In Eragon as a Mage

The day after Garrow's death, the weight of grief still lingered over Carvahall like a thick fog. Life continued, but it was subdued—voices hushed, footsteps slower, and even the clinking of hammer on anvil from Horst's forge seemed less forceful. Leo needed to get away, to clear his head.

He wandered to the outskirts of the village, where the fields met the edge of the forest. The snow had begun to melt in patches, revealing frozen grass and damp earth beneath. His boots left faint prints as he walked, his eyes drifting over the familiar landscape. The Spine loomed in the distance, dark and foreboding as always, but it felt oddly… inviting.

Leo tightened his cloak around his shoulders, the wind cutting through the trees. He was about to turn back when he saw her.

A flicker of white among the trees.

He squinted, thinking it was a trick of the light. But then he saw her clearly—a small figure, wrapped in a simple white dress, barefoot against the snow-dusted ground. Her blonde hair tumbled down her back, and her pale skin seemed to glow faintly in the weak sunlight.

Luna.

His heart quickened. He hadn't seen her in what felt like ages. She stood at the edge of the forest, partially hidden by a tree, watching him with that knowing, playful expression she always wore. Her lips curled into a faint smile, and she raised her hand—beckoning him.

Leo took a hesitant step forward. "Luna?" he called out softly.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned and slipped deeper into the trees.

He followed.

The forest closed around him, the sounds of the village fading away. He pushed through the underbrush, his breath visible in the cold air. Every time he thought he was close, Luna darted ahead—just out of reach. Her laughter, light and melodic, drifted through the trees like a whisper.

"Wait!" Leo called, his voice strained as he quickened his pace.

But she was always a step ahead. Her bare feet left no trace in the snow, while his boots crunched loudly with every hurried step. Branches tugged at his cloak, and the cold air burned his lungs.

He stumbled into a small clearing, his chest heaving. Luna stood on the opposite side, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She tilted her head slightly, as if studying him.

"Why are you running?" Leo panted, frustration creeping into his voice.

She didn't answer. Instead, she raised a single finger to her lips—silent.

Then, she stepped back into the shadows, fading like a wisp of smoke.

"No... wait!" Leo lunged forward, but she was gone. The forest was still, the only sound his ragged breathing.

He turned in a slow circle, scanning the trees. Nothing.

His chest tightened with confusion and unease. Luna always appeared when he least expected it, but this… this felt different. There was an urgency to her beckoning, a subtle warning in her eyes.

Leo remained in the clearing for a few moments longer, listening. The forest whispered around him, but Luna was gone.

What was she trying to show him?

Leo pushed through the underbrush, the cold air nipping at his cheeks as he tried to retrace his steps. Luna had vanished like mist, leaving him alone with the sounds of the forest. His breath came in steady puffs, and he kept his eyes on the faint trail beneath his feet.

He thought he was heading back toward Carvahall. He was sure of it—his instincts had always guided him well in these woods. Yet, with each step, an odd sense of familiarity crept over him. The trees were thicker here, their twisted branches arching overhead like gnarled fingers. He knew these trees. The uneven slope beneath his boots was one he had climbed a hundred times.

Realization crept up his spine like a chill.

He wasn't heading back to the village.

Leo's eyes darted around, his chest tightening. He stood at the edge of a small clearing, the snow lightly covering the ground. And before him—silent and unchanged—was his cabin.

He blinked, disoriented. "How…?"

His hand tightened into a fist. He had meant to return to Carvahall. He was certain of it. Yet his feet had carried him here, back to his home in the Spine. Had Luna led him here on purpose? Or was it the forest itself, twisting his path?

The air was still, save for the gentle creak of trees swaying in the wind. His cabin looked the same as when he'd left it—sturdy, but weathered from winter's grip. Smoke no longer curled from the chimney, and the snow on the roof lay undisturbed.

Leo hesitated, his gaze drifting back toward the path he had come from—or thought he had. The village felt miles away now, like a distant dream.

With a sigh, he stepped toward the cabin, boots crunching against the snow. He pushed open the door, the familiar creak echoing through the small space. The cold welcomed him like an old friend.

Inside, everything was as he had left it. His father's hunting tools rested by the wall. The cot was still covered with the worn blanket his mother had made. And in the corner, beneath the loose floorboard, he knew the compendium lay hidden.

But the air felt… different. As though the cabin itself was holding its breath.

Leo sat heavily on a stool, his mind racing. He thought of Luna, of her silent beckoning. Of the strangers in Carvahall and the stone that had set everything in motion.

And then he thought of the necklace around his neck. The weight of it seemed heavier now.

The forest had called him back for a reason. He could feel it in his bones.

But what that reason was… he did not yet know.