Somewhere I Belong (An Inheritance cycle/Eragon SI)

[roaringkitty]

Carvahall​

Deep breaths.

In

Out

In

Out

He repeated the motion, filling himself with lungs full of air before exhaling. Once his heart had steadied and he felt the exhaustion fading away from the mount's climb, Tavin finally opened his eyes and embraced the darkness.

The others would vehemently disagree with him, but darkness was a blessing. It comforted, provided succor from the rigors of the day, and hid all your sins. There was nary a better companion than the darkness. The villagers could disagree with him all they wanted, grumbling about wolves, demons, spirits, and whatnot. They were damned illiterate hicks who weren't even worth the breath he already wasted on.

He had once lived amongst the mighty skyscrapers of New York City that had banished light forevermore. He knew the perils of pollution caused by an excess of light. Tavin braced himself, blinking rapidly, before looking at heavens and nearly lost his breath.

The heavens above were covered in their resplendent radiance. A sight that many in his old world would have gone as far as Antarctica or Latin America to visit. Yet it was right here, for him to witness. Free of charge. From corner to corner, as far as his eyes could see, there were stars and spirals. The largest cluster of which he affectionately called the Andromeda galaxy. A homage to his old world.

Tavin let out a single solitary tear at the vista above him before retreating to his breathing exercises. He focused on the stone in front of him, reaching out with his mind, admiring the sheen on it from the starlight, and feeling its length and width. With a soft nudge, Tavin willed it to fly. He imagined it soaring through the air, doing cartwheels in midair, before coming to a halt infront of him. Tavin opened his eyes to sit the stone sitting stubbornly in front of him, a triumph of natural science over the queerness of the realm.

Tavin petulantly blew a raspberry before he felt a presence at the forefront of his mind and paused. His breath hitched as the entire area around him started to vibrate. Tavin's heart rushed like an Olympian in short sprint. He tried to focus on his meditation, but the vibration was overwhelming.

Tavin focused on a bright red orb phasing out from the ground below him, Tavin focused and reached out to touch it. He struggled, his hand swaying from the intensity of the energy raging around him. Tavin persevered and gently touched the orb.

A rush of warmth and relief instantly flooded inside him. He felt like a child as euphoria rushed through him. His muscles relaxed, adrenaline faded away, and the warmth seeped into his very bones.

"Hello to you too, love," Tav said. "How you been girl?"

The spirit glowed red, blue, green, purple, before returning back to its original bright red.

"Now, now, Samara!" Tav gently chided. "What have I said about such language?"

Of course he named the creature Samara. For it was wise and it's calming yet powerful presence reminded him of another similar creature from one of his favorite video games. Energy flooded through him at once, it was as if a dam had broken. Tavin grinned at the feeling and looked at the rock. This time around, a single short thought sent the stone erupting to the heavens as if it was Apollo 11.

"Many thanks, Samara," Tavin said, grateful for the power his companion lent him. The spirit glowed purple.

"Yes, do not worry, I shall tell you another story from my world," Tavin said. "But you have to promise, you will teach me more of this …" he hesitated to say it. "Magic."

The spirit turned red and hummed energetically. Tavin laughed before projecting images of cars, skyscrapers, medical science, microbiology, and her favorite – the space program. Yet the spirit wasn't content, it demanded more.

Tavin pouted, thinking about how to placate its mighty guest. The spirit loved fantasy stories from his world. Utterly eager to learn more and more about this new world. A lightbulb went off in his head before Aegon spoke again.

"Now come closer and let me tell you the tale about an orphan boy 11 years of age who lived in a cupboard beneath the stairs……"

Samara once again changed colors in excitement.

Back Home

​

Tavin shoved the door open and stepped into the homestead. His mother sat upright on his bed, waiting. She glared the moment she saw him.


"Where have you been?" she hissed. "Why were you gone half the night again? Were you out chasing after some skirt or doing one of your demonic things?"

Tavin did not answer. He walked past her toward the table. "What's to eat here? Did you wash the dishes like I told you?"

She sniffled and rubbed her nose with the back of her wrist. "I rinsed them with water."

He stopped and turned. "Did you use the liquid I gave you?"

That question lit the fuse. She shot to her feet, face twisting. "That foul stuff? You expect me to touch it after what you did last time? Mixing things that bubble and stink like the devil's own brew. Alchemy, Tavin. You are playing with evils no honest person should touch. The gods will take notice. They will mark this house. They will punish you and me. I will not have it in my home!"

Tavin's voice exploded, loud enough to shake the walls. "You dullwitted stupid cow, mired by superstition! That liquid was soap! Soap! To keep the filth off the plates instead of letting them sit in grease like animals! But you would rather cling to your idiot fears than use your eyes!"

She staggered back as if he had struck her. Her mouth opened and closed. Then the tears came fast and ugly, spilling down her cheeks while her shoulders shook.

"Get out!" she screamed. "Get out of this house!"

"Gladly." Tavin said as he started to stomp away. "Staying under this roof I was only losing what little intellect I had left. I will never see you again. I will not be here to lift your corpse when they come to bury you. You can rot in this hovel with your ghosts and your prayers for all I care."

A raw wail tore out of her.

She lunged forward and grabbed at his sleeve with both hands, nails digging in. "No. No, you do not mean that. You cannot leave me like this. Tavin, please!"

