Damien turned the last page of the book. It was probably the fifth time he had finished Inheritance, the fourth book in the Inheritance cycle series of books made by Christopher Paolini. He loved the series to death and could often get lost in the chapters and words, envisioning himself there with Eragon and company, fighting the evil empire. He could get so caught up in reading that he could often forget-.

The sound of the Library's closing bell shocked him from his reverent silence.

"SHOOT!" He rasped, "It's almost 9 PM!"

He put down the book on the return desk and walked quickly out the door. He had lost track of time and had to hurry home before his parents decided to look for him. He quickly put on a bicycle helmet and unchained a green and black hybrid bike from a rack, fumbling with the straps as he rolled down the hill. Gripping the handles till his hands hurt he began to race home, legs pumping like train pistons as he raced home. Even if he pedaled at high speeds, he'd still take 30 minutes to make it home, and he was already hour late.

"My parents are going to kill me!" He moaned, redoubling his efforts.

As he rounded a hill, he saw 2 figures silhouetted in the darkness. He narrowed his eyes and after a lucky break of cloud cover the moonlight revealed a man chasing someone with a knife. Not thinking Damien pedaled faster, attempting to crash into the knife wielder. The man heard the sound of Damien's bike too late, falling to the ground as the teen crashed into him. Both bodies landed on the ground, the knife spinning in the air before clattering a few feet away. Damien got up first, looking around in a panic before seeing the knife, reflecting the moonlight off its blade as it shined over the grass. He ran to it, but was tripped as the man grabbled him by the leg. Damien scrabbled up but the man was faster, grabbing the knife and staring at Damien with wild eyes.

"Typical, all you stupid people, you'll take their side over mine!" He begins waiving the knife threateningly, "You had to butt in! Could have turned the other way, but no! Someone's always got to be a hero!" He spat in Damien's face. Damien took a step back and glanced around, this enraged the man, who roared, "Eyes here!" He screamed, charging at Damien.

Damien ducked under the man's wide swipe, picking up a large stick, he swung down, forcing the man to sidestep to avoid it. The man's smug grin turned sour as he stepped on a loose rock, twisting his ankle on the uneven footing. Damien took the opportunity to swing the stick once more, catching the man on the side of the head. After a vicious thwack, the man fell. Damien took out his phone, preparing to call an ambulance and the police. He turned to look at the person he rescued, a young woman in her early-to-mid-twenties. Damien's face grew hot slightly as he looked at her pretty face and curvaceous body. Clearing his throat and trying to sound a bit more adult, he smiled and spoke.

"Are you alright miss?"

"Do I look alright!?" she retorted angrily. "That guy tried to murder me, all because I stole 100 stupid bucks off him at the night club!" Her voice was slurred from drinking, and she looked unfocused and angry. She kicked at his sides viciously, then began to kick at his head.

"Hey! Stop that!" Damien ran up to grab and stop her just as she was reaching for the knife. "He's already knocked out! You could kill him if you keep going!"

The woman struggled against his hold and kneed Damien in the pelvis, Damien felt weak at the knees. As he doubled over in pain the woman pushed him hard, causing him to tumble into the road. As he fell the light of a semi-truck bathed him in a harsh radiance. The driver of the vehicle, noticing Faris too late, attempted to swerve his truck out of the way, but he had no time. Damien had no time either, but it seemed as if the world had slowed down, each instant feeling like minutes. He closed his eyes, preparing for the flash of pain, but felt nothing but an odd warmth. It was dark wherever he was and he felt surrounded by something rough and soft at the same time. All of a sudden, he was brought into bright light and cold. He felt massive hands cradling him. He opened his eyes to blurry bright figures with voices he could barely make out. As he continued to focus both sound and sight came to him. Eventually, he could make out the faces to two people, two gigantic humans. One was an exhausted looking woman with light hair and eyes she looked down at him with exhausted satisfaction and tenderness. The man at her side was dark skinned, with coal black eyes. The man brought Damien closer to his chest, and Damien tried to hold out his arms to push him back, only to his horror discover that his limbs were replaced with stumpy sausage like hands and feet.

