Disclaimer: I own nothing except Hadara, Jadzia, Abrienda, Syra, Arnaia, and Emerara. Everything else belongs to Christopher Paolini.

Chapter II: Jadzia

I was born in the city of Teirm, to a merchant and his wife. My father, Cirocco, was often away on business and my mother had died when I was little. While my father was away, I often kept to the house and rarely wandered the streets.

I led a mixed life. Many girls my age admired my wealth and beauty, and pretended to be my friends, but they were not. My fourteen years of free existence were lonely and sad; quite often I would cry at night and wish I was a happier person. I was a pale and delicate little thing, and rarely enjoyed life.

Before Father went on a trip, I would always plead for the permission to take a walk outside the city.

The answer was always the same. "No, Jadzia," he would say. "It's too dangerous."

"Please, Father?"

"No! Now you've heard what I have to say; it is too dangerous."

One time, I had grown so angry that I decided to defy my father's wishes and leave the city. It would only be a short walk; what could happen?

It was a beautiful summer day. At noon, I sat by a stream and ate some of the bread I had brought with me. I gazed over the flowing waters. The beauty of the light-filled stream captivated me; my love of nature had long been the annoyance of Father, though I did not know why.

As I stared at the stream, a stone half buried in mud caught my attention. It was a beautiful thing, indigo as the night sky with silver veins running through it. I decided to dig it up and add it to my rock collection.

As I began to pry it from the streambed, I realized that it was a foot long, maybe more, and that it was heavy. I finally had it sitting in my hands and was admiring it in the sunlight when it gave a loud shriek and started to shake violently.

I was, needless to say, extremely startled and confused. Why had a stone started rattling and squeaking? Or maybe it was not a stone. I backed away quickly and stood behind a tree. As I watched through wide eyes, a large crack appeared in the stone, then another, then another.

Then the stone fell apart.

Shocked, I stared at it as I saw a dragon hatchling unfold itself from the remains of what I now realized had been an egg.

The creature was stunning; it had silvery spikes along its back and silver claws. Its scales shone a beautiful purple-blue color, almost identical to the egg I had found (obviously).

I reached out to touch the indigo baby dragon, and felt a blinding pain that kept me unmoving on the ground for ten minutes. When, panting, I finally regained the use of my limbs, I looked at my palm and gasped: a perfect circle of my flesh was silvery-white.

I looked at the creature, realizing that keeping it would make me a Dragon Rider, like those I had read of in Father's library. I decided to name it Arnaia. The name had come from a book of dragon's names in the library. It meant 'one who is beautiful. My newfound companion was certainly exquisite, so I looked at the dragon. "Arnaia. You are Arnaia. Just to be sure, are you a female?" I asked, not expecting a response. I knew it was crazy to talk to an animal, but then, I had also thought dragons were a myth. Today was a day of surprises.

Yes, said a voice. I looked around in alarm.

"Who's there?" I asked.

It's me, Arnaia.

"Oh . . . "

A sudden blow to the head knocked me unconscious. I was not to know that when I awoke and left the dream world, I would have entered a nightmare.