Helloooo! How's you're day? Good? Great! So, here's my latest attempt at a story.
Constructive criticism is welcome, flames are taken into consideration, but not if there is not a decent reason behind said flames. Although English is the only language I know, grammar can get a bit iffy at times.
Now, *Clears throat* I am not Christopher Paolini, thus I do not own the Inheritance Cycle. This is a work of a FAN of the series, Thus canon will likely not be strictly adhered to.
Enough stalling, let's get going.
"Talking"
'Thinking'
"Speaking telepathically"
My name is Owen Hassett.' A masculine voice echoes throughout an endless abyss. "A 27 year old man, Standing at 5'8, I have short, dark brown hair, lightly tanned skin, sapphire blue eyes, a clean shaven face, and a mean streak a mile long. I went to a decent school, where I made met a few buddies, but made no actual friends. I worked for an Construction company called... I can't remember. I lived in a decent apartment, where I spend most of my free time playing video games, reading various fanfics and watching Youtube." The voice stopped for several moments.
'Cause of death: Swinging Steel girder to the face, followed by a 6 story fall, while letting out a very un-masculine scream of pain and terror, punctuated by landing on the concrete sidewalk. Luckily my neck broke my fall.' A short chuckle before silence once again reigned supreme. 'Guess I'm alone with my thoughts. Eh, nothing new.' The Voice's owner's mind began to wander, thinking of his life and family, slowly realizing that he'll never see them again. But It didn't bother him as much as it would most. It upset him, immensely, but he didn't feel the need to have a mental breakdown. Owen was a practical and blunt person, which didn't make him very many friends, and was multiplied when he got drunk, but made his life much easier to handle as a whole. Not buying things he didn't need to, not bothering with the opinions of others, just kinda gliding through life.
He didn't know how long he 'floated' in the darkness, but as he began to grow bored of his own thoughts, a small white light flickered into existence in front of him. Reaching out with an imaginary hand, he 'touched' the light... and immediately regretted it. It felt like he had been set on fire, and quenched in a vat of ice cold salt water. The kind of pain that would drive most insane. He only felt it for a few seconds before his mind shut down, but the memory of the mind shattering agony had been branded upon his very soul.
VROENGARD
4 days off of the mainland of Alagaësia, sat a desolate Mountain island. And over a mile under the Island's surface laid a vault. Inside this vault was a massive platform above a lake of magma. The walls of the vault were pitted with dozens upon dozens of alcoves, each of which contained a colorful glowing crystal orb, every one was similar to those around them in shape, yet unique in color, radiance and power. These were Eldurnarí. A gemstone that all dragons have, and can store their souls within. These 'heart of hearts' were all nestled within alcoves of a massive room, watching over the multitude of eggs that were the hope of their species. Many of the Eldurnarí were in a sleep-like state as they waited for someone to open the Vault they resided in. The rest were watching Alagaësia, hoping for the darkness encompassing the Continent to end.
On the far side of the chamber, a seven foot dragon-headed man made out of a polished metallic substance sat upon a large stone throne, the magma lighting to chamber giving him an almost glowing golden color. His chest and limbs were greatly muscled like those of a Kull and he wore no clothing except for a segmented loincloth made out of the same metal as his body. In his left hand he held a metal shield, a large broadsword sat sheathed upon his left hip. This was Curaroc. An Eldurnarí housed within a specially-constructed artificial body, the guardian of the Vault of Souls.
Umaroth, leader of the Riders and the first Dragon to bond with another, Was watching the latest meeting of the Varden, the main opposition to The mad King's reign, and a group of Elves about who would be in possession of the recently liberated Dragon Egg. The two had been arguing for nearly a week, each wanting to be the one to gain the loyalty and power of a Dragon Rider.
As the two groups seemed to come to an agreement, a pulse of magic snapped his and many other dragon's attention back to their room. 20 seconds later, another stronger pulse awoke the slumbering dragons as a small orb, no bigger than an orange, formed within the center of the chamber. The orb was a deep, abyssal black, seemingly eating the light around it as the air around the orb warped, as if it was a hole in reality itself.
Curaroc quickly stood from the chair that he rested upon and took a step towards the ball, ready to draw his sword, when a third pulse struck, forcing the golem to brace itself to keep from stumbling. The orb had expanded to the size of a cantaloupe. Many of the Eldurnarí were getting nervous now for a few reasons.
One, the orb itself was a completely unknown, pulsating with energy and growing rapidly. Two, some were worried that the pulses could be traced back to this island, revealing that there was still something there, putting them all in danger. And third, the pulses of magical energy were giving many flashbacks of Thuviel's unmaking spell that rendered the island almost completely uninhabitable. The casualties of his suicide attack were extensive but many bonded and wild dragons still survived due to their Eldurnarí being collected and held within this very vault. However, if an explosion even a fourth as powerful occurred here and now, the blast would vaporize all the eggs within the vault effectively ending the dragon race save for the traitor, and the two eggs within Galbatorix's possession, and the one stolen by the Varden. Most if not all the Eldurnarí would be destroyed as well and any that survived would be buried in rubble until the Mad King, who would without a doubt notice the magical shockwave, sent his army to the island to investigate and inevitably collect them.