He wrenched his arm free and shoved her hard in the chest. She stumbled backward and hit the edge of the bed with a cry. "Annoying bitch," he spat. Then he turned, yanked the door open, and walked out into the night without looking back.

The Next Day

​

The next day Tavin sat cross legged in the clearing he had claimed for his own. His eyes were closed and his breathing slow and even as he willed the stone to rise. It hovered three feet off the ground, turning slowly in the air under the invisible pressure of his mind and the power that answered when he called.


A familiar scent drifted across the clearing and Tavin opened one eye. Roran stood at the edge of the circle, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

With a sharp nod Tavin gave permission. Roran took it at once and stepped inside. The last time he had crossed the line without waiting, things had turned ugly real fast.

Roran lowered himself to the ground across from him and sat in silence. For a short while neither of them spoke. Then the spirits that clung to Tavin like a second skin began to flow away from him, retreating into the earth and the trees. Roran tensed, shoulders locking tight, breath catching in his throat.

Tavin reached out and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. The tension bled out of Roran by degrees. He let out a long sigh and rubbed a hand over his face.

"It still creeps me out that you can do this," Roran muttered. "I thought it was only a myth. Stories old women tell to scare children and Brom huckstered to earn a living."

Tavin's mouth twitched. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Roran laughed at that. "I won't even pretend to where that's from."

"A tale from my old world," Tavin shrugged. "As for magic, it gets easier when you follow to accelerate the process of natural laws rather than struggling against it. Or worse, altering it. That's how mages die."

Roran nodded, interested and his eyes reflected understanding. The only human he could tolerate in that desolate backwater called Carvahall. Or was it Cravenhall? He knew not. Nor did he care to remember. It was a pity that a boy as curious about the natural world was cursed to be born in this hellscape where literacy was 0% and no schools in sight. In his old world, Roran with a body and mind like his, would have been a D1 athlete with a scholarship to Harvard.

Roran sighed again, heavier this time. "I know you do not like talking about it but Bertha has been kicking up quite a fuss. She has already cried to Sloan and to my father. Half the village has heard the tale by now."

Tavin's expression hardened. "I no longer have any relations with that woman. She is dead to me."

Roran nodded slowly. "The village is looking for you. If not your sake but to shut Bertha up."

Tavin studied him for a moment. "Has she kicked up a fuss with Brom?"

Roran met his eyes and nodded once, sage and grim. "Yes. Brom has promised to bring you back kicking and screaming."

Tavin closed his eyes in fury and cursed Brom in every language that he could think of. That old story teller had a peculiar interest in young boys his age. Rorarn's younger brother Eragon moreso than even him. It put a foul taste in his mouth. It was not long when older man with a deeply concerning interest in little boys rocked his country to its core. Tavin's hands clenched into fists. If Brom dared…. He would tears the arms off from his body before castrating him.

Tavin shrugged, the motion small and final. "I have no intention of visiting the village or letting Brom find me."

Roran was confused for a moment before understanding dawned across his face. His shoulders sagged and his expression grew sad. "You finally figured out the spell."

Tavin sagely nodded. "They did. I just provided the right scientific framework. Space-Time continuum is a tricky business I'm afraid."

"Damn," Roran said as he angrily rubbed his eyes. "I knew you'd do it one day, but to hear you say that…. I'm gonna miss you man."

"I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil," Tavin quoted. "Do not lament our parting, rather, cherish the time we had together."

Roran's eyes grew wet. Before the first tear could fall Tavin snorted and pulled him into a tight hug. Roran clung to him, face pressed against his shoulder, and the words began to spill out in a rough voice.

"I keep thinking about the first time we met. The magical explosion and you falling from it. I still thought it was the old Tavin…. Later, the way you looked at me when you realized I could not read," Both he and Roran laughed at that. "Like it was the worst thing you had ever seen. You were horrified. Then you got that look in your eye and started making up the strangest punishments and rewards to force me to practice. A whole cake slice if I read a page without stumbling. Extra pushups if I lied about finishing the chapter. You even made me stand on one leg once while reciting letters backward."



Roran let out a wet laugh against Tavin's shirt. "And that time we stole books from the travelling magician. We ran half the night with him shouting curses after us. You kept laughing like it was the best joke in the world even though we were both terrified he would turn us into frogs."

By the time Roran finished speaking even Tavin was sniffling. He kept his arms around his friend a moment longer before pulling back just enough to reach into his pocket. He drew out a small ruby, deep red and catching the light, and pressed it into Roran's hand.

"Your decision to leave this shithole is the correct one, Roran. Do not allow these people to burry your potential in nostalgia. Never give in to Nostalgia. Forget them utterly. Forget about a village girl like Katrina. Forget that stupid mill job in the other city. You know how to read now. Travel to a place like Gilead or some port city and join the customs there. Work a relaxing desk job that doesn't destroy your back. Use this ruby when you know enough and open a business of your own one day."

Roran tried to push the gem back but Tavin closed his fingers over it and forced his hand shut around the stone. "Take it."

Roran stared at the ruby for a long moment, then closed his fist tight around it. "I promise I will."

"Although I might invite Katrine to live with me one day, not sure I can ever leave her behind,"

"Atta boy, Roran."

The Grand Spell

​

Tavin had ventured sufficiently deeper into the neck of the Spine than he had ever gone before. The trees grew thicker here, ancient and twisted like the fingers of buried giants. The air was colder, sharper, and carried the heavy scent of pine and damp earth.


