This is an idea I have been kicking around for a while and I finally decided to start writing it. As mentioned in the description, this is an alternate universe story that doesn't follow the events of the main Inheritance Cycle story line, and is rather a "what-if" story instead. I plan for this to be part of an ongoing series.
All canon characters and setting belong to Christopher Paolini.
All OCs belong to me.
The cover image belong to artist 2rev3 on Deviantart (3rev3 on Furaffinity) and is used here with permission. Be sure to check out their artowrk. It's really nice.
.
Prologue: Toravid
Dark clouds filled the evening sky as a storm approached from the west. Grass swayed in the breeze as the wind carried the scent of rain. A lone figure walked among the pines, following a small stream through a valley, deep within the heart of The Spine. Dressed in gray robes and carrying a wooden staff with a glowing red orb on the end, Toravid would have stuck out like a sore thumb as a mage among civilized society. However, deep in The Spine, there were no prying eyes or judgmental glares. His only neighbors were the trees and animals.
Toravid sighed as he surveyed the approaching storm.
"Looks like another stormy night ahead." He muttered to himself, though he didn't mind the weather.
His gray eyes scanned the ground and the old man smiled as he knelt, picking some herbs and stuffing them into a weathered satchel he wore.
This particular area of The Spine was new to him. After more than six hundred years, Toravid was surprised to discover that there were still places within his own homeland that he had yet to explore.
As he scanned the landscape around him, he saw something that struck him as odd.
"I wonder what that could be." he muttered aloud.
Ignoring the ominous rumbles of thunder that grew closer by the minute, he paused by a clump of weeds in the center of a mountain meadow. Something about the plants struck him as odd. As he walked closer, he could make out something lying among the weeds. A ribcage. More specifically, the ribcage of dragon.
"There's something you don't see every day." Toravid remarked, studying the dragon remains that lay before him. Aside from a few bones that were presumably scattered by scavengers, the whole skeleton was there and mostly intact. This particular dragon was only about thirty feet in length.
"You were a very small dragon. Perhaps only a few years old." Toravid remarked, stroking his bearded chin.
Retrieving a book from his satchel, he thumbed past pages of notes, fairths, and drawings until he found a blank page. Toravid focused his mind on the paper and an image of what he had seen appeared on the page along with the words "DRAGON BONES".
He shook his head as he placed the book back in his satchel.
"Such a short life for a creature that is nigh immortal."
As the wind blew through the weeds, he spotted something glowing among the bones.
The old man cocked his head curiously and stooped down, pushing the weeds aside with his left hand to reveal a small glowing gemstone.
Toravid's eyes widened and he retrieved the stone, turning it in his hands. The stone was roughly the size of an apple. It was a brilliant shade of amethyst and glowed faintly from within.
Toravid hastily stuffed it into his satchel, retrieved his staff and began the long walk home. He arrived back at his camp just before the storm unleashed its fury. Gusts of wind whipped his robes and beard all about and thunder rumbled overhead as the world around him darkened. Toravid paid no heed to any of this as he reached his tent. He hastily made his way inside and sealed the flap behind him. Wordlessly, he waved his hand and a lantern hanging from the roof of the tent lit up. A flame appeared in a small wood stove beside a simple cot, providing additional light and warmth.
The inside of the tent was cramped with Toravid's belongings. The floor was made of wood and raised a few inches off the ground to keep rainwater out. Aside from the cot and the wood stove, there was a small chest at the foot of the cot. Underneath the cot lay a flintlock musket and a small keg of black powder, souvenirs from Toravid's travels in distant lands.
Toravid retrieved the amethyst stone from his bag and placed the bag and his staff under the cot along with the musket. The old man sat down on the cot and examined the stone once more. Wind howled, thunder crashed, lightning could be seen flashing outside, and a heavy driving rain pounded on the outside of the tent, but Toravid just smiled.
"I like the rain. It helps me to focus." He muttered. "Now, tell me your story, young one." he whispered.
Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind, focusing on the stone. He placed mental guards on his mind as a precaution, as even in their eldunari form, a dragon could still destroy an unsuspecting human's mind as easily as a living dragon could crush a rodent beneath its foot.
Toravid wasn't quite prepared for what he found. The dragon's mind had been almost completely destroyed. All he could sense was a swirling storm of jumbled memories, pain, anger, and fear. It was little more than a feral animal.
Withdrawing from the unfortunate dragon's mind, Toravid stared at the eldunari in his hands.
"I reckon you tried to disgorge this in your final moments, but your body failed you before you could complete the process." The old man sighed and muttered.
He removed the red orb from the top of his staff and held it in his left hand while holding the eldunari in his right hand. Drawing energy from the orb, he focused on the eldunari.
"Be at peace." He muttered. "Be at peace."
Just as he willed it to, the eldunari's glow faded until it was barely noticeable.
Toravid placed the red orb on the cot beside him and focused entirely on the eldunari.
"Well my friend, it seems as though I have my work cut out for me. I think I can fix you though."
He placed the eldunari on the cot and made his way to the chest at the foot of the bed. He began digging through the items inside the chest. A pair of flintlock pistols, a journal titled "MY TRAVELS THROUGH DANTHUANIA" depicting a gryphon on the front cover, and another journal titled "THE SEAS OF PRISMIRIA" depicting an image of a palm tree and a starfish. He dug through several additional books and journals containing notes of magic, ancient runes, and alchemy until he finally found what he was looking for.
"Ah." Toravid whispered, retrieving a journal on advanced magic.
He sat on the bed once more and flipped through the journal until he found what he was looking for. Then he picked up the eldunari and reached into the dragon's mind once more to begin the process of putting it back together piece by piece and memory by memory.
To be continued…