Answers to reviews:

Fire Lord: I see.

Cyber Drakonian: I see.

Bigguy45: Thanks for your opinion.

Guest: It is getting old, stop asking about it. We all know Arya is Eragon's love interest.

jaychristiansmith23: Yeah I know. I'm conflicted because Star Wars fits a little with the Inheritance Cycle world, which is similar to it when you think about it. But then again, the Elder Scrolls is set in a similar world with magic, dragons, sword-fighting, and features a warrior with powerful magic and abilities and who has the blood and soul of a dragon.

Bro: I'll update it when I feel like it.

Dreagon D. Dragon: I see.

MaxTheMagnificent24: That's what I'm hoping to do. Finish the current ten stories I've got before working on another ten.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Inheritance Cycle. I only own the OC Michael/Ancalagon.


The days began to pass quickly, and the group soon found themselves in the Spine, making their way toward the mountain pass that would lead them to the coast. Upon coming across the Toark River, they followed it through the forested mountain side until they were proceeding down it's other flank. After two days in the Spine, they came across a rock ledge, which offered a clear view out of the mountains.

Eragon noticed the flattened land ahead, and groaned at the distance still left to cover. Brom tried to raise his spirits by pointing out they were making good time. "Teirm lays just to the north of here. It is one of the older cities, one with a remarkable history of being able to withstand many attacks over the ages."

It took them until noon the following day to complete their descent through the foothills, and arrive on the other side of the Spine. Beyond the forest, they noticed a change in their surroundings. The countryside was covered with soft turf and heather that their feet sunk into. Pools of mud were frequent on the road, and it didn't take long for both riders and horses to be covered with grime.

After two more days of traveling north towards the ocean, it was the dragons who first sighted Teirm. A heavy fog obscured the vision of their companions on the ground until a westerly breeze blew it away.

Eragon and Brom went into the town while Ancalagon and Saphira hid on the cliff.

Eragon and Brom had to ask for directions to Jeod's house from a herbalist named Angela. They arrived at Jeod's house, where they were met with... not so much enthusiasm by Jeod's wife, but they were met happily by the man himself. Once in the house, Brom sent Eragon out of the room so they could talk alone. Before he went, though, Eragon asked Brom how to see things far away. He received in return the phrase 'draumr kόpa'. Once outside, he entertained himself at first by scrying Roran and Saphira. Then he got bored, becoming curious about what the men inside were talking about. He thought about his knowledge of the ancient language, creating a spell that would allow him to hear through the wall.

"...And that's how we got here, Jeod," came Brom's voice as the spell took effect.

"That's quite a tale, Brom, even for you. And you say you have no idea where Ancalagon came from?" asked Jeod.

No. I'll admit, I didn't trust him at first but he's made it clear he doesn't wish us any harm. He even spoke in the Ancient Language." Brom said.

There came the tinkling of crystal goblets, "Thank you, Helen." said Jeod, thanking his wife. Eragon heard a soft huff from the woman as her footsteps receded from the room.

He heard someone sip noisily from a goblet, "So, Jeod, how are the Varden doing nowadays?"

"Pretty good, though there is news of Urgals mobilizing somewhere near the Beors. Large parties of them have been seen crossing the Empire unopposed."

"Aye, we ran into a pair of Urgals up in Yazuac. The town was slaughtered by what seemed to be hundreds of the brutes. What's Galbatorix playing at, allowing them to roam free?" Brom mused.

"So, what brings you to town, Brom?" asked Jeod.

"Eragon's uncle was nearly killed by the Ra'zac had Ancalagon not intervened. But, they burned his home and nearly caught him in the process. He wants to kill them, but they have left us without a trail to follow, and we need help finding them."

"I see... But why have you come here? I don't know where the Ra'zac might be hiding, and anyone who does won't tell you."

There was a brief pause of silence and the sound of something being exchanged before Brom spoke again. "There's Seithr oil in there—the dangerous kind. The Ra'zac were carrying it. They lost it by the trail, and we happened to find it. We need to see Teirm's shipping records so we can trace the Empire's purchases of the oil. That should tell us where the Ra'zac's lair is."

The room was silent for a moment before Jeod spoke, "Well, it should be simple enough to find out. All we have to do is get the records for seithr oil from the main archives, seeing where it's being delivered. Although, it's likely we're already sure where they are."

"Helgrind." spat Brom, "That accursed mountain is nigh impregnable. They must have their lair near the top. We could probably find a way to sneak in, though."

