PROLOGUE

The rain hammered against the thin glass of my bedroom window, each drop striking like the echo of a painful memory. I sat curled on the edge of my bed, trying to lose myself in the pages ofThe Inheritance Cycle. The worn, dog-eared copy was my escape—my shield against the real world. Its tales of bravery, of struggle and triumph, gave me hope in the moments when my own life felt like a never-ending storm.

But tonight, even the words I cherished so much couldn't drown out the throbbing agony that coursed through my body. My arms, my ribs, my face—every part of me screamed in pain. Steve, my stepfather, had been in one of his moods again. Drunk, like he always was, slurring insults and lashing out as if my existence offended him. His fists landed on me with a fury I had grown all too familiar with, but this time, his rage seemed more focused, more brutal. When he was done, I had crumpled to the floor like a discarded rag, my body trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

This was normal now. Regular. Expected. But knowing it would happen didn't make it hurt any less. My mother had come in after, like she always did, not to comfort me, but to remind me to "stop provoking him." Her eyes barely lingered on my arm, which now bent at an unnatural angle. "Sleep it off," she muttered, her voice cold, detached, before disappearing back into the haze of her denial.

I clutched my book tighter, its pages blurring as tears welled in my eyes. "I hate my life," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the storm outside. My throat tightened, and I bit my lip to keep from crying aloud. I didn't want them to hear. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much they had broken me.

I closed my eyes and let the words tumble out in my mind, a desperate plea to a universe that seemed deaf to my pain.Why me?I was only thirteen. I had done everything to be good, to be perfect. I aced my classes, worked harder than anyone at school, hoping my achievements would make me worth something. But Steve called me a "weird little nerd," so I tried sports—fencing, wrestling, anything to make me stronger, tougher. None of it mattered. I was never enough for him. Never enough for anyone.

The storm outside seemed to rage in sympathy with the storm inside me. The raindrops ran down the glass like tears I couldn't stop. I opened the window and let the cool, damp air wash over my face, standing on the narrow ledge just outside. The ground loomed below, a silent promise of release. My heart pounded as I stepped to the edge, the slick tiles beneath my feet threatening to give way at any moment.

"I could end this," I whispered, my voice trembling. The thought was bitter, but it felt like truth.What's a few seconds of pain compared to a lifetime of this?I imagined it—no more bruises, no more insults, no more pretending everything was fine. Just quiet. Peace.

The rain poured harder, soaking me to the bone as I stood there, staring down. My hands shook, not from the cold but from the weight of the decision. "Sometimes I wish…" My voice cracked. "I wish I was in Eragon's world. At least there, I could be strong. I wouldn't need anyone."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and leapt. The wind rushed past me, carrying the faintest trace of freedom. I braced myself for the sharp embrace of the ground, for the pain that would finally end it all.

But it never came.

Instead, there was a deafening crack, a flash of light so bright it burned through my closed eyelids. For a moment, the world was nothing but white—blinding, endless white. My stomach churned, my body weightless and suspended as if I were being torn from the very fabric of reality. The rain, the roof, the earth—all of it vanished, replaced by a swirling vortex of light and shadow.

I screamed, or at least I thought I did, but the sound was swallowed by the maelstrom. The air was thick, electric, alive. Time seemed to stretch, seconds dragging into an eternity before the light consumed me completely.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.

I gasped, my body collapsing onto soft, damp earth. The rain was gone, replaced by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant chirp of unfamiliar creatures. My eyes flew open, and I stared up at a sky unlike any I had ever seen—stars burned brighter, and the moon seemed closer, larger, bathing the forest around me in an otherworldly glow.

I wasn't home anymore.

The pain in my arm flared as I slowly rose to my feet, cradling it gingerly, each movement sending sharp jolts of agony through my body. My breaths came shallow and quick as I forced myself to look around, taking in my surroundings. Tall, ancient trees stretched toward the sky, their branches weaving together in a canopy so dense that only fragmented beams of moonlight managed to break through. The air smelled crisp, wild, and untouched—nothing like the polluted stink of the city I had left behind.

