Prologue

The anxious fear of being followed, chased and watched. It made her cringe. Where was she? What was happening? What forest was this? Was she safe? All these questions frantically bummed and collided with each other in her head, causing a fury of confusion.

She ran, nevertheless, without any thought about that; she cradled a stone tightly in her arms underneath her cloak, as she stealthily whisked from one tree to another. Arya had to have sent here for a reason. She must have known something was here... or else she would have never risked her life to save Zara and this... stone.

Zara wasn't alone, no – in fact, she knew she was being followed, and that's why she ran so quickly and cast herself in the deep shadows under the trees. But suddenly, she heard the crunch of footsteps- swift steps of a man so much more crafty and nippy than she could have imagined. It was inevitable, she knew he'd surface soon. Sweat accumulated at her forehead and then all of a sudden, the forceful grab at her cloak made her jump. She violently turned around, her eyes wildly searching for who it was, but she saw no one.

Was she hallucinating? Going mad? Insane? No this person was toying with her.

And then she heard him, loud and clear next to her ear. It made her shiver in fear; it was so chilling it was as if she'd touched an open galvatic battery. The hum or buzz of terror was dull, but it was that seemingly dull feeling that was frightening.

"A Halfling..." Zara now felt this man's presence behind her, he sniffed her scent so maliciously, it disgusted her. "This is who the Varden put in charge of protecting-" he chortled... as if he didn't already know her.

She sneered, turning around again, to face the man. "Ulric" she spit his name out of her mouth as if it were poison.

Zara finally got a chance to get a look of the man. She looked up through the hood of her cloak and stared at the man with her dark black eyes. He was a ghastly pale color, even nighttime couldn't hide the fact that this man, an assassin, was unnaturally pale. So white, that there was a sickly blue tint to his face; his tiny veins were visible on his eyes lids when he blinked. The assassin had dark hair slicked back perfectly, it was unnerving. He was one of the astound hounds for King Galbatrix, so sly, insidious, vicious and stealthy, even a few of the forsworn feared him.

"I'm surprised, I haven't killed you yet, but this time..." the man of twenty eight grabbed Zara's wrist, twisted it just enough to make her cry out in pain before he grabbed for the stone underneath her cloak. She kicked him backwards and he scowled.

"I'm not up for your pity tricks, Zara..." he struggled to pull the stone away from her grasp. "... I'm tired of chasing a half elf who won't even use her powers..." The girl pushed him again, she knew now matter what she'd do, it seemed that Ulric would never kill her. There were plenty of chances in the past and even now, when she was most vulnerable and without any weapons, this man didn't seem to kill her. "I'm starting to believe you don't even have powers..." he threw a sinister smirk her way as he brought his face close to hers. Zara grimaced and pulled back. "...Then again you are his sister, no?"

Ulric's patience was now wearing thin and then, all of a sudden, he overcame Zara's pitiful struggling and pressed her against the tree; her hood slid off her head. He stared at her with callous eyes "just because that is so, doesn't mean anything to me anymore..." he spat and then slipped out a dagger.

Zara's eyes widened in astonishment and fear, she was about to spew an incantation out of her mouth to rescue herself but then, she heard his cry.

Ulric's grasp released her and she stared frantically at all the fresh blood smeared on her clothes... Ulric's leg. The man cursed, looked down at the long arrow deeply cast into his fresh.

"Come on!" with so much bewilderment, confusion and fear she wildly glared at the figure behind Ulric. She couldn't get a good look; all she took from him was his young and vivacious voice. He was just a boy, of her age-probably seventeen. He ran towards her and grabbed her hand. The grip sent her in a flurry of visions; she cried out from the pain pounding in her head and instantly clung tighter on to the stone still held in her one arm.

Frightened, Eragon tried to pull away, but her hold was strong and he remained where he was, his mind intertwined with hers.

It was like a dream to Eragon. The once clear image of the forest turned into clips and scenes of not this girl but another. She was even more beautiful and appealing to him at the moment of the scene of when she smiled at him but soon her face morphing into a horrid almost decaying pale man's face who grinned menacing at him, but yet again that scene turned into another, where he was running with this same girl and someone else, but he couldn't point who and there above his head flew past a shadow of some sort

The collection of images soon after immediately ended, sucking Eragon back to reality, and the girl who had just grabbed his hand abruptly lost her balance and fell over against Eragon's chest.

"Wait!" Eragon, held her by her shoulder but she was already unconscious. "Who are you? What is this stone?" Knowing that his questioning was useless, the dirty blonde boy packed the stone she had in his pouch and hastily hung the girl and ran away from the scene, surprised that the man he had struck had now disappeared and only left a bloody mess over the forest floor.