Reborn as a Dragon in Alagaësia

The days stretched into weeks, and James's life settled into a steady rhythm. The marks on the wall of his cave multiplied, each one representing another day spent in this strange, beautiful world. His cave, nestled high in the Spine's craggy cliffs, became both a sanctuary and a workshop as he prepared for the challenges ahead.

The revelation that he was nearly two decades before the events of Eragon had shifted James's priorities. He had time—time to plan, to prepare, and to adapt—but the weight of that responsibility was immense. Every decision he made now could ripple across the years, altering the course of history. The thought both thrilled and terrified him.

A Night's Hunt

Night had fallen, and the Spine was alive with its usual symphony of nocturnal creatures. James stretched his wings, the faint moonlight catching the deep purple hues of his scales. The transformation into a dragon had given him incredible senses, but he still had to work to refine them. Flying, hunting, and staying undetected required a level of skill he was determined to master.

He took to the skies, the rush of wind against his body a familiar and exhilarating sensation. His sharp eyes scanned the ground below, searching for prey. After several minutes, he spotted movement—a boar rooting through the underbrush near a stream. It was larger than his usual targets but would provide a substantial meal.

James circled above, calculating his approach. He folded his wings and dove, his descent swift and silent. At the last moment, he extended his claws, striking with precision. The boar let out a brief squeal before falling still.

Landing softly, James inspected his kill. The hunt had gone smoothly, his movements more refined than they had been months ago. He tore into the meat, eating quickly and efficiently before taking off again to avoid attracting other predators.

As he flew back to his cave, he marveled at how much he had changed. The boy who had stumbled into this world would have been horrified by the idea of hunting and eating raw meat. Now, it was simply part of survival.

Practicing Occlumency

By day, James devoted himself to mastering Occlumency. He had made progress, though it was slow and frustrating. The concept was simple enough: clear your mind, build mental barriers, and fortify them against intrusion. In practice, it was a constant battle against the distractions of his thoughts and emotions.

Sitting cross-legged in the dim light of his cave, James closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He visualized a fortress, its walls high and impenetrable. The walls represented his defenses, each stone carefully placed to shield his mind.

At first, the fortress was shaky, its structure flawed. But as the weeks passed, it grew stronger. He imagined traps and mazes inside, designed to confuse and repel any who tried to breach it. Though he knew his defenses were rudimentary compared to what a skilled magician could create, they were better than nothing.

Patience, he reminded himself. This will take time.

The effort was draining, both mentally and physically, but James was determined. If he was to survive in a world where minds could be invaded as easily as doors unlocked, he needed to be prepared.

Watching the Farm

James had made it a habit to keep an eye on Garrow and Marian's farm. From his perch in the trees at the forest's edge, he observed their daily routines. Garrow spent most of his time working the fields and tending to the livestock, while Marian managed the garden and household tasks. They worked together seamlessly, their partnership a quiet testament to their love and mutual respect.

The first time James saw Marian humming to herself as she hung clothes on the line, he felt a pang of sadness. She was vibrant and full of life, a stark contrast to the tragic figure he'd imagined from the books. Her death, years in the future, loomed like a shadow over the peaceful scene.

James watched as they prepared the land for planting, repaired tools, and tended to their animals. He noted every detail, storing it away in his mind. The absence of a child confirmed his earlier suspicion—Roran hadn't been born yet.

One day, as he crouched in the underbrush, he heard Marian call out to Garrow. "What do you think about planting more barley this year? It's been fetching a good price at market."

"Aye," Garrow replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "We could use the extra coin. Maybe even enough to fix that leak in the roof before winter."

James felt a twinge of guilt for eavesdropping, but their conversations were a window into their lives. These were the small, human moments that grounded them, making them more than just names in a story.

A Visit to Carvahall

Curiosity eventually drove James to venture closer to Carvahall. He avoided the village during the day, wary of being seen, but at night, he flew low over the rooftops, his sharp eyes taking in every detail.

