My apologies for taking a month to update, but they shall come more quickly from now on, I promise! All hail the awesome power of the Zelda music remixes. One particular remix of the Minuet of Forest inspired me to finish this chapter at last. I recommend it for all fans of OoT, its by sasukeshika and can be found on YouTube. And look up the other OoT remixes while you're there. She's got all of the warping songs, each with their unique style. Perfect inspiration for any Zelda writer with writer's block ;)

Disclaimer: The Inheritance Cycle and The Legend of Zelda do not belong to me. All original material does, however.

Song of the Chapter: Last of the Wilds- Nightwish

Living with a broken arm for several agonizing days had bothered Eragon beyond description. Uli was always over him, inspecting his wounds and changing his bandages far more that would was truly necessary. Not to mention he liked sleeping on his right side, the one with the unconventionally damaged appendage. Shifting unconsciously in the middle of night, he would awaken with a painful yelp as the broken arm reminded him that crushing it under his weight was not a proper way for it to heal. The temptation to simply vocalize a healing spell had been great. The familiar words would be at the tip of his tongue, reiterating again and again in his mind, but Eragon refused to utter them. He required more information from the villagers (not to mention didn't want to frighten anybody else with his magical talents). Silently bearing a little bit of discomfort seemed a small price to pay for it.

But now that he had finally remedied his broken arm, and sleep still wouldn't come to him. While Colin and his parents were blissfully lost in their dreams, Eragon had tossed and turned on his couch-turned-bed. Unable to drift off, his racing thoughts kept him anchored to reality. Usually all Eragon had to do to placate his restless mind was to reach out across the connection to Saphira. While she slumbered, the sapphire she-dragon's mind was a sanctum for peace. In her dreams, it seemed as if the doubtful and terrified fodder that fueled Eragon's own nightmares didn't exist. Her mere touch calmed him down, and that was always enough to lull him off to sleep almost immediately.

But Saphira wasn't within reach. She was far off, their bond stretched to its limit. Eragon's heart almost ached at the vast expanse that separated him from what was literally the other half of his soul, but he could shoulder the unpleasant feeling of loneliness for one short night. She was alive and unhurt, her Rider would have felt any harm that had come to her person, just like that fateful day in Du Weldenvarden. Saphira hadn't abandoned him; the she-dragon would rather scarf down a pile of vegetables than willingly live him alone for any prolonged period of time. She had strayed farther in her hunt than planned, but she would return soon. Eragon had no doubt of that.

By the time Ordon Village's children had all been rescued, the day had been nearing its end. Twilight's dark shadows stretched across the land, bathing everything in a violet haze. In the growing blackness, the depths of Faron Woods became even more foreboding. Though Eragon could find the way back just fine in night's darkness, he didn't want children already scared from a hellish encounter with Bokoblins to be engulfed by it. So he had created a blue orb of light to hover obediently above his palm, illuminating the path to safety.

Of course, the villagers themselves weren't sitting by idly while their children were missing. Rusl had gathered up a search party that had consisted of all of Ordon's men, all armed with torches and makeshift weapons they had seized before charging off into the woods. Hope fading that they would find the youths alive as night slowly crept in, the group had inadverdantly stumbled upon Eragon leading Epona toward the village, all of the missing children safe and sound astride her saddle.

Overjoyed at the unexpected reunion, the children gleefully leaped off of the horse and rushed into the arms of their waiting fathers to be snatched up into a warm and tight embrace. Even Fado was caught up in the moment, bawling his eyes out at the beauty of it all as he engulfed everyone within reach into a massive hug, shouting messages of gratitude to the Goddesses at the top of his lungs.

Eragon had hung back from the tender reunion of families that had almost been torn apart for good, remaining near Epona's side. Yes, he was pleased that the kids had met up with their relieved fathers, but the satisfaction of seeing such a joyful sight was tainted by the feeling of dread that wormed its way into his stomach. Ordon's men had seen the magical illumination he had summoned, noticed how his broken arm had mysteriously healed, heard the recollections of events from their children. They knew now what he was.

Eragon had seen the look in Rusl's eyes. The wise swordsman he had come to respect had been wary. Ever since the rest of the journey to Ordon, Rusl had been watching his house guest sharply, trying to connect the dots. He had not said a word upon the matter in the woods, nor had Uli remarked upon the 'miracle' of his healed arm. But he felt their awe, their suspicions. Their caution that could quickly morph into fear and loathing.

