Wow, so it's been awhile since I've updated this, and no, I haven't forgotten Eldy, but my laptop crashed and I lost Chapters 26-27. I had this; I'm posting it. Review, yes?


Act I: Convulsus Lux Lucis (The Shattered Light)

The darkness has always been a part of you, as integral and ingrained as your penchant for asking questions or your bond with Saphira. You cannot be rid of it and it cannot be rid of you. It has been inside you since the moment you were born, even though your mother took you away to protect you from it. It slipped inside you in that darkened room, breathing in the pauses between your mother's quiet groans and your newborn cries. It was there when you breathed air for the first time, when you slept in your mother's arms. The darkness is hereditary, passed down for generations since the first human drew breath.

(It is human nature.)

So when you breathed your first breath, it went in with the sweet, nourishing air, taking root, tethering itself to your heart and soul. It coated your insides with black shadow, as dark as the night, and waited, for the darkness is more patient than the light. Children cannot choose good or evil at first. They are pure, like the water in the rivers, flowing freely in the day and in the night. The darkness in your soul waited, as all darkness does, for your twilight and the death of the day.

(The darkness is more patient than anything, because the night always falls.)

The first time you became aware of the darkness, you had just lost a fight with another village boy and he was mocking you, calling you weak, a bastard. You were only ten and didn't know what that word meant, but the darkness knew, and it came to your aid. Rage was your darkness, and with it you pummeled the other boy until Garrow dragged you away, scolding and cursing. That night, you learned what a bastard was, and you recognized that the darkness was anger, and something to be wary of. But like a cloud drifting across the sunlit sky, the darkness never fully disappeared, only moved out of sight for awhile.

(It only takes one cloud to block the sun.)

You did not encounter it again for many years, for Saphira and Roran and Arya kept it at bay. But over the Burning Plains, facing your brother, knowing he was a murderer and a traitor, your shields faltered and the darkness found a purchase. When you met him again, you held the darkness at bay, because you loved him once, and family should not kill family. But the third time, after he killed Oromis, your teacher, the darkness overtook you and you fought like a monster. That day you learned that darkness was a dangerous ally, and from then on you dreamed of Murtagh's new scars and shuddered.

(The darkness is patient, but it is ferocious when aroused.)

It was not until later in the war, after you learned that Arya was pregnant, that you began to call upon the darkness regularly. It was a form of protection, the best you could offer, because it was patient and fierce and unforgiving. Enemy after enemy fell to your burning blade, and the Varden advanced, in awe of their dragon- like champion. By the time you stood in the King's throne room, filled to the brim with darkness and rage and the desire to protect your unborn child, it was already to late.

(The darkness is tempting and deceptive, always eager to claim a new vessel.)

That day he offered you a way to protect your family, and you took it, and the darkness won, as it always does, because it is always there, and ready to spring and envelope its enemies.

In a way, you are very similar to the King, your new Master. He too traded his humanity for the darkness, not knowing the consequences of such and action. How was he to know that the world would throw itself in turmoil because he declared himself king? And how were you to know that you would lose everything but Saphira to the darkness?

(The darkness is patient, but it takes everything.)

In retrospect, you realize that the darkness was never kind, not like the light you once knew. It took over you, tearing you heart to pieces as your loved ones died one by one. You were a hero once, not the villain, but you lost yourself in the promise of power and eternal glory. After all, the darkness has been with you for so long that you could not distinguish it from the rest of you. And by the time you realized the darkness lied, that it betrayed you, tricked you, hurt you, it was already far too late. You were too far gone, too wrapped up in its coils, its strength. There was (is) no hope for you, the child of darkness, of power, of rage. You, who were once light, now suffer in darkness.

And you deserve it.

(The darkness does not let go.)

Shattered, alone, dark, you prowl the land of Alagaesia. The Empire trembles in your prescence, the villages shake. As they should, you think. You are a creature of the darkness, of the flame.

Fire and darkness burn in front of you, hate and destruction the only way forward. Fire and darkness burn behind you, fragments of memory, scraps of happiness, hate, rage, pain. Fire and darkness, all around, all sides, dark and fire, fire and dark, dancing over the remnants of the light, crackling, hissing. It's ironic, really. You know there is no escape, no light, no refuge. You know. It has been your destiny, no matter which path you had chosen in life. All led to the same point, to the darkness, to the shattered light.

It is then that you know, accept, and move on. (Because the monster doesn't mourn, he moves on.)

You know, in your charred, blackened heart, that you are trapped, always were trapped, and always will be trapped. You remember, in the dim, bleeding corners of your mind, a lesson from your Master. It brings a twisted smile to your lips.

(All paths burn, Eragon.)

And so it goes.