What's going on! He thought as alarms went off in his head, as he began to focus, to pierce through whatever foggy haze he was in, he found his mind slowly panicking. He tried to speak, but the noises that escaped his mouth were just high-pitched babbling.

"Is he trying to speak already? We have a smart child, our little Faris." The woman sighed contently.

…Who…what? Damien tried to observe his surroundings, but the light beyond the immediate area blinded him, and it was a struggle just to keep his head from falling over. That's when he really began to observe the wrinkled, stubby appendages that wriggled about as he tried to move were his limbs, and that, it wasn't the two who were huge, but rather, in observing the monstrous size of the black cat that observed the couple, it was he, who was small. The woman took Damien into her arms, smiling with such profound joy that Damien smiled back in reflex.

"He's smiling at me Bergan!" The woman laughed out with joy, turning to the man. He smiled, as he did, Damien began to notice his shaven head and large black beard. The man's eyes twinkled and his smile was like a crescent moon in a starless night, to Damien, this was a surreal dream.

Yeah… this is just a dream, He thought, but even as he thought that, his eyes rested on the cat. It was matte black, huge, even if compared to his small form. It had a wild look about it with its top fangs just barely jutting out of its mouth, with eyes that gleamed blue and that seemed to look into him. The room was bathed in light as a door was opened. Through that door a young woman with thick, curly brown hair and bright eyes walked in.

Without a word the brown-haired woman took out a vial, poured its contents into a spoon, and fed it to the woman holding Damien. He looked at her as she grimaced.

"Tut tut," the bright-eyed woman retorted. "You need the medicine to keep your strength, the birth was hard on you and the baby, and it's a miracle you both survived, it's my job to keep that miracle going."

"I understand Angela."

The woman nodded, and extended her hands, letting the man hold Damien again. As he did, Damien saw his reflection, it wasn't him, but a baby, a pruney, pink mess with tufts of hair and bright blue eyes staring back at the mirror. He felt the panic rise through his throat, and without the ability to control himself began to cry. Instead of the quiet sobs he had trained himself to hold to, the screams of an infant, inconsolable and loud.

"He must be hungry." The woman reached out for Damien once again. "Our little Faris…" She began to nurse him, and despite himself, Damien's instincts as a baby took over and he began to suckle, falling into a drowsy stupor. The last thing he saw before drifting off to sleep was a little girl of about 10 or 11 years of age, looking at him with tired violet eyes and a cynical expression.

Chapter 1

A 6-month-old baby boy crawled up and down a bear skin carpet in a well-furnished living room, skillfully carved wood and metal utensils, baubles, and decorations littered the floor and walls, and grand painting of a sunset was set proudly on the fire place, so realistic and intense that a passing glance could leave one believing they were looking out a window. The baby crawled up and down while looking down with an intense look on his face. Anyone watching him would jest that he was waiting for an important meeting, though to their surprise, they'd be right. The baby continued his crawl from one end of the carpet to the other, moving along the edges of the rug in an ovular clockwise fashion, going counter-clockwise whenever the first way made him dizzy. Eventually, he heard what he was looking for, and sat back, moving his head up to see the latch to the windowsill of the room open. Poking his head out from under the window was a young boy with slanted, cat-like eyes and thick shaggy black hair. He was twiddling a piece of holly woven in his hair. The baby blinked, and when he opened his eyes, the boy was gone, though the windowsill left open. The baby smiled, turning to see a large black cat laying down besides him. The baby, Damien, or Faris, leaned back into the cat's side, resting on its warm flank, the child let his mind wander.

Hello Solembum. The child projected his mind outwards, willing his thoughts over to the cat, and after what seemed like an eternity, the cat responded, almost seeming to smile as it yawned.

Hello, human kit.

Faris, or Damien, smiled at this. With Solembum here, it meant that Angela would arrive in a few hours. She always arrived at least once a month to check on them. His mother was still recovering from the birth, and Angela wanted to make sure both Faris and his mother survived. Even then, Angela was Angela, and like he remembered reading, was never one to remain in the same place forever. He only really remembered the first and last times she was around, the moment of his birth and the clarity he had achieved was almost immediately gone, and for months, he moved in a hazy dream, unable to focus his thoughts. Solembum had proven godsend in that situation, he was interested in Damien's memories of his previous life and in all the boy experienced, and taught him a way to memorize everything, down to the most minute detail, perhaps it was due to this early schooling of mastering the mind that allowed Faris to slowly gain clarity, and soon he was able to remember everything, from the names of his friends and family, down to how many misspelled words were in the second book on his left book shelf in his room, which page numbers contained those misspelled words, and how the misspellings could effect the way the story flowed. Thinking to his accomplishments, Faris smiled. A baby's smile was contagious and the faintest of purrs could be heard from Solembum.

