Chapter 17: Real Vision

[2,653 words]

The morning light streamed through the small window of Eragon's room at Jeod's house, illuminating the last remnants of his ordeal from the night before. He stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders as he stretched.

'The Limitless and Resistance Perks are a perfect combination. Limitless grants me a powerful body that can heal rapidly, while the various resistances complemented it, fortifying my body against a wide range of dangers. Together, they will make me nearly unstoppable, each perk enhancing the other in a way that make me both resilient and ever-evolving.' Eragon thought satisfied.

His body had fully recovered after subjecting himself to the poisonous water, his breathing steady, and his muscles relaxed. He could still feel the remnants of the poison in his system, but it was faint, like a dull ache that would soon be forgotten.

'Good morning, Saphira' Eragon greeted Saphira through their mental link, letting her feel he is ok.

'Good morning,' Saphira replied, her voice laced with concern. 'I could feel your distress last night... Did you drink that poison for the same reason you burn your hands with magic and cut yourself?' Her mental voice was sharp but gentle, like a mother chastising her child.

Eragon nodded, even though she couldn't physically see him. 'Yes, Saphira. It's the same reason I told you before. My body can adapt to whatever I expose it to. The poison and sickness from last night will make me stronger, just as the fire and the cuts does. I can already feel it working.'

Saphira had noticed early on the things he did—things that would seem reckless or insane to anyone else. Holding his breath until he grew lightheaded, hitting himself with rocks and stones hard enough to leave bruises, and even placing his hands into flames. Each time, her growing concern was palpable, a rumble of disapproval in his mind, a quiet but fierce protectiveness.

And so, Eragon had to explain some of his abilities to her eventually. At first, Saphira had been skeptical, not understanding why he would deliberately cause himself pain and injure himself like that. It wasn't until she witnessed his body adapting—his skin no longer burning when exposed to fire, rocks crumbling to dust on his body while leaving no mark behind—that she reluctantly accepted his explanations.

His body wasn't like others; not only did it get stronger, it also learned, changed, and adapted. Saphira, despite her instincts, had come to trust that he wouldn't do anything without confidence in his safety.

'I know,' Saphira responded softly. 'I just hope you'll be careful, Eragon. I don't want to lose you to your own stubbornness and recklessness.'

Eragon chuckled softly, more to soothe her worries than anything else. 'You won't. I'm not reckless—at least not without good reason.'

After their conversation, as if to reassure himself further, Eragon mentally opened his skill panel to review his resistances. The familiar screen floated before his eyes:

[Poison Resistance: Level 42]

[Sickness Resistance: Level 15]

Seeing the growth in his skills, Eragon allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. 'It's working, 5 levels in poison resistance and 12 levels in sickness resistance... Though I don't know what the level signify and how potent each level is, I don't really care as long as they continue to evolve to be honest.' he thought.

Shaking off the last of his grogginess, Eragon left his bed and made his way to the bathroom. He took a quick shower, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated from the night before. As the cold water ran over his skin, he let his thoughts drift to the day ahead.

Eragon descended the stairs and entered the dining room, where the morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the modest yet cozy space. Brom, Jeod, and Jeod's wife were already gathered around the table, their breakfast in progress. The rich aroma of fresh bread and sizzling eggs filled the room, and Eragon's stomach growled in response.

"Good morning," he greeted as he took his seat at the table.

"Morning," Brom replied gruffly, his eyes flickering up briefly before returning to his plate. Jeod gave a friendly nod, while his wife, sitting with her hands folded neatly in her lap, glanced at Jeod with a cold, unreadable expression. The tension between them was palpable, though neither spoke of it.

Jeod cleared his throat, clearly eager to shift the atmosphere. "So, Eragon, how did you find the city yesterday? Managed to see much?"

"It was interesting, the city is big and beautiful and I enjoyed my stroll around the shops." Eragon said between bites. "I also stopped by Angela's shop next door. Quite the character, that one."

Jeod let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "That's putting it lightly. Angela's always been one for surprises and quirks."

Jeod leaned in with a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You know, Eragon," he began, "I once saw her do something that still makes me scratch my head. I was passing by her shop late one evening, and there she was, on the roof, talking to the moon."

Eragon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Talking to the moon?"

Jeod nodded, chuckling. "Yes, she was holding a conversation as if it were an old friend. She even paused like she was listening to its response. I couldn't tell if she was practicing some kind of witchcraft or just... being Angela."

