M'kay, so kicking off ShadowLight with the same thing as usual: a prologue.

Evil spread from one corner of Alagaesia to the other. Terror reigned. Galbatorix ruled the entire land with unchallenged might. The humans that had not answered Eragon's call attempted to start another Varden. Within twenty four hours, however, Galbatorix had crushed them like insects. This was not like the last time Galbatorix had ruled, for now he had no fear to fly out of his citadel to prove his control. And with Echothain at his side, he was unstoppable.

Many had not escaped from Galbatorix when the coalition of races had escaped with Eragon leading them. Some had been captured in the days before Galbatorix's insurrection. Many had refused to leave the land of their fathers behind. And still others had believed that Galbatorix was gone forever, and that Eragon's call was nothing more than a practical joke. They all bent a knee to him now, more for terror than for reverence. He slew without discretion, any whom he deemed worthy of lacking a head lost it in a moment. The number of those loyal to him grew by the day. By what malicious magic, no one knew. But day by day, captives that once spat at the ground at Galbatorix's feet became obedient to his order.

Rathon and Malizar had taken advantage of everything they could. They had built a small hiding place near the base of the far western edge of the Beor Mountains, reasoning that that was the place Galbatorix had given the least attention. For a long while, they did not even go outside that small hut, trusting Leonis to hunt in the mountains and bring them food. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally ventured outside and after even longer they dared go into the nearby cities. What they found had not been as bad as Rathon had expected. There were a good many of Galbatorix's mind slaves about, but other than that the city seemed untouched and unaware of Rathon's existence.

That was, of course, before he saw the sign.

Stamped upon every board and wall in the city was a portrait of him, as well as an official decree stating, "If any are found to be surmised to aid in the efforts of this fugitive, they shall not perish. Rather, they shall be made to watch as every one of their family members, friends, and everything they had every put a finger on is brought down to death."

Rathon had ducked his head under his hood and quickly made his way out of the city, where he had turned back to look at the race of man. Malizar had stopped beside and urged him on, saying that they had to return as quickly as possible, lest someone recognize him.

Ten years passed. Rathon never left the area around the hut, expect for periodic flights with Leonis. He avoided all human contact expect for Malizar, not for fear of being noticed, but fear of the consequences of anyone who helped him. He knew Galbatorix would not be fair in his judgment if someone had aided him. If he even had a suspicion of that, if he even wanted to have a suspicion, they would be gone within the hour. He wished that on no one and so he removed himself entirely. Malizar made frequent trips into the city, to buy supplies that they needed. Even with these precautions, they had to be nimble, for Galbatorix's mind slaves were everywhere, watching and scanning for any sign of him.

Rathon sat, leaning against a smooth bolder that was the hidden entrance to their home. He tossed a fruit up and down, starring down at the city. An ache, a resonating pang went through him, as it did most days. He longed for the way of life he had once had, the way it had all been before. This time eleven years ago, he would have been sipping on ale and going over documents with Naydel of how much that very city was to be taxed for its yearly revenue.

The sound of rock grinding against dirt alerted him to Malizar pushing the boulder he was leaning against out of the way with magic. He pushed himself up and made room for his only human companion.

The rider stepped out and brushed the dust off his legs. He was dressed in the most unnoticeable and unremarkable clothing they could find, so as to draw as little attention as possible. A leather bag was strapped around his right shoulder and was slung by his left side. "I'm going into the city. We have only enough food for another three days, at best. If Galbatorix sends extra troops to find you, and we're forced into hiding, I don't feel like starving."

"How much money do you have?"

Malizar opened his bag and looked into it for a moment. "Precious few. I'll look for another job while I'm in there."

"Tread lightly," he said.

"As always," Malizar responded.

