FLAMING HEART

This is a T-rated story.

Though this is a non-violent chapter.
1/10

This story was an old idea I came up with AGES ago and now nearly 10 years later I decided to finally write it and publish it in my spare time. Chapters will be irregular and far between at their most. I'm returning to studying in a new country so adjusting back to student life and overcoming culture shock will be a challenge. Please bear with me. I know there are absolutely ZIP stories concerning Durza so I'm using my many years of writing experience and my over imagination to create my own.

Name pronunciations:

Isla - eye la (the 's' is silent)
Ava - Ah va
Aieda - ai da ('a' as in cake)

Happy reading!

Chapter 1: Dreams

Earth 2022

She felt strange and she didn't know why. Maybe it was the pizza she had the night before or the weird dream that felt so real it confused her. She glanced at the clock - 5 am. She sighed.

"...it's too early for this..." she muttered and covered her eyes with her arm. Perhaps it was the series she'd been watching? Though, Lucifer didn't have any dragons or a particular man with shocking red hair in it. Her lips formed a troubled thin line, her brows furrowing. But that stone...

'...I've slumbered a thousand years to hear your heartbeat….'

Rumbled the deep voice for the hundredth time. It bothered her, made her anxious. Yet…she wasn't afraid of it. But the dream, she had been.

It was filled with burning forests, mountains, hallowing roars, war, and a dark wine stone that glowed like lava when she'd touched it. And the pain…

She lifted a hand to the place just below the left side of her chest. She rubbed it still feeling the tenderness as if a sword had been driven right through her.

It always followed after seeing that man in her dream…whatever he was. That shocking scarlet hair that smelt like ash and damp, red robes stained dark with blood, that sharp smirk, and those black lips. Bone-pale skin as lifeless as death and eyes rich as wine yet as cold as ice.

He was always the last thing she saw before waking up. His vengeful, demonic face that frightened her yet...did not. He'd find her every time and kill her whether she found the stone or not. And each time he would come up from behind then run her through as soon as she turned. She was afraid of him...the dark power he so clearly had within every cell of his body.

Despite her fear, her dream self somehow knew him somewhat...fondly. And she couldn't understand why. It was a complete mystery that she may, perhaps, never solve.

Islandra sighed again. It was just a dream; one that kept returning over and over. Repeating itself as if in hope to change the outcome. This was the eleventh week she'd dreamt it...But she couldn't wallow like this. Nothing good came off such a thing. She may as well get up.

With another sigh, she sat up in her bed and pulled back the covers. She cringed at the frozen air of her apartment and the winter chill. She disliked the cold - it always froze her bones no matter how many layers of clothes she wore. She shivered and quickly went to the bathroom to shower. She turned on the water.

She cursed Jack Frost as she hastily undressed and got in. When the heat of the water ran over her shivering body she groaned in delight. Why did she remain here to study? She could have just chosen America instead of flipping Northern Ireland! She wasn't made for the cold.

When she'd showered, washing away all thoughts of the dream, she stepped out and dressed as quickly as possible. She brushed her short brown hair afterwards and checked her appearance in the foggy mirror. Yip, still pale and blue eyed. In her dream she looked entirely different; lighter and longer hair with brown eyes she didn't recognise. She then left the bathroom and looked at the clock. It was almost 6 am. That was the proper time she woke up. She snoozed the alarm on her phone as it began to ring and went into the kitchen.

"Now breakfast…" she mumbled pulling out the cereal and poured some into a bowl. She found a spoon and ate the food dry. She preferred that. It was one of the many things that were weird about her. That's why she was Loony 'landra of the university. She was weirder than the weird kids. She didn't like it but she'd always made do with it. Story of her life.

When breakfast was finished she washed her bowl and gathered all her art things. Yes, you guessed it. She was an art student in her second year. And quite talented as her professors say. Though personally, she felt she was just average with an overactive imagination. While others painted flowers and landscapes, she created worlds of wonder that featured at least one fantasy creature. The piece she was working on for the past two weeks was just that. Except it was an assignment of reflection.

She closed the A3 pad and carefully slid it into her art bag. Professor Buragh will be happy to see the progress. She was currently behind after catching a nasty cold over Christmas.

When all was packed it was 7:00 and time to leave for class. She grabbed her things and her car keys before leaving her apartment. She locked the door behind her and found her way down to her car in the lot. She cursed, shivering in the cold. It snowed overnight. Now she was going to be late. After cleaning her windshield of ice she finally managed to get in and start the engine. It spluttered loudly before it roared to life with a jerk. She drove out of the lot to join the city traffic. The downside - she lived on the southeast end.