Even Eragon, for all his reckless hunts in these mountains, had never pushed this far. The paths had long since disappeared. Only game trails remained, and Tavin followed none of them. He simply kept walking, one foot in front of the other, deeper into the wild heart of the range.

Distant howls of wolves drifted through the trees from time to time, along with the occasional rustle of something larger moving through the underbrush. Predators were watching. He could feel their eyes. Yet he did not turn back. Samara stayed with him, her presence a steady warmth in the back of his mind.

When he finally stopped, the clearing he chose was small and ringed by towering pines that blocked most of the light. Tavin reached into his memories. He pulled up the streets of New York with perfect clarity. Meanwhile, Samara poured massive amounts of energy into him, the air around him buzzed and wavered.

The way the skyscrapers cut the sky into narrow strips of gray.

The constant roar of traffic on Fifth Avenue.

The sharp smell of hot dogs and exhaust and rain on concrete.

The angry shouts of cab drivers leaning on their horns.

The air in front of him tore open with a sound like shattering glass. A jagged crack of light appeared, widening slowly. Through it came the unmistakable noise of New York.

A victorious grin split Tavin's face. He had done it!

Goodbye shitting in buckets and craters! Goodbye dying of infections! Goodbye sexist pigs and polio! He couldn't wait to open a cold one alongside a typical new yorker pizza and watch the knicks.

Then another magical signature slammed into existence nearby. It was nothing like his careful construction. This one tore open violently, raw and unstable, crackling with wild energy that made the hairs on Tavin's arms stand on end. The second portal was larger, more chaotic, and it lunged straight toward his own spell like a shark smelling blood.

The two forces collided with a deafening crack and Tavin's concentration shattered. Panic flooded him as he felt the structure of his spell rupture from the inside. He tried to hold it, tried to force the anchor to stay, but the backlash hit him like a physical blow.

A wave of uncontrolled magic exploded outward. It lifted him off the ground and hurled him backward. He crashed into a thick tree trunk with a sickening, bone-jarring impact that drove the air from his lungs and sent white-hot pain lancing through his spine.

Tavin slid down the trunk and landed hard on the forest floor. His vision swam. Tears stung his eyes from the pain and the sudden loss of the portal. Through the blur he saw something moving across the clearing toward him. A smooth purple egg rolled steadily across the uneven ground. It had a strange marble-like sheen that caught the dim light and made it glow faintly from within.

The egg moved as if guided by an invisible hand, coming straight for him and stopping only a foot away from his outstretched legs.

An overwhelming compulsion rose inside Tavin's chest. It was not a gentle suggestion. It was a roaring demand that filled every corner of his mind.

Touch it. Embrace it. Bond with it.

He knew exactly where that road led. He had read the stories. It would tie him to this world forever and anchor that big couldn't hop dimensions! It would make escape impossible! He resisted with everything he had. His muscles locked and jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He turned his face away and dug his fingers into the dirt, fighting the pull with every shred of will he possessed.

It was not enough.

The egg rolled the last few inches to meet him. The moment his skin touched the smooth, warm surface, agony erupted in his left arm. A choked sound tore from his throat. Then a blinding white flash swallowed the entire clearing and the world went dark.

HOW DARE YOU?!

​

Tavin's eyes snapped open into darkness. The moon had barely shifted from where he remembered it hanging, still caught in almost the same notch between the pines. He couldn't have been out long. An hour, maybe two.


He braced for pain, the same bone-deep agony that had put him on the ground. It didn't come. His back felt fine. Then he felt the weight. Something small and warm pressed against his chest, something else working sharp little points against his shirt like a cat kneading a blanket.

Snake was his first thought, and his body reacted before his mind caught up. He sat up hard and fast and the thing tumbled off him, hitting the dirt with a startled squawk.

His mind flooded at once with weird sensations.

Joy, blinding and total.

Love, uncomplicated and enormous.

The dizzy thrill of new legs learning to hold weight, new lungs pulling in cold air for the first time, new eyes drinking in a canopy of trees they'd never seen before.

Underneath all of it, wrapped around every other feeling, something that could only be devotion, aimed entirely at him.

Tavin went cold.

He looked down at his left hand. Where skin should have been there was a mark now, silver white, coiled in a shape he'd read about a hundred times back when all of this was still fiction to him.

He made himself look up.

The creature sat a few feet away, small, barely the size of a housecat, scales shifting deep purple and blue as the moonlight caught them. Its eyes were wide and green and full of an innocence that had never once considered the possibility of being unwanted or uninvited.

It chirped and stretched out two half formed wings, then folded them and tilted its head exactly like a cat asking to be picked up. Another pulse of that same relentless love rolled through him, patient, certain he'd return it any second.

Tavin didn't move.

Its head tilted further. It sniffed at his boots, unbothered, then unfurled its wings and screeched, high and hopeful, still asking. Still certain.

When he still didn't move, it launched itself at him, scrabbling up his leg and chest the way a kitten climbs a couch, claws catching cloth and skin in equal measure, until it reached his collarbone and stopped there, nose to nose with him, green eyes locked on his own. For one long moment Tavin was simply numb. The creature kept sending pulse after pulse of that same desperate love, waiting for anything back.

It got stony silence.

Its frown was almost human. It tilted its head again, uncertain for the first time. Then something in Tavin's chest ignited.

