Seshriyha
The air was thick with dampness that chilled the very marrow in every body that ghosted inside the fortress. The stone held no memory of time past. Joy was a word long unknown. Life did not exist amidst the weight of pure nothing. This was Uru'baen as it was in present circumstances. A Dragon Rider named Galbatorix rules over his Empire since the slaughter many years ago in the aforementioned structure. But this is not a story of the past. This is not a history of Alagaesia and its deep scars. Rather, this is a story of evil, magic, and thoughts of love; and they are only but thoughts of love, for love cannot truly take root in the darkest of hearts. This is the tale of an ageless creature that looks like a human, but is not of any race known to the peoples of this world in which this telling takes place. And it begins with Murtagh, and his sullen stalking of the halls in a sleepless pacing…
It was three weeks past the confrontation between the two siblings on the Burning Plains. And everyday since that pathetic loss was chockfull of dizzying machinations. It was only in the last few hours that things were quieting down, settling in for the calm before the storm. Amidst the darkest hours of the night, when men of this shift had forgotten the joys of the sun, Murtagh took to his silent treading upon the solid stone. Though he was quick to assume that his punishment for his "distortion of his orders" was to be swift and painful, Galbatorix merely looked down at him for a moment, verbalized a comment or two, and dismissed him without a care. The only sign of his understanding of the situation was his call to his courier to bring to him a word master. Murtagh was more disturbed by the nonchalance that prevailed the entire session; it was as though Galbatorix was smiling on the inside with a secret knowledge. What the knowledge pertained to he did not know, and was hesitant to seek out, but his curiosity took residence once more and he went about the castle in earnest. After two weeks of blank faces and concerned looks, Murtagh wisely lost interest and continued on as though the notion never took root. Though the Empire lost this battle, they were confident to achieve dominance once more in the upcoming engagement. Soldiers walked about with swelled chests and determined faces, even the scullery maids had a look of excited passion about them. Thorn had shared his disgust at the false hope Galbatorix had seeped into the air as of late. Murtagh agreed with his closest friend more than he could express. Every moment that passed, every secret meeting within his inner chambers, Galbatorix seemed to grow more and more powerful. And after a year of private investigation, he still did not know where his source of learning was, or what it was for that matter.
After ruminating over this last concern, he was interrupted by the presence of a very warm source in his mind, and it was not Thorn or Galbatorix. Breathing deep to regain control, he followed the fleeing source through many halls and servant passageways until he paused before a very solid looking portion of a wall. Cocking his head in confusion, he was slightly startled by the immediate unveiling of a comfortable room beyond the dim passage. Feeling the coaxing caress, he stepping in and noted that the only entrance now sealed behind him. Survival instincts caused his eyes to slit and a viscous sneer to part his lips as he very carefully scanned the room till he lay eyes on every inch within sight and could see no living thing to be the source of the seductive warmth.
"That sneer does not suit you." The warmth now manifested in the breath of woman who whispered directly behind his left ear. Without moving he spoke.
"What is it that you want, nymph?" His voice rumbled with checked rage at the set up. He had better things to spend his time on.
"Nymph?!" The voice hissed, and immediately following the last vibration within his eardrum did the violent smarting of a backhand cut across his right cheek. Instinctively, he brought his hands to assess the true damage to the flesh and protect it shamelessly against another attack. Suddenly he was on his back, some thing holding him down. "You are as insipidly arrogant as your father. 'Like father like son.' Is not that what you vapid creatures say?"
"I am nothing like my father." He burned. His rage became all consuming when he saw a woman of very short stature standing above him as though she were a man of important ruling. What he saw was a spoiled, haughty, supercilious young lady whom he assumed came from the upper Court.
"That, sir, is debatable, and if we were to embark on such a discussion, I would be more equipped to handle it than you."
"And what makes you believe that falsity?"
"Because I know you father. I've known him since he was fashioned in his mother's womb. You, never truly being around him for any character building time – "
"'Character building time?!'"
"YES! Interrupt me again and I will silence you for the duration of the dark priests' fast! You did not know your father as I do. In short, do not assume to be the wiser in any discussion when in my presence."
"Let me up, witch, so that I may put you in your place."
"And where might you think that be; beneath you? Now you listen here child, son of Morzan, Forsworn and spat upon. Harken to these words I am about to tell you. If the mighty King Galbatorix himself does not even think thoughts of contempt towards me, then I might warn you here and now not to test it. I have summoned you with the express interest of others. You will take it, you will learn from me, and you will be silent on all matters. From this moment you will not speak unless you are in my presence, and only then when I am in a mood to humor your obstinance. At last, Murtagh, you may rise up, and leave me. I will call for you when I am in a better state to handle our confrontations." With a dismissive wave of her hand, the overbearing weight that bolted him to the floor dissolved and he quickly thrust up off the floor till he stood erect once more. And like the mysterious entrance this woman had made, she had vanished similarly. Sensing a way out, he left through the same ethereal entrance as he had entered and retraced his steps back to his quarters in the dragon keep. Noting that Thorn was deep in slumber, he simply succumbed to the equally sublime nature of rest.