In Eragon as a Mage

The fire crackled in the hearth as Leo sat at the wooden table, the pendant resting against his chest. Outside, the snow continued to fall in heavy waves, blanketing the mountains of the Spine in an endless sea of white. Winter had locked the world in its icy grasp, but inside the cabin, the air was warm and heavy with silence.

Leo turned the necklace over in his hands, the blue-and-white gemstone glinting faintly in the firelight. Ever since he had bought it in Carvahall, the pendant had been strange, whispering faintly in the back of his mind. He had grown used to the whispers, though he couldn't understand them, but tonight something was different. The whispers were louder, more insistent, like a voice calling out through a storm.

He pressed the pendant between his fingers and frowned. "What do you want from me?" he muttered, his frustration spilling into the quiet room.

As if in response, a surge of warmth spread from the pendant, coursing through his body and settling in his head. The world around him faded away, and his vision blurred as a strange, ethereal sensation washed over him.

Leo gasped, gripping the edge of the table as his thoughts were no longer his own.

In the depths of his mind, he found himself standing in an endless void, a space of swirling gray mist. The pendant glowed brightly against his chest, and a voice—not a whisper, but a clear and commanding tone—echoed all around him.

"You are unguarded, vulnerable to those who would seek to take what is yours."

Leo spun around, searching for the source of the voice. "Who's there? What is this?"

"The world you walk is full of those who wield power beyond your understanding. If you cannot protect your thoughts, you are at their mercy."

Before Leo could respond, the mist around him shifted, condensing into shapes and images. He saw shadowy figures with glowing eyes reaching toward him, their presence cold and invasive. He recoiled instinctively, but there was nowhere to run.

"You must learn to defend your mind," the voice continued. "I will show you."

The pendant flared with light, and suddenly, knowledge began to flood Leo's thoughts. It wasn't like reading a book or hearing someone explain something—it was as if the knowledge had always been there, hidden deep within him, waiting to be unlocked.

The voice guided him. "Picture a wall, strong and impenetrable. A fortress built from your will. Imagine it surrounding your thoughts, shielding them from prying eyes."

Leo closed his eyes and concentrated. At first, his thoughts were scattered, chaotic, like leaves in the wind. But as he focused, the chaos began to settle. In his mind's eye, he pictured a great stone wall rising around him, each stone carefully placed, each one representing his determination.

"Good," the voice said, its tone calm and approving. "Now strengthen it. See the cracks and fill them. See the gaps and seal them. Make it unyielding."

Sweat beaded on Leo's brow as he worked, the effort of building the mental shield more exhausting than any physical labor he had ever done. But he persisted, his stubbornness driving him forward.

When the wall was complete, the shadowy figures returned, their glowing eyes piercing through the mist. They pressed against the wall, clawing at it, testing its strength. Leo's heart raced as he felt the pressure of their presence, but the wall held firm.

The voice spoke again, softer this time. "Well done. This is the first step. Remember, your mind is your sanctuary. Guard it well, for there are those who will seek to breach it."

The light from the pendant dimmed, and the mist began to dissipate. The shadowy figures faded away, and Leo felt himself being pulled back to reality.

Leo's eyes snapped open, and he gasped for air as if he had been underwater. The cabin was still, the fire burning low in the hearth. He glanced down at the pendant, its glow faint but steady.

His head throbbed with the effort of what he had just experienced, but there was a strange sense of accomplishment blooming within him. He didn't fully understand what had happened, but he knew he was different now. Stronger.

The whispers from the pendant had stopped, replaced by a steady, comforting warmth. It no longer felt like an intruder in his thoughts but rather a guardian, a guide.

Leo leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. Who—or what—had given him this gift? And why?

As the fire crackled softly, he resolved to find answers. But for now, he would rest. The knowledge of how to protect his mind was a gift he hadn't realized he needed, and he would carry it with him always.

The Spine was dangerous, but so, too, was the world beyond it. And Leo had no intention of being caught unprepared.

The first rays of dawn pierced through the frost-covered window, casting golden patterns across the walls of the cabin. Leo sat at the table, absently turning the pages of the compendium, though his eyes weren't focused on the words. His thoughts were elsewhere—on the strange events of the previous night and the unusual quiet that had followed.

The pendant rested against his chest, its faint warmth steady and reassuring, but the familiar whispers of the compendium were gone. He had grown so accustomed to its murmurings that the silence now felt almost deafening.

He glanced down at the open book, tracing the ancient runes with his fingers. "Why aren't you speaking to me anymore?" he murmured aloud, though he wasn't expecting an answer.

The compendium remained silent, its pages devoid of the faint glow that often accompanied its cryptic guidance. Leo frowned, his brow furrowing in frustration.

Closing the book with a soft thud, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the necklace. The gemstone caught the light, its blue-and-white hues shimmering like ice over a deep, still lake. He touched it with his fingertips, feeling the smooth, cold surface.

"Is it you?" he whispered to the pendant. "Are you the reason it's gone quiet?"

The warmth against his chest seemed to pulse faintly, almost in response. Leo shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. It wasn't as if he hadn't appreciated the compendium's help—it had guided him in ways he couldn't explain, even saved his father's life once. But the whispers had also been invasive, a constant presence that left him questioning whether his thoughts were ever truly his own.

Now, with the whispers silenced, a strange sense of peace had settled over him. Yet, at the same time, the absence of the compendium's guidance felt like a loss, as though he'd been left adrift without a map in the uncharted wilderness of the Spine.

He stood and began to pace the small cabin, his boots scuffing against the wooden floorboards. "What are you hiding from me?" he muttered to the compendium, glancing at it as if it might suddenly answer. "And what do you want from me?"

The silence hung heavy in the air.

By midday, Leo had resigned himself to the fact that the compendium was unlikely to offer him any answers—not for now, at least. He decided to busy himself with tasks around the cabin, splitting firewood and checking the traps he had set along the forest's edge.

The cold bit at his skin as he worked, but the familiar rhythm of physical labor helped to quiet his mind. Still, the questions lingered, tugging at the edges of his thoughts.

As he carried an armful of wood back to the cabin, he caught sight of the necklace's faint glow beneath his shirt. It pulsed gently with his movements, a constant reminder of its presence.

Back inside, he set the wood near the hearth and sat down once more, the compendium lying closed on the table in front of him. He hesitated for a moment before opening it again, flipping through its pages in search of anything that might explain the change.

But the runes were just ink on parchment now, lifeless and silent.

That evening, as the snow fell softly outside, Leo sat before the fire with the necklace in his hands. He turned it over and over, studying every facet of the gemstone, every etching on the metalwork that held it.

He remembered the flood of knowledge it had given him, teaching him to shield his mind from outside influence. Had the compendium's silence been part of that lesson? Had the necklace severed the connection for his own protection?

The thought sent a chill down his spine, though he couldn't tell if it was one of fear or relief.

As he stared into the depths of the gemstone, a flicker of light seemed to dance within it, like the flame of a distant candle. For a moment, he thought he heard something—faint and far away, like a whisper carried on the wind.

But when he focused, the sound was gone, leaving only the crackling of the fire and the steady thrum of his own heartbeat.

Leo sighed and leaned back in his chair, the necklace resting heavily in his palm. The compendium had given him many questions, but few answers. And now, with its voice silenced, he was left to navigate the mysteries of the Spine—and the pendant—on his own.

For better or worse, he would have to rely on his own strength, his own instincts. The thought was both daunting and empowering.

As the fire burned low and the shadows grew long, Leo resolved to uncover the truth behind the pendant and the compendium—no matter where that truth might lead him.