"Where… where am I?" I whispered, my voice trembling. My words hung in the air, unanswered, until I looked down. My heart skipped a beat as I noticed the shallow crater beneath me, the ground charred and cracked in a perfect circle around where I stood.

I gasped, stepping back instinctively.How did I do this?My mind raced, fragments of memory flashing before me—standing on the edge of my window, the rain soaking me to the bone, the fall… and then that blinding light. I had expected the cold embrace of death, but instead, I was… here. Whereverherewas.

"Am I… dead?" I muttered to myself, half-wondering if this was some version of heaven. The thought almost made me laugh bitterly. "Well, it's an upgrade from home," I murmured. The words felt hollow even as I spoke them, but they were true. Anything was better than the hell I'd left behind.

Then it happened—a sensation so foreign and alien it froze me in place. A prickling, like icy fingers brushing the inside of my skull. My vision blurred, and my knees buckled as a voice—a deep, resonant voice that felt like a chorus of countless others—filled my mind.

"I heard your cries, child, no one of your age deserves to go through what you endured, yet you remained strong throughout your ordeal. I have decided to make you, my champion. Use my gifts well and become what you were meant to be."

The voice echoed, reverberating in the depths of my soul. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It wasn't just sound; it was a presence—ancient, vast, like it had existed since the dawn of time and would continue long after the end of everything. It was overwhelming, suffocating, yet strangely… comforting.

"Wait!" I stammered aloud, my voice trembling. "What are you? Who—" But the presence withdrew as quickly as it had come, leaving me alone with nothing but the sound of my own shaky breathing.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. "Well, that was ominous," I muttered, trying to steady my nerves. Whatever had just happened, it wasn't normal. None of this was.

I took a deep breath and climbed out of the crater, my legs shaking beneath me. I looked down at myself, at the clothes I had been wearing when I made the leap—my scuffed Nike sneakers, the faded blue jeans, the old striped black-and-blue T-shirt, and my black hoodie, now smeared with dried blood from Steve's earlier rampage. The sight of the stains made my stomach turn, but I shoved the thought away. That life was behind me now.

In the distance, smoke curled upward through the trees, a thin ribbon against the night sky. I didn't know where it came from, but it was the first sign of life I'd seen, and standing still wasn't an option. I adjusted my hoodie, ignoring the dull ache in my arm, and began to walk.

The forest was alive, vibrant yet dangerous. Every rustling leaf and snapping twig made my heart race. But I wasn't helpless; Boy Scouts had taught me a thing or two about navigating terrain like this. I stepped carefully, avoiding thorny undergrowth and watching for any signs of movement.

My mind wandered as I walked.Would they even notice I was gone?I thought of my mother and Steve, and anger bubbled in my chest.Screw them.For the first time in years, I felt something akin to freedom. The weight that had crushed me for so long was gone—at least for now.

"Gods," I muttered, the word slipping out unbidden. "If this is a dream, don't wake me up. Please don't let me wake up in a coma or back in that house." The thought sent a shudder through me, but I pressed on, focusing on the smoke ahead.

Then I heard it. The faint creak of a branch shifting under pressure. I froze, my senses on high alert. Before I could react, a figure stepped out from behind a tree, a boy about my age with messy dark brown hair and sharp brown eyes. He held a bow, the string pulled taut, an arrow aimed directly at me.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice steady but his expression wary. His eyes darted to my clothes, his brow furrowing. "You're not from around here. What… whatareyou wearing?" His words came rapid-fire, sharp and suspicious.

I raised my hands slowly, palms out. "Whoa, easy!" I said, my voice trembling but calm enough. "I'm friendly, I swear. My name's Mark. What's your name?"

He didn't lower his bow immediately. His piercing gaze studied me, calculating whether I was a threat. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he eased the tension on the string and lowered the weapon.

"My name is Eragon," he said cautiously, though his eyes remained suspicious. "What are you doing wandering alone in the Spine?"

The Spine. My heart skipped a beat. My mind reeled, the pieces slowly clicking together. "The Spine," I repeated softly, almost in disbelief.Oh my God, I'm in the Inheritance Cycle, I'm really here. I'm in Alagaësia.

I looked at Eragon, who still regarded me with guarded curiosity, and swallowed hard. My journey was just beginning.