Eragon laughed, shaking his head. "That sounds exactly like her. But did you ever ask her what she was doing?"

Jeod grinned. "I did. She told me, 'The moon knows secrets the sun could never understand.' Then she winked and went back inside, leaving me more confused than before."

The two of them shared a laugh, imagining the eccentric herbalist's strange habits.

"Humph!" Jeod's wife suddenly scoffed loudly and stood up from the table. She didn't say a word, simply giving Jeod a look that could cut glass before storming out of the room.

Jeod sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as he muttered, "Apologies. I should go after her."

Brom waved him off. "Go on. We'll manage here."

After Jeod left, Eragon turned to Brom with a raised eyebrow. "What was that about?"

Brom shook his head. "Trouble at home, nothing more. He'll deal with it." He paused for a moment, then looked at Eragon. "What's on your mind?"

Eragon hesitated briefly before asking, "What's the plan now? What's the plan now that you have met your friend?"

Brom sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Things have changed. If there's truly a spy in the Varden, especially if it is one close to Ajihad, we can't risk heading there. Not yet anyway. I had hoped to take you there initially to rally the forces and gather people to our cause, but I still need to think it over..."

Eragon nodded slowly, understanding the weight of Brom's words. "So we're staying in Teirm for now?"

Brom nodded. "Yes, at least for a little while. I need time to think and figure out our next steps. In the meantime, I'll continue your training in magical wards and defenses."

Eragon smiled slightly, but shook his head. "Ok, but not today, Brom. I'd like some time alone with Saphira. I plan to head out of the city for a bit."

Brom raised an eyebrow at that but didn't argue. "Fine. You're old enough to stay out of trouble. Just don't do anything foolish."

Eragon rolled his eyes as he stood up to leave, however Brom suddenly remembered something. "Wait! The city gates close at sunset. Make sure you're back before then, or you'll be sleeping outside the city walls tonight."

Eragon grinned and nodded. "I'll be back in time." With that, he swiftly left the house, eager to spend the day with Saphira.

As he walked through the city, Eragon kept his head down, avoiding unnecessary attention. Once he reached the city gates, he slipped out onto the road, quickening his pace until he was certain he was alone.

Satisfied that no one was watching him, Eragon broke into a run. His legs pumped beneath him like well-oiled machines, propelling him forward with a speed that would have left most men breathless within moments. He felt the wind rushing past him, the ground blurring beneath his feet. His speed, honed by months of relentless training, allowed him to move faster then any human or land animal.

Within ten minutes, Eragon reached the spot where Saphira was hiding. He slowed to a stop, his breath as even as before he started running as he approached Saphira.

'You're getting faster,' Saphira noted with a hint of pride.

Eragon smirked. 'I've been working on it.'

Saphira lowered her head to nuzzle him affectionately. 'What do you have planned for today?'

'Nothing too exciting to be honest.' Eragon teased, scratching her under the chin. 'I just wanted to spend some time with you. Maybe go for a flight if you're up for it.'

Saphira hummed softly in approval. 'I'd like that.'

The day passed peacefully as Eragon and Saphira spent their time together, flying over the open fields after they made sure no one was around, having fun while also practicing their coordination. The bond between them grew stronger with each passing moment, their thoughts intertwining seamlessly as they communicated without words.

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, Saphira reluctantly brought Eragon back to her hiding spot. 'I'll see you tomorrow,' he promised, resting his forehead against hers for a brief moment.

'Be safe,' Saphira reminded him as he turned to leave.

Eragon made his way back to Teirm without incident, reaching the city gates just before they closed for the night. Once back at Jeod's house, he grabbed a quick bite to eat before retreating to his room.

As he sat on the edge of his bed, Eragon pulled out the green vial from Angela and uncorked it. He hesitated for a moment before carefully adding three drops of the poison to his flask of water. This time, he felt more confident—his body had already begun to adapt to the poison. When he drank from the flask, he felt the sickness and poison wash over him, but it was much less intense than the night before despite the higher dosage.

Lying down on the bed, Eragon allowed himself to relax, trusting that his body would handle the poison as it had before. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt the familiar sensation of his resistances growing stronger.

But his sleep was far from peaceful.

