Author's Note: Join me on this epic fantasy told on a scale never before seen in the Inheritance Cycle. Christopher Paolini left behind such a rich world and story that the potential to continue this epic tale is limitless. After reading much fan-fiction I wanted to create something different, so don't expect this story to tie up all the loose ends so conveniently. The romance will be handled with subtlety and not forced like many of the other fan fiction tales. In addition this story will explore themes of war, family, politics, adventure, and much more.

For now expect the chapters to be uploaded every Sunday.

Enjoy the Prologue.

Update for 17/1/2017 - This prologue now includes a scene from Eragon's perspective, which shines light on the emotions he is feeling during the present time of this story. Since this story is epic it is only fitting that we have two prologues. The next chapter to be added to this story will be from Arya's perspective, and will be updated in a couple days time.

Prologue - Fate Set In Stone

I - Eragon

8003 AC - Two Years After Galbatorix's Demise

Holding tightly onto her saddle they braved the tempestuous storm, sheets of torrential rain flowing beside them. It would not have been such a pretty picture had Eragon not enveloped them in a protective barrier, where the storm was inaudible from inside. One could only hear Saphira's soft growl and the wind breaking apart at her wings. It was like being inside a crystal ball, suspended within a waterfall.

Nasuada's message occupied his mind, and all he could hope for was that he was not too late. There is an army outside Illirea! We need you Eragon. He did not know anything beyond that. A siege would usually last months under a well fortified citadel. They had been flying for close to two weeks now.

"Better not to dwell on the worst, little one," Saphira said. "We should be very close to the shore by now. I recognise this sea."

"You are right. However, I don't know what to expect upon my arrival there."

"It's nothing we can't handle…"

"We are here to assist you Eragon," Umaroth said. Umaroth and Glaedr's Eldunarí glowed from inside the leather sack, that was tied around the side of Saphira's sternum. Having the wisdom of his two teachers reassured him somewhat. However, reassurance was not his main worry, it was the people he loved that were in danger.

Cliffs of thunderous clouds flashed brightly around him, searing a white glow into his vision. He could hardly see the waves below; just a swirling mass of dark shades of grey threatening to envelop him.

He felt a cold prick on his hand. Looking down it was a water drop. He wiped it away but then two other drops fell in its place.

"Something is wrong with the barrier," Eragon said. "There is water leaking through."

"Did you say the right incantation?" Umaroth asked.

"It's the same one I use all the time."

"Not so perfect with your powers after all, little one…" Saphira laughed softly.

Eragon shook his head at her jest, the sound of the storm was also growing louder, for some strange reason his magical barriers were failing. "Maela," said Eragon, silencing the storm before re-casting his warding spells.

His breath turned to white fog and a cold chill ran through his body.

"What is it?" asked Saphira sensing a sudden change.

"Nothing, just…" before he could finish something loud crackled through the air, an ear-splitting crash that deafened his hearing, shattering his mental connection with Saphira. Vision became a blur as rain pounded his face and body. He could not make out anything through the chaos, only that he was still seated upon Saphira. A terrible ringing sound was all he could hear, echoing and pulsating within his mind. His body felt numb and cold, his legs and hands shuddering.

He lurched backwards as Saphira tried to bank towards the sea. Her instincts were right to find a lower elevation, away from the chaotic cauldron of the storm, but he could not communicate that to her. What is going on?! He called upon his energy but he could only feel it, not control it. Desperation took hold of him. Something was not right…

Suddenly, he was blinded by something fulgurant; a powerful force struck his chest casting him violently to the side and off Saphira's back. His body froze and his insides convulsed sickeningly as his crippled body fell through the raging storm. His vision started to fail and before he lost consciousness he heard the gut wrenching wails of a dragon somewhere far…

As he fell there was a flicker of distant memories of a time before, of perfect things – a round blue stone...emerald green eyes...a silver scar on a farm boy's hand – and then there was darkness...

He breathed sharply as his eyes shot open. He was laying upon some rough sand on a beach. Across the sea horizon he could see flashes of lightning in the night sky. His body felt battered and sore as if he had been beaten by a dozen men. A strong musky scent filled his senses, he turned his head and there, not fifty feet from him, lay the hulking mass of Saphira. She lay unconscious with numerous bloody gashes covering her body. Fear filled Eragon's heart…she was dying. He dug his bruised hands into the wet sand and lifted himself off the shore. Blood dripped from multiple wounds around his body, painting the sand below him with crimson, but he pushed the searing pain out of his mind as the sight of Saphira's dying body was all he could think of. Eragon rushed towards Saphira, calling out her name all the while. His voice sounded raspy and faint.

As he limped the final few steps towards her, a searing white light erupted above Saphira's body. Blinded and dazed, an invisible force jerked him backwards, cracking his ribs and sending him sprawling towards the very edge of the shore. With the last remnants of his strength, he lifted his head from the sand, and saw an amorphous light taking shape above Saphira's unconscious body. His eyes had trouble focusing but he could finally make out features. Was it an elf? No, elves didn't have white glowing eyes. It was wearing a flowing robe that shifted and distorted its surroundings. His mind crept back to Saphira, and as he was too weak to move. He reached out with his mind.

"Sa…Saphira–" Eragon's mind filled with unbelievable pain as he was repelled from her mind. He fought the pain and tried standing up but a force pulsated through his body, petrifying his movements, except for his eyes and mouth. Seeing Saphira there and him here, it left him helpless. The flaming figure shifted.

"You were told of your fate!" It spoke with a stentorian voice, power resonating from every word.

Eragon's eyes drifted towards Saphira, her body shuddered weaker and weaker with every breath she took. With what seemed like the last of her strength her eyes fluttered weakly as she locked eyes with him.

"Let me save her!" Eragon shouted, desperation filling his voice as Saphira's condition worsened.

"You were told you will never return to Alagaesia–"

"She will di–" An invisible hand grasped his throat.

"Yet you believe you can defy fate," the figure continued. Eragon's eyes drifted back to Saphira's and he saw them slowly closing.

"Please…" Eragon begged. Suddenly, for a brief moment, Saphira's mind merged with his and she whispered from somewhere far…

"Little one…its okay…" and her eyes closed. Eragon's heart froze as his world came crashing down, and a single tear trailed down his cheek before he yelled with all his might.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?"

"Remember this day, remember this feeling," the figure spoke. "I came to show you the consequences of your choices." As the last words swept over Eragon, the invisible force holding him ceased, and Saphira's wounds slowly started healing. Relief flooded through him as he fought the pain and ran towards Saphira. He collapsed next to her and tightly embraced her neck. She wasn't moving but her breathing was now calm and constant.

His mind drifted to his thoughts. He thought of Roran and Katrina, of their beautiful family watching the sunset behind the hills around Carvahall. He thought of Nasuada, her unrivalled genius and strength guarding the empire they had created together. He thought of Murtagh and Thorn flying somewhere in a distant land, free from the confines of duty. He thought of all the people he ever loved or admired. There was one other, who Eragon knew the true name of — deep green eyes, flowing jet-black hair, a slight smile on her lips. Arya… How could he possibly let them all go? He looked at Saphira again, closed his eyes and made his decision. He knew this would haunt him for his whole life, but he had no choice but to face that torture.

Saying Arya's true name in his mind, to somehow let her know he made this decision, he understood what the figure wanted. He knew he couldn't return...

As his body succumbed to exhaustion, he heard the figure's voice in his mind for the last time before he lost consciousness. "You cannot change your fate, no mortal can…"