"Are you sure that's wise right now?" asked Jeod,

"Hopefully we'll be able to strike a little sooner than expected. Things have tipped the balance in our favor with Ancalagon's appearance." Brom countered. "But sooner or later the Ra'zac will show up. We must be ready by then."

"Agreed."

The conversation turned to boring topics afterwards, and so Eragon released the energy-draining spell. For his efforts, he hadn't really learned much.

A few minutes later, Eragon was allowed back inside and he and Brom left Jeod's house, not wanting to intrude upon Helen and Jeod's hospitality any longer. Jeod told them that he would try to get them into the records room the next day. Eragon asked Brom's permission to go visit with the dragons while Brom found a room at the nearby inn. Brom agreed, on one condition:

"Be back before dark. We wouldn't want you caught stuck outside the walls, would we?"

"I won't stay out too late." Eragon promised.

Eragon, guided by Saphira's mental instructions, made his way off the road once he left Teirm's gate behind him. The sounds of the forest surrounded him as he trekked through it, heading towards where Saphira was leading him. He soon found himself at the bottom of a pock-marked cliff face. Saphira's head peered over the edge. Come on, Eragon!

"How am I supposed to get up there?" grumbled Eragon. Saphira didn't reply, but a feeling of amusement was clearly projected across their link. "Very well," Eragon said, pulling on the gloves they had bought in Daret to cover the mark on his palm, "Climbing it is." Saphira's head disappeared back over the edge of the cliff as Eragon gripped the first handhold firmly. He grunted as he pulled his body up to be able to reach the next small ledge in the nearly-vertical stone wall.


Ancalagon, who was laying on his front, having been resting his head atop his front paws, lifted his head to look at Saphira with a raised eyebrow. Her treatment of her Rider was... disturbing to him. It's like she wanted Eragon to take forever so she and Ancalagon could spend a bit more time together. He had noticed Saphira's increased attachment, and it was a little disturbing. Though that was probably the still human part of him talking, while he could feel another part of himself that relished at being in Saphira's presence and her attention being on him, so that must be the dragon side.

The sounds of Eragon's effort could be clearly heard by the dragons' acute hearing. Ancalagon watched as Saphira came back from watching Eragon's progress. That should take him a while, Saphira said to Ancalagon, laughing as she spoke. The sun sparkled off of her scales as she lay down next to him. The clear air of the late spring morning was exhilarating as they breathed in the cool air. They lay together for a few moments, enjoying how the heat of the sun contrasted with the cold breeze, before Ancalagon spoke up.

Why do you test him so, Saphira? The black dragon asked Saphira, who looked back at him. You could easily go down and pick him up.

Why? Why should we, the masters of the sky, be forced to leave our lofty position?

Ancalagon stared at Saphira. This was unusual for her, especially when comparing her to how she was in the book. He is your Rider! You should be helping him? Do you not care for him anymore?

Saphira snorted, Of course I do, but a little climb won't hurt him... Saphira paused as Eragon cried out, his shout followed by the sound of a small avalanche of rocks. Much, anyway.

Ancalagon's eyes narrowed. This is NOT how it went in the books. Saphira did not treat Eragon like this at this part in the first book. So why was she doing so? Was it because of him? Was her attachment to him making her irrational.

Nevertheless, he had to put this back on track.

Saphira, go and help him. Now. I'm not going to disappear as soon as you take your eyes off me. Ancalagon said with a warning growl. He's your Rider, he should be treated-

And how would YOU know how a Rider and dragon should be? Saphira asked, letting loose a low growl.

Ancalagon blinked in surprise at her sudden hostility. What is wrong with this dragoness? What is the matter with you?

Saphira huffed and turned away from Ancalagon, returning her gaze to the sunset that was inching towards the horizon. She was silent for a few minutes, during which Ancalagon could hear the sound of Eragon's slow, laborious climb to their perch.

Ancalagon was about to look over the edge to see if Eragon needed any help when Saphira blurred into motion and threw herself off the cliff, plummeting downward. He heard her wings snap open, catching the wind, followed by Eragon's startled yelps. Saphira rose again above the cliff's edge, Eragon hanging by his shirt, which had been snagged by her claws. She released her Rider, who tumbled onto the ground, rolling to a stop by impacting against Ancalagon's side.

