A/N: Hey everyone! It's been 2 months since I last updated. I really apologise for it but the reason I've been away for so long is because 1) I kind of need to write in secret and haven't had much of that and 2)I've decided that I want to write my own book. It's going to be a historical fantasy and I have a lot of the plotline down. The only thing is that I can't seem to actually write words -_- . So yeah, you've waited long enough as it is. On with the story!

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you. (However, the dragons' physical appearance in the story are mine.)

edit: There is some new info I inserted here. Hehe, sorry for leaving it out last time.

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The winding hillside of Utgard hill was lined by towering trees of birch and white ash. During the spring, birds flitted from branch to branch, chirping their merry songs in the treetops. Rays of golden light permeated through the thick blanket of leaves above. The squirrels skittering across the leaves pleasantly went on with their lives without a care in the world. It seemed like the perfect day.

Oh, how you couldn't be more wrong.

Dismal thoughts bounced around Brom's mind as he drove through the gated entrance of Therinsford High School. Even though he knew it was necessary to be honest with his son, what he was about to do gave him a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. Brom noticed a school-feeding van about to exit behind him. In his opinion, the tint was a bit dark but he brushed it off eventually assuming it was a simple cooling device to prevent the meals from spoiling.

Brom brought his black Audi to a halt in the secondary car park in front of the school. He was unfastening his seatbelt when his phone chimed. It wasn't uncommon that an unknown number would contact him being one of the senior lawyers in his firm. Dismissing it for the while, he got out and shut the car door intending to check on it later.

As he approached the front doors of the school a wave of nausea washed over him. He knew it wasn't plainly nerves because a waft of something sharp and metallic permeated his nostrils. There was only one thing that could upset him so strongly: it was the smell of blood.

Brom turned to his left and slowly entered the secretary's office but the sight that greeted him was a gruesome one. The prominent red liquor dribbled out of a miniscule hole by her temple, down the side of her ashen face and onto the mahogany desk below. The woman's mouth hung open in shock, but what really affected him were her eyes- lifeless eyes, glossy with unshed tears, gazing upward as if following her soul's ascension.

The scene was too much for Brom. Everything reminded him painfully of Selena on her deathbed- how he couldn't be there for her or protect her from suffering more than she'd already endured. The anguish that filled him that night was enough to tear a man apart. The scene in front of him had just ripped open a scar too deep to ever truly heal. He wrapped his arms around his midsection to prevent himself from falling.

'Priorities, Brom' he scolded himself.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. First thing first, Brom left the bloody room behind him and entered the lobby inside the actual school building. The deep pain inside of him was replaced by a dutiful emptiness…...find his son…...He let his legs carry him mechanically to the staff room. Twenty paces forward, five to the right. Before he knew it, his hand had grasped the brass handle and he'd pushed open the teak door.

"And then I was...Brom? How did you get in here? And where's the secretary?" his old teacher, Oromis, asked as he set down a steaming cup of tea.

Brom's voice quivered when he reported "Sh-she. It's better if you look. Call 9-1-1."

They all began to worry at his words. What could have possibly happened to unhinge a grown man that he couldn't even bear to speak of it? Immediately, two staff members went to check her office. Promptly, there was a garbled scream. Within minutes, the alarm had been sounded and the authoritative services had been called. The police were on their way.

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Saphira was about to tease Eragon on his newest crush but was cut off by the static-filled P.A. System blaring in the halls.

"Eragon Shurtugal, please report to the main office immediately. Your father has come to collect you"

Saphira thought she heard the secretary's voice catch as she said the last word but was even more intrigued that Uncle B. would pick up Eragon early from school. However, she figured it must be really important if Mr. You-need-to-get-an-education-so-you-don't-fail-at-life-and-stuff himself thought it necessary. As her best friend rushed off though, she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach just like the time he caught her in there, blade poised above her wrist at what seemed like the point of no return. He'd helped her overcome that particular trial along with all the struggles she was going through then. He patiently and compassionately guided her back to the light but not once did he chastise her for falling prey to the dark. That was why she felt a cold emptiness settle around her as he walked away.

'Come on Saph, the bell will ring any moment' she reminded herself. She took a swig of her water, hoisted her backpack higher on her back and broke into a swift canter down the steps. On her way, she passed hundreds of outdated lockers, at least twelve classrooms and took a shortcut through the auditorium. At last, she went to the back of the girl's changing rooms and made it into her uniform with seconds to spare. She couldn't afford to be late if they had-

Oh great. It's him.

The secondary P.E. teacher, Coach Vanir, blew the whistle and called for the students to settle down. Immediately, everyone scrambled off the bleachers and tried to gain some kind of order. In his usual haughty voice, he yelled, "Listen up kids! Today we ain't doing badminton or any of those things you softees call 'sports'. No, instead, we're going to look at a real sport- a literal form of art!

"As you know, the Du Weldenvarden Girls' Fencing team is here for the next few days to practice for their tournament. So while they spar on the other side of the court, I'm going to teach all of you lazy backsides a thing or two about fencing. Back in my day…" and that was when Saphira tuned out his droning.

Her mind wandered back to the catch in the secretary's voice earlier. She couldn't forget how much it sounded just like her mother's during that final phone call as an eight-year-old child. She didn't understand then that that goodbye was the last. Ever since her mother's sudden disappearance, Saphira had felt an ache in her chest whenever someone walked away from her. She had since realised that the reason she was so possessive over her few friends was because she didn't want them to leave her too. She didn't want to be alone anymore.

Before she could spiral deeper into the memories, the school alarm sounded. It even silenced Coach Vanir. Everyone looked to be on the verge of panic but for the sake of their egos, didn't voice their opinions. Nonetheless, they were all thinking the exact same thing. This had not been a planned drill.

Within three minutes, all the classes had filed out of the gym's emergency exit and wrapped around up the hill and into the student car-park on the side of the hill. Another half-an-hour later, all the students were allowed, based on year group, to reenter under the supervision of a chaperone to retrieve their bags. Saphira was sure the situation got even worse when several buses and parents' cars had gathered at the base of the hill to take shuttle students straight home.

Taken aback by the suddenness of the situation, Saphira still in shock as she followed along with the group carded for Carvahall. She took one last look at the chaos behind her but froze like a deer in headlights when she saw Uncle B. kneeling at the side of his car...with Eragon nowhere in sight. She gulped remembering the announcement from earlier when his name was called. That was about forty-five minutes ago. Eragon lived an hour away from school. Pieces of a horrible puzzle were quickly forming a picture in her mind too horrible to consider.

A mantra played in her mind as she inched towards Uncle B., desperately searching for answers:

'Rag is connected to this'

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He had run all over, trying to get as many students to safety as he could. With the secretary gone, Brom organised the many phone calls and emergency emails from the school phone. Once all the other children were safe, he went in search of his own. He looked far and wide, grasping at any leads of his son's whereabouts like a starving child would food until, eventually, he learnt that someone had already picked up his child minutes before his arrival. Finally, Brom returned to his car to check his cell phone and call any possible relatives that might have had a part to play in this.

But as soon as he checked his message from the unknown number earlier, Brom knew exactly what had happened. He slumped against the door, grasping onto the phone for dear life.

'The Kings awaits you at dusk, on the day it all began'

The message couldn't have been more clear- no matter how hard he tried, he could never escape.

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Lot's of mystery in Saph's backstory, right? Please review!