What did they think of him now? Eragon had all but admitted to Colin he was a soldier, one that had contributed to the casualties of war. Their naive son thought of him as if he had stepped out of one of the ancient legends, regarded him with something very close to hero worship. Rusl must have pieced together his own conclusions. Did Rusl believe him to be a monster like Durza? A powerful and deadly soldier masquerading behind the facade of a harmless young man?

Kept awake by his fears and musing all night, Eragon could no longer bear to be in the house. When the first pale rays of sunlight shone through the windows, he had slipped outside. Sitting by the small stream that ran near the house, he forced all thoughts from his head, concentrating only upon the unspoiled beauty of the dawn. A time of peace and rebirth, before anyone had disturbed the stillness of the brand new day.

"You're up awful early," a voice remarked casually behind him. "When I was your age, I was apt to sleep until noon unless my mother beat me out of bed with her broom."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rusl take a seat beside him. The older man said or did nothing else, simply observing the rising sun along with him.

"My uncle was a farmer," Eragon admitted quietly. "Since my cousin and I were young we had to help him in the fields and with the livestock. That meant rising before the sun to prepare for a day of work that would last until the daylight ended. Even now, the habit's always stuck."

"Are you sure that was the reason you shifted restlessly about for the whole night?" At the younger man's astonished glance, Rusl chuckled knowingly. "You're speaking to a man that was a soldier for the Hyrulean army for several good years of his life. We were stationed in the far western mountains, on the very boundary between known civlisation and uncharted wilderness. Up there lurked monstrous beasts that would pounce upon a man the moment he let his guard down. Years of honing my instincts allowed me to notice your unease. Especially when you have so much to be concerned about."

"Colin told you the details of how I rescued everyone from those Bokoblins." He snorted, a small smile pulling at his lips. "I was a fool for expecting such enthusiastic children to conceal such secrets from everyone. Declaring everything interesting they know to random strangers is in their innocent nature."

Grabbing the younger individual firmly by the shoulders, Rusl turned to face him. Understanding dark eyes gazed down into blue, and Eragon's tense muscles relaxed at recognizing a kindred spirit.

"You did what had to be done," Rusl pointed out. "Mayor Bo and every other adult in Ordon Village, myself included, knows that killing the Bokoblins was for the best. It was either those monsters or our own precious children. I would have done exactly the same thing in your position. Hell, any of us would have."

"But you're not the one that lost his temper and unleashed an attack that could devastate armies upon several primitive brutes," Eragon remarked harshly. "Sometimes my magic is unpredictable. When I summon it, it is almost impossible to control afterwards. I was hurt and angry. My only thoughts were for causing severe pain to those around me. It could have easily affected the children as well as the Bokoblins in that wild state." He laughed bitterly. "Only the mercy of some benevolent god prevented them from being touched."

Rusl remained silent for a moment, and Eragon truly believed he had alienated the man forever. Then he spoke up again, his voice gentle. "Colin says the Bokoblins disarmed you of your sword and your arm was injured until after the battle was over. You used the only weapon left to you to protect yourself and the children, the magic. To all of us, your actions in those woods are equivalent to that of a Chosen Hero."

Spirits lifting, Eragon smiled jokingly. "Perhaps they even rival the feats of the legendary Hero of Time."

Rusl chuckled. "Perhaps one day you shall even succeed him." Releasing Eragon from his vice-like grip, he changed the subject to something that must have been bothering him all night long. "Please, can you tell me how you access your magic? The spells Colin recalled sound nothing like the enchantments and incantations used by Hylian mages."

"In my land there is an Ancient Language with a word for everything in existance. Those with magical talent are able to use commands in that language to alter their surroundings in a variety of ways, depending on their intentions. For example, I can say 'Adurna', the word for 'water', and mean it to do all sorts of things. I may want to make water from that stream rush into the lungs of an enemy to drown them, or merely summon a drink to satiate my thirst." What was the harm in giving away such information? Rusl didn't have the ability to use any form of magic, much less know any words of the Ancient Language.

Considering this explanation, Rusl scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting. How do your common magicians fuel these spells?"