By the time she reached the campus, she was 10 minutes late for class. And she blamed it on its location and her car more than the city traffic. The University was in the north end of the city and surrounded by a pine forest. The pass that connected it to the city was horrific during the winter and there's always an accident. Last year a student died, her car rolling off the road when there hadn't been a mudslide. That wasn't the only mysterious thing.

The university used to be a fancy Lords castle back in the 16th century. In the 1800's it was sold to the National Trust and turned into what it was today. Some students believe it's haunted by the late Lord's wife and the forest came alive on Halloween.

Sure, it was typical of Irish superstitions. Though, she wasn't a non-believer. There were things out there that go unexplained even by science - demons, spirits, and ghosts. Monsters. They were real yet no one could see them. But Isla could. She could feel them, hear them and sometimes see what others could not. And most of the time she was affected in a way that made her feel so…sick.

Her adopted parents' home had 'inhabitants'. Dark, evil ones that stuck to her doorway and under her bed even after the priest came in to ward and bless the house. It was why she left for her own apartment 4 years ago. The 'inhabitants' did not like her at all and did almost every classic haunting and more to force her out. Yet they didn't land a finger on Markus and Alice while they were alive…as if she was the monster and not them.

When Isla arrived at class she was relieved that it was a live sketch session. Professor Buragh was at the back nearest to the door with his own art stand and pencil. She quietly closed the door behind her as he glanced over his shoulder. He whispered.

"Ah, Miss Ashford. I'd thought you'd forgotten us," his aging tone was low, not wanting to harm the pleasant tranquility of the class. She smiled apologetically and sat at the art stand beside him.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I had trouble in the pass." she whispered as well. She took the pencil that he offered her and began to sketch the modestly covered model.

He glanced at her properly then, noticing the mismatched socks where shoes were supposed to be. On her shoulders was light snow dotting her coat. Had she walked all the way to the building? His old heart couldn't handle the hardships she weathered so stubbornly on her own.

"You should have that engine checked before something happens, Islandra," he said, using her full name, and she simply sighed. At least she'd been considerate enough to spare the janitor the mud from her boots. The professor knew her long enough to know she always removed her shoes if they were soiled.

"Maybe next month," Isla answered after a while and the professor shook his head. If only his friend hadn't passed away three years ago, Isla wouldn't be struggling so much now. Old age took all. And soon his time will come too. He was reaching seventy far too hastily.

He reached over and gave her shoulder a pat. It was a thing he did since he first met her six years ago when her parents were killed in the fire. He'd been a good friend of theirs and took young Isla under his wing. Markus, his friend, fostered her with his late wife, Alice, till Isla moved out four years ago. She claimed it was demons from the basement but he was unsure of the real reason. Such things did not exist here.

Isla had always been independent and stubborn even in the hospital after the fire. She wanted to do everything herself to smother the helplessness and loss from the accident. And the pain from her injuries. Both her hands and the right side of her body had been burned by the flames. Luckily her face was unharmed. Though her arms took most of the damage.

Even if the burns weren't 3rd degree, it still left scars. They were a pinky colour after they healed, almost like a birthmark, yet a little deformed like half melted skin. At times it would flake like sunburn and cause Isla some discomfort. But she was a strong girl, resilient at heart. Like a flame that refused to go out no matter the hardship.

The two fell into a comfortable silence and sketched the female model for the next two hours in various poses. When the session was over Professor Buragh let them work on their assignments. Except for her.

"Come, Miss Ashford, we can't allow your car to block the pass for the medical students. They have a practical exam at eleven." The professor guided Isla out of the classroom and into the parking lot. They both walked the long road to the frozen pass in the woods, the weather turning for the worst. It was snowing a lot more than this morning. And they were both shivering despite the thick coats they wore.

When they reached her car she got in and tried to start it. But it spluttered and cut.

"Keep trying. I'll have a look under the hood," he said and she pulled a lever under her seat. The hood unlocked and the professor pulled it up. Isla tried to start the car again and his white brows furrowed at the engine. The spark plug didn't seem to be 'sparking'.

Isla's car was unfortunately run down and second-hand, and equally an old model. She'd found it in the backyard of someone's home on the way to her apartment at the start of the year and bought it from them almost for free. He still didn't understand why she didn't use the bus. He wiggled a few parts to make sure nothing else was wrong before popping his head to the side to tell her.

