Woohoo! my first fanfic.. awesome. Ive like been attempting to write this frigging thing since god knows when and finally..finally..here it is!

First of all this is just the prologue as the title (so very obviously) shows. Its not all that interesting at the beginning (I guess). It's sorta like the starting of Eragon (which is utterly boring).

chapter (prologue ) is about ten years behind the actual story line for reasons you'll find out if you become a dedicated fan and read the new chapter which I'll attempt to write every week.

's a a multi POV.

will be mature scenes later which will be posted in another fanfic (for ppl who like the story but not M scenes.)

thats just about it. you guys better write reviews.

Prologue: Magic

Isabel walked aimlessly in the forest. Her aunt Marian had passed into the void but a month ago and had told her and her twin brother, Eragon, a secret that had thrown the most permanent and unquestionable of things into doubt. She wasn't their mother, nor was Garrow their father or Roran their brother. They were their aunt, uncle and cousin. This revelation had raised many more questions than it answered though. For instance, why had their mother left them? Where had she been? And the most difficult one of all, who was their father? She was lost, utterly and completely, in the unpiercable darkness of doubt.

She was, however, not alone. For she also had Eragon, who was just as lost as she was, and the sometimes spent long hours trying to figure out their heritage together somehow. But it was, obviously, impossible for two five year olds to figure out the answers to the questions which had evaded Garrow too. Of all things though, what troubled her most was Eragon's hurt. She would bear any amount of pain to stop him from being hurt. Always. But nowadays, she knew he had been crying, for she had too. Though they tried not to think about it, they both had a nagging suspicion that they had not been good enough for their mother.

But then she could have been someone important too couldn't she? But the chances of that were even less than those of finding diamonds in a pig trough. It was a possibility though, considering she had come back in fine clothes and her hair had been bound in a net of pearls. Marian had kept them with her for safekeeping because since Selena had left them in Carvahall, they were now a part of her inheritance. Since Marian had died, they had moved to Garrow's ancestral home. The farm had been unoccupied for the better part of the century till a few weeks ago. It was old but not decrepit. Yet. It was spring right now, her favorite season. She just loved the feel of the moist and fertile soil of the farm and the flowers in full bloom. It was also her and Eragon's birthday in a couple of months.

She was elder than Eragon, though only by a few minutes. It was a little enjoyable, knowing that she was elder than him, but she was more responsible than him too. While Eragon and Roran joked about together she always found something to keep herself busy with. Roran, though older than the two of them was a just as immature as Eragon was at times. But just because she was always busy, it didn't mean that she didn't wrestle about and play with them too. But only rarely.

She was in a foul mood today. The two of them, Eragon and Roran, had plotted to soil her only doll and had succeeded. They were now busy washing the clothes as punishment. They had complained, saying that she was the girl so she should be the one doing it but Garrow had told them that it being a life skill must be learnt and practiced. The doll had been made by Marian a year ago with a few rags, but still treasured by her. She was slightly happy that they had been punished but was still angry at them.

The doll had been that of a dragon, which, she thought was perfect because she had always had a fascination with them. She often visited the village storyteller, Brom, to ask him about everything to do dragons. They were such magnificent creatures, with glittering scales that came in every colour and their own differing personalities. She envied people who had lived in the time the dragons had thrived, the age of the riders. She thought back to the last time she had visited him, he had seemed rather happy about meeting her, like he always did.

A twig snapped somewhere and she looked up from her musings. For the first time she realized that she was in the forest. She walked on till she reached a clearing. It was getting dark, but she could dimly see clumps of wildflowers that dotted the whole clearing. Among the flowers, there flitted a few fireflies. The scene was beautiful. It was completed by the dim outline of a fallen tree that was covered in moss. She tried very hard not to but couldn't help it as her lips slowly lifted in a gentle smile. Flawless, she thought, truly flawless.

Walking up to a fallen log in the middle of the clearing , she scraped off as much of the clinging moss as she could before sitting down. Garrow had told her not to stay out in the forest too late or to go too deep into it either, she, sadly, found it difficult to stop herself from doing something she had been told not to. It was a habit she had developed a couple of years earlier and it had continued to this day. Though nothing she was proud of, it was a habit that made every day more interesting than the other. Sometimes, even Garrow had trouble dealing with her unacceptable behavior. She could remember, though only dimly, an incident of hers' with Marian about a year ago. She had decided to ask Marian to make her clothes like Eragon and Roran's. She had known that Marian would refuse from the start and had stuck to her resolve because everyone had told it was wrong for a girl to wear the clothes of men. But statements like those had just made her more reluctant to give in. Finally after a couple of weeks Marian had realized that attempting to refuse her were useless and had finally given in.

The clearing suddenly went very quiet. The crickets stopped chirping and the fireflies were nowhere to be seen. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. She looked around for the source of the fear of the creatures of the clearing. It was empty. She shuddered and silently prayed it was not a wolf. Though she knew that they only lived in the higher ups of the spine it was not uncommon for a few to wander too far away from their homes in search of food. She had never seen a wolf and hoped that she wouldn't have to today either. She suddenly heard a slight grunt behind her and turned to see a large urgal behind her.

