Islingr

Good and evil. Their fates are inexplicably entwined. One can never defeat the other. All there are is battles. Constant battles over time, between good and evil. Fate and Time are the masters of both. The passing of Time does not affect the battle, only who fights, who leads and who wins. Fate is the master of the battle. Good and evil. Neither can ever win the war.

For many years now, peace from this battle has rested over Alagaesia. The peace of battles not being fought. One has triumphed over the other. Peace means that one has won the last battle, and the other is preparing for the next. The evil have ruled the lands for a century. The old Order of Riders fell one hundred years ago. One of their own betrayed them. That one lead others, strong of body, weak of mind were they. But not he. Strong of body, strong of mind and a taste for blood and revenge. One who had been driven to madness with loss. His own mighty beast had fallen and with it his sanity. Though he may take the resemblance of sanity, he is one who has had a half of himself die. The good in him was gone with his dragon.

Another could not replace this, as much as the man tried. A black dragon was brought into the world using dark arts, kill or be killed the motto of his existence. So he killed his brethren and waded through a sea of corpses with the wrong Rider on his back. The man himself was not healed, but more powerful. With thirteen allies he downed the ancient order and any resistance the races of Alagaesia could give them. The Black King's reign had begun.

Few survived who remember the days of battle, roars of pain and rage from mighty beasts of the sky, the infernos of fire launched at another, screams of the dying and the flowing of blood. All of time cannot make those who remember forget. Many died in those days of battle. Evil had triumphed over good. Secrets died, knowledge died and so good was banished from the lands of Alagaesia, until now. The time of peace has run out.

Evil seeks to create a new, twisted Order of the ones the once were. He had three eggs. None had hatched for a century, lying still in their shells, defying the Black King. But one was stolen fifteen years ago and has been ferried across the land since that time, waiting for its Rider. An ambush laid, loyal soldiers killed and an ally captured. This was where the fight really began.

Transported across Alagaesia through the arts of magic, the last free dragon of Alagaesia appeared before her Rider, Eragon Son of None. Hatching in several short days, the pair of unlikely heroes were threatened by the appearance of the Black Kings servants, the Ra'zac. Killing for information coming naturally to these foul beasts, murder was done and the last free Riders had their prey. With an unusual teacher, a journey was undertaken to kill these Ra'zac, not realizing that the hunters had become the hunted.

The last true Rider was in peril, one that follows the teachings of those of old. The good. His future told, death and betrayal were imminent. His choices would affect the mighty lands future and the lives of millions. His death was not to be in the present. Fate has taken a hand. Time has chosen to run out. The next battle has already commenced.