Calmer of the Storm: I'm probably going to shoot myself later for this, but it's in my head and I want to get it out, haha.

Having just finished Inheritance I, as well as many, I'm sure, was rather disappointed at the ending. So I write this story as a continuation, set many years in the future and upon a distant land that has its own problems. I don't write it to fix my own Mary-Sue with our dear Hero; I do it because I do not believe that Eragon and Arya had this 'epic' romance that was foretold, according to my own understanding of the word.

Ithildin

"An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates - for that is the magical symbol - strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."

–Angela , Eragon, 'The Witch and the Werecat'

Epic: adjective

1. Noting or pertaining to a long poetic composition, usually centered upon a hero, in which a series of great achievements or events is narrated in elevated style.

2. Heroic; majestic; impressively great

3. Of unusually great size or extent

Prologue

The streets of the vast city of Ilirea were empty save for the few, poor guards who were charged with remaining at their posts and the fools who thought it wise to brave the persistent deluge of rain that poured from the sky. The soft glow of lanterns and window lights were muted by the curtain of rain, making the city almost pitch black. The streets were slick and small rivers had formed on the outside, rivers that flowed into water stores and drains. The pounding of the rain drowned out all other sounds, making conversation even indoors difficult.

There was one such figure, however, not enjoying the warmth of the hearth as she should have been. Truth be told she had no true hearth; just the make-shift one she'd set up with the others like her on the edge of the city near an older, crumbling building. And that hearth might not even be there for her to return to, if the guards decided they were grouchy enough to displace them once more. It had become the story of her life, ever since it all fell apart.

For a young woman who'd once had it all made, this was a far cry from the life she'd thought she'd have. According to her she'd say that it was of no fault of her own; it wasn't her fault that her father's small empire (for that's what he'd called it) was on the very outskirts of the land and thus out of sight and mind of the oh-so-wise rulers of Alagaesia. It wasn't her fault that a particular band of Urgals had decided to test out her father's defences, and it certainly wasn't her fault when that band of soldiers, drunk on the wines of some other spoils, had decided to take advantage of her father's weakened estate.

Ilia sat sheltered for a moment beneath an overhanging balcony. She was soaked to the bone; her cloak rendered useless within the first few minutes of being out in the rain. Still she clutched it tightly around her body, desperately hoping to save at least some of the warmth her body was trying so hard to give off. The hood had been drawn up over her face, delicate features hidden beneath the shadows it casted across her skin. Hints of straw-colour hair appeared around the edges of the hood, though the colour darkened significantly in the lighting and the rain.

The young woman had only been living in the streets of Ilirea for two years. At nineteen she was rather small for her age; they said it was because she wasn't eating very much. That was true, though her mother had been small in stature and her father not a great man in height or width either. She bore a strong resemblance to them both, but no one would ever be able to know that. The depth of knowledge that was held in her emerald eyes, however, suggested wisdom beyond her years; wisdom born of experiences that no person her age, or any age really, should ever have to endure. But she had, and she was here now.

The massive green towers of the castle stood in front of her, not quite the beacon of hope that many claimed it to be. It was not the first time she'd seen them up close but it was the first time she'd stood here with the intention of entering. She had moved from her shelter and was now standing out in the rain; there was no point in waiting any longer. Her smooth jaw was clenched tightly shut and pink lips were pressed into a thin line as she stood there a few moments, the rain beginning to drip down the pale skin of her back, for her shirt beneath the cloak was also wet. Drawing in a deep breath, the girl moved forward.

Ilia knew that there were wards; she'd spent last two years living in their midst. It wasn't that she was a magician; far from it, in fact, but even if she was she had no intentions of mentioning it. Of course, that would be difficult to hide in such a city, so he was thankful that her abilities were really more just…sensitivities. Magic was something she could sense, and while she could not cast her thoughts outward she could defend herself well enough. A decree was in place that all those with magic ability were to swear a binding oath of fealty to the ruler; this was to ensure that there were no insurgents every again. The old histories of the evil king Galbatorix and the subsequent 'New Age' had been drilled into the head of every child in Alagaesia, and despite her distance from this capital or any other she knew them all by heart. As a young child she'd loved them; the stories of the great rider Eragon had accompanied her in her dreams many times. But after watching the empire, watching her father swear fealty to a king he didn't even know and then watch as the promised protection ended up his downfall. Ilia might have been happy if the soldiers had stopped there; if they had not killed her betrothed and taken her virtue as well. And she might have felt justice and peace if it had truly been served…no. No she wasn't going to be a part of a system that hailed its tormentors as heroes and put its noble citizens out on the streets.

What she was doing now was merely an act of rebellion. She'd had no formal training in magic, for her father had wished to protect her from having to bind herself to the empire as he had, but she'd picked up a thing or two on the streets. Two days ago they'd held the ceremony of passing each and every inhabitant of the city by a pair of rather delicate-looking dragon eggs; they were looking for the next riders. It was something that happened once a decade; or at least, the eggs began their traverse through the country once a decade and oftentimes it was longer than that for one to hatch. To find the riders…that was the difficult thing. She'd thought that everyone was to be given the chance, but then she and those with her had watched with rage and horror as only those deemed worthy, those who had passed a rigorous amount of testing, had been able to do it.

It was absolutely infuriating. The Dragon Riders were revered in song and in tales even now; and apparently that man, that Eragon, was still master of them all. Those who dwelt in Alagaesia now toted tales of being with him; of crossing blades and having long discussions with him. How any single man could be so great Ilia didn't know, and she didn't care to find out. If this Eragon was so great, he wouldn't have left the Empire to fall to the state it was in now. Perhaps her view was jaded, but she didn't care. She had been slighted and cheated out of every good thing in her life; if the empire was so great, surely something good would have come her way by now.