"Energy," Eragon replied simply. "They draw upon their own strength to feed the magic. So long as you have the power to support it, anything is possible while using the Ancient Language." The other man's eyes darkened at this statement, and his own brow furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?" he asked warily.

"Hyrulean magicians draw upon elements to work their magic. The ancient Sheikah, warriors of darkness, could blend into shadows to as to appear invisible or creap up so silently upon victims that they would not know their presence until a dagger plunged into their hearts. Hylians harness all sorts of elements to suit their wills, such as fire to warm or ice to cool. The stronger the mage, the more forces can be channeled and the more things that can be done."

"So you have never heard of drawing upon one's own strength to fuel a spell before I came along?"

Shaking his head, Rusl sighed. "I have encountered the knowledge before, but I can not remember where. There were those before in Hyrule that mastered such an art, but I believe they are as dead as the Gerudo raiders. I shall bring up this matter to a... friend of mine. He constantly craves new things to pick over and your land's magic system. It can be a new pet project of his." Muttering under his breath, he added, "It will sure beat hearing about those mythical Sky People day in and day out."

Getting up, Eragon nodded gratefully. "Thank you for this talk, Rusl. Do you mind if I go for a walk now? Uli has kept me cooped up for days and finally being able to enjoy the outdoors to the fullest extent is something I want to experience again before I face another bombardment of questions from the kids."

"Go ahead. After what you've done, you deserve some peace and quiet for a change."

When the younger man had walked out of earshot, Rusl allowed his pleasant expression to fall. Heaving a sigh, he turned to watch the merrily babbling stream, engrossed in his own grim thoughts.

Contrary to what he had told Eragon, the swordsman remembered a lot more about that 'dead race of people' than he had told his trusting companion. The race had rejected all other existing forms of magic, for they had considered them all to be beneath their superior kind. So they had fabricated their own kind of magic, creating it from an unholy source that had gone against the Goddesses stood for. Many had died when this dark tribe had ruled. If Rusl recalled correctly, the Goddesses themselves had ordered the elimination of this race and their artificial magics.

Supposedly all traces of them and their spells had vanished forever, but apparently it had survived in some form. People in Eragon's homeland still retained the craft, though its own dark origins must have been forgotten, for Rusl's houseguest seemed completely ignorant of it.

Or perhaps I have created all of this to satisfy my own purposes, Rusl thought to himself. I have been paranoid as of late, suspecting something terrible is about to happen for no logical explanation. Maybe I am just trying to pin these unabated fears on something. Like Eragon's strange magic.

Shoving all of these from his mind, the man got to his feet. What was he doing out here alone by a stream musing over his own sanity when he had a family to care for? So Rusl went on inside to begin preparations for breakfast, to focus on practical matters and not on his own unfounded paranoia.

Still, he couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that everything was about to go to hell. Such instincts had been ingrained into his brain since his fighting over-sized brutes that preyed upon human settlers in the mountain range just west of Zora's Domain. They had not abandoned Rusl yet, and his premonitions had always been accurate.

But if these feelings of unease hadn't departed even after Colin had been kidnapped by Bokoblins and then rescued, what in the names of the Goddesses was he supposed to be looking out for?


Hours passed, and soon it was noonday. Eragon's wanderings had eventually brought him to the paddock at the southernmost end of the village where Fado's goats grazed during the day. He now rested that same enclosure, lying down on the grass and idly watching the clouds soar by overhead.

Initially all of the goats had given him a wide berth, for the scent of Saphira was still strong upon him and the furry livestock recognized the smell of a natural predator. Some of the braver males had even attempted to charge him, each time Eragon had deftly swerved aside, evading the horns that wanted to gore into his flesh. Over time the goats realized him to be a mere human, albeit one that reeked of dragon. Now he was surrounded by a sea of furry bodies that grazed calmly about him, as if he was now an honorary member of the herd.

Occasionally nuzzled by furry snouts that poked inquisitively at his clothes or nibbled experimentally at his hair. Eragon handled this all in good stride, gently shoving away those that sharply nipped at his skin or some obnoxious males that kept butting into him in challenges for superiority.

"Eragon! Are you in there?"

Hearing Colin calling him from the other side of the paddock's fence, Eragon stood up to see beyond the furry bodies that blocked his view. Indeed seeing Rusl's young boy waiting for him, he raised a hand in greeting. He began to walk over, the goats parting before him to allow him to pass.

