Hey readers! Sorry for the delay between updates. No excuses. I will have next chapter up much sooner, however!

I'm nervous about this chapter. I made some major changes to the Inheritance Cycle, so the characters will better fit my story. Tell me how you feel about the changes! Feel free to rip it apart if they're that bad. ;)

Argetsverd - I love ExA. Plus, I made some changes in the chapter that might help their situation! I'll just end it there.

MrBlack103 - I actually don't like it myself. I prefer my original writing, so I can see how I'm doing. Thanks so much for looking out for grammar errors! I'll probably miss a few.

Orlok Tsubodai Bahadur - You have a really long name. And, maybe... maybe. We'll have to wait and see ;)

Ordgar - No worries! I love replying anyway :)

And thanks so much to all of the other reviewers! You guys make me happy!

Disclaimer: I don't own CP's characters. If I did, the I.C. would have ended much differently! ;)

Enigmatic Emerald: Chapter 3

He drifted in his unconscious state, alternating between dreams in the blink of an eye. Eragon felt like he was floating along the rifts of time, challenging the very fate of the universe. His dreams flickered to and fro, filling him with feelings of elation and dread, splendor and defeat. He witnessed every profound occasion of his life as they flashed before him. Eragon witnessed the trials of his life, such as catching his first deer, becoming snared in his own trap, and scraping himself on his scythe.

As Eragon was flitting among his memories, he felt a slight tugging sensation. He felt himself falling, tumbling endlessly before alighting softly upon a bed of grass.

As he stood up and brushed the loosened grass and dirt from his clothing, he took in his surroundings. He was standing in an eerily familiar meadow of a beautiful forest. Confusion swept through his body as he recognized the place. It was the very meadow where he honed his hunting skills with his uncle as a child. As his mind was racing with the implications of what was occurring, voices reached his ears. Someone was coming. Not wanting to be caught standing in the middle of an odd meadow, he quickly dove behind a nearby tree.

The talking figures walked into Eragon's view. One was a grown man, burly and tall, whose every step exuded strength. His arms, a testament to the hard life of manual labor he lived, held a scythe in them. The other figure was a boy, who was ten years old at the most. He bounded forward with every excited step and seemed to have a huge grin on his face. His vivacity seemed to rub off on the older man, as they were both conversing and laughing loudly.

As they drew close enough for Eragon to make out their features, he inhaled sharply. It was Uncle Garrow and himself, several years ago. Garrow's features were smoother, and only a few laughing wrinkles populated his face. His head was covered with voluminous chestnut hair, and he didn't stoop while he walked.

The younger Eragon was several feet shorter, and a smile sat undimished upon his face. Every portion of his body was smaller, and he didn't have any pronounced muscles.

As Eragon watched, he saw Garrow touch the younger Eragon's arm, signaling him to halt. Garrow put down his scythe and reached into his pack to retrieve a miniature bow. Eragon smirked as little Eragon's face lit up in delight. The 'bow' held a closer resemblance to a twig and a string than the powerful longbow Eragon now used.

Little Eragon eagerly reached for the bow in Garrow's hands. Garrow denied Eragon, and began to explain the proper procedure of everything a bow entails: How to make one, unstring one, clean one, and use one to hunt. Little Eragon watched with a solemn expression, absorbing everything his small ears and eyes could take in.

Finally, Garrow gave little Eragon the bow, and showed him how to fire it. The memory began to fade away as little Eragon raised the bow and fired it at a tree with unerring accuracy.

The thunk of the arrow contacting with the tree faded away, and Eragon felt himself slowly falling back into his dreams.

Arya watched, alert, as Eragon tentatively reached his hand forward to touch the beautiful sapphire hatchling. He loosed a wild cry and fell backwards. She darted forward to catch him before he collided into the floor, watching as his eyes slowly closed. She smiled, remembering the first time she met Fírnen, her lifelong partner.

She was filled with grief at the time, but the minute her eyes alighted upon the gorgeous emerald egg, she knew everything would be resolved. At that moment, she was filled with such a peace and acceptance that it toppled any emotion she'd ever felt before. She caressed the egg every day and night, and within time, it hatched for her. For her. She, who had never amounted to anything in her insignificant life. Fírnen was the one to save her life, and he was the one who would eventually promote her to protect her people's lives.

A ghost of a smile graced her face. She glanced down at the boy in her arms. Little does he know, he will be the hope of thousands, and he will change the world. She laid him down on a couch in Brom's house, before again occupying her chair.

She looked toward Brom, and was surprised to see a fond smile on his face while he gazed at Eragon. She raised an eyebrow, but refused to ask him any personal questions. She cleared her throat, and he quickly sobered up and sat down in his armchair. They sat for several minutes like that, enjoying the silence and riding along their emotional highs at the prospect of a new Rider.

She was slightly contempt at the fact that the boy was a human, but she knew better than to doubt him too much. Brom was revered among her people, and she trusted his judgment more than she would any other person. She definitely had reservations about this young boy called Eragon, but everyone is young, and everyone will grow.

She let out a sigh, and Brom looked up at her.

"I suppose I have much explaining to do." She said. "Well, I can start wit—".

"Wait" Brom said, "People may be listening."

Brom stood up and cast wards against listening and scrying around the room. Arya silently thanked him with a nod of her head.

"Now, begin." said Brom, motioning towards her with his hand.