So, what is your plan? Solembum queried, he looked at Faris in the eyes, eyes as blue as the midday sky.

The child raised his hands, raising them towards the ceiling in an up-and-down fashion as his mind reflected. The last time Angela had been here, he had tried to project his mind towards her. Not on purpose of course, Solembum had warned him to wait a year or two, but after the time he had spent communicating with Solembum, just as a child easily learns spoken or kinetic language, he learned the language of the mind, and his own voracious curiosity got the better of him, as he communed with birds, rodents, dogs, and other domesticated animals. His young mind was extremely flexible, and his desire to experience more of this new avenue of communication combined with the original intelligence Damien had created a dauntless information seeker. Through surreptitious gleaning of information from passersby, guests, and even some animals, he learned that his parents had come to the village almost three years ago, and that while they were still relatively new, they were recognizable and trusted faces within the village. Curious as to their origins, he tentatively attempted to glean their minds, but to his surprise found that both of them had rock solid mental defenses that they kept up at all times except during sleep. Because of this, Faris resolved to learn more about his parents through asking them when he got older. Faris became somewhat gloomy as he thought about Angela, she had been changing his diaper when his mind brushed against hers by accident. At that time, she became deathly still, and her movements slowed, she finished cleaning him, and after setting him down, a massive wall of mental force came bearing down on his psyche, threatening to kill him as it cut into his mind and drilled ever deeper. No matter what he threw at it, the onslaught did not cease, he felt something within him begin to break, and eventually shatter, shatter in such a way that he felt his mind split, it was only then that Solembum, noticing just too late, bit Angela on the leg, distracting her enough for Faris to break into a wild screaming sob. The pure terror in both minds forced Angela to recoil out of the mind. What followed was his confused parents entering the room, seeing Angela looking distraught and Faris screaming. It took them hours to calm the child down, and days for him to return to normal, by then Angela had left, and whilst she came back the next month, her visit was short and she barely looked at the child. The next month, this month, she was late, late by weeks, so late that Faris had feared she would never return, but Solembum's arrival assuaged that first fear, but his second terror, of what almost happened to him, that made him almost wish she didn't return.

He had by now realized that he was in Alagaesia, he hadn't known how or why, and he hadn't really believed it, but everything, everywhere, everyone, were named as they were in the books he loved, and he could do nothing about this predicament. He somewhat missed his old family, but they weren't close, and he hadn't been too attached to anyone recently, maybe a one-sided crush, but even then, that was overshadowed by the excitement of the world he now lived in. If it made things better, his new family was much closer, and they dearly loved him, and he them, while he couldn't fully recall his past life at the age he was now, he knew his old mother held him twice before he turned one year old, and would never think to breast feed him, despite being so content to do it for his younger sister. Despite life being much harder than the technology filled utopia that was his old world, he found himself comfortable, everyone, despite having to work hard, moved with a purposeful energy, as if shackles had been removed, and in many ways, shackles had been removed. It had been 3 years since Galbatorix was slain. And as if even the land was relieved of the burden of his evil crops had begun to grow in greater abundance and trade had begun to open again between the nations. Meats, fish, and crops like wheat and corn, and produce like milk and eggs were traded for specialty spices, salt, and sugar from Surda, whilst wood furnishing and soft lace was traded for stone and metal workings from the Dwarven kingdom. Taxes had been lowered drastically as there was no war needed to be fought, and great changes had occurred already, schooling was something almost every large village could boast of, with literacy rates reaching 40% amongst the adult population and almost 70% with the children. Magic was more common, not that more people were born with magic, but that it became easier to understand how to access one's magic if they had it. Alongside this greater knowledge came registration, prospective mages would be taken to schooling, either through specialized tutors, or through an academy in the capital, where they learned general magic but also began to focus on branches of understanding. The town had its own mage, a middle-aged balding man who clamed being a member of the original Varden, though not of the Du Vrangr Gata. He endeared himself to the town when he was able to fully heal an elder's broken leg over the span of a month, an injury that not only could have crippled the man for life, but could have even killed if the wound had gotten infected. All government sanctioned mages had a tattoo of a dragon's head on their dominant forearm alongside some script in the ancient language. A feature that Faris noticed on neither of his parents.