Ancalagon reached around and pulled Eragon to his feet. The young man gave a small nod of thanks and began brushing himself off. Eragon then looked over at Saphira with the anger evident on his face, "So, did you finally come to your senses or did you just lose your patience?"

Saphira did not respond. And after a few moments of grumbling, Eragon went over and reclined against her as she lay next to Ancalagon. The black dragon was excluded from their ensuing mental conversation, but he assumed that Eragon was discussing what he had learned in Teirm.

Ancalagon got bored with doing nothing, and so he took off and went to go hunting.


The next day, Eragon woke refreshed. He sleepily pulled on his clothes. He then made his way downstairs, where the innkeeper stopped him.

"Your friend told me to let you know that he's giving you the day off, lad. He'll start your lessons tomorrow." he said as he wiped a rag across the bar's counter.

Eragon almost cheered aloud. He would be able to avoid Brom's lessons for a little while longer, at least. He thanked the man and went back upstairs, retrieving the money pouch from his pack before departing from the inn.

He breathed in the salty sea air as he walked along the docks. The sun was peeking through a patchy layer of clouds left over from the previous night's rainstorm. The light reflected brightly off of the choppy sea as the waves splashed against the hulls of the ships moored at the docks. Eragon looked out over the immense body of water. The largest amount of water he had ever seen in one place prior to this was the small lake high in the Spine. But even that lake with it's sparkling cool water couldn't compare to the sight of the ocean.

Eragon made his way through the busy city streets, visiting a couple street vendors to view their wares. Nothing really held his attention as he wandered through Teirm until he found himself back on the street of Jeod's house. That's where he noticed the strange building next to Jeod's house once again; the one that the strange woman had been standing in front of when they had arrived. It was an unusual place for a shop. The other stores were down by the city wall, not crammed between expensive houses. He tried to look through the windows, but they were covered with a thick layer of crawling plants obscuring the view from the inside. Curiosity piqued, he entered the shop.

At first, he couldn't see anything because the room was so dark, but once his eyes adjusted to use the faint greenish light that filtered through the plant-covered windows, he began to look at the oddities that filled the building. A large colorful bird chirped at him as it watched him curiously from its perch. Eragon glanced at it for a moment then continued his tour. Plants covered the wall and clung to the ceiling, the vines obscuring all but an old chandelier that hung from the roof. A diverse collection of mortars, pestles, metal bowls adorned the counter, as did a clear crystal ball the size of Eragon's head.

He walked to the counter, carefully stepping around strange, unidentifiable contraptions, crates of oddly-shaped rocks, and stacks of dusty scrolls. He heard a clatter and spun around to see a cat entering the shop via a small flap-covered entrance. The cat glanced at him as it sprang up onto a chair in the corner, curling up into a ball, gazing at him with its eyes half closed. The cat bore a shaggy mane that framed its angular face. Tufts of black fur grew in patches from the cat's fierce, strong form. Eragon stared at the cat for a moment. It seemed to be examining him, staring at him before flicking its tail dismissively. Eragon reached out with his mind to try to convey that he was a friend.

You don't have to do that.

Eragon's eyes darted around the room in alarm. The cat merely ignored him and licked at its paw. Saphira? he asked Where are you? No one answered. He reached for what looked like a plain wooden rod on the counter.

I wouldn't do that if I were you, the voice came again.

Eragon looked around for the voice's source, Saphira, stop playing games! He grasped the rod, intent on using it as a weapon in case he was attacked.

A shock of electricity exploded into his body, coursing along every nerve, leaving him gasping in pain upon the ground. The pain slowly faded, and Eragon began to pick himself up off of the ground. The cat jumped down off of its chair, looking at him.

You aren't very smart for a Dragon Rider. I did warn you.

You said that! exclaimed Eragon. The cat stretched, yawning, before weaving its way through the miscellaneous furniture filling the lobby of the shop.

Who else?

But you're just a cat! Eragon objected.

Oh, please. Do I look like a normal cat? The cat sprang up onto Eragon's chest, and with Eragon in his weakened state, knocked him to the ground. The cat strode up Eragon's body and sat upon his chest. Look closely, and be honest. Am I like any cat you have ever seen?

No... Eragon admitted.

Then what makes you think I am one? The cat dug in its claws as Eragon tried to rise. Apparently your education has been neglectful and pitiful. I - to correct your mistake - am a were-cat. There aren't many of us left, but I should think that even a farmboy would have heard of us.