A fifth pulse shook the chamber, the magma surrounding the chamber rolled and splashed cross the walls like waves on a cliff face, as the orb grew to the size of human head. Cuaroc was shoved back into his chair as the sixth and final pulse rocked the room as the hole in reality, that was now the size of a adult male's torso, whose reality warping presence extended several feet from the center, spat out a large ovoid shape, before abruptly snapping out of existence with an earth shaking clap of thunder. The only sound within the chamber for several minutes was the bubbling of molten rock, all sharing the same thought.
"What In the abyss just happened?" A deep but feminine voice echoed what everyone in the chamber was thinking. Unfortunately, with the silence broken, more than one hundred voices exploded into existence at once. Each trying to speak up to have their opinions or speculations heard. As this continued, Umaroth cut himself off from the shared consciousness that allowed all the Eldurnarí all to communicate to think in silence. His centuries old mind quickly coming up with dozens of theories, but all were quickly rejected as either impossible or way to unlikely to be seriously considered. As he continued to ponder, he noticed something.
"ENOUGH!!" The elder white Dragon roared, gaining the silence and attention of every being in the room. After several seconds of silence, Umaroth continued. "While we are all rather surprised by what has just transpired, we seem to have missed something." Sending a silent message to Curaroc, the possessed golem walked cautiously towards the center of the room, and picked up an object that was not previously there. Silence once more reigned supreme inside the vault as the Dragons, many of whom were several centuries old, turned their attention to the object in the golems hands. It was roughly a foot and a half long and about six inches in diameter. It's flawless obsidian black surface was speckled with purple triangular spots and a golden under-sheen that reflected the light of the room like a perfectly cut jewel. Everyone in the room recognized what it was, but were to shocked at the prior event to notice.
A Dragon Egg. One they had never seen before, which gained all of their interest, especially the oldest of them. Umaroth was one of the oldest Dragons in the Vault and as such had seen every variation of dragon and dragon egg there was, yet he had never seen an egg like this one. The contemplative silence was broken by a slightly raspy chuckle. All 'eyes' snapped towards the 'speaker' in surprise. An enormous, 6 foot in diameter, bright Golden Eldurnarí that sat directly above the alcove the Eggs resided in. This was Kagulan. The oldest and most powerful Dragon in the vault, possibly ever. Having lived for nearly a millennium, before retreating into His Eldurnarí to sleep, it was speculated that he had even spoken with the Grey Folk, and had forgotten more of the Ancient Language than most could hope to learn. His voice hadn't been heard for nearly two centuries, but when he did speak, his very mental presence was enough to command respect from even wild dragons.
"And here I thought I had seen everything." His voice was old and raspy, but still comanded respect. "And yet the realms manage to prove me wrong."
"Daéda Kagulan." Umaroth spoke. "It has been a long time since you have been heard."
"indeed it has been Hatchling." The Eldest dragon chuckled. "And what a time to wake from my little nap." Many of the dragons sweat dropped, as his 'little nap' had been longer than several of them had been alive before being forced to become Eldurnarí. "Umaroth. Open."
Knowing what the Ancient Gold Dragon wanted, Umaroth opened his mind to Kagulan, allowing him to read his mind and catch up with what he had missed. It took several minutes, but he felt his mentor's mind retreat from his.
The ancient dragon's heart of hearts, glowed brighter, as the new Egg shot from Curaroc's grasp and stopped several inches from the powerful dragon's Eldurnarí. Silence hung heavily in the air as the 136 dragons, both Bonded and Wild, waited for the Ancient Dragon's verdict. And waited... and waited... and waited for almost ten minutes before He spoke again. "Thornessa skulblaka weohnata waíse ramr." This got many's attention. To be called strong by the oldest known Dragon before even being hatched, much less in the ancient language...
The black egg was suddenly launched towards the platform, and landed in the center. Before any could question him, a crack sounded out from the jewel. Another quickly followed, and another and another as the dragon began to hatch. All 'eyes' were firmly planted on the egg as it was the first hatching in nearly a century. Almost a minute later, the small dragon broke completely free of its prison, revealing the dragon's form. It had shiny black plate-like scales, four legs and two wings, a shortish neck and a small compact face. It had no visible eyes, and purple tips to its talons and claws. It's wing claws looked like a four fingered hand with talons. It was about a foot and a half long, about six inches tall and looked like it had a three foot wings.
After it puked up the fluids in its lungs, it continued panting as It placed its front left paw on its head and shook it's head as if to clear it while letting out a small groan, the small dragon lowered it's paw, but froze halfway down.
Then the screaming started.