You have been quiet. You are normally more obnoxious than the rider had been.

Faris giggled at that.

I'm sorry Solembum, I was just wondering about everything again, and what would happen when Angela returned, I'm scared she's going to hate me, or hate my parents by proxy.

A coughing sound emerged from Solembum as he closed his eyes and turned from Faris. Faris at first felt concern. But when he felt not pain or discomfort, but mirth, from Solembum, that concern changed to indignation.

It isn't funny! He exclaimed mentally, frowning. Solembum continued his coughing laugh for a bit, before slowing to a purr and opening one eye, now a bright gold.

What is it?! Faris asked. But Solembum made no comment, merely yawning, stretching, and bounding out the window. The noise must have startled his mother, who came rushing out the kitchen with a rolling pin in one hand and a kitchen knife in her other. She looked to the floor to see her son staring back at her. Smiling in relief she set her tools on a table and cleaned her hands on her apron, picking Faris up.

"Well little Faris, what have you been up to?" She asked, smiling.

Faris smiled back, saying, "Mama!"

This elicited a slight chuckle from his mother, Faris giggled in response, overshadowing any thoughts of the excitement of this world. It may have been a slight exchange, but he truly loved his parents in this world. In Damien's old world, his mother was a politician, who only held him when trying to put up an 'authentic' front, his father was little better, a well-known mystery author and prolific romance novel ghost writer, he was always either busy working or making appearances for book releases, conventions, sales, and talk shows. This left Damien with being acquainted with professional sitters, nannies, and manservants, most of whom resented his parent's cold demeanors and didn't care to hide their animosity from the young child those two brought into the world. He grew up quiet and repressed, learning to hide his emotions from his caretakers, who would only tear down any weaknesses he had, and from his parents, who's indifference to his discomfort would simply break down his psyche. It wasn't until his uncle on his mother's side introduced him to video games, movies, boxing, and martial arts, ways for him to release the feelings of powerlessness, and powerful relievers of stress when the books he'd escape into weren't enough. Suppressing those thoughts Faris focused on his mother, and on his life here. Here in this world, his beautiful mother Haya loved and raised and nurtured him. Here in this world his strong and kind father, Bergan Briarson, was as strong as he was dependable. They weren't rich, but his father, being a metal smith, was never without work, and their family thrived. He could tell that both his parents were well educated, and their love for knowledge resonated with his. Which is why his favorite memory wasn't discovering this world's nature, nor was it seeing that magician heal the elder, witnessing true magic, rather, it was the way they're faces lit up when Faris finally gained the physical control over his vocal cords to say "mama, dada". Faris would then on begin to communicate his love and care for his parents, and his parents would return those feelings. As such, the hurt Damien grew with was further pushed away, and thoughts were focused the now.

Still smiling, Faris's mother Haya carried the boy up the stairs, the rhythm of her footsteps and the beating of her heart lulling him to sleep like a gentle lullaby. Before, he could barely stay awake for 3 hours before falling asleep due to the sheer amount of thoughts running through his head. But now, he could stay up much longer, his body developing quickly as he moved about more and more each day, exercising his mind and body with his adventures over the bear skin rug. Even with his strength growing little by little each day, his mother's heartbeat was all that was needed to fall asleep. As he began to drift off, Damien began to think about what he knew, by trading memories and thoughts and experiences with Solembum, he had learned a few words in the ancient language, this combined with what he already remembered, allowed him to weave his first spell, the spell to remember, a spell that after seeming to only drain a little of his magic did its wonders. The ancient language, as odd a language as it was, he conquered the little he knew. As Haya put down her baby to rest for the afternoon, Damien dreamed of the future.