I thought were-cats were a myth! Eragon said, fascinated. A were-cat! He was luckier than most people. The were-cat race was always flitting about on the edges of stories, often in the company of great people, usually kings, offering advice when it suited their fancy. It was also said that they lived longer than most beings and possessed magical powers, and often knew more than they told.

Well, the cat said, lowering his face into Eragon's, Seeing is believing, isn't it? Knowing is independent of being. I did not know that you existed before I arrived back here, interrupting my plans for a nap.

Sorry... Eragon said, still feeling awkward that he was apologizing to an animal. A smart, magical animal, but still an animal.

I wasn't really tired, anyway. It's just a habit of mine. Now, if I were you, I'd put down that rod, it's going to shock you again in a few seconds. Eragon quickly replaced the rod where he had found it.

What is it?

A boring artifact, unlike myself. It's purpose...you've already found that out, haven't you? The were-cat said, flashing its fangs in a small grin. It sprang back up to the chair and curled up, closing its eyes, purring.

Wait, Eragon said, What's your name?

The cat raised its head off of the chair's cushion. That's quite a question you pose. I go by many names, but if you want my proper one, you will have to search elsewhere. You, however, may call me Solembum.

The door to the shop swung open, letting the sunlight in, silhouetting a figure against the brightness outside. The herbalist he had seen when they had first arrived in Teirm strode in, a few baskets in her arms, which were filled with miscellaneous plant life. Her eyes flickered at Solembum, then widened in surprise.

"He says you talked with him."

"You can talk with him, too?"

The herbalist laughed, "Of course, but that doesn't mean he'll say anything back. I'm Angela, by the way." She set the baskets down on the counter and turned to him. "He likes you, which is unusual. Most of the time, Solembum doesn't show himself to customers. He even says that, given a few years of work, you could show promise."

"Thanks."

"It's a compliment, coming from him, that is. You're only the third person to come in here who has been able to speak with him. The first was a woman many years ago, and the second was a blind beggar. But I don't run a shop so that the customers can hear me prattle on. Is there anything you want? Or did you just come in to look?"

"Just to look, really." Eragon said, still pondering the were-cat, "Besides, I don't really need any herbs."

Angela gave him a mischievous grin, "That's not all I do, if that's what you're thinking. The rich fool lords pay me for the love potions and the like. I never claim that they work, but for some stupid reason, they just keep coming back for more! But I don't think you need any of that silly trickery, do you? Perhaps you'd like your fortune told? I do that for all the rich fool ladies."

Eragon laughed, "No, I'm afraid my fortune is pretty much unreadable. Besides, I don't have enough money to buy anything right now."

Angela looked at Solembum with a curious look on her face. "I think..." She gestured at the crystal ball resting on the counter, "That's only for show, anyway, It's useless for anything but display. But I do have... Wait here, I'll be right back." With that, Angela dove into a room in the shop's rear. The sound of the herbalist rifling through her belongings followed, being punctuated by the sound of tinkling bottles.

Angela came back, breathless, holding a small leather pouch, which she placed on the counter. "I haven't used these in so long that I'd nearly forgotten where I'd put them! Now, sit across from me and I'll show you why I put myself through all this trouble." Eragon obeyed and sat across from her on a stool that he pulled from its place across the room, and scooted up to the counter across from Angela. Solembum's eyes glowed from his chair, which had been cast back into shadow once Angela had closed the door.

The herbalist laid a thick piece of cloth on the counter, then upended the bag over it. A handful of smooth bones tumbled out of it, each slightly longer than a finger, runes decorating their sides. "These," she began, "are the knucklebones of a dragon. Don't ask me where I got them, it's a secret I won't reveal. It's too long of a story, anyway. Unlike tea leaves or any of the other 'mystic' items of nonsense, these have actual power. They never lie, though the magic entwined within them is understood by few, if not none of the people who practice the profession of prophesy. Even for me, understanding their meanings is... complicated. If you wish, I will cast them and read them for you. But I warn you, knowing one's fate can be a terrible burden. You must be completely positive that it is your desire to know."

Eragon looked at the bones with a slight feeling of foreboding and of dread. There lies what was once one of Saphira and Ancalagon's kin... But to know one's fate... How can I make this decision when I don't even know what lies in wait for me, much less if I will like it or not. Ignorance is bliss. "Why do you offer this, anyway?" Eragon asked.