"It's the spark plug. Try again and hold it."

She nodded and turned the key and held it there. The engine spluttered. Behind the hood, the professor removed his gloves and rubbed his hands together for warmth. He then muttered two strange words unheard over the noise and the car suddenly hiccuped, starting. He put his gloves back on only pausing at the tender swelling of the faded spiral on his palm.

Isla smiled and got out of the car.

"Thank you, Professor. You always seem to get it started." she shivered as she went to him at the front of the car. He fixed his gloves and returned her smile, though it did not reach his eyes.

"Just promise me you will take it in, Isla? I don't want you in an accident." he straightened and closed the hood with a light slam. She dropped her eyes to the dark gloves she wore and rubbed them together for warmth.

"I can't promise anything, Erick. It's hard as it is working weekends and night shifts at the restaurant," she said no more, not wanting to worry him too much. She was not the type to ask for help, preferring to do it on her own. She's always been that way even as a kid. Erick, both her friend and her professor, worried easily so she was careful not to do anything that made him do so. After all, he was reaching his seventies and had chronic high blood pressure that sometimes had him miss their classes.

"Even more reason to ask, Isla. You can't keep working those hours with that pay and study. My home is always open to you." He took her upper arms and gave them a light yet firm squeeze. He smiled down at her and she tried to return it.

"I know."

She looked away and he simply wished she wasn't so stubborn. Heaven knows, she was just as 'difficult' as Ava. He let go of her then rounded the front of the car to the passenger seat.

"Come. Let us go. The medical students often arrive early for a practical." He opened the door and winced at the uncomfortable itch on his palm. He tried to ignore it, ducking his head. He got in slowly, careful not to bump his head on the low roof of her car. He settled in the seat with a tired sigh and Isla got in the driver's side. He watched her, momentarily remembering those few weeks she stayed with him before finding her apartment.

"I miss your weird appetite and the crunch of dry cereal in the morning" he said with a light, fond smile. She rolled her eyes with a smile and strapped in. Out of all her weirdness THAT was what he missed? What about the other things? She shook her head.

"I miss your stories, Erick. The ones your great grandfather wrote in his journals for his family - the dragons, the magic, the fantastical legends. It's been too quiet after dinner without them. Maybe I can come on Friday night. You could bring out the journals and we can have a marathon with some smores. Like old times." She smiled at him and he returned it, a happy glimmer appearing in the corner of his wrinkled eyes.

"That would be more than wonderful. Friday at 7?"

Isla nodded happily before she revved the car and put it into first gear. It moved forward and she turned back on the road.

The professor smiled to himself, fondness bubbling in his chest. It warmed his old heart that she missed the tales of his youth and its adventures. He remembered how enraptured she became when he first began telling them in the hospital all those years ago. If only she could know the truth. If only she knew how real they really were…and who he really was… But for now, they were just stories.

Isla pulled the car into the University's parking lot and into a space that was thankfully near the entrance. She cut the engine and they got out. They both went back to the classroom, rushing out of the snowy and cold air.

For the rest of the day the class worked on their assignments and Professor Buragh kept to himself at his desk. At a glance she knew he had his sketchbook open and was drawing something that made him nostalgic. Seeing him like that made her smile. She didn't often see him happy in that way. He was sometimes mellow and distant, sad and regretful. And just as much she didn't know why. He was a bigger mystery than her dream ever would be. But she let him be, knowing that asking would not give her an answer.

By the time the 5 pm bell rang Isla had almost finished her assignment. All it needed now was the luminescent paint and a few touch-ups.

It was a complicated piece that told the story of losing her parents to the fire. It was in bright oranges, greys, reds, and yellows, silhouette art without using people. It was a challenge for her as she normally was a semi-realist artist.

Isla put down her brush and smiled. Though it was a strong and powerful piece, if a little depressing, it helped her get to know how she still felt. It wasn't her fault. Yet somehow she blamed herself. Her parents risked themselves to save her when the gas stove exploded. The flames had spread so fast it was as if a dragon had breathed it itself.

Despite it, she got caught in the explosion, the flames burning what skin was exposed. All she remembered was her father pulling her from the floor and tossing her into the pool. She nearly drowned.

Flames licked her art paper, burning a building, with red thorns bordering the corners of the art. The smoke of the flames formed horned spirals and half-formed skulls and claws. And the dark water at the bottom of the paper reflected it on its surface. In the depths were invisible tendrils that were to come to life once the luminescence came in.

