Prologue: The Depressions of a Droplet
What have I to say?
Lightning lashed among the clouds of darkness, and thunder clapped. The clouds clashed, and merged, only to separate with a new burst from wind.
Is this what I lived to bear? Must I live to bear all this?
It was a battle of the heavens. Rain poured from its parents, leaving without regret for they were going to be rid of the skirmish and be at rest until they rejoined the clouds once more.
But to these droplets there is more meaning than it appears. Someone thought, looking up at them with his tear streaked face.
A simple droplet in a cloud is a very interesting thing. In the beginning, the droplet comes to the cloud from the lands, seas, rivers below, just like all others. It joins the thousand others in the air; that is its life. When everything is peaceful, the droplet merely hovers among its fellows in the ether, unwilling to leave, it leads a normal life. But then, comes time of grief, when many droplets fall back to the earth; it is small downpour. Many of the fellows of the droplet are taken away. Then comes the time of storm; that is the time of war, when two clouds converge, chilled winds blow and lightning signifies the outcome. Times of war become times of death, and even the best are hard pressed to survive. This is where the droplet loses nearly all it has, but remains one of the few who still form the cloud, who survive the battle of the heavens. Then, the cold in the higher alcoconutudes; that is its death, finally claims life and the droplet liquidizes and journeys back to where it came from. Then, once again, another droplet is formed, and it takes the place of its predecessor. The cycle continues… Life is similar. We come to this land, amidst innumerable others. We live peaceful, happy lives. Then comes the time of grief, when our loved ones are taken from us, and we must make our own way ahead to survive if we can. But someday, comes time of catastrophe, which also we must survive. Few do, and those who do are stronger and wiser than most. But in the end, the forces of nature are too strong for us to defeat, we do succumb to death. It is our destiny, we will die some day. But just as we die, someone does come to take our place. Such is my case. But unlike the drops of water which bring us rain, some beloved people in our life cannot be replaced. Droplets do not make much of a difference, but loved ones do. This I have experienced. This I know . . .
The cycle continues . . .
But, in truth, a cry was heard below the battling clouds, and it was followed by a roar that shook the earth.
Who was the crier? Where had it come from? Those were the questions many people might have asked, but in their hearts they feared to know who the crier was. It was the one who had caused all this . . .
* * *
A dragon roared in misery, and flames burst from its maw, evaporating several droplets of water. Few heard it, and those who did either had hope quenched in their hearts, or mirth bubbled in their throats.
The crier was its Rider, and he was crying for his beloved. He had lost her, and now he regretted his choices in the recent past. He now regretted his act of mercy, his feelings of love and his decision of battle.
Had he not taken those, none of this would have happened. Had he been more cautious, and not so hasty, he would not have suffered so much. If only he would have listened to his mate . . . If only he would have listened.
The dragon keened in grief for its Rider, and suddenly growled as it spotted the person who had killed the dragon's and its Rider's mate.
The murderer merely sneered, just as thunder expressed its rage once more. Lightning illuminated his face, and it was evident that nothing like this person had ever been seen before in the likes of the world. All of his skin was bone white in color, his face and head did not have any hair, and he was very thin. Coupled with it, he had silver robes under a sickeningly white armor. In contrast with his skin, chest plate and clothes, he had a jet black sword on his right hip. He was just sneering at the elvish Rider, who was crying.
This was the place where a great battle had been held, and had resulted in a great defeat for the Rider and his army. But, his enemies had decided to let him succumb to his shame, and his anguish, so they had left him and all that had remained of his troops alive.
The villain yelled, "You are responsible for all of this, Lead Rider, and these are the consequences of you deeds . . . No one shall help you now, you are ALONE!"
The Rider looked up, and glared at the abomination, eyes of sorrow filled with tears, "I shall kill you for this! By life or death, I shall be the reason for your downfall! You-will-DIE!"
The abomination drew his sword in a flash and pointed it at the Rider, "I can kill you effortlessly now! It will be like snapping a dry twig with my boot . . . But I won't. I shall let you live, and I shall also let you suffer for your own mistakes. Let it be known, the Lead Rider was the cause of the death of his most loved person, and is now suffering because of it. This was no one else's fault but your own, and you shall repent it till your death."
The Rider glared at him with all his hate and his eyes were overflowing with tears now, because he knew that the words he had just heard were true.
"Let me live? You are the one who will regret this choice! I shall have my vengeance for this! I SHALL!"
The villain just laughed at his words, then walked away with two more men into the darkening mist, sheathing his shimmering sword.
"I swear on the heavens . . ." The Rider said, but only the dragon heard him.
Tear streaked, the Rider gently caressed the soft face of his love, looking at her slanted eyes, drinking in her beautiful elvish features. He remembered the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, the smoothness of her raven hair and the touch of her lips on his own. He remembered the years they had spent together, and he was slowly submerged in his own grief.
"No one must feel the way I have . . . No one!" The Rider said to himself, picking up the body of his mate.
She had been a Rider as well, but she and her dragon had been slain in the battle that had taken place earlier that day. She had been stabbed from the back as she had tried to help her mate fend off those three men. Her dragon had been beheaded by the abomination, and his glittering, emerald green body was lying a mile way
"Not men, foul, twisted worms not worthy existence!" The Rider said to himself.
The Rider looked up from the face of his mate, tears glistening in his eyes, and gazed at the setting sun which cast a bloody light on the misty world, a world which was torn apart for him.
He turned to his dragon, and bowed his head in shame. The dragon looked at him with soft eyes, and tried to take away his sorrow, but the Rider's grief was too immense.
The Rider's face tightened painfully and he was unable to breathe as he remembered the last words said by his mate . . .
"I-I have always l-loved you . . . But n-now we must s-separate, we d-don't have a-a choice. . . . But, e-even in d-death, my love for y-you shall last . . . I-It is e-everlasting . . . M-My love f-for you, E-E-Eragon."
Eragon was the name of the grieved Rider; he fell to his knees, and he gave a sorrowful, pained cry once again. He pressed his mate's face to his own and sobbed. The dragon slowly came closer, and placed a wing over the couple, just as Eragon yelled in agony.
"Why me?" He cried, echoing the words said by the mad king, Galbatorix.
But just as there was grief and turmoil in this land, there was happiness and peace in another. The two worlds were interrelated now, by several reasons and people
But now, there was going to come a time never foreseen, never foretold, when both these worlds would have to battle a common enemy for the survival of each other.
The clouds of evil remained, and the sun finally set, submerging the land in the endless depth of darkness.