She fingered the bones, nudging one onto its side to reveal a shimmering rune upon it as she thought. "Because of Solembum," she said, looking into Eragon's eyes. "He may have been rude to you, but the mere fact that he deigned to speak with you means that you're special. He is a were-cat, after all. I offered to do this same thing for the two others that talked with him. Only the woman agreed, her name was Selena. Ah, but she did regret it afterwards. Her fortune turned out to be bleak and painful. I don't think she believed it - not at first."

An unexpected wave of emotion overcame Eragon, prompting tears to come to his eyes. "Selena..." he whispered to himself. His mother's name. Could it possibly have been her? Perhaps her destiny was so terrible that she felt that she had to abandon me to protect me from the same cruel fate. "Do you remember anything about her fortune?" he asked, feeling sick.

Angela shook her head, sighing. "That occurred too long ago, and the details of our meeting have melted into the rest of my memory, which definitely isn't as good as it used to be. Besides, I will not tell you even what I do remember. That fortune was meant for her and her ears alone. It was sad, though...I still remember the look of sorrow upon her face..."

Eragon closed his eyes, then noticed something about what Angela said, "Why do you complain about your memory?" he asked to distract himself from the revelation that the reason behind his mother's abandoning of him might have been told in this very room. "You're not that old."

Angela smiled broadly, "You flatter me, but do not be deceived. I am much older than I look. The appearance of youth is probably a result of having to eat my own herbs when times are lean."

Smiling, Eragon took a deep breath, bracing himself. If that was my mother and she could bear to have her destiny foretold, then so can I. "Cast the bones for me." he said, a grim look on his face.

Angela's face became grave as she grasped the bones in each hand. Her eyes closed, and her lips moved in a soundless murmur. Then she said powerfully, "Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!" and tossed the bones onto the cloth. They fell all jumbled together, gleaming in the faint light.

The words rang in Eragon's ears; he recognized them from the ancient language and realized with apprehension that to use them for magic, Angela must be a witch. She had not lied; this was a true fortunetelling. Minutes slowly passed as she studied the bones.

Finally, Angela leaned back and heaved a long sigh. She wiped her brow and pulled out a wineskin from under the counter. "Do you want some?" she asked. Eragon shook his head. She shrugged and drank deeply. "This," she said, wiping her mouth, "is the hardest reading I've ever done. You were right. Your future is nigh impossible to see. I've never known of anyone's fate being so tangled and clouded. I was, however, able to wrestle a few answers from it."

Solembum jumped onto the counter and settled there, watching them both. Eragon clenched his hands as Angela pointed to one of the bones. "I will start here," she said slowly, "because it is the clearest to understand."

The symbol on the bone was a long horizontal line with a circle resting on it. "Infinity or long life," said Angela quietly. "This is the first time I have ever seen it come up in someone's future. Most of the time it's the aspen or the elm, both signs that a person will live a normal span of years. Whether this means that you will live forever or that you will only have an extraordinarily long life, I'm not sure. Whatever it foretells, you may be sure that many years lie ahead of you."

No surprises there—I am a Rider, thought Eragon. Was Angela only going to tell him things he already knew?

"Now the bones grow harder to read, as the rest are in a confused pile." Angela touched three of them. "Here the wandering path, lightning bolt, and sailing ship all lie together—a pattern I've never seen, only heard of. The wandering path shows that there are many choices in your future, some of which you face even now. I see great battles raging around you, some of them fought for your sake. I see the mighty powers of this land struggling to control your will and destiny. Countless possible futures await you—all of them filled with blood and conflict—but only one will bring you happiness and peace. Beware of losing your way, for you are one of the few who are truly free to choose their own fate. That freedom is a gift, but it is also a responsibility more binding than chains."

Then her face grew sad. "And yet, as if to counteract that, here is the lightning bolt. It is a terrible omen. There is a doom upon you, but of what sort I know not. Part of it lies in a death—one that rapidly approaches and will cause you much grief. But the rest awaits in a great journey. Look closely at this bone. You can see how its end rests on that of the sailing ship. That is impossible to misunderstand. Your fate will be to leave this land forever. Where you will end up I know not, but you will never again stand in Alagaësia. This is inescapable. It will come to pass even if you try to avoid it."

Her words frightened Eragon. A death? Who's going to die? His thoughts immediately went to Garrow, Roran, Brom, Saphira and Ancalagon. Then he thought about his homeland. What could ever force me to leave? And where would I go? If there are lands across the sea or to the east, only the elves know of them.