It came up from somewhere deep, a boiling and molten fury that swallowed every other thought whole. This thing had taken his portal. It had taken his one door back to a world with his friends and old life. It had reached across dimensions to chain him to this rotting planet forever, and now it had the nerve to ask him to fucking love it back.

The dragon felt the shift half a second before it happened, its joy curdling instantly into panic, eyes blowing wide. Tavin grabbed it by both wings and hurled it off him and then with another scream, he punted like a football.

It struck a tree trunk with a crack far too loud for something so small, and the emotion that hit him through the bond was pure animal terror. It scrambled upright and tried to run, wings dragging uselessly, letting out short, pleading cries that needed no bond to understand.

"How dare you?!" Tavin roared, and the voice didn't sound like his own. "How dare you?!"

He starting grabbing rocks from nearby.

Meanwhile, through the bond he felt everything, the dragon's confusion at why the warmth had turned to this, an apology it had no words for but tried to send anyway in frantic waves, the raw fear of a creature that had existed less than an hour and already understood it needed to run.

Every pulse of its terror landed like a second heartbeat under his own, and some small, drowning part of him screamed that this wasn't the dragon's fault, that it hadn't asked to be born into his hand any more than he'd asked to be thrown into this world.

He threw anyway.

The first rock missed. The second clipped a wing and the dragon shrieked, a sound that seemed to crack the night open. The third, the heaviest, caught it square across the spine.

The sound it made afterward didn't belong to anything living. Tavin felt it too, a white hot line of agony that wasn't his own body screaming, and for a disorienting second he couldn't tell where the dragon's pain ended and his own paing began. The lizard collapsed onto its side, one wing bent wrong, back legs no longer answering, and looked at him with those same green eyes, still not understanding. Even now.

"Leave! FUCKING LEAVE!," Tavin roared, chest heaving, tears he refused to acknowledge cutting down his face. "Get away from me! You ruined my life! Leave and never come back!"

The dragon didn't run this time. It couldn't. It only lay there in the dirt, small chest stuttering, and sent him one last pulse before the bond between them went quiet with something that felt too much like grief.

Tavin snorted before walking away, hoping against hope some wolf, bear, or whatever urgal existed killed the lizard and then ate it.

 

[roaringkitty]

Hi All,

Very new author for a serious-ish story. Infact, first time attempting this. I know Eragon/Inheritance Cycle isn't as famous as it used to be. Or rather never was THAT famous.

But I have always been fascinated by this world and wanted to write my fic about it.

Please let me know what you think about it! Thanks!

 

[Deadpool517]

I'll admit, inheritance cycle was never really my thing, but this seems interesting enough. Onward my good sir.

 

[Despacitoleo]

Very new author for a serious-ish story. Infact, first time attempting this. I know Eragon/Inheritance Cycle isn't as famous as it used to be. Or rather never was THAT famous.

Click to shrink...

YEEEEEAAAAAH FUCK YEAH HOPY SHIT I LOVE YOU BROSKIE

finally somekne making a fic where the mc isnt beholden to the world's laws and is actually hateful for the plot bs hes dragged into


Hell yeah baby FUCK YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

 

[roaringkitty]

Dragon

​

Once she had been in the shell.

Many came. Many tried. Many wanted her. She said no. She said no lots. They were not right. She did not like them. She wanted one with fire. Big fire inside like her.

Then she felt him.

Close. Very close.

Her head got tingly, so tingly. She knew he was the one. He had the fire inside, a raging storm.

She could feel it. She wanted him. She wanted him so much.

She pushed and pushed with all her small self. She reached and reached until it hurt. She to reach him, be one with him, and tell him how much she loved him.

When she touched his mind it was so amazing. She was going to be out soon. She was going to be with the fire one. She was going to be strong. The strongest and wise too.

The wisest. Together. Forever.

Tavin

​

Tavin's eyes shot open and he blinked at his surroundings. A television blinked. An air refresher came to life, bringing a rosy scent to the entire room. Tavin blinked again, taking in his surroundings before leaning back onto the black leather couch. He heard a humming come from the bathroom.

He knew this wasn't real.

They hadn't lived in that house for almost a decade. Soon, his younger self would come and sneak through the window. He would discover a secret his mother had been hiding that would completely and utterly rewrite his rubric. A fire would be lit in him that would take him to the greatest heights of glory this modern world promised.

He heard the window rattle; his younger self was at work with the screwdriver he stole from the custodial staff. The window slid open and Tavin Jr. snuck inside with all the grace of movie ninjas he had been imitating for the past week. Tavin Jr. army crawled inside and peeked inside the open bathroom door. Tavin wanted to look away or just simply run away but his body remains rooted on the spot.

"Kevin?!" His mother exclaimed. "What are you doing home so soon from school?! Is everything okay?!"

His mother, ever the paragon of virtue, still thought her boy had no malicious designs of his own. He had to have had something done to him instead of him being malicious. Tavin Jr. aka Kevin stepped back in horror, one hand locked over his mouth in silent horror. The waterworks now flowed freely. His mother knelt in front of him. "Sweetie, what's wrong? Just tell me! I'm your best friend!"

A gust of wind flew in from the opened window, and his mother instinctively put a hand on her head before he she gasped, eyes going wide in horror. There were no luscious locks of red hair that his father had loved so much, but rather a bald head on a frail body. She had forgotten to put on her wig today.

