When Destiny Burns, Ep. 2 A Halo and Inheritance Cycle Crossover [Discontinued]

Chapter 13.2 Under my skin

' What did I miss?' he asked his partner.

'Someone has tried to scry Eragon,' Aeraleth replied.

Scrying...that was the art of viewing a person through magic, summoning their image in a reflective image. Raia had told him that he was harder to scry, as she had demonstrated to him. She had thought it was because of his different state of mind. He had thought it was because of his MJOLNIR armour and his Neural Interface.

But to humans, it was impossible to sense if you were being scryed. 'How did he know?'

'The necklace that Ündin has given him,' the dragoness told him, 'prevents people from scrying him. He felt it's magic.'

'What does this mean?'

'It means that Arya wishes us to increase our movements, heading towards Silthrim with haste.'

'Finally.' The Spartan had arrived at the camp, where Lifaen was keeping watch. He felt a stab of satisfaction as he saw the elf snapping to attention when he stepped into the clearing. He had been stealthy enough to outmaneuver the elf's gaze. It was good to know that these creatures weren't without faults.

He walked towards the hut that was still empty and eyed the soft bed, remembering his last experience with sleeping. Suddenly, he felt apprehensive. He always dreamt about things in the past, where his memories would flood his mind and create the most outrageous and disturbing images. But lately, he had repeatedly returned to the misty village that he knew existed on the planet Chi Ceti IV. It had been 2548...more than five years ago. He had been thirteen...fourteen? Old enough to undertake infiltration operations. But that mission had gone so catastrophically wrong that he had had to take a psych exam before he could have returned to active duty. And with the desperation that his missions had been tailored to, that had been an unwelcome outcome for the war-effort.

And he couldn't. stop. Dreaming. He couldn't stop dreaming about what had happened; about the nightmare that the operation on Chi Ceti IV had been. He wasn't afraid of anything; he had seen the worst nightmares that the universe had to offer and he had beaten those nightmares countless of times in countless of battles. But there were two things –two variables- that constantly returned to plague him at night. And over time he had grown reluctant to go to sleep. He knew that he would return to one of those worlds...and if there was one thing in the world that he feared, it was dreaming. He was powerless in his dreams; he never wore his suit and he never had his weapons. He was completely helpless and he hated that...and he feared that.

As if she sensed his hesitation, Aeraleth shifted her attention to him, forcing herself out of her slumber to speak to him. 'What ails you, little soldier?'

'I...' he didn't want to tell her. Emotions were signs of weakness and fear was one the things that he could not afford to feel, together with exultance and pity. He was weak for feeling it and he did not want to share it. He would not share it. He could not share it. 'I don't want to sleep.'

'I can easily picture human cubs saying that. What does the mighty rider wish to do?'

Sarcasm...he hated that. So he bit back his pride and anger and replied. 'My rest is sleepless...my mind in turmoil. I can't stand the dreaming.

'Dreaming?' Aeraleth repeated with shock. Her sarcastic attitude disappeared like a Grunt in a minefield and she grew serious. 'Have you been having nightmares? What about?'

'Don't ask that,' he told her, apprehension and alarm cutting through his mind. 'Please. Don't ever ask. It's just...I just...'

'It's alright Maine,' Aeraleth prevented him from making a fool of himself by cutting him off. Her voice was thick with compassion and kindness and for the first time since ages, Maine felt like he could trust someone. 'I do not need to know your secrets to assist you. I shall keep an eye on you...and chase the nightmares away should they arise.'