In Eragon as a Mage

Leo sat in the dim cabin, the crackling of the small fire he had lit doing little to soothe his unease. His eyes kept drifting to the loose floorboard in the corner—the hiding place of the compendium. He hadn't touched it since the snow had first fallen, and since putting on the necklace, the whispers had stopped altogether. A silence that had once brought relief now felt like an absence—a void he hadn't realized was gnawing at him until now.

With a steadying breath, he knelt and pried up the floorboard. Beneath it lay the old, weathered tome. Its black cover bore faint patterns of symbols, and though the edges were worn, the book held an unnatural weight in his hands—both physical and… something more.

Leo ran his fingers over the surface before carefully opening it. For a moment, nothing happened. The pages, filled with the ancient language, stared back at him in the dim light. But then—clearer than ever before—a voice rang in his mind.

"Return to the cave."

Leo froze. This was not the faint whispering that had teased the edges of his thoughts before. This voice was precise, commanding, and unmistakably alive. It resonated with an ancient power, sending a shiver down his spine.

He glanced around the cabin, half-expecting to see someone standing there with him. But he was alone.

"Return to the cave," the voice repeated, softer this time but no less insistent.

Leo's heart raced. The cave. The place where he had first found the dying Urgal—the place where he had taken this very book. He hadn't dared return since that day, fearing what else might lurk within. Yet, the voice now beckoned him, cutting through months of silence.

He closed the compendium with trembling hands. His instincts told him this was not a call to be ignored.

The forest felt different.

Leo moved carefully through the undergrowth, his steps quiet from years of practice, but his senses were heightened beyond the usual tension of a hunt. The Spine always had an air of mystery, but this time, the woods felt like they were watching him—like the trees held their breath.

The weight of the compendium in his pack pressed against his back, a constant reminder of the voice that had shattered its months of silence. Return to the cave.

Each step brought him closer to that place, the memory vivid—his six-year-old self, bloodied and frightened, standing before the wounded Urgal. That day had changed everything. It had given him the compendium and unlocked a power he had only begun to understand.

The snow had mostly melted, leaving damp patches along the rocky slopes. Leo's boots crunched softly as he climbed higher into the Spine. His breath formed faint clouds in the crisp air, but he pressed on. He knew this path, though he had avoided it for years.

As he neared the familiar ridge, his pulse quickened. The mouth of the cave came into view, a dark scar against the stone. It looked exactly as he remembered—silent, foreboding, but strangely… welcoming.

Leo stood still for a moment, taking it in. He expected fear, but instead, he felt… anticipation. As though something within that cave had been waiting for him all along.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

Leo stepped into the cave, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The air was damp, laced with the faint scent of earth and decay. His breath echoed softly against the stone walls as he moved further in, his hand trailing along the rough surface.

There it was.

The skeletal remains of the Urgal lay in the same spot where Leo had last seen him, though time had stripped away the flesh, leaving only bone. The Urgal's massive frame was unmistakable—even in death, his presence was imposing. He had been over six feet tall, his broad chest and thick limbs now reduced to a tangle of ribs and weathered joints. His skull bore the long, curved horns that swept back in a menacing arc, adding to his fearsome visage.

Leo knelt beside the remains, his fingers brushing against the cracked bone. He remembered the Urgal's labored breathing, the blood-soaked ground, and the gift—the compendium—that had set him on this path. There was no fear now. Only respect.

"You brought me here… why?" Leo whispered, his voice barely audible.

The compendium in his pack stirred. There was no voice this time, but a presence—like a hand on his shoulder—guiding him to look deeper. His gaze shifted to the Urgal's bony hand, clutching at something buried in the dirt beneath it.

Leo carefully brushed away the loose soil. A small, carved pendant emerged, fashioned from stone and etched with strange runes. It pulsed faintly with an inner light, like a heartbeat.

His chest tightened. This was not just a grave. It was a place of power.

Leo closed his eyes for a moment, honoring the fallen warrior. Then, with reverence, he took the pendant and placed it beside the compendium in his pack. As he stood, the air around him felt heavier—charged with an ancient energy.

As soon as Leo slid the pendant into his pack, a low hum resonated through the cave. He froze, every hair on his body standing on end. The skeletal remains of the Urgal began to tremble, the bones clicking softly against one another. Then, with a sudden jolt, they lifted into the air.

Leo staggered back, heart hammering. The bones twisted and spun, breaking apart into fragments before dissolving into a thick, dark mist. It coiled like a living thing, slithering through the air toward him.

"No... what—"

The mist struck him like a wave.

Fire erupted beneath his skin. Leo's scream echoed through the cave, raw and primal. His bones felt as though molten steel had been poured into them. Every joint cracked, snapped, and reformed in rapid succession. His muscles tore and stitched themselves back together faster than he could comprehend.

He collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest as the mist poured into every fiber of his being. His vision blurred—flashes of a different life surged into his mind. He saw the Urgal's eyes, fierce and unyielding, standing before a fire-lit war camp. He heard guttural chants, felt the weight of a massive axe in his hands, and the thrill of battle. Blood. Victory. Death.

The sensations merged with his own. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling from the ordeal. But beneath the pain, there was something else—strength. His limbs felt heavier, more solid. His chest expanded with newfound power, his senses sharper than before.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain ceased. The mist was gone. The bones—gone. Only silence remained.

Leo gasped for breath, his body still smoldering with the aftershocks of the transformation. He pushed himself up on shaky legs, his fingers digging into the dirt for support.

He was not the same.

The cave seemed to watch him. The compendium in his pack was quiet, but Leo could feel it—satisfied.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, taking a slow step toward the cave's entrance. Each movement felt different, as though his body had been reforged.

"What have you done to me…" he whispered into the darkness.

The only answer was the whisper of the wind.