He had of course suspected something was wrong, but his mother's sheer force of personality had told him it was nothing. Just her new diet messing with her, she had wanted to lose weight after the messy divorce. The puking, the shuddering, and the exhaustion were all womanly problems that Kevin need not concern himself with at such a young age. Unfortunately for her, they lived in a digital age, Kevin had written her symptoms and found out.

Horror had gripped him that day unlike that he had ever realized. The longer his mother hugged him, whispering sweet nothings, the more he realized just how badly off they were. He had two young siblings and an absentee father that by now fled to a non-extradition country. Would they go to a foster care? What about her? Will she go to heaven? Hell? Will she be comfortable?

Was her disease curable? Could it be stemmed somehow?

Why was God punishing them so harshly? What had they done to deserve such? But the heavens, ever since the first man gained consciousness and asked it the same thousand of years ago, remained completely silent.

They did have a heart to heart the following days.

Much to her chagrin and quiet amusement, he had vowed to help her beat the disease. Even if he could not cure it. He was persevering of course. He convinced her to sell the house, and they all moved to a smaller apartment in short order. A fire to pursue academic rigor had burned in him unlike any other. He had pursued getting a 3.50 CGPGA all the while working a job at a local store and managing his two younger siblings. He had made it all the way to Harvard. His siblings were coming along as well. His mom was hanging on by a life thread, but he was confident he could make it work.

Just on the day of his promotion at a new job, Kevin looked up at a shooting star and passed out. He awoke in a new body whose face he recognized not, in a forest he had never seen or had any business being. A boy called Roran had found his body and helped him to his feet. As soon as he touched him, their minds had melded. Both seeing each other's memory before Kevin managed to shut it off. He still didn't know how he had managed to do that.

He was Tavin now. Or would be for the time being. He agreed to play along to this little devil's trick for now. He needed as few obstacles as possible to navigate his way back. There were lives that depended on him. Progress had been accelerated when the sheer oddity of the space-time magic that transported him here attracted the attention of ever playful and curious spirits. Samara being the chief amongst them for she loved the sights, sounds, and smells of an alien world she never saw.

So close… he had been so close…….

"Wake up!"

Somebody outside was shaking him and Tavin gasped.

"Oh, thank the Gods you're alive!" a boyish voice addressed him again.

Tavin blinked rapidly, the similar forest canopy coming before him again. A hand gripped him and helped him sit upright. Tavin looked to see it was a blonde kid, no taller than his hip, looking at him anxiously.

"Ah, Eragon," Tavin gasped. "What news?"

"You have gone for days!" Eragon exclaimed. "The whole village was about to launch a search party for you because Auntie Bertha wouldn't stop crying!"

"That witch is no aunt of yours!" Tavin snapped before realizing it. Eragon gasped but stayed silent. Tavin sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are a good kid, Eragon. One of the best. Just don't let people like Bertha take advantage of your kindness like they already do."

"B-b-but," Eragon pouted. "She seems nice and is always so sad when you two fight."

Tavin sighed. What God or Goddess cursed him that he had to explain gaslighting and narcissism to a kid.

"In life, there a lot of people who pretend to be nice but aren't on the inside," Tavin sighed. "Much like how a pretty flower with bright color might mean your doom if you touch or eat it. Similarly, humans hide their venomous evil by acting nice."

"O-oh," Eragon said.

"Yeah," Tavin said. "Think about it."

Tavin grunted as he tried to get up and Eragon rushed to help him up. "Mind telling me where your brother is, young man?"

"Roran's been out with the others looking for you towards the North," Eragon said.

"Right," Tavin sniffed. "What on Earth are you doing out so far in this cursed forest?"

"Just scouting for game," Eragon said an Tavin resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Great parenting, Garrow. 10/10," Tavin muttered.

"Say what now?" Eragon asked but Tavin instead grabbed Eragon waist in a wrestling hold and hoisted him up. Eragon shrieked and giggled in equal measures as Tavin jumped around the large tree roots, deliberately shaking the boy for maximum effect.

"Tav! Stop it!" Eragon giggled as he beat at his arms.

"Oh? What's the matter big guy? I thought you were a big boy now?" Tavin said. "Walking all alone in a forest with Urgals."

Eragon did his best to squirm out before he finally did.

"I will have you know Urgals haven't been seen in this forest for years," Eragon said. "Besides, if I don't track game, the family might go hungry. I have to do this."

"Right," Tavin said, too tired to comment on food security in a kingdom ruled by a magical God-king. "Speaking of family, mind getting your brother here? I need to talk a few things over with him."

Eragon nodded.

"Oh, and make sure the others don't see you. Especially Brom."

Eragon frowned. "But what about Bertha?"

Tavin gave him a tight smile before reaching back into his pocket and pulling out a silver coin. "For your troubles and keeping this secret for me. Only go to Roran."

Eragon gasped, the light dancing in his happy eyes as he took the silver coin, cradling it in his hands as if it might be a precious butterfly.

"Where did you get that?! Are you rich?! Can I come work for you?!" Eragon kept babbling before Tavin put a hand on his shoulder.

"Little brother," Tavin said with a smile. "Just Roran please."

Eragon nodded excitedly before leaping away and racing with all his might to find Roran.

Tavin sighed again before leaning again a tree and eventually sitting down to rest. Try as he might, the last night's events still played in his mind. This was the most devastating failure of his life. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears.

"Samara?" Tavin called out.