Knowing her explanation would take quite a while, Arya shifted in her chair in an attempt to get comfortable.

"Thirty-five years ago, the same year I was born, a plan was conceived to steal the remaining eggs in Galbatorix's cache. The elves devised to call together the most renowned scholars of Alagaësia. Their mission was to analyze history, studying poems, songs, and books that could contain hints of a secret passageway into Illirea, now known as Urû'baen. Nineteen years flew by before we noticed. Thousands of literary works had been scoured, translated, and analyzed in an attempt to find the secret passageway.

In these years, I learned. I learned of royalty and its accompanying responsibilities. I learned of the history of the Great War, and the twisted mind of Galbatorix. I learned of the atrocities he'd committed. I learned of the times before the war, and my longing for such a time grew. I learned of the power of my people before this catastrophe. I learned the skills of an accomplished fighter and magician. Most of all, I learned to love, but I also learned to fear and to hate. I hated the monster who called himself a King. I hated the terrible, twisted creature that accompanied the body of this human, and I hated what he stood for.

More than anything else, I wanted to fix the wrongs he had committed. I wanted to contribute something to my people, the people who had lost so much. I wanted to change something, whether it is one person, a group of people, Ellesméra, or Alagaësia as a whole. I'd never felt such a burning passion in my short life, but I knew it was my fate to dedicate myself to this cause.

So I did. After those nineteen long and painful years flew by, a spark of hope was ignited. A young man, a scholar by the name of Jeod, wished to join the Varden. He claimed to have discovered evidence of a hitherto-secret tunnel that led into the elf-built portion of the castle in Urû'baen" said Arya.

"And then I met my dear friend, Jeod" said Brom, with a smirk.

"Yes. You did. As I'm sure you know, we sent in a troop of our finest warriors and deadliest magicians. However, my-" Arya broke off, her voice rendered incapable from the influx of emotions she was experiencing. She cleared her throat and threw on her trademark impassive face, determined to tell her tale without a hitch.

"My father, King Evandar, wholly dedicated to his country and its people, decided he would journey with the party to complete the task. He was faced with much disapproval, but he couldn't deny the chance to help the country he loved. This was such a vital mission in the war effort against Galbatorix, and since King Evandar survived The Fall itself, he felt it his responsibility to somehow repay the lives that were lost. He was one of the most accomplished swords master and magician of the elves, too, so he would be a valuable asset on a mission such as this.

The mission went off without a hitch, and the party was able to successfully enter the castle without so much as a scuffle. When they reached the throne room, however, Hefring, with reasons unknown to all, killed the other…" she paused, taking a deep, calming breath, before continuing "… killed the other party members, including my father. He stabbed as quickly as a viper when they weren't looking, and he left their bodies to rot in the mad King's castle. He only stole two eggs, and left the last one."

Arya closed her eyes, and slowly began to shut down the repressed memories and emotions. She was only nineteen at the time, and the news of her father's death had torn her apart. Arya was her father's little girl, doted upon by Evandar with such loving care and affection. She missed him terribly, even after sixteen years.

She opened her eyes with a sudden determination to finish the rest of her story.

"Shortly after Hefring's murderous plots had been unveiled, hundreds of elves were set off to locate him. He was found a few months later. We secured the eggs and brought Hefring to Ellesméra, where he was executed under the treasons he committed on that mission.

Then, we began our search for the new Riders. The two eggs were beautiful. One was the sapphire egg you saw tonight, while the other held the most beautiful emerald hue. Miraculously, the emerald egg hatched within a week, in the very city of Ellesméra."

"One week? That's unheard of!" exclaimed Brom. "Who did the dragon hatch for?"

Slowly, Arya removed the leather glove from her right hand. She turned her palm upward, and heard Brom's sharp intake of breath.

"You!" Brom shouted. "I couldn't imagine a better Rider! This is a fantastic turn of fate. I can't believe events have played out this way. This is definitely a hopeful sign for the future!" Brom continued his mumblings to himself, exuberant due to the news he just received. "But, wait." Said Brom, "Where is your dragon?"

Arya sighed. "Fírnen is in a meadow in the Spine, in need of medical attention. My energy was too depleted to heal him at the time when I first met Eragon. His injuries are not currently life-threatening, but they will be if given a few days to fester. We need to heal him as soon as possible. We were ferrying the egg between the elves and the humans, as we always do, when we were ambushed by a Shade and his Urgal minions. We were able to escape, but we depleted all of our energy and energy reserves in the process and we crashed right near Eragon's hunting grounds. Luckily, he knew you, and brought me to you as soon as possible. I came here to seek your assistance in healing my dragon."

Brom processed her request for a minute, before gazing into the fire that was crackling beside his armchair. "You have given me much to think upon, Arya. Of course, I'll assist you in the morning. However, you need to rest right now. We can leave at daybreak to heal your dragon."

Arya nodded, before heading off into the spare bedroom. On her way out, a smile lit up her face as she glanced at the sapphire dragon and its sleeping Rider.

Her last thought before drifting off to sleep: Together, we can change the world.

Thanks for reading!

Now keep in mind: In this story, Arya was never imprisoned. Her personality will lean more toward optimism than pessimism, unlike how she was for the first three books. However, I hope to keep her basic personality the same, despite the fact that she'll be happier.

Let me know how you felt about the chapter and its changes. Did you like it? Dislike it? Absolutely love or hate it? Make sure you give me feedback! Until next time!