In the depths of his slumber, a vivid dream enveloped Eragon, pulling him into a scene of chilling darkness. He found himself in a dimly lit chamber, its oppressive air heavy with despair. At the center of the room lay a stunning elf, bound tightly to a cold, stone cell.

Her body, once graceful and strong, now marred by bruises and cuts that crisscrossed her once smooth skin. Her clothes were tattered, barely clinging to her body, covering only her most private places, leaving her vulnerable and exposed under the flickering torchlight.

Beside her stood a figure that filled Eragon with alarm—Durza, the Shade. His fiery red hair seemed to glow with an otherworldly light, while his eyes, cold and cruel, bore into the chained elf with sadistic glee.

His voice, a low, menacing hiss, echoed throughout the chamber. "You cannot resist me forever, you know" he taunted, his words dripping with malice. "Soon, you will break, everyone does eventually. Tell me where the egg is, and this suffering can end. Even with your mind closed I can tell what's really frightens you. If you still remain silent, I will let those soldiers who ogle at you all day have a go, releasing their sexual frustration on your sinful body hehe"

The atmosphere grew heavier with each word, as if the very walls of the chamber pressed in, threatening to crush all hope. The elf's face twisted in agony despite her defiant stare, her hands clenched into fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Yet, she did not waver, trapped in her own torment. Durza's laughter rang out, cruel and mocking, reverberating through the chamber like the tolling of a death knell.

Her injuries, a brutal testament to her suffering, seemed to pulse with a dark energy as the Shade's malevolent will was actively tormenting her both physically and mentally.

The scene was drenched in foreboding, a nightmare that gnawed at the edges of Eragon's mind, filling him with a sense of helplessness. The sight of the elf's suffering and Durza's malevolent delight left a deep imprint, a dark premonition that lingered even as the dream began to fade.

Eragon woke with a start, his heart racing in his chest. 'W-What was that?' he thought, still reeling from the vividness of the dream. As he sat up, realization dawned on him. 'That was Arya... and Durza...' His mind raced as he pieced it together. 'They're at the fortress at Gil'ead... This wasn't just a dream—this was the vision I was waiting for!'

Eragon sat on the edge of his bed, catching his breath, the vision replaying in his mind. The terror in Arya's green eyes, the malice in the Shade's smile—it was too vivid to be anything but real. His thoughts churned as he recalled her appearance. That was definitely Arya, the elf princess who sacrificed her life to protect Saphira's egg. His hands clenched into fists as he tried to calm himself, though anger still simmered beneath the surface.

Before he could process further, Saphira's voice entered his thoughts, sharp with concern. 'Eragon, what's wrong? I can feel your anger and fear gushing through our bond in waves...'

Without speaking, Eragon opened his mind to Saphira, sharing the vivid images of his dream—the bruised and battered elf bound to the cold stone cell and the cruel red-haired man standing over her. He let his thoughts flow to her, expressing his belief that the elf was Arya and the man, Durza the Shade.

Saphira's voice resonated in his mind, a mix of urgency and concern. ''If you're right, and this dream of yours is real, then we have no time to lose. We must go to Brom immediately and tell him everything.'

Eragon nodded, already springing into action. His mind raced as he grabbed his boots and hastily pulled them on. He wasn't sure what Brom would say, but there was no denying that they needed to act.

'You're right, Saphira. If we wait too long she might not make it...' He trailed off, letting the severity of the situation sink in. Arya had been captured for months now, but if this vision was any indication, she was weakening. They might not have much time left.

To himself Eragon thought 'Arya must be saved, she is one of the key figures in this fight against Galbatorix, not to mention she doesn't deserve to suffer like this. No one does!'

With determination hardening his expression, Eragon made his way to the door. He moved quickly through the house, careful not to wake Jeod or his wife. Brom's room was at the end of the hall, and Eragon hesitated only briefly before knocking on the door with urgency.

"Brom!" he called, keeping his voice low but insistent.

There was a pause before Brom's voice responded, groggy and irritated. "What is it, boy? Do you know what time it is?"

Eragon opened the door slightly, stepping inside. "I need to speak with you. It's important."

Brom sat up in bed, his sharp eyes narrowing in concern when he saw Eragon's tense expression. "What's happened?"

Eragon took a deep breath, then explained everything—his vivid dream, the details of Arya's captivity, and the Shade's intentions. As he spoke, Brom's face grew more serious, the remnants of sleep quickly fading from his eyes.