Carvahall was smaller than he'd imagined, its homes clustered together with narrow paths winding between them. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the faint sounds of laughter and conversation carried on the wind. It was a humble, peaceful place, far removed from the chaos that would eventually engulf it.

James's flights over the village were brief, but they gave him a sense of its layout and its people. He recognized Horst's forge by the glow of the fire and the rhythmic clang of hammer on metal. Other buildings, like the tavern and the mill, were easy to identify by their activity.

He couldn't help but wonder how these people would react if they knew a dragon was watching them from the shadows. The thought made him smirk, though he knew he couldn't risk revealing himself.

Preparing for the Future

Back in his cave, James began to formulate a long-term plan. The timeline was becoming clearer: Roran's birth was still some time away, and Saphira's hatching wouldn't happen for nearly two decades. That gave him time, but it also meant he had to be cautious.

What can I do with this time? he thought, pacing the cave.

First, he needed to perfect his flying. While he had improved significantly, there was still room for growth. He practiced maneuvers at night, diving and soaring through the Spine's peaks and valleys. Each session made him faster and more agile.

Second, he would continue his studies in Occlumency. His defenses were improving, but they were far from impenetrable. He resolved to spend part of each day meditating and refining his mental barriers.

Third, he needed to gather information. Observing Garrow and Marian was a start, but he needed a broader understanding of the world's current state. What was happening beyond Carvahall? What was the Empire's reach like at this time? These were questions he would have to answer eventually.

Finally, he needed to stay hidden. The last thing he wanted was to attract attention, especially from the Empire. A dragon—even one as young as he was—would be a valuable prize for Galbatorix. James shuddered at the thought.

I'll survive, he thought, determination hardening in his chest. And when the time comes, I'll be ready.

A Flicker of Hope

Despite the challenges, James found moments of peace. Flying through the night sky, the wind rushing past him, was a joy unlike anything he'd ever known. The stars above seemed closer now, their light brighter and more vivid.

There were other small joys, too. The thrill of a successful hunt, the satisfaction of progress in his training, and the quiet beauty of the Spine all reminded him that this world, for all its dangers, was also a place of wonder.

And then there was the farm. Watching Garrow and Marian, seeing their simple, happy lives, gave him a sense of hope. If they could find joy and purpose in this world, perhaps he could too.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, James settled into his new life. The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time since his arrival, he felt a flicker of confidence.

I can do this, he thought, carving another mark into the wall of his cave. One day at a time.

A Time of Change

Months passed, and the marks on the wall of James's cave multiplied. He grew stronger, more adept at flying and hunting. His mastery of Occlumency progressed steadily, though he knew it would be years before his mental defenses were as unassailable as he wanted.

The seasons changed, and James's quiet observations of the farm became a cornerstone of his days. It was during one of these visits, perched low on a rocky outcropping near the edge of the forest, that he saw it—a moment that would etch itself into his memory forever.

Marian stood outside the farmhouse, a small bundle cradled in her arms. Garrow was beside her, his expression one of unguarded joy as he gently brushed his calloused fingers across the baby's cheek.

James's sharp eyes caught the soft rise and fall of the infant's chest, the faint cooing sound as Marian whispered to him. Even from a distance, James could feel the love radiating from the scene.

Roran, James thought with a pang. He's finally here.

The baby represented more than just the continuation of Garrow and Marian's family. To James, Roran was a symbol of the world's future—a reminder of the struggles and triumphs that lay ahead.

As James watched the couple dote on their newborn, he felt a surge of determination. He had come to this world with no plan, no purpose. But now, he had something to fight for—a family worth protecting, a future worth ensuring.

The winds shifted, carrying the sound of Marian's laughter up to his perch. For the first time in a long while, James allowed himself a small, contented smile.

"I'll make sure you have a chance to live your lives," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. "Whatever it takes."

With one last glance at the farm, James spread his wings and took to the skies, the moonlight glinting off his scales. The future was uncertain, but for now, hope burned brightly in his heart.