X.o.X.o.X.o.X.o

Brom slammed shut the door behind him and turned to lock it. He had many valuables inside and would loath to lose any of them. But of all his possessions the one he valued most was the sword of his once friend, later nemesis Morzan, Zar'roc. Misery, he thought sourly as he walked down a well worn path that led into the forest. Misery was the meaning of Zar'roc, though the reason why anyone would want to name their sword as such escaped him, but misery was the only thing that sword of his had caused. And the most, he felt, had been his.

He was rather ashamed of the way he had let Morzan order him about and that he, instead of rebelling, had, quite foolishly, followed him like a lost puppy. He had held his illusion of Morzan being the most powerful and righteous person till the day news reached his ears that he had joined Galbatorix. Galbatorix, the man who had torn apart the riders and their golden reign with the help of thirteen more riders, the Forsworn as they were later called.

Even after Morzan had joined him, Brom had harbored a slight hope that Galbatorix had learnt their true names and was thus manipulating them. This futile hope of his had shattered though, when he had seen Morzan kill mercilessly and joyously the men and women he had once fought alongside with. He had even tried to reason with him later but his attempts had proved useless as all Morzan had done was to laugh at him. The mad ma n then caused him more pain than he had ever known. He had killed the partner of his heart, Saphira.

After her death, he had finally understood Galbatorix's anger. Though the ones he had directed his hatred towards had not deserved it, he still empathized with the man's pain. The only difference however, was that while the anger of the self-proclaimed king was towards the riders, Brom rightfully blamed Morzan.

Losing his dragon was not the most painful of things he had been through, for, a few years after the painful incident; he had come across a rather attractive maiden, Selena. She was the feared Black Hand and also Morzan's consort. It was a wise choice because taking into mind that the woman had loved the tyrant, she would never betray him. Unless he could change that. That had been the very line of his thoughts till he had actually met the woman. She had been proud and cold yet gentle and kind and from the moment their eyes met, he knew he could love no other. But he had lost her too... though not at a stranger's hand but his own. He had caused Selena's demise, and his own grief.

Through the foliage, Brom thought he saw a swish of brown. A brown that had belonged to Selena. His eyes widened and he swallowed through a lump in his throat before he realized who it had been. His daughter, Isabel. He smiled at his own foolishness, Selena had died five years ago, and the dead never come back. Wherever this girl went, he decided, he would protect her, even if it was to be from Galbatorix himself.

Isabel had been following a trail that led deep into the woods, causing Brom to frown. Garrow should not have allowed her to leave the farm at such late hours for the woods were dangerous. She might get lost, encounter wolves, foxes, or even worse, the lone Urgal he knew roamed the woods at times, looking for food. Brom had known of the Urgal for a few weeks now and though he had left his cottage for days at a time, never had he ever come across the creature. Aye, he had felt his mind, but the monster had always managed to evade him. These reasons, he decided, were enough for him to quietly follow her till she decided to leave. A twig snapped beneath hi s foot and he silently cursed. The last thing he wanted was his own daughter to fear him.

He looked around only to find that she was out of his sight. Knowing it would be foolish to attempt to find her on foot, he found a log. Sitting on it, he cautiously removed the barriers around his mind and allowed his consciousness to engulf the clearing, and slowly a large circle about half a mile in radius. He searched till he finally came across her mind and was surprised to find it shielded. She shouldn't have known how to protect her thoughts at such a young age, unless...

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud wail of terror from the direction he knew Isabel would be.

X.o.X.o.X.o.X.o .

Isabel pressed against the large trunk blocking her only escape from the hideous monster in front of her. She knew it was an urgal from the many times Brom had told her about them. After seeing the urgal, she had run for dear life in the opposite direction. She had known it was a hopeless attempt to outrun it but she had still tried. Even though she had run as fast as she could, the creature had kept up with her with evident ease.

She had run till she came across the tree trunk blocking her way before turning to face the creature. She now looked around for something she might be able to use as defense against the hulking form of the urgal. She suddenly remembered the small throwing knife Brom had given her the last time she had visited him. She eyed the urgal cautiously, but it was evident that the metal would never be able to pierce its hide.

Knowing the attempt was futile, but refusing to give up, she slowly reached down to her right boot where she knew her small blade would be. The feel of the cold metal against her hand was comforting, if only the slightest bit. She took a deep, measured breath and pictured exactly what she would have to do before whipping it out and throwing the knife where the monster's heart was supposed to be. The blade hit its mark, only to fall to the ground, useless. The urgal then made a strange noise in his throat, confusing her. It's laughing, she realized. Laughing at her hopeless attempt to save her life. This just enraged her. A hideous animal like him was laughing at her trying to defend herself. No one had ever laughed at her before and that an urgal was now doing it, only made he her angrier. Her rage had now reached a bursting point and it did break free.

She felt a barrier in her mind break, before words unbidden came to her lips, "Letta!", she screamed and had a brief moment of satisfaction, as the urgal's features contorted into those of fear. The urgal fell to the ground with a loud thump, dead. It was only then that a wave of exhaustion swept over her, making the world hazy. She thought she saw Brom's face amid the tree trunks of the forest before the darkness took her into its warm and sweet embrace.

Hope u liked it. Love it if ppl wrote reviews. :D