Chapter 2: Second Chances
Ah, it was nice to see that I had some motivation in writing the second chapter, thanks for all the support. To answer a quick question: Eragon will not be super OP–just based on the fact that he has lost a millennium's worth of training his physical, mental and spiritual self, and it will take some time (a looong time) before he will have his full ability back.
Leave some reactions and questions in the reviews, because I will be answering them at the end of each chapter. Without further ado, smash the like button, subscribe, and enjoy the next chapter (for some reason I actually enjoyed writing the third chapter better than this one, make sure to stick around for that one).
…
Slowly, one eye opens, then the other. Upon reaching out with his mind, no other presences were in the immediate vicinity, so where was he? Eragon shot up and out of bed, and looked around. It seemed to him that he was in a…barn of sorts? The bed was comfortable enough, but some of the wood outlining the only window in the room was old and rotted, and he could spot some bugs crawling here and there.
He slowly walked up to the dusty window frame, reaching out to touch the surface, but quickly noticed his own scrawny arms. They weren't his–but that could only mean…
Eragon stumbled back, Saphira's words echoing around his head. How did he not see it before? He could recognize this place from anywhere: his bow that leaned against the opposite wall; the objects and trinkets he used to collect that lay nestled in between the pine shelving; the small dresser and nightstand that stood next to his bed.
With a start, he moved over to grab one of the shells that lay on his nightstand, and with a word imbued with magic, he watched as the air transmuted into a glittering surface of the water. Immediately his knees buckled, the fatigue crashing over him in waves, but he could see the reflection clearly: the straight eyes, brown hair and childish jawline peeking out that proved he was undoubtedly human at this very moment in time.
So it was true, Eragon mused, and his heart panged for his other half. Now that the shock had subsided and he knew he found himself somehow transported back in the ever-changing construct that is time, he felt undeniably empty. He was incomplete, separated from himself and it felt wrong. It felt like he was somehow betraying Saphira just by existing in a world without her.
But no, this is a different universe, one where he was not in exile, one where he had a second chance, and that meant Saphira did too. They would meet again, and Eragon promised himself he would be able to protect those he loved once the time came. A little naive and optimistic, yes, but some things didn't change even after a millennium.
However, the fact that he lost a millennium's worth of training put a serious wrench in his plans. His eyes raked up and down his scrawny arms and legs–toned, but not necessarily muscular either. The only thing he could do was train and prepare, using all the previous experience he had to speed up the process. He was weak now, but in even a year Galbatorix would likely fall under his power. Eragon wouldn't say he's conceited but confident: confidence does surprisingly seem to spring up somewhere around your two-hundredth year.
The voice of two others broke him out of his reverie, and he quickly attributed them to two names: Garrow and Roran. Garrow! Eragon had forgotten about them. He threw on some clothes lying around, which were admittedly very scratchy, and raced out of his room, his bare feet plodding heavily against the wooden floor. Once he burst into the main living room he saw Garrow and Roran conversing in a corner, talking in low undertones. They noticed his presence and turned to him quickly.
"Hey, look who finally got out of bed," Roran teased Eragon. "Rest well, sleepyhead?" Eragon, still in disbelief in seeing their faces—especially Garrow's—just stared at the both of them, drinking in their features. Garrow grunted, and Roran's smirk quickly turned downwards.
"What's up with you, lad," Garrow inquired gruffly. This brought Eragon back to the present, and he coughed a couple times to hide his elation and schooled his features once more into an emotionless mask. His hand raised and ruffled the hair on the back of his head a few times.
"Nothing, I was just…eh," he paused to think of a suitable excuse. "Just a little disoriented after waking up. Not a big deal or anything." This clearly abated their worry a little bit, which was good, because he still had something to ask them. "So, uh, do you guys happen to know what day it is? It's a little early for me to figure it out, you know." He chuckled, trying to play down the question, but it still caused Garrow to furrow his brow and Roran to look slightly intrigued.
"Well, uh, you've only been out half a day, but I guess if you really need to know," the middle-aged man rubbed the stubble on the sides of his face, thinking. "It was about half-cycle yesterday, in the third rotation, so harvest is still a while away." Third rotation, half-cycle…if it is when he thinks it is, that means that Saphira's egg should arrive in about two weeks, the Ra'zac a couple later, so at best it gives him maybe four weeks to prepare his body to combat two of the most sinister beings left on this earth. He shrugged, done it before.
"Well, thanks for that, just trying to plan my next hunt, I guess, see you guys later." Before they could respond, Eragon dashed out of the house, still formulating a plan of attack. A second chance…Brom, Murtagh, Arya, are all alive again in these worlds. Well, not that Murtagh and Arya ever died from what he knew, but now he had the chance to re-do things, better than before. And Arya–it was a name he had suppressed for so long, as it still elicited feelings of longing and regret. He knew that in this world they had close to no chance together, but just meeting her again would sate his hunger.
He hoped.
…
Roran and Garrow stood looking at where the not-really-teenager had just rushed out, still confused. "What's going on with him?" Roran chuckled quietly under his breath, "Teenagers…"
Two Weeks Later
To say that Eragon was exhausted would be, well, understating it. He had been training day and night, only stopping to eat small meals and release himself. He had made a clearing of sorts, for training, that was a few minutes into the spine. It consisted of a large grassy area, made flat with magic, that was surrounded by stones imbued with warding magic. A bigger boulder stood in the middle of the clearing, with a flat top, and the sun glittered off of it like a diamond, creating quite the ethereal appearance. On the side of the clearing stood a workbench of sorts, with various homemade weapons and tools on its surface.
