This is my first fanfiction. At the beginning a little warning: English isn't my first language. Nevertheless, I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own the inheritance cycle

Black Shadows consumed him.

He was dead.

He lost the battle against a simple-minded rube. It should have had been his great victory. Not theirs. Not the one of this so-called freedom fighters. Of this damned rebellion.

Everything was planned down to the smallest detail. Through him Alagaësia should have gotten real piece. No more were the magic a treat to humanity and the dragons could rise anew. Naturally, only under his command.

It would have been perfect. But no, this fool Mutagh had to intervene with his plan. But he also understood something through his defeat. Way too long had he not seen the Varden as serious enemies. Way too long had he only sat before his desk and had his servants do the important tasks. And finally, way too long had he ignored the external districts of his empire.

How much would have been different if the how and when had been right? How much he could have done differently a few years ago? He would be happy to find out.

"Is this your wish?"

A blinding white light made the shadows disappear.

Like everyone else he had tried to to imagine the death – not that he had thought he would ever die. But this was ridiculous. Since when do you ask the dead what they wanted.

"Who is there?", he yelled to the light. "Answer me!"

But it ignored his question. "Is this your wish? Are you sure?"

He was the king. How could it dare to ignore him?

At the other side, this could be the answer to his question.

"Yes. It's my wish."

"So be it."

Yes. This time it will be different. This time he will be the victor.