Angela rubbed her temples and breathed deeply. "The next bone is easier to read and perhaps a bit more pleasant." Eragon examined it and saw a rose blossom inscribed between the horns of a crescent moon.

Angela smiled and said, "An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates—for that is a magical symbol—and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."

Of noble birth, thought Eragon in surprise. How could that ever happen? I have no more standing than the poorest of farmers.

"Now for the last two bones, the tree and the hawthorn root, which cross each other strongly. I wish that this were not so—it can only mean more trouble—but betrayal is clear. And it will come from within your family."

"Roran and Garrow wouldn't do that!" objected Eragon abruptly.

"I wouldn't know," said Angela carefully. "But the bones have never lied, and that is what they say."

Doubt wormed into Eragon's mind, but he tried to ignore it. What reason would there ever be for Roran or his uncle to turn on him? Angela put a comforting hand on his shoulder and offered him the wineskin again. This time Eragon accepted the drink, and it made him feel better.

"After all that, death might be welcome," he joked nervously. Betrayal from my family? It couldn't happen! It won't!

"It might be," said Angela solemnly, then laughed slightly. "But you shouldn't fret about what has yet to occur. The only way the future can harm us is by causing worry. I guarantee that you'll feel better once you're out in the sun."

"Perhaps." Unfortunately, he reflected wryly, nothing she said will make sense until it has already happened. If it really does, he amended himself. "You used words of power," he noted quietly.

Angela's eyes flashed. "What I wouldn't give to see how the rest of your life plays out. You can speak to werecats, know of the ancient language, and have a most interesting future. Also, few young men with empty pockets and rough traveling clothes can expect to be loved by a noblewoman. Who are you?"

Eragon realized that the werecat must not have told Angela that he was a Rider. He almost said, "Evan," but then changed his mind and simply stated, "I am Eragon."

Angela arched her eyebrows. "Is that who you are or your name?" she asked.

"Both," said Eragon with a small smile, thinking of his namesake, the first Rider.

"Now I'm all the more interested in seeing how your life will unfold. Who was the ragged man with you yesterday?"

Eragon decided that one more name couldn't hurt. "His name is Brom."

A guffaw suddenly burst out of Angela, doubling her over in mirth. She wiped her eyes and took a sip of wine, then fought off another attack of merriment. Finally, gasping for breath, she forced out, "Oh... that one! I had no idea!"

"What is it?" demanded Eragon.

"No, no, don't be upset," said Angela, hiding a smile. "It's only that—well, he is known by those in my profession. I'm afraid that the poor man's doom, or future if you will, is something of a joke with us."

"Don't insult him! He's a better man than any you could find!" snapped Eragon.

"Peace, peace, child." chided Angela with amusement. "I know that. If we meet again, and if we have the time, I'll be sure to tell you about it. But in the meantime you should-" She stopped speaking at this point as Solembum padded between them. The were-cat stared at Eragon with unblinking eyes.

Yes? Eragon asked, with a hint of irritation.

Listen closely and I will tell you something. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa Tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls.

What do you - but Solembum had already turned and left, waving his tail ever so gracefully.

Angela tilted her head, coils of dense hair shadowing her forehead. "I don't know what he said, and I don't even want to know. He spoke to you and only to you. Don't tell anyone else."

"I think I have to go," said Eragon, shaken.

"If you want to," Angela said, smiling once more. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, especially if you should happen to buy something. But go if you wish; I'm sure that we've given you enough to ponder for a while."

"Yes." Eragon quickly made his way to the door. "Thank you for reading my destiny." I think.

"You're welcome." Angela said, beaming back at him.


And that's it for this chapter. Yeah, I know the fortune-telling went exactly the same as it did in the book, which is gonna cause conflict in Ancalagon's mind since it'll make him think if everything he does is for nothing if it's just going to happen. But the one thing about the future is that it's ever changing, it's not set in stone. And Ancalagon has already defied fate when he saved Garrow.

So it seems a few are wanting to see me do Dragonborn of Alagaësia again. I'm just as conflicted, still. I mean, I was originally planning to do The Descendant of Revan: The Force of Alagaësia, and then a Elder Scrolls/Inheritance Cycle crossover in which the Dragonborn would be paired with Arya, maybe Eragon with Nasuada, and probably have Alduin brought back to be bonded to the Dragonborn like a Dragon Rider, and have him paired with Saphira.

From the looks of it, most of you want to see me bring back the Dragonborn x Saphira story.