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

Chapter 19.2 Proper views pt. 1

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The Agaetí Blödhren was growing ever closer. In just three days, the celebration of the century was going to start, and the Riders were going to be in the center of it all. Eragon had to admit that he was very nervous; his stomach lurched whenever he thought of the festival and the various rumors that he had heard about it. Oromis had said that there would be many dangers to mortals, as the elves were prone to going mad. "Wonderful glorious madness, but madness all the same," Eragon's master had said. He was to place spells of protection over himself and Orik to ensure that they wouldn't get hurt in the event, but...there was a haunting temptation in the prospect of losing one's mind. To be able to let go of the normal world and forget all your worries and fears...your thoughts of inadequacies and pains. It was something that Eragon could not indulge in.

Just yesterday he had shown his addition to the Blood-oath celebration to Oromis; his poem, which spoke about the events that had befallen him since he had gotten Saphira's egg in the Spine. Off his pain and suffering at the hands of Durza and his fear of one day facing Galbatorix. It was a truthful message that he was able to speak in the Ancient Language, despite the fact that it was still a poem. Art. And because he could speak it truthfully, he had been forced to face his own feelings. His fear was real and that made him even more scared of the days to come. Oromis had instructed him to perform several complicated elven breathing exercises to calm himself and he was doing just that when the Spartan finally arrived. As it was still relatively early in the morning, Eragon had expected the soldier and his black dragon to appear sooner than him. But he and Saphira had been alone this morning, much to his surprise. It wasn't like Spartan to be late.

"Tis about time," Oromis remarked when he saw the dragon approaching them. "How unlike him to be late...'

Aeraleth landed and a gush of wind washed over Eragon, forcing him to grab his tunic. '

Oromis stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. "You are late, Spartan. Why did you not arrive with Eragon, twenty minutes ago?"

A man stepped off of Aeraleth and for one crazy moment, Eragon thought that a shade had appeared in the cliffs of the Mourning Sage. But the lack of red hair and the presence of some very strange clothes quickly destroyed that idea, and it took him a while to realize that the Rider was, in fact, Spartan. But he did not look like how a proper human his age should look; he was all...wrong!

As Spartan approached them, Eragon caught himself nervously stepping back to avoid being noticed by his fellow Rider. He had always thought that Spartan's huge size became of his intricate and advanced armor, but that wasn't remotely true. The Rider was massive! He stood as tall as an urgal; standing taller than even Oromis, who was taller than most humans himself.

'Saphira...Spartan is without his suit!' he shakily told his partner, who did not immediately reply. And when she did, she sounded a bit excited.

'Do not stare at him, Eragon. What does he look like?'

Why did she ask him to not stare, only to demand something that required staring?

'He looks strange,' Eragon told Saphira. Spartan was wearing dark elven tunics with a streak of red, which made him look like he had donned the clothing-version of his suit. But without his helmet...and how pronounced his head was. His eyes were extremely blue; they seemed to shine with a ghastly radiance that he had only thought possible for the scales of dragons. They did not even look like human eyes and their sole appearance was enough to make Eragon cringe and flinch.

And that skin...Eragon had thought Durza to be as pale as ice, but this...this 'human' was easily as white as any shade. His skin was so extremely pale that he could easily be a shade, had his eyes and hair been red.