"Good morning, Colin," Eragon remarked cheerfully, unable to contain the grin that spread across his face at the child's look of amazement. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"How in the name of Farore are you able to do that?" Colin breathed in awe. "Those goats don't let anyone near them but Fado. If anyone else, even Ilia on Epona, tries to get close, they charge! Did they adopt you into their numbers or something?"

Eragon glanced back the goats, then shrugged unknowingly. "I thought they were always this accepting of people once they got to know them. You mean they aren't always like this?"

"Never." Colin bounced up and down eagerly. "Forget them, though. Ilia wants to see you at Ordona's spring right away! She wants to talk to you about Epona."

Knowing what torture would await him there, Eragon groaned in response. Though he had good intentions and had saved the children of the village from certain death or worse, the truth could not be altered. He had stolen Epona right before Ilia's eyes and had galloped off with her cherished mare to face monsters that could have a taste for horse flesh. Grateful Ilia may have been for the rescue, she was still furious at him for the theft and no doubt ready to have her vengeance at last.

"Let's get this over with, then."

Vaulting easily over the gate, he joined Colin on the short walk to Ordon Spring. Ilia was indeed waiting for him there. She stood by Epona's side, one hand gently stroke her neck while the mare tore at the tender mouthful of grass right by her hooves. Noticing Eragon approach, the small smile that had previously graced the girl's face vanished, replaced by an unreadable expression he could only guess at. Swallowing in apprehension, the young man tentatively neared, bracing for the inevitable onslaught of insults and accusations to begin.

Ilia sighed softly, blue eyes holding none of the fury he'd expected. "Thank you, Eragon. For everything."

Recoiling in shock, Eragon was unable to muster an answer until he had regained composure. "Whatever for? I am the one that stole your Epona and endangered her. It is me who should be apologizing now."

The mayor's daughter shrugged, glancing at Colin. "The children's lives were at stake and time was of the essence to find them. What were you supposed to do to find them? Take off on foot and then got lost in Faron Woods yourself? No. With your dragon gone, Epona was the mode of transportation fast enough to rescue the kids before any lasting harm came to them." She scowled slightly. "Though some warning would have been greatly appreciated before you charged recklessly off into your heroics."

"I apologize for such disregard of Epona's safety," he said earnestly. "She could have been seriously injured by a Bokoblin or far worse. Her life was not mine to endanger."

"Epona is capable of taking care of herself," Colin chimed in. "Tell Eragon what she did to the wolves, Ilia!"

"Some time ago Fado spotted several wolves prowling around the goat paddock and rushed off to get help," the girl began, looking proudly at her horse. "By the time they showed up to drive the wolves off, all of them were already gone. Epona was standing beside the fence, waiting for the men. Blood that was not hers stained her hooves and muzzle where she had kicked and snapped at the wolves. All the goats were untouched. As for Epona? She didn't have a single scratch on her. Had the situation called for it, she could have fought her way out of a crowd of hostile and hungry Bokoblins."

Astonished, Eragon shook his head in disbelief. The mare, though built like one of Surda's famous warhorses, had the calm and docile position of an ordinary farm animal. Obedient she had been, but Eragon had strongly doubted Epona had had in it in her to put up a fight like Ilia had described.

"Really? Well, isn't that-"

His voice was cut off as the ground began to rumble slightly. Confused, Ilia and Colin looked wildly about, while Eragon instinctively reached for his sword's hilt. While the scabbard was there, the sword was not. It had been left behind in Faron Woods, forgotten in the desire to return to to the village. He had unwittingly strapped the scabbard to his belt out of sheer habit, but had neglected to notice its weapon was absent. Bewildered, all three silently listened as the rumbling sound rapidly approached.

thud thud. thud thud.

Epona's head shot up from the grass, snorting at the clamor. Nostrils flaring at something only she could scent, she whinnied shrilly. Beginning to rise into a rear to paw at the sky with her hooves, the roan mare's brown gaze glanced to the side, caught a glimpse of something the humans with her failed to. Reluctantly, she fell onto all fours and remained still as a statue, though the muscles in her reddish flanks quivered in obvious agitation.

Thud thud. Thud thud.

Ilia took a few nervous steps backward, looking frantically for an escape but seeing only the enclosed area of Ordon Spring. Fearfully Colin shrank towards Eragon's side like a second shadow, clinging tightly to his tunic.