It was not the fire she feared. It was the water, its darkness, and gas. She never went near either. If she smelt gas anywhere she left immediately. And she no longer went near water.

Before the accident, she was the best swimmer in her age group and loved to skate on the iced lake in the park with no fear. Now…she stayed away from that side of the park and preferred the swings instead.

Isla stood from her art stand, pushing those thoughts aside. The students left one by one but she liked to stay a little longer. She gathered her things and put her art bag to the side. She began to tidy up.

Professor Buragh protested saying he would do it in the morning but she insisted. She had to make up for this morning and she didn't mind at all. Besides, he was looking rather unwell, pale and tired. She hoped he was alright.

It took her a full forty-five minutes to clean the class and put everything back to where it belonged. The paintbrushes in their cups, the paints in the draws, the pencils in the tin, and the sink washed out. When she was done the professor locked the classroom and they left for the parking lot. It was dark out already, the sun setting much earlier in the winter. Luckily it wasn't snowing as much as before.

"Please drive safely through the pass, Isla," said Professor Buragh as they reached her car and she nodded.

"Don't worry, I will. That is, if I can get this old thing started." She opened the driver's door and slid in. She put in the key and turned it. To her surprise it started on the first try and she blinked.

"Well, that was odd…." she shook her head and stepped out.

"It looks like you're good luck for me, Erick. Maybe I should just move in? All my problems will be sorted." she joked in hopes to cheer him up and he shook his head with a light chuckle.

"If only. I'm not lucky in the slightest fraction."

Isla began to remove the ice from the windshield with a special scoop. The engine stayed running so that it could warm up and not cut out while she was in the pass. Though she wished she didn't have to use that road. She shivered.

"Are you sure? You could secretly be a leprechaun or a wizard," she said with a smile and he huffed at her jest. If only she knew.

"I am not short, young lady. Nor am I Irish. A wizard? Not even close." he shuffled his feet, his old bones not able to tolerate the cold as they used to. Isla rolled her eyes and brushed the last of the ice away.

"Oh yes, I remember. You must be the greatest Dragonrider in all of Alagaesia! Oh, mighty Azgere, son of Eirik, Knight of the Varden! Killer of the dreaded Ra'zak!" she bolstered before bowing elegantly at the waist as if in the presence of a king. He smiled a little at her antics, an old ache returning to his heart.

"You remember? I haven't read that one since your 17th."

She nodded, straightening from the bow.

"Yes, I remember it clearly. It's my favorite. Mighty Azgere and his dragon, Aieda. The legendary duo that instilled fear in the evil and brought peace to the land. My most favorite part is the ambush in The Spine where romance blossomed between a thief and a Rider." she smiled remembering how the pair met in the night. The thief's first impression was a dagger to the Rider's throat. The professor let out a long breath, he too remembering.

"Ah…Morigon of Buragh." his old heart saddened. If only fate had been with them. Isla nodded at the name, the thief her personal heroine.

"I love the adventures the pair went on and how he was always at the receiving end of her stubbornness." she chuckled, reminiscing on said tales with childlike awe.

"It's my favorite love story. Though I wish it wasn't so sad in the end." she sighed, already knowing all the best love stories never ended happily. She personally disliked unhappy endings. Happy endings were better and much more pleasant. The bad guys needed a good one too otherwise they would join the rest of the generic endings that rightly needed redoing.

The professor nodded. His heart warmed at the fact Isla loved it. If only she knew just how real it was. If only it had ended without death and war. If only Galbatorix had not betrayed them with a Shades honeyed words. If only….

"It's my favorite too, close to my heart." was all he said, the almost ancient memories playing in the back of his mind.

He was sad. He'd lost the love of his life to the very same Shade that began the War and the young girl that was Morigons sister too. Ava was her name. She was only 10 when Morigon was murdered by Durza in a skirmish near Uru-baen. And he'd raised the child as his own for six years. If he knew what was to happen on that spring day he'd not have allowed her to go.

Before Galbatorix declared war Ava had been captured by the Shade and held captive for months at Gil'ead. She was only 16...too young for the world's darkness. He couldn't go near the evil fortress knowing the Shade would keep his word and kill her if he did.

Then the war began and she somehow escaped with the dragon eggs that Galbatorix stole many months before. She made it to the Varden barely alive. Only for the Shade to follow her with Galbatorix in tow. When the battle ended he found her in the temple with Durza's dagger through her ribs. He spent the next weeks hunting the Shade. And when he found him, he plunged the dagger into the demon's heart.