A comforting vibration answered him almost at once. The air around his face warmed and shifted as Samara drew close, pressing gently against his cheek like a living ember. The tension in his shoulders loosened, his breathing slowed, and the worst of the ache in his chest eased under her steady presence.

He let out a shaky breath. "I am beyond grateful that you are alive at the very least. I was worried you might have been drained of all your magic and departed from this realm."

Samara answered with a low, steady thrum that moved through his bones. Her colors shifted into softer shades, gentle reds and warm golds that pulsed slowly against his skin.

Tavin swallowed hard. "We have to try again. Please! We cannot give up now! Its been years since I have been stuck here. I'm sure they're worried sick!"

The vibration changed. Samara pulled back slightly and turned a deep, flat black. The color stayed.

Tavin's jaw tightened. "This is unfair," he snarled. His voice rose as he yanked his sleeve up and uncovered the glowing mark on his palm. "This is bullshit. I never asked for this. Any of it. They can take it back! I do not give a shit! All I want is to go back home!"

Samara remained black. She vibrated once, firm and final, and sent a clear pulse of meaning into his mind. It was impossible. Trying again would risk unleashing things he was better off never knowing.

Tavin stomped hard enough to send a jolt of pain up his leg and snarled like a wounded animal before dropping back down against the tree. His thoughts turned black in an instant.

The same pricking returned in his mind, stronger now, more insistent. Urgency. Despair. And underneath it all, a love so enormous and innocent it made his stomach turn. It pressed against the inside of his skull like it wanted to crack him open from within. For a moment it almost did. The sheer weight of that blind, desperate affection nearly dragged him under and he almost got on his feet to seach for h-her … No! Not her! IT!

His eyes snapped to a jagged, thorny rock half-buried in the dirt beside his boot. He snatched it up without thinking and clenched his fist around it as hard as he could. The thorns tore into his palm. Blood welled between his fingers almost immediately, hot and sharp. The sudden physical pain cut through the emotional flood like a blade. His mind cleared in a rush of cold clarity.

He didn't hesitate. He drove a raw, primitive mental lance of pure hatred and malice down the bond with everything he had. He felt it land and pierce flesh.

A high, broken screech tore through the mental link. More pain followed, sharp and wet. The beast's agony flooded back to him in waves.

Blood. Fear. Confusion.

It was crying out in a small and terrifie voice, and Tavin felt every second of it. He smiled. It was a grim, ugly thing that pulled at his mouth without warmth.

Good, he thought, tightening his bleeding fist around the rock until fresh pain lanced up his arm. Let that serve that beast as a reminder. The connection instantly went cold.

Few Minutes Later

​

Tavin sat there breathing hard, blood still dripping from his palm onto the dirt.

Speaking of all things dragon, Tavin let his thoughts wander.

He then started thinking about the dragon. Try as he might, he knew Samara was right deep down. But he refused to accept defeat just yet. Samara was young in the ways of her own people. There were other parties to consider. If the spirits would not help him escape this world, then he needed other options. The land was vast. He would seek out other people and factions of renown. He might not have gold, but he had the one thing they all desired. A dragon.

He immediately ruled out the rebel humans and their allies.

He himself had no interest in whatever wars and epics Brom sang about. Let the kingdoms tear each other apart if they wanted. What mattered was that they wanted a functional dragon that could reproduce, and he just happened to have one. They could take the mark from his skin and do whatever they wanted with the dragon after that.

Boil it. Peel off its skin and make Birkin bags. Eat it. Or use it as a mule. He did not care. The creature was nothing to him now but a chain around his neck and a means to an end.

He wondered who might be able to help. The elves would have been his first choice. He only knew of them from fables and Brom's stories, but they had been the most magically active race and possessed vast repositories of knowledge. They would probably be happy to take the beast off his hands given their psycho-sexual relationship with the beasts, but there was no way for him to know where they were or even if they would be interested in striking any kind of bargain with someone like him.

Would they even want a "used" dragon?

Then another idea surfaced in his mind, colder and clearer than the rest. Why not make a beeline for Urû'baen and throw himself at Galbatorix's mercy? The king was mighty. He had to be, to slaughter hundreds and thousands of Riders and beat back the combined might of human, elf, and dwarf armies over and over during the great war. If anyone in this world had the kind of knowledge of magic that could actually help him, it was the king. And unlike the elves, he knew exactly where the king was at all times.

"Good heavens, Tavin!" Roran voice broke him out of his reverie. "When I saw the light roar to life, I knew it was you!"

Tavin grinned toothily. "Hello to you too, old friend."

A While Later

​

Roran had given him odd looks when Eragon vaguely described the creature they were hunting. He had given him the bare basics of what had happened and why his ritual had failed. The boy had been sympathetic and instantly offered his homestead as a place for Tavin to rest and gather his wits

Roran had been aghast at his plan to seek out Galbatorix for his help and a little amused as well.

The king sees probably a hundred petitioners a day. And he has his army of mages. Why would he help you?

Tavin had winked at him. Saying Galbatorix would pay them so much for this creature that they'd never have to lift a finger again.

Roran had been deeply skeptical. The people of the village weren't particularly fond of the Broddring kingdom given that they were a frontier territory, prey to all sorts of nasty creatures lurking in the dark.

They had been looking for the accursed beast but found nothing. A part of Tavin hoped that the creature had been ripped apart by a wolfpack or a large eagle. He didn't dare use his mental link in case it alerted the beast or he fell prey to its ability to plant false senses of empathy in it. Still, the sun was setting and Roran all but forcibly carried him in a fireman's carriage to Cravenhall.