"Eragon," he whispered softly. "What is that?"

"I don't know, Colin. I don't know." Pulling Colin off of his tunic, he was the only one that took a few tentative steps toward the exit of the spring. When the others made as if to follow him, one reproaching glance from his icy eyes was all it took to keep them in place. Instinct told Eragon it was best for them to all remain in the spring and to not try and outrun the threat that was almost upon them. They would only be trampled foot that way. Remaining in the area was the only option with the slightest chance of survival.

THUD THUD. THUD THUD.

The next moment, two very large dark shapes exploded into Ordon Spring, ripping the gate off its hinges in the process. The creatures were monstrous boars that resembled the Nagra of the Beor Mountains, though these had coarse brown hides and piggy little red eyes that gleamed with malice. Astride each boar were two green-skinned riders, humanoid monsters that wielded far more advanced weaponry than the barbaric Bokoblins.

For one brief moment, monsters and humans stared at their opposites, completely surprised to see they had stumbled upon the other. But the spell was quickly broken; the two lead green-skinned creatures spurred their mounts on, circling around the spring like hawks as the archers behind the drivers raised their bows and took aim. Arrows already knocked, the fortunately blunted weapons went flying at their designated targets.

Before Eragon had time to react to this strange turn of fate, his two companions had already been hit. Ilia fell into the water with a pained cry, her balance upset by the arrow that collided with her leg. Colin's arrow missed, but one of the creatures swooped down to snatch the protesting boy and hoist him up into the saddle, bashing his head with a club to still his struggles.

Rearing up, Epona bugled in alarm, and her deafening call freed him of his stupor. Mustering up all the magical energy, the furious Dragon Rider prepared to unleash it in one devastating spell, the word already leaving his mouth.

"Dey-"

Unseen by Eragon, a third boar larger than its fellows emerged behind him, its rider knocking the unaware boy unconscious with a single blunt hit to the head. This green-skinned creature was larger than the others and rode alone, the impressive horns that crowned his head marking him as the leader of the group. The Bulbin King's inferiors swiftly secured their two captives, the oldest male still limp in the water. One of the Bulbins glanced greedily at the roan mare that stood protectively over the unconscious man, brown eyes burning with challenge. Unwilling to waste precious time, it was unanimously decided to leave them there. Both would only be trouble in the long run.

When they were ready to depart, the Bulbin King glanced at the water that cascaded into the spirit spring, and of the glowing runes that had been carefully scratched into the rock so long ago. Crimson eyes glittering spitefully, the leader raised a horn to his lips and bugled a single note to the skies.

Their work done, the Bulbin King then lead his subjects onto the safety of the nearby human village. It was outside of Hyrule proper, the tip of the main kingdom ending shortly just before the bridge that lead into this area. There would be more human children to take captive for ransom and slaves, without the dangers of the evils they had summoned to Ordon Spring.

Brown eyes wistful, Epona lowered her head to muzzle the unconscious man who was little more than a boy, now the kingdom's only hope. He would awaken soon, and she must depart soon. The next step of his journey would have to be taken alone. There could be no trusty steed or cherished she-dragon to aid him yet.

"Be strong, Eragon. We will both be watching and waiting for you, though you may not see me again for a long time. Best of luck, Chosen Hero. May the Goddesses light your way even in the deepest of darkness."

Turning around, Epona began to scrabble up the steep sides that enclosed the spring, up to the woods above. There her true master was waiting.

So Eragon Shadeslayer was abandoned by his last ally. The next decision he took would be entirely of his own choosing, the pivotal point that would either condemn or redeem Hyrule of a future of endless darkness.

Rushing off into the woods with Epona, the Golden One did not stop to watch. Once he had made the journey, and was positive his descendant could do so too.


Eyes snapping open, Eragon staggered to his feet and looked dazedly about him. He was in Ordon Spring by himself. Momentarily disoriented, he wondered why he there, until he caught sight of the shattered remnants of the gate the boars had desecrated during their charge.

Fear for the well-being of the captives and furious he had allowed them to escape so easily, Eragon charged off in hot pursuit. Common sense dictating his actions, he swerved sharply and ran in full speed toward the direction of the bridge that lead into Faron Woods. Obviously that's where the bastards had headed toward, to shelter in the wilderness like animals to gnaw over their loot.

