Well hey there! Are you ready for the ground shaking, mind blowing sequel series to Inheritance?

Well then, you'll have to look somewhere else.

(Maybe. We'll see where this goes.)

Anyways, I decided to write a sequel to Inheritance. This is my first long term fan fiction, so please bear with me. (By the way, Myrkr means, "darkness" in old norse, which was the baseline that Christopher Paolini used for the ancient language.)

Are you ready? Then come along with me, on a journey through time…

Prologue

Darkness. Quiet. Stillness.

The darkness of the night enveloped all with its overpowering force. None could withstand it, and none could hide from it, for darkness is everywhere. The force of the night succumbs to nothing, and answers to no master.

The small caravan trudged slowly onward, their horses tired from the long haul yet ever still did the voice of their riders tell them to "Keep going," accompanied by a gentle yet meaningful lash with their thin switches. The horses neighed, aware of the impending doom, as all animals are aware of when their time has come; but their human riders, who were not born with such foresight, pushed them forward still. To them, the night seemed calm. Tranquil. Peaceful, even…

How wrong they were.

Off in the night, the single hoot of an owl broke the silence of darkness.

Silence. The blanket of it soon returns, and the humble farmers, set on edge by the inconspicuous bird, returned their eyes to the road, reassuring themselves that, "It's just an owl."

Then chaos broke free from its chains.

The carts of the caravan burst into flames. The horses went into a craze, and they bolted, taking the farmers on the ride of their lives. Arrows fired upon the caravan found their targets, and the horses fell, and the wagons and carts flipped over their dead bodies. The farmers, no knowing what to do, fled into the darkness of the trees, but could not escape the inevitable. More arrows flew, and more fell.

A lone farmer survived the latest volley, and realizing that he was alone, hid in a hollow beneath the roots of an ancient tree.

Silence. Then, off in the distance, footsteps. Getting closer, ever closer, they treaded softly, as softly as a hunter who is tracking his prey.

The farmer prayed fervently to his gods, fearing the inevitable. He waited, and the footsteps gre ever closer. He saw a shiver of movement, and a figure entered his view. Slim and graceful, the form picked its way towards his hollow. The farmer went stalk still, hoping he would be missed. The form stopped, and looked towards his hollow, and the farmer felt its gaze penetrate the roots, stabbing into his back like white hot daggers. He held his breath.

The form turned then, and walked away. Slowly, the silent shadow crept away, never to trouble the farmer again.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, as this is only the prologue. Please, leave a review, and tell me what you think!

(Just so that no one says I don't give due credit where credit is due, I'd like to thank hopelessromantic1470 for inspiring me. You are a great writer; continue to do what you do best: inspire others.)