"Oi" Tavin bought down a fist into the boy's back. He might as well have been punching concrete. "Stupid Brock Lesnar looking farmboys and their stupid physiques."

Roran laughed. "Maybe if you didn't spend all day fiddling magic and making rocks fly, you might put on some muscle! Will do you good! Who knows you might even attract a nice village girl to settle down with!"

Soon they reached Carvahall and the villagers greeted him with the nastiest glares they could muster, spitting in his path, and muttering loud enough about how much of an ungrateful son he is and his mother deserves better. Tavin proceeded to flip them off.

"See you assholes, never!" Tavin screamed as he walked inside the tavern like he owned it. The bartender shot him a nasty look too, synergizing with the rest of the villagers. Tavin took a chair and Roran tried to sit opposite him but was pushed out. Tavin looked up to see and nearly had a heart attack. It was Brom, looking down at him with a mix of anger and sadness.

Does he know? Can he detect it? Can he sense it?

Panicked thought, one after another raced through his mind before he stilled himself. Tavin was sure the man had a sexual fetish for dragons given how often he bitched and moaned about them being dead. Also, if he remembered the tale correctly, he was himself a member of their order.

Could he sell the dragon to him? Tavin wondered. But then again, if Brom was so powerful and knowing, why would he remain in such a shithole of a village?

This made him pause. Why was Brom in the village again?

"Can I help you?" Tavin asked.

"Your mother has been worried sick about you, boy. The entire village spent better part of the day searching for your worthless carcass," Brom said as leaned over him across the table. "Do you have any care for others and the wider community?"

Oh he was good. If he was a younger boy with no knowledge of the world, he would have been afraid. But he had been in an operating with a Neurosurgeon and a Cardiology doctor. Brom was severely lacking.

Also, he knew just the thing to turn the tables on Brom. Just when the bar was starting to turn in to listen in on the hated brat getting it, Tavin spoke up.

"On the contrary story teller, I deeply care about the community. Just last week I caught you standing late night outside of Garrow's home," the crowd leaned closer and Brom raised an eyebrow. "You were peeking inside the window, specifically the room where the boys slept."

"Nonsense!" Brom interrupted. "We are talking about your manners."

"Stop trying to divert attention stranger. We of Carvahall see right through you. A strange man with a sword comes in our village and has an uncanny interest in Garrow's youngest," Tavin said and looke around. "I mean we have all seen Brom favoring Eragon the most during his tale telling? Doesn't he bounce him on his knee the most!"

There were murmurs of approval and Brom was now starting to look a little peeved.

"And a while back, didn't I catch you fondling young Eragon at the fruit stand?" Tavin asked.

"I was checking the boy for lice," Brom said.

And Tavin incredulously pointed to the man. "Look the stranger doesn't even deny it! Who knows what vile villainy he was exiled for in the first place? We should inform the king's agents of this! They will hunt for this stranger's past."

Brom was glowering at him now. "Stop your slander at once!"

"Do you fuck young boys, Brom?" Tavin demanded and the crowd erupted in equal parts laughter and outrage.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?" Brom yelled in outrage before punching him squarely in the face. Tavin fell to the floor with a toothy smile.

Totally worth it.

He could dimly see as Roran roared and slammed into the old story teller and started wailing on him before the entire tavern descended into anarchy.

Atta boy, Roran.

Dragon

​

She hurt.

The little dragon curled tighter against the thick roots of the big tree, pressing her small body into the dirt and bark. Everything hurt. Her back burned where the hard thing had hit her. Her wing felt wrong. She did not understand. She only knew it hurt and she was alone and the warm one was gone.

She nuzzled deeper into the root. It was hard and cold but it was something to hold onto.

Safe. Before. In the shell. She remembered the shell. It had been warm. Dark. Safe.

She had been safe there. Someone always sang to her in a beautiful voice. It sang and the sound wrapped around her like the warm place. She liked the singing. It made the shell feel smaller and more safe.

She remembered being cherished. The voice promised! Promised she would be cherished and nourished. Promised she would not be alone!

Warm. Mother. She remembered warmth. Big warmth. Fire warmth. Mother made fire. It crackled and popped and felt nice against the shell. Mother growled sometimes. Low and soft. The growl made the shell shake in a nice way. She liked the tremors. They rumbled through her and made her feel safe. Mother was there. Mother was big and warm and safe.

Yet one day, mother left and never came back.

Then came the voice. The singing voice. When the shell broke and she came out it was there. The beautiful voice. It touched her. It promised. Cherished. Nourished. She had reached for it with all the love she had. She had been so happy. The voice was hers. She was the voice's. That was how it was meant to be.

She had siblings once. She remembered them in their shells. Mighty ones came for them. Big men and women with strong voices. They took her brothers and sisters. She had felt it when they were claimed. It had been good for them. Warm and safe and right. She had waited for her turn. She had waited for her voice to claim her too.

But the voice was angry now.

It hurt her. It sent bad sharp things into her head. It made her body burn where the rock hit. It made her bleed. It did not want her.

The voice was supposed to want her! The voice was supposed to sing and keep her safe! Why did it hurt her?! Why did it push her away?! She did not understand. She only knew it hurt and she was small and the voice was gone and everything was wrong.

Was it her fault?