On the big stone, of course, stood a man, doing an ancient elvish workout called the Rimgar. Eragon was noticeably more muscular, something he was proud of, and the motions he went through were fluid and beautiful. The birds in the surrounding trees chirped down at him, and he smiled, it seemed that his presence was starting to return after all.
But, as he said, Eragon was exhausted. In order to prepare himself for the coming years, he had set a strict training regiment, in which he would warm-up with the Rimgar, work out for the remainder of the morning—sparring with imaginary soldiers—eat a quick snack, then proceed to spend the rest of the day honing and increasing his magical capacity.
It would take decades to return to what he once was, but he was impressed with his progress so far. He had used a rudimentary spell to harness the sun's rays and take excess energy and funnel it into his body, speeding up processes such as muscle regeneration and blood flow. Additionally, he had made small structural changes to his body and his features. It had been incredibly taxing, but with his previous knowledge and experience, he was able to strengthen his bone structure slightly and make his tendons more flexible. His ears were also noticeably more pointed and his eyes more slanted, but that was no coincidence: he felt weird having his human features back after so long, and had to change them in any way he could.
If you looked really close, you could see his body absently absorbing small amounts of energy from the life around him, but it was a long stretch from how he used to literally exude harmful amounts of magic from his body. One of the last civilizations he spent time with called him Arucane—the living flame, as they saw him as an elemental source of energy and magic.
He groaned, stretching his back out and hopping off the stone. No matter how much improvement he had made, he was still in no shape to fight Galbatorix. The Ra'zac wouldn't be much of a problem now, as he knew a few tricks, but the amount of energy he would need to force the beasts into submission would be tremendous, and he didn't think he had that power yet. Alone, at least.
He would try, though, and now that Saphira's egg should be arriving sometime tomorrow, he's gotta get some rest. Wouldn't want to lose his dragon in his first couple of hours due to some blood-sucking spine monster (he didn't think any of those existed in Alagaesia, but he has seen some pretty crazy shit around the rest of the world). He padded over to his workbench, his bare feet crunching on the soft grass, and looked over some of the weapons he had made. Turning wood, or rather anything, into metal wasn't a walk into the park, even with its true name, and so he only had a couple of small daggers at his disposal. He really needed a sword. Sighing, he took off his tunic and made himself comfortable against one of the nearby trees, hoping everything will go well this time around.
…
His leg bounced up and down, and a bead of sweat ran down his forehead. Eragon had come across the familiar clearing an hour or two ago and immediately was overjoyed. This was the place where he first met his other half, his partner of the soul, and so he sat down against one of the stones sticking out of the ground, searching in his mind for any slight change in the magical presence of this area.
That was two hours ago, and now he was just nervously playing with his dagger, twirling it around his fingers as he waited. She should have been here by now, I know it. No, no, no, this can't be happening. Something must have gone wrong, but how? He had barely made any change in this timeline, and if the butterfly effect was even a thing it wouldn't have had this much of a reach. No, this was something different. Eragon would have to figure this one out himself. Actually, Eragon stood up, Brom! Brom could know something about this—I mean, I doubt it, but he was the Varden's founder. It's worth a shot.
With that plan, he re-holstered his dagger and started running back to Garrow's—his—house. No matter how conflicted he was about meeting his father once again, he knew Brom was his best chance in this situation. He sighed, Brom it is, and fell deep into his mind to the sound of feet pounding against the forest floor at unnatural speeds.
Well, that was the first realchapter of the book–how'd you guys like it? This chapter was actually much longer than I thought it was going to be so I split Arya's perspective off and now it will be the third chapter. And that means…that the next chapter is already written and will come out very soon! Good thing, right? Anyways, make sure to follow, favorite and review because I will be responding to the reviews below.
Thanks for reading,
Drit
xXxGhostRiderxXx said: Oh cool, both Eragon and Arya are travelling back in time. That's a fresh new twist on the genre.
That's what I thought too! Such an interesting concept that I actually brought over from other fandoms, the most popular one probably being the 100 fandom all the way over on AO3.
Madhatter said: Very nice start with a ton of potential. I'm interested to see how you make Eragon and Arya come back from being completely emotionless without it seeming forced. Great job so far and I can't wait to see the next update.
Thanks! I am also very excited to see how I do it, because I don't want it to be forced lol. Just to clarify though: they aren't totally emotionless, especially Eragon, but rather trapped and resigned to their fate. With time, and maybe help from each other, they will open up, dw. :)
John said: Dude, this is a great start to a fic that I hope will be continued, seriously I am very impressed.
Thanks! This will be continued and your support will make sure I have the motivation :)
Lenzyy said: I really like the idea and look forward for next chapters!
Just hope they won't be too overpowered once they get back during in time otherwise it will not be easy for you haha.
Keep going!
Don't worry, like I said before they won't be super overpowered, and this time around, things will be a little more difficult. Most difficult will be the way they can find their way back to each other after so long :)
merendinoemiliano said: Interesting
Hmmm yes indeed
TOGDESTROYER said: Very great potential, the part that is most interesting to me is how eragon and saphira would interact with other people with them being with just each other for so long.
Yes! That is indeed a very interesting conundrum and pretty hard to write lmao. As you see in this chapter he meets two others from his past, but I do plan on spicing things up. He doesn't have exactly the BEST people skills, but he is wise and shit yk.
EvandarTheGreat said: by the gods i'm excited
Me too Evander, your daughter is a badass ngl
Chapter 3 is fun af ngl
