I do not own the Inheritance series. All ideas contained in this story are NOT original.
Beginnings
Grayson bent to examine the ground once more. In the distance, he could hear that his friend was nearly finished counting.
"Nine! Ten! Ready or not, here I come!"
He ignored the laughter issuing from somewhere over the hill and focused his attention on the soil. Buried just below the surface was a large stone. It had caused him to trip in his haste. For no reason, Grayson had looked back to find out what had caused him to stumble. Now that he had discovered the object, he was sorry that he had wasted his time.
He brushed the dry earth from the surface of the stone. It was unnaturally smooth, but no other unique qualities were immediately apparent. The stone was an ordinary gray in color—no, silver—no, brown. It was odd; as Grayson moved his head to different angles, the rock took on different hues. One way it reflected the dirt's ugly tint. Another way, it seemed to have more of a silver sheen.
He decided to dig it completely out of the ground so as to better scrutinize it. It was a moderately difficult task, considering the…thing…was lodged tightly in a hole. Eventually, he was able to pry it free.
The laughter of his playmates grew louder as they drew nearer. Grayson quickly took the stone and headed for the nearest clump of trees. There, he found exactly what he had hoped for: a knothole big enough for this…treasure was it? Having stowed it away, he hurried out of the trees and ran to his friends. They didn't suspect a thing.
The wind was bitter but soothing after the confines of the city. The plains stretched before her like a sea of promises, whispering of future adventures that she would surely undertake. She was young, and she was an elf. Together, they made a heart that was true but unlearned. Daramay turned back toward Dras Leona for one last time then rode into the waves of grass on the back of her black mare.
She had accomplished her first mission, out on her own without an escort. Even though it was only a scouting recon, (taking figures and talking to state officials,) she was still filled with elementary pride. Best of all was the fact that she was carrying this satisfying emotion to a place dear to her heart: home. In fact, she was so overcome with these thoughts that she barely noticed the glare that streaked past her eyes…barely.
Daramay dismounted and began walking toward a small enclave in the flat land. It was from this indenture that the glint had come. The hole was no more than a foot deep and hardly a foot wide, yet it was obvious that someone had tried (and failed, miserably) to conceal its contents. When she bent and removed the few twigs and brambles covering the entrance, she found the source of the glint: a rock.
Disappointment has a bitter taste, Daramay thought. Yet, even through this displeasing feeling, she began to consider. The rock was very smooth, maybe even flawless, and it was shaded the deepest black Daramay had ever seen. Though these few features were far from awe-inspiring, Daramay began to ponder over the fact that it had been hidden, however carelessly. She remembered a teacher from some years back who had been an alchemist, apart from other things. He had said that certain stones had mystic abilities.
After taking all of these facts into account, only one question remained: Who did it belong to? With the ease of someone simply turning down an afternoon snack, Daramay dismissed this thought and put the rock inside of her pack. So what if it belonged to someone else? That someone should not have left it in the middle of the prairie.
Daramay swung her leg back over her steed and took the reins in her hands. She could feel the weight of the stone through the rawhide pack that was slung over her shoulder. The effect both comforted and disquieted her. It suddenly seemed that she was standing on the verge of some great cliff, looking over into the abyss below. At the same moment, her intuition softly whispered in the back of her mind, You're not alone.
As if in response to these ominous thoughts, a rumble of thunder came rolling over the plains. She looked to the south and saw a veil of dark clouds across the horizon. The storm was still miles away, but Daramay felt it would be better to keep ahead of it. Burying her heels in the beast's sides, she once more took off across the flatlands. Her uncomfortable thoughts had been replaced yet again with anxiousness. She longed for home; the smell of the trees, the feel of soft grass beneath her feet, and the sight of sun-dappled ground through the branches of ancient trees.
She closed her eyes and let the wind blow through her hair. Du Weldenvarden lay somewhere to the north, and she would ride the wind ahead of the storm until she was home.