Rathon woke some time later. The presence of Leonis' mind had raised him from his nap. The crimson dragon landed almost a mile away, using the cover of the mountains to hide himself and then walked to the hideout. He had a nest in one of the tallest peaks, far out of view of anyone on the ground. He looked up and saw his dragon's head resting on the rock above him, his eyes closed, the warm breath from his nostrils warming him. He sighed and looked back down, towards the city. Lights flickered in the town, shuttered candles and lanterns set outside the front porch of a house to help someone find it in the darkness.

"Lovely, is it not?" Rathon's heart leapt into his throat with panic. He jumped to the side, reaching for his sword. He unsheathed and turned back to the voice, ready to defend himself. Stories of what Galbatorix did to captives were many and gruesome and he had no intention of becoming another one.

"Show yourself!" he called. His heart felt like it was beating a thousand times a minute.

"I'm behind you," came the voice. Rathon spun around, sword buzzing through the air. It was stopped dead in its tracks, with the metallic twang of sword against sword. "Hello to you as well, old friend," came the voice once more. Then it clicked in Rathon's mind.

"Calibor," he said, relieved. The darkness before grew brighter and he saw the man. He was dressed in snow white clothing, his eyes as silver as the moon. The blade he held was black as pitch but white as frosting. On an impulse, Rathon reached out and touched the blade. But it was not what he had thought.

"No, child. This is not ShadowLight. Merely a blade I made to replicate it," Calibor said.

His heart calming, Rathon took a deep breath. Then he returned his gaze to Calibor and with his tone guarded he said, "Why have you left me to myself? I've had good need of you in the past decade."

Calibor looked back at the boulder. "Really? I would say Malizar is making use of himself to a sufficient degree to allow for my absence."

"ShadowLight was stolen by Galbatorix," he said, his voice growing harsher.

"And who allowed for that chain of events?"

Rathon was ready to make a retort, but he stopped himself and cast his gaze downward. "I have suffered for what I did, Calibor. Everything I once held dear has been taken away from me."

"Rathon," Calibor said, his tone gentle but firm. "Noble intentions or not, you are the engineer of your life at the present, not Galbatorix. The finger of blame can be pointed nowhere but inward."

Rathon swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Please, Calibor. I have suffered my punishment and even now I stand in exile. May we ignore the past for now?"

The left side of Calibor's mouth twitched up in a smile. "The past must never be ignored, Rathon, for by it the future comes to fruition."

"Is there hope for me, Calibor? Is there even an inkling of hope that I will not someday die at the hands of Galbatorix?"

A sudden flash of light caught Rathon's attention. He looked down and his breath was caught. In a field directly adjacent to the village a circle of earth thirty yards wide had been burst into flames. In the center of the circle, lay Malizar, his cloths torn and bloody. He looked back at Calibor, but saw nothing.

Go, came the silent whisper.

Leonis rose and said, What was that?"

Hide yourself, Rathon said. Quickly! Leonis stretched his wings and took to the skies. Rathon ran down the hill and over the maze of rocks that separate him and the city. A half mile separated him. By the time he reached Malizar, he feared the man would be dead. But when he approached he saw that his companion was still breathing. Dried blood covered his arms and face. Numerous cuts ran his entire body. A single gash, that looked fresh, pooled blood from his abdomen. He went down on his knees and said, "Malizar."

Malizar opened his eyes and reached up to him. "My King," he said. He sounded delusional.

"We have to get you out of here, now."

"No, no, my King. This was bound to happen sooner or later. I am only glad that it was sooner." Rathon took a shaking breath and then began to weep uncontrollably. He wept for everything he had done. He wept for everything that happened because of him. He wept for the simple fact that he was doomed. Finally he said, "What am I to do, Malizar?"

"Go," the man whispered. "Go and beg forgiveness from the ones you have wronged. Return to them. Redemption is not as far as you think." Then Malizar's arm fell and he breathed his last breath. Rathon stood and looked down at the body of his only human friend.

"Leonis!" he called, with his voice and mind, amplifying it with his energy so it reverberated through the air. "Come."

I don't like short chapters, per say. But that's what a Prologue is. Short.