It has been quite a time since Galbatorix's death. Eragon has settled far away from Alagaisia and the Dragon Riders are restored. Soon, a new party of untrained dragons and riders arrives, and one of them seems strangely familiar...
"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my...
Sixteen-year-old Piss has to make a large number of choices in this dystopian world where everyone's in factions and no one really knows why. [On hold until I finish my Harry Potter fanfiction]
