Chapter 1: The Gift
I see the blood as it runs.
I see a village as it burns.
But most all I see life… and it…
It is fleeting.
The dead all around me echo with scenes that once held sound. Now it is silent, but soon to hear sound once more. I can hear it even now… see its impulses in my mind. Whispers of the flesh.
Soon… very soon… this village will live once again. It will be reborn with a new presence… a new life. Its legacy… of decay.
Even now the buzzing has reached my ears. But whether that is the buzzing of fly wings, or the dark whisperings of my soul… that remains unanswered. However… that is the harbinger of fate. It tells me that my time here has reached an end. It means that I must move.
Through the vibrations that wrack the earth and slight the air, I can feel it. The orange flame draws near. But it is not the soldiers that bring me the fear I face… it is their spell castors.
Unfortunately for the empire, they will not glimpse me tonight… for tonight, I am already gone.
Hours later, I can still see the countryside as it burns. It pains me to leave it… but I must. I must and will, if ever I hope to destroy this cursed land. Destroy that of the empire. Destroy Galbatorix.
Heh… that is only if he does not destroy me first.
Such a bastard…
I once heard that many of centuries ago that there was one rider left to oppose him. One by the name of Eragon. Though I'm not aware of the story's entirety, I know well of the end. He failed… and the land burned.
I'm sorry… but that earns a laugh. You'll have to forgive me…
Still though… It was because of him that the last of the female dragons hatched. Had he died, it might have helped our cause… but if all the accounts are true, he lives. And so do the dragons. As well as the riders of obscurity.
Ah… since that moment… we all suffered.
Before I get on to the facts surrounding the sufferings of the world, I believe I have yet to give my name. A name is a well deserving thing. It tells of both who we are and what one can expect. From the hearsay… it seems that all things have two names affixed to one soul. That is the rule. And I am the rule breaker.
In all of the history of Alagaesia… I am the only one. The only one to have two souls… but no name. And that… for one with naught but offense… may be the only defense needed.
That aside… I can continue the sad history that holds us.
From that of the female, the dragons found life. In time, their species not only survived… but thrived. It was well beyond the brink now. It was the living death.
Now none oppose the new order. There's no one left. After the greatest of all assaults upon the empire, Galbatorix himself came out into the world. With a power unmatched even by nature itself… he crushed his foes. The rider and his dragon captured. The Varden destroyed… and Surda buried. Even then… the chaos persisted.
Soon… Du Weldenvarden burned. The last of the elves eliminated. The mighty Beors… even they found their ruin. The living stone bled. And in the finality… the dwarves were dead… their great halls ruined, and their gods murdered.
In the aftermath, the world met with calamity and the clash resulted in a downward spiral in which none have recovered.
Dragons… both bonded and wild burn the land. Xy'locks and their Ra'zac young, hunt humans nightly in murderous swarms. Other beasts of old have ceased to be. The Urgals, which were fabled monsters that created the tyrant himself, ceased to be. And if that wasn't enough… the great sea in which had separated the many safe lands remaining… has frozen over… encrusted thick with a great black ice. I fear that the day will come when the other races learn of the destruction wrought upon their descendants and Alagaesia will become the Centrifuge of world amenity.
However… our plight isn't hopeless. There are others… others like myself, who can still fight. If I can find them… and find them willing… then we can win this. We can retake the land.
For those… like me… possess what it takes.
The Gift.