Kvetha, Fricäya!

I just finished the Inheritance Cycle and was left heartbroken with the bittersweet finale... so while Mr. Paolini works his way back to Alagaësia in the (hopefully near) future I, like many, wish to fill the void with a continuation of the stories and journeys of these beloved characters.

As this is my first fanfic it may not be the greatest thing you ever read, but hopefully once the pace picks up and I have the direction all laid out, it will be an enjoyable read! Reviews are most welcome and highly appreciated, especially if I miss something important to staying in canon. Suggestions and ideas are welcome for now as well, until such a time should arise when I know exactly what I want to do with every piece of this story. Updates will likely be infrequent at first.

Anywho, enough chit-chat. You came here to read about Eragon, and that's what you're going to do.

Enjoy!

-kms


Chapter 1: Prologue

The Talíta gently glided its way through the river Edda as it meandered across the plains to the far east of the land of Alagaësia. As the stars continued to shine their familiar light upon the ship, the sun's brightness was visibly warming the skies ahead. Gradually a small range of mountains became visible as the sun's rays began to crawl through the peaks and spill out onto the plains before the ship.

A monstrously large, magnificent blue-scaled creature flew lazily in circles about four hundred feet above the Talíta. Upon its back, near the base of the creatures long, powerful neck, sat a lone rider. Lightly grasping a thick, lightly-hued neck spike for balance, the man's youth emanated from his visage despite the battle-hardened features that betrayed only subtle – but grim all the same – hints of loss and unfathomable grief.

On the deck of the ship stood a half dozen slender elves, keeping watch but otherwise motionless and noiseless. Beneath the deck were just over a dozen more, most of which sleeping or meditating – all wary of any sudden noises or movements that may indicate danger for their precious cargo.

The river began to straighten out as it neared the mountains, and the sun climbed far enough above them to light the Talíta's way through a narrow river valley. After only a few sharp bends in the calm waterway, the mountains surrounding the ship and its passengers shrunk away and they sailed headlong into a serene, sparkling blue expanse of water that went on for as far as the eye – human or elf – could see…

…Save for one stationary blip dotting the horizon, which appeared so insignificant from their current distance that it might have merely been a trick of the sun, which was now just over an hour away from shining down on the ship from directly above.

The blue-scaled creature let out a deafening roar before soaring through the air towards the speck on the horizon, with its rider clinging to its neck spike firmly. As several of the elves below deck joined their companions above, one of them – sporting dark blue fur and yellow eyes – glided towards the front of the boat with catlike agility, entranced by the sight.

Filled with anticipation, he cast a subdued, inquisitive thought towards the flying pair.

What do you see, Shadeslayer? Brightscales?


Eragon blinked and shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun, which had risen unopposed by any clouds or meddling weather conditions that morning. His eyes strained to see the horizon, as he had not rested them well over the course of the last week. Sleepless though he was, his strength of vision was akin to the elves', and he quickly adjusted to the light as the final sheer cliff face of the small mountain range they had passed through fell behind them.

Little one, there is something ahead, chimed the equally weary dragon Saphira, whose reflective blue scales seemed only to amplify in beauty as they flew over the deep, shimmering waters of what appeared to be an ocean expanding outwards before them.

Eragon saw it only moments after she did – a distant disturbance in the otherwise perfectly smooth horizon. Were the horizon they looked upon captured on a fairth, it looked as if someone had flicked a small speck of dark ink onto a space between the sea and the sky. Even as he stared Eragon felt as though he could reach and and wipe it away with a careful hand movement.

I see it too, Saphira. Do you think…

…it is land worthy of our cause? she finished the question even as it brewed in his mind, demonstrating once more the strength of their unfathomably intimate mental bond. As dragon and Rider, it was only natural that their fated closeness would unite their very thoughts at times.

As if to further her answer, Saphira let out a fierce roar and flapped her massive, translucent blue wings in an attempt to gain altitude. Once at a comfortable height, she felt a strong current of air that she used to further propel herself forward towards the impurity on the otherwise clear horizon.