'That's for Ava!'

But he'd missed. He heard Aieda's dying screams before a dozen arrows pierced his armor from behind. This was a story he hadn't told Isla yet. Despite losing Morigon and Ava, its pain…. Losing both his revenge and Aieda that night was a tale too painful to tell. It still felt raw even now.

"Erick? Hello? You okay?" came a voice and he was ripped from the past. Before him was Isla, her hands on his arms looking worried. He let out a breath to ease the ache in his heart and smiled a little. Though it didn't reach his blue eyes.

"...don't worry for me. You just get home safely, Isla." he took her hands from his arms, cupped them in his own and gave them a light squeeze. She smiled a little knowing that asking what made him so forlorn, the agony almost too real in his eyes, would not help. She nodded. He then guided her back to the driver's seat of her car.

"Be careful on the road," he muttered and she nodded again. She then surprised him by wrapping her arms around his waist, hugging him spontaneously. He frowned, caught off guard.

"What…-"

"I thought you could use one." she interrupted him softly and he let out a breath. She was just like Ava in this way...always surprising him with hugs even in his happier moods. It was only him and Brom who she showed that warm side too. Otherwise it was her stoic, stubborn and head-butting-the-problem side that everyone knew.

He laid a hand on Isla's head and wrapped an arm lightly around her back. He closed his eyes for a short moment, relishing in the comfort of the embrace that only chased the least of the shadows away. She pulled away after a moment and smiled up at him. She only reached his chest as she was below the average height for her age. He was a good six foot six. She then let him go and slid into the driver's seat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Erick. My painting will be done by Friday, hopefully," she spoke as she put her seatbelt on and he nodded.

"Good. The written task won't take too long then. You will make your extension deadline, don't worry. Now off you go before the pass closes in this snow." he closed the door of the car and she rolled her eyes. She rolled down the window.

"Wow, so quick to get rid of me. Hah, old man?" she smiled, jesting, and he shook his head. Goodness. He was blessed that he knew this colourful side of her. She was shy and reserved, if not quiet to most others. And perhaps, a little strange. Though he never thought of her too much as such.

"Never. Now go before I make you sleep on the couch." he nodded towards the pass and she rolled her eyes again. She put the car into gear.

"Yes, your Dragonship." she smiled and he harrumphed with a ghost of a smile. Morigan's nickname for him. He stepped back without a word and she reversed out of the parking space. Before she drove out the lot she waved at him and he returned it.

"Go safely, child, and may the stars watch over you in your journey home," he spoke in the Ancient language to the light snowfall as he watched her car disappear into the darkness of the night. Little did he know that his words held greater significance than he intended nor was he aware of the thirteenth eclipse that darkened the sky of Alagaesia.

The professor stood in the silence of the parking lot for a long moment after Isla's car had left. All he felt was the loss and loneliness of the life he'd left behind in Alagaesia. It was only Isla that brought light to his life now. What he would give to return with her and live the last of his age in the land he both loved and lost in. Home.

He turned away and started back to the campus. He lived on the grounds in the northernmost end. He'd never left since the day he arrived 2 centuries ago. He would have died that night had the Lord's daughter not found him. It was her that gave him his name and made him what he was today; an artist and a teacher, patient and pensieve. If not for her he would not have been here in this age to look after Isla.

Markus, his dearest friend, had been the last descendant of the Lords family and Erick had been around to see them all grow over the years. He'd only truly stayed in hopes of finding a way back home. He knew the forest was special. And the more the years passed the more he began to realize that he'd never return to Alagaesia. This magicless world drained him, aged him, and the only power he had left was the binding words that the elves spoke when he came of age. And the mark upon his hand that channeled it. Now…even that was waning.

When he finally reached his home, he went straight to bed. Exhausted. He didn't notice the gleaming rays of the full moon behind the clouds turn orange like fire or how the woods seemed to come alive with shadows. A prophecy was neigh, the thirteenth eclipse reaching its fullest over both worlds….opening the gateways.

I don't own Inheritance Cycle or Eragon

This story is rated T
- for blood, angst, and possible swearing and violence in the future chapters. If you are sensitive to such things please be mindful of reading this story any further. Continue at your own risk. I'm not responsible for what happens if you ignore this.

However, I do not pride myself on being overly descriptive in violent or morally jarring scenes. I don't favor them much so I keep them simple.