Our first Eragon fic!

The book was great, and right now I'm on book 2: Eldest. Did the third book come out yet? I think it's supposed to be called Empire or something? People, go to Shurtugal (dot) com, it's a great Eragon site. My favorite character is Murtagh! Yay Murtagh!

By the way, this is part one in an Eragon series thingy. Unfortunately, I don't know how the whole thing ends, so I'm making it all up! So, if and when in the thrid part comes out that Murtagh somehow manages to die, IGNORE IT FOR THIS FIC! He's alive and has mended his ways! I SWEAR IN THE ANCIENT LANGUAGE HE HAS!

Oh, speaking of the Ancient Language... All the special letters.. I can't do them on this computer... and it sucks... so... you should know the words in the languages, right?


Elysium was the dwelling area of happy souls after death as concieved by the ancient Greeks and Romans. This paradise was imagined as either a concrete region or a state of existance.

Book One:


en-chant'-ment, v., – bewitch; beguile; charm


All Shall Fade

"The sunny skies break through the clouds

as the rays bathe the mountain ridges.

I take your hand and we go to the place

we call ours. The entire world becomes darker.

My body turns cold and I cry as you disappear

into the darkness. Your starry eyes light up the night

and I think of how it was before the world

turned gray and the skies fell. Now, the rain falls

as the tears fall from my eyes. I lie here and think

that we can never go back. I fall through a pit

of blackness clutching to your body for dear life.

The wind roars and that's all I can hear.

Through mist and shadow, to the edge of the night.

All shall fade. All shall fade."

-- "Untitled", Anonymous

It was dark. A dark abyss. No light shone through. The wind howled around the figure, rustling it's grey cloak, tattered and worn and drenched from the rain. The hood was pulled up over it's head, obscuring it's features. However, the figure's grey eyes lit up in a silvery blaze as the lightning illuminated them.

Thunder crackled in the distance, and lightning broke through the sky. Still, the figure pressed on, determined to brave the fierce storm. Again, the lightning sliced the sky, and it's surroundings were revealed in that brief moment.

Great trees, once beautiful and full of life, were now great grey structures surrounding it, trapping it in this dark world. The leaves had fallen long ago, and winter's cold breath was on the air. The figure could see nothing other than their grey stalks, in every direction. Some had fallen, to never get up. Their leaves littered the ground and crunched under it's horse's hooves.

The abrupt mass of light and the crackle of thunder spooked it's noble steed. It whinnied and began to back up in frantic steps, eyes rolling around in fear. The figure bent over and gently rubbed it's neck. This had somewhat of an effect, for the horse stopped, and stayed still. It snorted in fear.

The figure gently murmured words of comfort in the ancient language, letting them flow from it's mouth and roll of it's tongue in light, almost whispering breaths, and an elegant, feminine tone.

"Ganga fram," The mysterious, cloaked one instructed. The horse lept up in a blaze of white as another bolt flashed through the sky. It started forward at a slow trot, then melted into a sprint. Leagues flew by, as did the trees, becoming nothing more than grey blurs in the dark.

Hoofbeats behind me...

The cloaked figure turned it's head to scan the area that fled behind it. There was nothing, it seemed. But it knew someone—something—was following it. And it was dangerous.

It turned forward, it's breath coming in ragged gasps as it urged it's stallion onward. There they were. The heavy hoofprints racing behind it, eager to catch up with it. No! I cannot be caught! It must be delivered!

One hand strayed from the reigns to finger the hilt of a sword at it's waist, waiting should it need to defend itself. It then slipped into the folds of the cloak to run along the hard edge of... something... something sacred... something important.

"Blothr!" Stop!

The horse suddenly skidded to a halt and swerved around to face what was threatening. The figure's keen eyes searched in the dark. Nothing was behind it. Everything was in place in the forest. It drew the long sword, the finest crafted by the elves, and sharpened to a dangerous point. It waited, eyes narrowed. It's heart beat wildly in it's chest.

Finally, something shot out from behind a tree in front of it. The figure brought the sword up to block. A black arrow fell harmlessly to the ground.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the group of Urgals in front of it. There were at least twelve of the ugly brutes! Their knarled horns gleaming black in the light. Two were hidden behind trees, archers. The rest were scattered amongst the litter, swords and javelins in hand.

The mystery figure held out one hand, a slender hand with long, sharp clawlike nails, curled forward in an eloquent and graceful manner. The Urgals stared, stupefied. It's hand uncurled suddenly, it's silver eyes gleaming under the hood, and it hissed, "Brisingr!" White light shot forth from the figure's palm, enveloping the Urgals in its magic. Their screams of agony and torment echoed through the night. The figure sneered, then turned and fled into the night as their cries of horror and death died down.

Nothing was left in the dark forest. The rain washed the Urgals, bathing them in its coolness. However, they did not feel it. Their faces were contorted in agony and pain. Thunder clapped in the distance. The storm was passing.

Finally, the wind died down, and the rain stopped. The forest was quiet, and nothing stirred.

It's vision blurred as it sheathed the sword and a wave of pain assaulted it. Stumbling forward, the figure fell off it's horse, who also collapsed. The figure fell and then stopped as rough, strong hands grabbed it around it's slim waist and broke it's fall.

The figure's hood fell, revealing that it was a woman, a beautiful one, at that, with long, cascading black hair, a fair face, those grey eyes, and long, skinny, pointed ears that were at least five and a half inches long. An elf...

There were murmurs of a strong voice, and drenched, shaggy brown hair was all she saw as her vision blurred and faded into black.

And darkness enveloped her...

"All shall fade. All shall fade..."