps having a woman from their town living in the palace halls would be just what the king needs to quench the flames of rebellion that have consumed the town."

The shade thought about the head priest's words. The city that is selected by the Choosing is required by law to send all girls that are of age and eligible for courtship to Urû' baen for... polishing and tutoring in the ways of court life. The girls' lives could easily be dangled above the heads of the citizens of Cantos- the mere whispers of a rebellion and he could easily have them all killed. A handful of them would be hostages in the capitol for the rest of their lives, as it is customary to have the best students stay behind and act as the chosen girl's ladies in waiting. It was the perfect situation for the king. His lips curled into a terrifying smile at the thought.

"Praise be unto the gods, then."

Durza nodded to the priest, who bowed to him as he turned and left the cathedral. An army of fifty soldiers on horseback awaited him in the courtyard. He mounted a large, black stallion and rode south towards Cantos.