My earliest memories are of a grainy wooden floor, cushy knit pillow forts, spiced tea, and an indulgent smile. Security, safety, warmth, and love. I grew up with my sister Veronica and our mother, Marie. We shared a small home in a small town and lived small, pleasant lives. I didn't get along well with my sister (even then we were too different), but Mother had a deft hand with both of us. These days I have to strain valiantly to remember even a dim echo of her voice, or a hazy dream of her face… but the feelings even these create are wholly kind.

Our mother spoke little about our father. We knew she had loved him and that he was gone. She said he was lost, and he left to "find what truly mattered." We always wanted to push her for details, but she steadfastly refused to say more. Even then, we knew that we looked like our dad; everyone in town would talk about it when they thought we wouldn't hear. It never bothered us, but I wonder if it ever bothered Mother.

I only lived with my mother and sister until the fall after my sixth birthday. A normal day suddenly careened into disaster and changed my life forever.


"Lillyyyy!"

The plaintive cry hurt my ears. I clapped mud-sticky hands to protect them from Verra's wailing, but it wasn't enough to fully drown her out. "Whaaaat?" I moaned back. It served me right for thinking that Verra would ever play fair. Even though rolling around in the wet grass and mud patches had been her idea, she still had an indignant pout as she glared at me.

"You ruined my hair!" she said at last, drawing out each syllable with exaggerated care. It was true enough, the pretty little twist Mother so carefully put in her hair had been replaced by only fuzzy black fly-aways. A leaf stuck out here, a twig there. In all likelihood, we had never looked so close to identical. We were both messy, dirt-streaked, flushed with the combination of nipping fall wind and hours of play. Even the little crescent scar on her cheek was concealed beneath the muck, and her brown dress was indistinguishable from my green. Her dark eyes narrowed to a comical imitation of our mother's rage as she planted hands on her hips. "You better say sorry!"

"I didn't mean to," I replied sheepishly.

"You ran into me on purpose!" Her stubby finger poked me hard in the chest.

"But I didn't mean to ruin your hair," I rubbed the sore spot, grumbling another half-baked apology when my voice died in my throat.

Just behind the treeline over Verra's shoulder, a cloud of black smoke rolled into the darkening sky.

"What are you… looking at…" Verra trailed off as she turned. "What is that? Rain?"

"Trouble," I guessed grimly. Verra bit her lip. "I'll find Mom. You wait."

Verra just nodded, frozen in place. I ran towards home.

-:- -:- -:-

By the time I reached our street, the whole town was in a blind panic. All around, people were running and screaming, houses burned and market stalls lay in shards. A horse careened down the main road, the flaming wreck of a cart still attached to its harness. The blaze threw scenes into sharp relief as it passed: bodies collapsed in the doorways they tried to guard, figures curled up in pools and splashes of what could only be blood, limbs disconnected from their hosts. All around the acrid burn of woodsmoke, blood-copper, and the vile stench of burning meat assaulted me.

Through the dense cloud of smoke, I could see figures, hulking giants with massive horns that faded back into the darkness. I kept low and to the sides of buildings, pausing whenever the clamor came too close. It was all I could do to see through the haze. My single thought was to get home. If I was with Mom, nothing could hurt me. We could get Verra and leave this place. Everything would be just fine.

An explosion of shrapnel from the side of our home had other plans.

One of the massive shapes flew across the street and through our neighbor's window. Another followed the first, this one smacking its heavy head on the way out of the opening. A smaller shape jumped through the hole, just barely missing the thick arm that followed it out of the house. The new form shouted a word I didn't recognize… but using a voice that was very familiar. The smoke cleared just enough to show a golden mane dusted through with rubble, and a bloodied face contorted in a snarl that seemed so very alien.

I'd never seen my mother like this!

I pressed low to the ground and shuffled behind an ailing willow tree. My eyes stung with the effort of staying open in the gloom, but I couldn't rip my gaze away. More of the shapes were out in the open, slowly surrounding Mom. She crouched low, grabbing a stubby axe from the ground. The shapes came on, in turns and in rushes. Every time they retreated, they left more of their number in the dust at her feet. Until a new challenger approached their isolated battle; much larger than all the rest. It strode through its fellows and straight up to Mother, not even breaking stride as it met a heavy club to her pilfered weapon. Its companions backed off as they fought, preventing escape but not interfering in the duel. Mother obviously strained under the onslaught, but she fought like a cornered animal. Finally, the axe handle splintered in her hands. She was utterly defenseless to the next devastating blow leveled at her chest.

