This is a story that's been in my mind for more than a year now. The first chapter has been re-written more than once, and I think I'm happiest with this one. This is also what would come once Gedwey Awlei was finished. It's compliant to Brisingr... and it'll be compliant to a point to the last in the series, whatever it is named. Maybe I'll write more on this, the next chapter or two surely, but I'll wait on the response of people I think. The first chapter is unfortunately short, a bit of a teaser, but also very important, as you'll begin to understand as the story goes on. I most heavily encourage re-reading of this chapter, and thinking about what it all could mean. There are enough hints there to get the full picture.

Update note: Not many people seem to like the first chapter. I fully understand. Until I get around to changing it, I encourage you to make your way through, or maybe even come back to it later. I'm told it starts slow, but hits its stride quickly enough. Up to you, but I encourage you to give it a run through.

Anyway, this is, most formerly, a time travel story. A chance to redo things that may or may not have worked out so well last time. I also note, this is a story of hard choices. Don't count on there always being good options... With that in mind, there are occasionally some good ones too. I'm writing this, first and foremost, to explore a few things I never felt Paolini did justice.

I would also appreciate feedback, and more so after the first few chapters. With all that in mind, no more digressing, and let us begin.

"So this is what it came to, in the end…"

There is no answer.

Part of him expected there to be.

For not the first time, he wonders if he is insane.

Making slow steps into the darkness.

Bordering on edge.

Or over and gone, lost to the mists of the ether.

Perhaps...

For a moment, he pauses to think about it. It nags at his thoughts. Stabs at them.

Then, he turns and squashes the feeling. For it is not part of him.

Everything goes silent again.

But he still thinks for a moment, curious of it. Curiosity is perhaps the only thing that has kept him sane, if this is sanity. Curiosity for an answer, that led him to this point.

He stops, and looks forward. A line is broken, if only just. Automatically, he mutters a word, and dust flies, glinting in the moonlight. It makes trails in the air, almost of its own violation. He then pauses again, as the dust reinforces the lines once more, and checks that his spell is still in place.

He feels the tiniest trickle of loss. It is almost not enough. But still, he can feel no wind, even though he can see the a plume of dust shifting in the distance.

Good... He knows, nothing must disturb this.

Another thought calls out, crying in sorrow. He crushes it yet again, and almost laughs at its absurdity.

Never would he have expected them to be defeated like this. Already though, he can feel it spreading through the webway, emotions passing through the gilded lines.

Loss.

Some, many, give up. Others push onwards, heedless against the futility of it.

A thousand souls, so many emotions.

And again, Eragon wonders is he is insane.

What defines insanity? Knowing what you are doing is wrong, but feeling no remorse?

Or is it feeling remorse, but not caring.

Not stopping.

Not ending this blasphemy before it can begin.

...Perhaps he is.

Eragon mutters another word, and a thousand more gleaming shards slip into place.

Instantly, the area lights up. Glowing. Writhing with light.

A thousand souls show their light.

Eragon's hand brushes the ground, and he feels power.

It's more then he could have imagined. More than he could have imagined of imagining.

It probably isn't enough.

Though then again, perhaps nothing is. Perhaps it can't be done. Who'd ever heard of something like this?

Some dream of chances, and second chances, but none like this.

The thoughts, the doubts of all those within, and his own.

Eragon doesn't crush them this time.

Perhaps he wants to be doubtful.

No, there is no uncertainty.

He wants to be doubtful.

He wants to fear it.

Eragon shivers, and knows he has found success.

Energy gathers. He doesn't speak the words yet. He must wait till the time is right. Until the fears are strongest.

After all, he didn't carve his way to hell just be stopped at the door.

A moment passes, and Eragon takes one last look around.

He sees the stars.

The moon.

The midnight sky.

Mountains in the far distance, giving him an imaginary horizon.

Grasslands to the far north. He's almost surprised. He can still make out splinters of green.

Eragon wonders if a human would see a fraction of what he sees. Those days are too far gone now. It's only been a few years... but it feels so much longer. Like every year was a lifetime, stretched on and on till he could no longer see the ends.

Ironically, that moment would be further away for him than anyone else.

Well, nearly everybody.

His gaze drops, this time in sorrow.

It quickly turns to anger.

It would have, by itself, if given a few seconds longer, but this is a reminder too strong to ignore.

Scorched ground, blasted earth, a single crater, all these rolled into one and one definition. The end of it all.

It's ironic that he would come here to end it all once again.

Despite the doubts in his thoughts, Eragon's will had never been stronger. Suddenly, like drops of water against a tidal surge, he forced back the traitorous thoughts and smashes his own against them.

The cower.

They fear.

All of a sudden, the web of lines suddenly burns so brightly it almost blinds him. The souls cry out in desperation, and last hope spread amongst them.

The air crackles visibly, but Eragon stands motionless at the middle of it all. He can feel it all. It blots out his vision, his senses, almost eclipsing his mind. Perhaps, it is enough to even destroy the world.

Or instead, enough to remake it.

The sky comes alight with flames that don't burn. The earth cracks nearby, splintering a million different ways. An entire plateau changes to dust. And yet, at the middle of it, an island of peace rests, its borders protected by great beams of light.

And Eragon speaks.

Words of power too ancient to have been spoken in this lifetime echo in the stillness. Some words, never spoken ever before. It daunts him, but he continues on. The incantation is almost automatic. He spent so long thinking of this moment that suddenly it can't come fast enough.

And then, it's all over. Power rushes from him so fast he nearly dies five times in the first second.

The next second, it's past twenty.

For not the last time, he doubts himself.

He doubts his hopes, his sanity.

But still, he knows.

He paved this road, he will see it through to the end.

His hopes are worth this.

A second chance is worth damning himself.

Suddenly, true exhaustion hits. He has no energy to sustain anything anymore, and his world cracks.

Stars shimmer then vanish, the moon blurs across the sky,

Everything burns.