A/N: Hey, guys! This is my first Inheritance fanfic and the second one I've ever written. The first sucked, I scrapped it. :P

So, this is just like a prologue - as the title says. I'd love reviews, and I hope you like this story!

(Revised and updated 18/12/2017)

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Kira bounced up and down on the spot. 'Hurry up, Dad!'

Bergan emerged from the library, a thick scroll in hand. "Calm down, calm down, it's right here!' the head of the Arcaena laughed.

Kira snatched it from him so fast her hand was a blur. She was about to rush to her room when her father stopped her.

'Kira.' His deep voice was serious. 'Be careful with it; it's a very rare and valuable copy, over six hundred years old. It contains extracts from the Shadeslayer and Arya Dröttningu's diaries. People would kill for it. I'm trusting you; the council had no idea I'm letting you read it. Understand?'

Kira paused, her spirits momentarily dampened by her father's' words and a tinge of awe. She ducked her head. 'I promise I'll take care of it, Dad.'

Her father smiled, allowing her to bound up to her room. She jumped onto her bed so hard she actually bounced back up into the air, and eagerly unrolled the scroll.

'The defeat of the Black King and the life of Eragon Shadeslayer.'

The words marched across the top of the scroll in elegant, bold letters. Kira gently let her fingers trail over the words. She'd read the shorter version of this, the children's' version; now finally she was going to be allowed to read the adult version.

She ran a finger down the scroll, muttering, 'Hatching, boring, training, boring, the Varden, violent, Durza, yeah, yeah, the seige, boring, defeat, heard of it, blah blah blah; yes! The New Riders!'

She settled down to read. She knew it wouldn't be a dry and tasteless account of events. It would be alive and warm and real, full of emotions and humour and relationships . . . a delicious shiver of excitement danced down her spine.

Her eyes fell on the portrait of the Shadeslayer, done when he had been eighty seven years old. Tall and regal, he stood with Brisingr resting point down on the ground, his hands resting lightly on the pommel. He had a captivating smile on his face, and the warmth from the smile had only just reached his light brown eyes, showing that he also possessed a certain force of bearing. His hair was a deep chocolate, curling over his intelligent brow, with hints of gold as the light from the setting sun bathed the left side of his face. He wore a simple yellow tunic, belted at the waist, with black leggings and a royal blue cloak embroidered with silver. The light caught his face in such a way that it showed off his high, rounded cheekbones, rendering him even more handsome. He stood with his back to a range of snowcapped mountains. Kira sighed with longing; even as a portrait he was enchanting!

Next was a portrait of Arya Dröttningu. Technically she was Arya Dröttning, but that had been for such a short time that it was rarely counted. She wore a light white dress with flowing sleeves that reached her wrists. A delicate golden girdle set with jade encircled her waist. A similar circlet bound her long hair back just enough to stop it falling over her face, and instead it cascaded across her shoulders, dark and lustrous. Her deep green eyes sparkled, and her lips were full and light red, curving up in a light smile that was not enough to dispel the air of command about her. Everything about her was perfect, from her nose and cheekbones to her lissom figure. She looked everything she had been; elegant, beautiful, dignified. She stood in a position similar to the Shadeslayer's, her hands resting on Támerlein's pommel. Kira sighed again; of course, with someone like her around, there was no way he would have looked at any other woman. And she had to admit that they were extraordinarily suited for each other.

She shook herself; she only had a limited time to read the scroll. Her father needed it back tomorrow, and she could not waste this precious time mooning over portraits, though she yearned to devour the portraits of Bjartskular and Thorn and Murtagh and Fírnen and Stronghammer and Dara, the Silver Rider and Ravûn, the Night Rider and - Argh! There wasn't enough time! But maybe if she finished reading quickly-

She let her eyes fall on the first line.

"After leaving Alagäesia, the Shadeslayer and the Bjartskular travelled southeast with their company of twenty nine elves until . . ."