I had to literally bite back a scream. I tasted blood in my mouth, but even the pain in my lip was fading fast into horrible, numb terror.

She crumpled to the ground, joining the bodies she'd put there just moments before. The largest of the shapes put its arms out wide and bellowed its victory. Then it joined its fellows in the next chase.

A motionless hand stuck awkwardly out of the pile. That sight consumed me beyond sense, urging me forward to… to … to what, I could not say. I slid cautiously out of my hiding place, crawling through the bloodied ground and bodies until I was close enough to touch that hand, close enough to see the bloodied, misshapen body beneath it.

It was motionless.

"Mom?" I wasn't sure if any sound actually came out. My throat burned, tightening until even air could barely escape. I felt my world caving in. "Mom?" Maybe if I could pull her to safety, she would wake up when she felt better. Maybe she just needed to get out of the smoke? I remembered her saying that breathing smoke was bad. But she didn't seem to be breathing at all.

I didn't have time to make any decisions. Out of my peripheral vision, I just barely saw a woman running towards us. I waved as I sat up… directly into her leading foot as she jumped forward.

I collapsed to the ground, vision swirling and ears echoing distant screams.

-:- -:- -:-

I awoke in the early graying of dawn, though I wasn't immediately sure why. My head throbbed where it had met the oncoming boot; a steady pounding. Then I noticed a counterpoint to the beating in my head. At first, it was slight, almost imperceptible, but it was building with each passing moment until each thum shook the whole world. I tried to shield my ears from the pressure, but it just kept growing! Suddenly, the ground rumbled and shook as a massive thud brought the concussions to a halt. I glanced up and saw a huge, blood-red splotch amid the ashes of my home.

The Riders. relief poured into me at the sight, and I closed my eyes. Dragon Riders were heroes of legend, they could handle any more of the monsters. Maybe they could even help Mother!

Two figures approached me, and the first thing I noticed was how different they were. One was tall, almost as tall as the monsters had been, and wearing a bright red tunic. He was broad-shouldered with long dark hair, and his face was set in a cocky sneer. His companion was all sanguine grace; black hair, eyes, and clothing with easy confidence known only to the very rich or very powerful. His expression was more guarded than the other's, but his eyes were haunted; like he had just woken from a thirty-year nightmare.

I sat up. My head spun violently and I nearly threw up from vertigo.

"Well, what is this? Seems they missed a spot!" The tall, red-shirted man spoke first, his rough voice dragging over my ears.

"It is of no consequence-" the other man trailed off as he got closer, stopping midstep about three feet from me.

"That's true. We can just- …. Daddy?" but his friend was not responding.

"Daddy?" I couldn't help but parrot the strange affectation.

"No, not exactly," The larger man grinned down at me, "See, he's-"

The man in black quirked a sardonic smile. "Come closer, girl." His voice took on a musical elegance. Even through my pain, I felt the irresistible urge to comply. Once I closed the distance between us, he hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my head back until our eyes met. "What is your name?"

"Lilly, sir. Well, it's actually Lilleth but-"

He released me and I let the thought die in my throat.

"Torix, c'mon, talk to me. What's going on-"

"This woman here was your mother, yes?" Again he brushed off his companion, though this time the big man didn't seem to mind. In fact, he took a step back and put a hand on the hilt of his sword, releasing a slow breath and turning his stare back and forth between the man in black and me in raw fascination, "Her name was Marie?"

"Yes sir." I sniffed back tears as his words sank in. Was… then they couldn't help Mother. She…. she couldn't really be….

"And your father?"

I shook the horrible thoughts away, mumbling, "He left. I don't even know him."

He fell silent then, just closing his eyes in some kind of apparent resignation. Then, he opened them and spread his hands, "You do now."

I stared at him blankly.

At his side, the man in red let out a grating laugh.


After this, they strapped me to a saddle and flew me into the mountains. They refused to even consider searching for Verra. Turns out that neither Morzan nor Galbatorix had any qualms about crushing the fleeting hopes of a freshly traumatized child. I did not see my native region again for nearly two decades, but that was of little consequence. Everything I had cared about was long gone. Verra was most likely either killed in the onslaught or perished in the wilderness thereafter; my mother was gone, and all that remained of the village was a quickly eroding patch of soot.

Nothing that anyone said or did could prepare me for the shock of the coming years. No child is ever "prepared" to join a small militia populated by madmen, criminals, and homicidal, flying lizards.