Engrossed in the chase, Eragon failed to notice that the blue sky was darkening with a very premature dusk. Barely even noon, and the cerulean heavens were turning into faded oranges and purples at an unnatural rate. Black shadows loomed from the trees to reach out at him like phantom hands, but he blazed through their cold clutches like fire through mist. Oblivious to the twilight and the growing darkness, he surged on, determined to catch the kidnappers and grind their putrid forms into dust.

...Until Eragon suddenly found himself facing a sheer black wall that had appeared out of nowhere, blocking his path. Stunned, the young man craned his head upward and left to right, side, searching for a way around. But the strange obstacle reared all the way skyward and stretched on perpetually on either side. The wall itself was pitch black, carved in intricate red markings that shimmered like a mirage in the desert. Orange light radiated from the obstacle, though it seemed to greedily absorb all true sunlight near it.

Daunted, the Dragon Rider could only gape at the wonder in awe, entranced by its design. He didn't understand their meanings, but he knew enough to get that they were extremely important. Hypnotized, he ventured ever closer, one hand raised to test the strength of the wall.

Immediately, something burst from the seemingly solid wall, catching Eragon in a vice-like grip. Scaly black hands cold as death clung to him. Its prey captured, the hands retracted into the wall, dragging Eragon along with them. His surprised scream was cut short was he was forced through, his senses numbed as if doused in ice water.

The next thing Eragon knew he was face to face with a monster beyond comprehension, mere inches from its gruesome form. Its face was concealed by a mask, its black body etched with red markings, and obviously craving to devour him whole. Certain his was facing his demise, Eragon squeezed his eyes shut, his thoughts immediately jumping to Saphira and regret that he would his beloved she-dragon alone in the world without a Rider.

Forgive me Saphira, wherever you are. Because of my own stupidity you must learn to live without me, for I've gone and got myself devoured by a ravenous monster. Please, whatever god or Goddess may be listening, let her survive my death. Don't let my own foolish actions codemn her, too.

A bright flash of light suddenly emanated from Eragon's left hand, causing his eyes to shoot open wonderment. Shrieking in pain at brightness it couldn't tolerate, the monster tossed him to the ground, arms over its face so as to shield it from the burning light.

Quick to use this to his advantage, Eragon tried to leap to his feet, but was forced down to his knees with a gasp of pain. Bright as his light was, it was feeble little candle compared to the crushing shadows of twilight that crushed down upon him. The darkness was relentless, burrowing deeper and deeper into his very soul, determined to encompass everything and turn him into only a pale spirit of his former self.

Come on, light, come on, he urged the strange force onward, mustering of all his strength into empowering his only choice of salvation. Glow brighter. I know you can do it! I know we can save me from this twlight and from this beast!

Obedient as it was, the light that radiated from the back of his hand grew ever brighter. An uncomfortable sensation began noticeable in his exhausted body, but he kept coaxing his only hope on. Brilliant gold slowly pressed back the blackness. The unpleasant tingle in his body was now accompanied by a pulse, as if the burning energy his body emanating was now beating in time with his heart.

Peace now, light, he thought desperately, beginning to grow alarmed at how the pain was increasing. You have pressed back the darkness. Stop now, I command it!

But he had pushed the light on beyond its control point. It continued to grow in radiance and his own agony rapidly increased. Throbbing pain blotted out all coherent streams of thought, and Eragon's exhausted form only had the energy left to scream his hell to the world. Fire coursed through his veins, setting everything alight in a brilliant inferno. The pulsating light began to beat ever faster, now meant for a different purpose than repelling the oppressive darkness.

Dimly he realized that now the silver mark of the gedwey ignasia upon his right palm was beginning to glow too. A soft silver glow accompanied the brilliant gold now. The moon and the sun shone at the same time, both seemingly contained inside his form and struggling for release.

Agony now unbearable, Eragon fled to the ring of blackness that now encircled the radiance of silver and gold. The thing he knew to be the impending force of unconscious. Seeking sweet relief in its numbing depths, the desperate man threw himself into it, not fighting against the cool clutches that slowly took control of his body.

Then blackness engulfed Eragon, and he knew no more.