Eragon lurched forward and gripped her neck spike closely, suddenly alert and excited. Until now all they had seen on the week's journey were endless plains with only a few small hills rolling about here and there. Having left what he presumed to be the entire continent behind he felt unusually ecstatic; free of the mundane surroundings they had sailed and flown across, they were now fast approaching what might just be an unprecedented land mass where they could settle.

As excitement and anticipation flooded the mental link between him and Saphira, a familiar presence inquired: What do you see, Shadeslayer? Brightscales?

Recognizing it as the elf spellcaster Blödhgarm – whose choice appearance consisted of wolf fangs (as indeed, his name in the Ancient Language translated to "Blood Wolf"), yellow hawk eyes and dark blue fur like that of a forest cat – Eragon responded merely by opening his mind to let the elf see what he and Saphira were seeing as they approached what they could now confirm to be a mass of land, not one hour away from the ship.

As Eragon and Saphira drew closer they could see an unblemished horizon of sea and sky beyond a short mountainous terrain that seemed to enclose the island on all sides, save for the pristine sandy shore that opened towards the continent they had left behind minutes ago.

Finally Saphira stopped, as from their height and distance the island could be seen in full. The mountains that enclosed most of the island were shorter than those of Eragon's birthplace in the range known as the Spine, save for two massive peaks that cornered at the northeastern and southeastern tips of the island. These two mountains stood at least twice as tall as those immediately below them, and immediately Eragon felt a sense of satisfaction, which Saphira echoed.

They estimated that the island must be roughly ten leagues wide on all sides; while it was not a perfect circle, it was unusual that such a formation could naturally be formed so similarly to one. The mountain range that acted as the backbone of the island was as wide as three leagues towards the eastern side, and as thin as one league on the northern and southern sides. Between the rocky cartilage of the earth was a vast sea of dark, rippling green forest, with a small lake in the northwest, fed by a thin river carved out of the sandy western shore. Interrupting the dense forest in slight splotches were fields of lighter green sprawling over rolling hills, with the occasional plateau overlooking the fields and forests below. Eragon thought he could make out the slow-moving shapes of various herd animals on the fields – a sight which Saphira eagerly gazed at herself for nearly a full minute, treading air with great anticipation.

We shall land and scout the island for dangers; from magic to natural phenomena. What you are seeing is most formidable... Land and rest while we sail to join you.

Tense with excitement, Eragon jumped as Blödhgarm's message rang in his mind. He had almost forgotten they had shared the vision. He felt the elf's presence withdraw from his mind with a sudden, purposeful spark.

"I think… this might be it," said Eragon aloud, prompting a deep, gleeful hum from Saphira.

She folded in her wings suddenly, and dove – plummeting towards the sandy yellow shore, she spoke, barely able to contain her joy: Dangers or no, this haven of an island appears more suitable than anything I had imagined we would find!

This certainly shows promise. Be wary of the forces of nature as you make your presence known here. However, I can sense no immediate issue… should this island become our new home, my kin and I would like to share some of our hopes and ideas for it with you. The deep, warm voice of Glaedr penetrated their minds politely, warming their hearts with the relief that seemed to course through his thoughts like the warmth of the sun shining down on their bodies. The golden dragon's Eldunarí – heart of hearts – lay in a protected pack strapped to Saphira's saddle.

Eragon acknowledged the idea politely, smiling wearily as the wind from their dive tore at his skin. Saphira shot her wings out at the last second, levelling out, and her body shuddered as they slammed down onto the soft sand of the beach.

Saphira, I think you named this island perfectly, said Eragon, smiling more broadly as he dismounted his saddle and sat upon her crouched front leg. He stared at the sand below, almost timidly.

Hmm? I do not recall offering any suggestion, she responded with a tone of confusion. Gentle waves lapped at the edges of the beach, and the sails of the Talíta could be seen on the western horizon.

Haven. It is a natural haven and shelter, and shall become even more so in due time… a haven for the rebirth of the dragons and the Riders… Dragon Haven.

Saphira hummed with proud approval as he leaped off of her knee and landed in the soft, moist sand below.