Eragon Kindle Novels & Stories

Her fury is absolute and she looks capable of mass murder in that moment. Between them is a broken mirror. Erik can be seen in the reflection, although he’s not there in person. Then the image shatters. I fall back, the breath knocked from my lungs. The coin skips across the shallows and sinks below the surface. I try and reach for it, but no matter how hard I search, it’s gone. I’m still shaking when I open Erik’s book and find the sketch again. A rune sequence he scribbled in frustration weeks ago. Not Norse. Not quite. It’s a blend. Old tongues twisted into something new.

He then stood up and walked towards me. "I'm Ignis, nice to meet Al." The magma dragon took my hand and shook my hand with a big smile. Erin who saw the change in her attitude suppressed a laugh behind me. "Why are you laughing?" Ignis said, looking at Erin. "Hahaha where's your fierce temper just now!?" Erin hugged my arm and glared at me. "I don't want anything to do with Queen Danirmala, I might end up like Friss," she answered while making tables and chairs using her earth magic. The table and chairs he made right in front of his throne.

"I find myself tracking your trajectory, Chika. A wolf of your exceptional caliber and lethal posture makes me wonder—why throw your lot in with a broken king like Lucien?" Detecting the sudden shift toward physical dominance in his aura, I stepped back into the shadow of the weapon rack, my eyes narrowing. "Our alliance was written in ancestral blood, Egan. Destiny doesn't negotiate with border scavengers." Egan’s gaze continued its dirty, calculated descent, tracing my boots up to the edge of the black pearls resting on my brow, like a scavenger estimating the value of a prize stallion.

"These aren't of use to me—why don't you just give me the Earthen Dragonheart instead?" Eron made an especially awkward face right then. "To tell the truth, Mr. Lawrence… the Earthen Dragonheart is my daughter's dowry!" Frank glowered. "What's that supposed to mean?" Eron simply chuckled. "Why don't you pick anything else from my house? I mean, why obsess over the Earthen Dragonheart when you can take anything you want? Consider it the reward for saving my daughter."

She felt like thanking him again for sharing such a special thing with her but refrained herself. "This is my kind of place", Erica comments, diverting the topic. She will work on Xavier's advise and try to ignore unnecessary negativities in her life as well as Xavier's. She stood up and walked around. The shelves weren't stacked with books. They weren't bound or anything, some looked tattered and yellowed. "Did you finish reading them?" she asked as she took out one thin book. She flipped open the page carefully. Her brows furrowed when she realised that none of the words was recognizable. They were not only written in another language but the book also consisted of different symbols.

The Archon Ergonus was afraid. Staring at the dirt below him, he contemplated his decisions, his role. The pride and glory that his position brought him. What did it mean? It all seemed to be pointless. “Ergonus.” Another of his warriors approached him. Guldar’s armor was showing weakness. The living leaves and vines that comprised of his helmet were no showing sings of graying. The miniature gardens of grass that once grew on the trenches of his armor was now torn, what remained had withered and died.

The truth burns: the Herald is Elara’s kin, corrupted by betrayal, seeking to unmake her legacy. Kalia’s orb sparks, her aura flaring, her eyes distant, a vision seizing her. “Aelys!” she gasps, “the Herald—it’s gathering relics on a rift-torn world, unraveling the Veil!” Her relic pulses, the Herald’s hymn echoing: “Lumora falls, child—your cosmos is mine.” The archive trembles, void-wraiths breaching the dome, their claws slashing. I shield Kalia, my blade striking a wraith, my hymn faltering, my mortal heart straining. The relic’s hymn surges, its starlight wounding me, pain erupting, Lena’s spark flickering. “Aelys!” Kalia cries, her orb flaring, her hymn unsteady but fierce, felling a w

Curious, does Herol know the existence of the Alpha from Movaro? "I quite like seafood. This is the best shop I can find. Movaro doesn't have it," Regar replies in a whispered tone, then smiles a little. Megan screeched. "Oh yeah, fill in my bag. Give it back." Regar grinning. "Do you mean your wallet?" "And also my little notebook." "What do you mean? I just saw your wallet in the bag. Take it out thinking it's soaking wet." Megan became confused. "Before, did ... Do you got me out of that well?"

Let the silence bloom like poison. Then Lucien stepped forward. “He won’t stop. Eryx was made for conquest. Not loyalty. Not legacy. You follow him, and you follow a man raised by ghosts.” Eryx leaned back in his chair. He was calm. Too calm. Until he stood. “I expected more theatrics,” he said, looking directly at me. “You want theatrics?” I asked. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the second cassette. This one had Reagan’s voice.

“It’s a living seal. It’s reading us.” “Reading what?” Caleb demanded, trying to keep his voice low. “Our thoughts? Our blood?” “All of it,” Eron murmured. “It decides who may pass.” Ava’s shard flared in answer, sending a line of light crawling across the silver runes. She staggered a half-step, gripping the wall for balance. In her mind, images flared — chains of light, a great hall filled with shadows, a throne of bone and iron. The presence inside her pressed forward, hungry.