Some distance away, an imp that had been the legendary Twilight Princess up until several shameful days ago, observed the seen with yellow eyes opened wide in amazement at the unbelievable miracle she had just witnessed. The young man that had vanished in the brilliant glow had been insignificant but the being that had been left behind when the magic had receded was the answer to her prayers.

Midna's awed expression broke into a fanged grin, a cackle escaping her lips.

"Eh heh heh. Here I was thinking that searching for my people's sacred beast would have taken my years." She glanced ruefully up at the heavens, shaking her head in bemusement. "Growing tired of Zant being in power, already? Jeez, you gods are really not subtle in what you want us mere little mortals to do about this mess."

Seeing that the shadow beast that had driven off earlier had returned with many of his treacherous little friends, Midna swiftly saught cover behind a tree. Watching as they dragged her one ticket to reclaiming her rightful throne off to rot in some prison somewhere, her golden eyes narrowed in determination. Silent as a shadow, she followed the monsters with her beast to wherever they were taking, just waiting for her chance to strike.


Contrary to what she had expected, the dungeons of Hyrule Castle weren't that bad a place. Midna had been dreading a titanic battle between some demonic guards Zant had posted to keep watch over the biggest threat to his reign, or navigating an endless labyrinth of cells and iron bars in search for her beast.

The dungeon was remarkably small, not anything like the expansive hellhole she had envisioned. The human guards that cowered down there oblivious to her presence, muttering fearfully to themselves and unaware that they were helpless spirits in their own realm. And the Twilit 'guards' had been mere rats transformed by the corrupting abilities Zant had instilled into the artificial Twilight he had dropped upon Hyrule. Annoying buggers, but all she had to do was float beyond the reach of their sharp teeth.

Fasing through the walls and any other obstacles she had no desire to find a real way across, Midna found her beast in no time. It really wasn't that hard, considering the small area space of the dungeons, the lack of any other prisoners, and the conspicuous properties of her target. He was still unconscious in his cell, recovering from the exhausting effects of his transformation.

Using this to her advantage, the imp took the time to thoroughly inspect her new servant. He was a very large dragon, so massive that he was barely able to be crammed into the cell the shadow beasts had obviously had difficult sealing him into. His scales were green, like the leaves of the Light Realm's trees. Golden markings swirled across his hide, looking almost Twili in appearance. The two horns that crowned his head and the spikes that ran down his back where gold, as well. From what she could see of his wings, their membranes were mainly gold, though the markings that ran across them were silver.

When Midna had thought of what kind of beast her sacred beast would actually be she had been expecting something a bit... smaller. She had wanted a creature able to stealthily sneak about secure areas yet large enough to ride upon so that she could rule over him in a more direct manner. And her beast had to be fierce, with fangs and claws and able to fend for himself in battle. Her hopes had been for a panther or a wolf, but this unexpected problem could turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

The overgrown lizard has wings, that means he can fly his own hide around and I can save precious energy without having to warp him. He can probably take down enemies more easily or even avoid direct combat by just dropping boulders on their heads. If he's even a half-decent dragon, this light-dweller might even be able to breathe fire.

Smirking at the wonderful image this brought to mind, Midna allowed herself to indulge herself in a brief fantasy in what she would finally do with her brand new pet once she finally returned to the Twilight Realm. Zant would find the true ruler he had so casually banished from her home and throne astride a giant beast both feared and revered by their tribe. It would be hard for that false King to remain in power when the Twilight Princess had returned to her people upon a beast both already respected and also the subject of a great prophecy.

Or if it came down to a battle, Midna could simply soar past the rival army and deal with Zant directly. For all of the mysterious power he had harnessed, he would have to act quickly to avoid a tongue of flame that meant to roast him into a nice charred little usurper in a matter of seconds.

Forcing herself to focus on reality and saving plans of vengeance for later, Midna concentrated on the dragon's bonds. All four of his paws were shackled, along with his tail and neck, fettered to the wall. Chains were wrapped around his wings to keep them furled to his sides and to hinder flight. Those would not be hard to break. The real problem would come when the dragon that was barely able to fit into the passage would be forced to fight his way to freedom. (Midna could faze through walls, but helping an overgrown lizard do it was another challenge entirely.)

"All right, sleeping beauty, let's see what thoughts and secrets I can use against you for blackmail and to force to do my bidding."

