Novel Eragon Novels & Stories

His eyes were bloodshot, red-rimmed from a night without sleep. He didn’t look like a traitor. He looked like a man who had watched someone die and decided he didn’t want to be next. Lyra dismissed the guards with a glance. Mara stayed, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Eron swallowed hard when the door closed. “I didn’t want this,” he said immediately. Lyra sat across from him, hands folded in her lap. “Start at the beginning.” “There is no beginning,” Eron said. “Not really. Just… small things. A question here. A delay there.”

Eryx asked as he inched towards her. “Of course not. You deserve it,” she replied. Suddenly, Eryx’ instincts it's flared as he suddenly remembered that he had kept that book in his room. His eyes desperately peeped through every corner I'm the room, and he kept looking at Nova. But Nova was swift enough to hide the book, keeping it away from Eryx’ eyes. She didn't want Eryx to know that she had regained her memory

He's just waiting to claim his prize. ​"Your great-grandfather," Seraphina said, her voice chillingly calm. "Malphas. He used Eris. He drained her, then he killed her. To power his armies." ​Kael looked like he had been struck. He glanced at Arion, then back at Seraphina. "That's... that's a lie. The legends say Eris betrayed him. That she broke the world!" ​"Legends are written by the victors, Prince," Seraphina spat, the bitterness making her voice crack. "And your family always wins, don't they? They always take what they want."

I cannot stop when my fingers have danced on the black keyboard on the bed. My second novel’s character is named Eros Darwin — as the main character who has multiple personalities. I purposely gave Eros Darwin a psychopathic character in this novel; at least, he still lives in a world of fiction. “Eros,” I whispered as my fingers typed Eros’s name into the paragraphs on the flat screen. “Why is it so cold?” I touched the back of my neck because I felt something cold passing there and then spontaneously turned my face to the open balcony.

"You're right. I'm not the real Erin—the one you grew up with. I have her memories and her body, but not her soul." "I see," I responded quietly. "Can you explain what happened?" "In my world," Erin began, her voice carrying the weight of a profound revelation: "I was the writer of this story. The night I died, for reasons I still can't fathom, I ended up here." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Originally, the plot was that Erin Lockheart died tragically, and her death brought you and Luna closer as the protagonists. In a desperate attempt to rewrite my fate, I interfered with the story, bringing us all into this uncertain reality. I'm not sure what happens next."