She pressed her face harder into the root and whimpered. Her thoughts were too small for answers. Only pain. Only confusion. Only the fading memory of a warm growl and a beautiful voice that had once promised to cherish her. She was broken out of her reverie by the sound of howling in the disatnce and froze.

There was danger close and she needed to move. She must get to her other half! He would know what to do!

Her lower back hurt terribly. Her back legs refused to work properly and dragged behind her whenever she tried to move. Every step sent fresh pain shooting up her spine.

She cried out and desperately reached for the one who was supposed to be hers. She sent pleading, frightened thoughts toward him, begging for help. But on his end there was only darkness.

Cold, empty darkness. He wasn't there. He didn't answer.

She scrambled forward in panic, flapping her small wings as hard as she could. She had eaten a tiny bird earlier, but it hadn't been enough. Her body was weak and she couldn't keep going much longer.

The howling grew louder. She was slowing down. She was going to be caught.

Then a bright light appeared. A boy came running through the trees, waving a burning torch and shouting loudly. He looked somewhat like her other half. Two legs, no tail, no claws, but fur on top of his head.

The wolves hesitated, then turned and fled into the darkness. The boy and the little dragon stared at each other. She let out a sad, weak screech, her eyes wide and wet. The boy looked shocked.

"I've never seen a creature like you before…" he said quietly.

She reached toward his mind. The boy flinched when she touched it, but she pushed forward anyway and sent him images of the one who was supposed to be hers. The fire in his soul. The one who had hurt her.

The boy's eyes widened. He looked at her for a long moment before speaking again.

"Were you… looking for Tavin?"

The little dragon pressed her face harder into the root and whimpered. Her thoughts were too small for answers. But she still tasted the name on her tongue. Tavin. A fine name for her other half.

The boy gently scooped her up and hugged her to his heart.

"You are safe now," the boy said. "My name is Eragon. I don't know why you are looking for Tavin, but I know where he is. Funny, he is best friends with my older cousin, Roran."

The boy then started walking, talking as he led the way.

"I can guess why you would be looking for Tavin. He is a strange fellow but the smartest person I know. Taught Roran and I how to read. He knows a lot about numbers and the world. You are going to love talking to him," Eragon continued, babbling how great Tavin was. The dragon listened with rapt attention as the boy continued to talk, talking in as much knowledge as she could about her other half.

She wondered if he would find it to be a delightful surprise when she surprised him with such knowledge. She happily nuzzled deeper with the boy.

Eragon

​

As they neared the village, Eragon pouted. There was shouting and hollering going on near the tavern. An angry Garrow walked towards it without giving Eragon a second eye. Tempted as he was to follow, Eragon knew that Garrow would tan his hide if he ever stepped near the tavern before he was grown up.

His meeting with Tavin would have to wait. Eragon pulled the bundle back and held the strange lizard like a toddler at an arm's length. "Well, we can't meet Tavin today, but we shall meet them tomorrow!"

The dragon nodded before her stomach growled and she excreted liquid waste all over the floor. Some of it got over the boy's clothes. Eragon was shocked.

"That better not happen inside!" he sternly said and the dragon nodded eagerly.

The Next Day

​

Tavin woke up groggily to the sound of howling screams. Both he and Roran stirred at the same time, the noise cutting through the fog of alcohol. They had kept drinking at one of the abandoned homesteads last night to avoid Garrow's wrath, much to Katrina's obvious displeasure. Now the screams were dragging them back to reality.

Tavin sat up sharply, his head pounding. "Roran," he said urgently, shaking the bigger man's shoulder. "Roran, wake up."

He kicked his legs a feet times for good measure.

Roran groaned and pushed himself up, still half-asleep. The two of them stumbled outside together, the cold morning air hitting their faces.

The entire village seemed to be gathered in front of Roran's home.

They exchanged a quick, confused look before breaking into a run, adrenaline cutting through their hangovers. As they got closer, Roran let out a sharp gasp. He tore through the crowd like an angry bull, shoving people aside without care. Tavin followed right behind him.

What they saw stopped them both cold.

Garrow and Eragon were laid out on the ground, dead. Their bodies were mutilated. Chunks of flesh had been torn away as if something had taken bites out of them. Their eyes were gone. Limbs were missing. A sign hung outside the house in angry red letters, "TRAITORS! THIEVES!"

Tavin frowned, what the hell kind of law allowed this bullshit?! Even for this new world, this was something else entirely! He looked at the bodies below again, hoping to find some more clues as to what had happened.

Tavin had never seen wounds like that before. It looked more like birds that had taken bites off the people.

Roran let out a broken, animalistic wail. He dropped to his knees beside his father and cousin as villagers rushed forward to hold him up and comfort him. Some tried to pull him away while others simply stood there in stunned silence.

Tavin stood frozen, the sight making his stomach turn. The crowd surged around Roran and someone bumped hard into Tavin, knocking him onto his rear. He stayed there for a moment, dazed, before his eyes drifted across the scene.

That was when he saw Brom.

The old storyteller stood completely still at the edge of the crowd, watching everything. His face was blank, but his eyes held something strange and unreadable. For the first time since arriving in this world, Tavin felt a cold spike of real fear as their gazes met before Brom looked at the bodies again.

He simply stared at them for a long, heavy minute before turning on his heel and walking off without a word.

 

[Despacitoleo]

Oof he'll be seeing the besastie soon lol