Opening her mind like her tutors had instructed her, the imp prepared to invade the transformed light-dweller's to gather the necessary information to make him cooperate with her. He had been found near a rural little village, and she presumed him to be little more than an average clueless country bumpkin. Easy enough to manipulate without blackmail, but Midna wanted a little bit of extra leverage, just in case her pet proved to be smarter than the average man-turned-dragon.

However, the moment her mind connected his, Midna found herself shut out by formidable mental barriers. Never having been resisted so violently before, the movement echoed across the link and into reality. The imp was thrown backwards and she made painful collision with the Light Realm's ground for the first time.

Dazedly shaking her head, Midna looked up and found that the green dragon's eyes had snapped open the moment she had touched his mind. Icy blue eyes only separated by fragile little iron bars glared at her, a snarl of pure hatred forming on his snout. Then the beast began a growl that shook the ground and made her bones tremble.

Somehow, Midna now believed that all of the plans she had carefully calculating during the days of her banishment had just been tossed out the proverbial window. Now she was alone, facing against a confused and rightfully angry sacred beast while she only had a diminished version of her powers to protect her.

I should have known this was too easy. Stumbling across the sacred beast just when I perfect my final plans, only to find out he's a massive dragon with poor restraints and a hunger for Twili flesh? Oh, the Goddesses are behind this one, all right.

Considering her circumstances, Midna rattled off every obscenities she knew, both Hylian and Twli. Hell, if she was going to die as winged lizard-food, she was going to drag his innocence down with her.

Startled by the language, the dragon cocked his head in confusion, his growls ceasing. Eyes wide, the female imp slowly felt as an alien mind connected with her own, easily repulsing her own feeble attempts of retaliation. The light-dweller's blue gaze turned to her, and she heard his questions clearly in her head, Where am I? Who are you? What did you turn me into?

Great, now the beast was capable of speech, even when he could only vocalize hisses and roars and growls and other sounds of a reptilian nature. Even if she managed to persuade him to obey her every whim (a virtual impossibility by now) she would have to put up with his endless bombardment of questions about herself and their mission, especially pertaining in matters of how to reverse his transformation. Not to mention hissuggestions and demands for her. And the torturous pleasantries and small talk he would attempt to start up.

"Tactical advantages be damned," Midna muttered to herself. "I would have taken the obedient mute wolf over the talkative rebellious giant winged lizard any day!"

Next chapter: Eragon gets some partial answers and Midna gets a partially compliant lackey. Now the big question: Can a bossy imp and a clutzy dragon unused to his body escape from Hyrule Castle in one peace? And meet a familiar princess along the way?

1. Traditional Alagaesian magic relies upon the energy of the caster or another source to achieve the spell. All Hyrulean magics are fueled from the elements, which can be channeled through a caster sympathetic with the element. While Alagaesian magic is only limited by how much energy the caster has, Hyrulean magic depends upon all factors from race to age to skill. Obviously, Alagaesian magic was constructed by some ancient race and is not 'natural'. (Can anything that allows you to kill hundreds with one simple word that requires little energy be?) More on Alagaesian magic and its mysterious creators (and Hylian magic, of course!) will be revealed later.

2. The goats are important, don't worry. Why they respect Eragon and not everyone else? Because he's under the protection of Epona and her big scary undead master. Mind you, the animals of the story have their part to play in the scheme of things. Like the wolves we encountered some while back.

3. Zant's artificial Twilight is corrupt, influenced by Ganondorf's dark magic. While normally in the Twilight Realm, light-dwellers would not be turned into spirits, and the Twili have been oddly intolerant of light only since Zant rose to power. When everything in the Light and Twilight realms are normal, residents of either can somewhat tolerate the other. Things are only the way they are because of Zant and freaking Ganondorf.

4. As I stated in an author's note at the beginning of this story, Eragon's beast form is a dragon. Naturally, I wanted to deviate from the TP storyline and give a chance for more ExS-ness later on.

5. Midna is a mind reader, much like Eragon is, albeit a much weaker one. Think about it: She only witnessed Link get transformed into a wolf in canon, not what happened before he was dragged into the Twilight. But how was she able to assume the shape the children and Ilia? She invaded our poor wolf's mind while he was passed out and gathered all the information she needed. Duh. Unfortunately, such a tactic won't work with Eragon. And Midna won't be able to pretend that she can't read his thoughts while in beast-form. Looks like she's stuck with a complaining partner in both forms.