Getting passed the walls of the castle was surprisingly easy. Every now and then a small rebellion would crop up, however with one or two Dragon Riders to sort things out they never lasted long. It was always done with diplomacy, something that bothered her to no end…where were the Dragon Riders when she needed them? When her father and those who lived on their estate did? Her ire fuelled her on; she was simply looking to prove a point. And, she had to admit, there was a latent curiosity; something in her that wanted to see a dragon egg up close. It was the closest she'd ever get to one of the magnificent beasts, and she wasn't going to pass this up. As it stood she lived on a day-to-day basis…tomorrow just might never come.

The passage into the castle was a little more difficult, but thankfully she was rather adept at scaling buildings (within reason, of course) and so getting up to the first-storey window and inside wasn't so bad. When her feet touched the stone floor she waited to see if she had alerted anyone; magician or otherwise, and when it came clear that she hadn't she quietly padded her way through the castle.

It was surprisingly easy…perhaps too easy. There wasn't a guard in sight; at least, not a competent one. A few were asleep. It was only when she reached the hall where the dragon eggs were housed that the magicians and soldiers out front were attentive; no matter. She knew there was another window to climb, even if it would be precarious. It took longer but she found her way to the back of the room, for she'd scouted out the castle before, and found the window. The trick would be to do it successfully and quietly, and without getting found out by a magician or two. If she did that…with her luck, she'd probably be put to death.

Once she did manage to get up to the window, the question was to get back down. The eggs were on the far side of the room, sitting on a stone dais as if it were some kind of altar. She scoffed a little; there was even a pillow to support either one…what, did the baby dragons need comfort? She couldn't imagine that it was all that nice crumpled up inside of an egg like that…well, maybe it was. Who knew?

The trek down was precarious and she was running out of time, and once she got to the bottom she realised that getting back out without getting caught was going to be highly unlikely. Ilia let out a soft chuckle to herself; well, that had been stupid of her. Well, at least she could say that she'd gotten into the castle undetected. Perhaps if she could just get out of this room before they caught her she could claim that she was just an adolescent acting on a dare. She was nothing more than a street rat, after all, surely they wouldn't care.

Carefully the young woman strode to the end of the room, aware that there were many enchantments here. The dragon eggs too, which meant she couldn't touch them…wait. No, only one of them did. How odd, she thought; why only protect the one? Well, it made her choice quite simple.

Gingerly she reached out with both hands, plucking the smooth egg from its spot. It was oddly warm; there was a pulse from inside of it that reminded her of a heartbeat. The colour was a muted silver, though she suspected that with a good amount of light it would shine brilliantly; perhaps a metallic silver or a deep pewter…she couldn't really tell. What she could see, however, were all the tiny facets that made up the hard shell, and nothing would break through it. To think that a thing so small as this could one day turn out to be a dragon…

She felt something move, in her mind and in her hand, and the shock of it caused her to jump backwards. Consequently she let go of the egg, allowing it to fall to the ground. The resounding crack that reached her ears sent her heart plummeting to the ground.

"Oh merdre," she swore, emerald eyes wide and limbs starting to tremble. She'd just killed an unborn dragon. If that wasn't a warrant for death, she didn't know what was.

It was at this point that the doors to the room burst open, and a band of rather furious magicians and soldiers tumbled through it. Immediately she felt the assault on her mind; she was done for. They would kill her here and they would do it slowly and tortuously.

Something else happened, then; something she did not expect. There was another presence…one that was soft and gentle but which somehow exerted more force than the two magicians combined. It was a presence that shocked them all, and it caused the girl to look down towards her feet. Instead of a cracked, leaking egg there was in its place a rather small dragon. Without knowing how she knew that it was a male, and she watched as he pressed himself through the remainder of the shell of his confines, snout and claws working to make it happen. His silver body was coated in what could only be the fluids from the inside of the egg.

The room was completely silent as they watched, the cracking of the egg and the sloshing of fluids the only sound as all eyes were fixed on the creature. Once out of his confines the dragon shook himself off, momentarily flaring his moist, silver wings before releasing a small trumpet of victory; an obvious attempt at a roar. Dark eyes blinked up at her curiously, and without thinking about it she reached a hand towards the small reptile. Flesh and scales touched, then, and after a bright light and the feeling of ice-cold water flowed through her veins and concentrated in the hand that was touching the dragon. When it stopped she snapped her hand away as if she had been burned, and looked to see a strange, glowing mark there. Emerald eyes went wide; she had no idea what was happening.

"The gedwey ignasia," came a deep voice from behind her.

Ilia turned, gripping her wrist with her other hand, eyes wide and face still filled with shock. The look on the other man's face, a magician, was taught and unimpressed, even if he could not deny what had transpired before him.

"It would seem that we have found our latest dragon rider," he continued, though he didn't seem at all pleased.

Dragon Rider…the words reverberated in her mind, which was no longer her own. There was something else there; another presence. No…no this was not happening…

Because the worst thing that could happen to a person who didn't want anything to do with the Empire was to become one who is forced to protect it.

Calmer of the Storm: So there you have it…the prologue. Not very exciting, I realise, but I promise that the usual canon of characters will make an appearance soon, starting in the next chapter. Well, within reason; it's been a while since the end of the series xD

Let me know what you think; not sure if I should keep going or not. As this is my first 'Eragon' story, I'm just testing the waters, so if people don't like it I'll scrap it.