In Eragon as a Mage

The mountain air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, but Leo felt none of it. Not now. Not when the Compendium was pulsing with energy in his hands. He had spent days poring over its pages, committing runes and ancient symbols to memory, trying to understand the arcane secrets it held. Every time he thought he had a grasp on it, a new whisper from the book would draw him deeper, urging him to uncover more.

Tonight was different. He could feel it in the air—the magic, waiting to be released. The word, one single word, had called to him since he first discovered it in the book. He could no longer wait. His hands gripped the Compendium tightly, heart racing with anticipation.

He had studied the Compendium for years in secret, deciphering its cryptic language as best as he could, and now, standing in the quiet solitude of the mountain wilderness, Leo felt ready. The whispers in his mind had led him here, to this moment.

The word was just ahead, a shadow in his mind's eye. He could hear it in his thoughts, a low hum in the air around him. One syllable, simple yet profound, a key to unlocking the hidden forces of the world. He exhaled slowly and spoke it aloud.

"Uruin."

The effect was immediate.

The earth beneath him trembled, a deep rumble that seemed to come from the very bones of the mountain. Leo's words echoed into the night, and before he could take another breath, the ground cracked open with a deafening roar.

The world shook violently as the earth split beneath his feet. Large fissures ripped through the dirt and stone, as if the land itself had been torn open by an invisible force. Rocks tumbled into the dark crevices, and trees groaned under the strain, their roots snapping and cracking. The wind howled as the land shifted violently, as though answering the call of the magic Leo had unwittingly unleashed.

Leo's body was nearly thrown off balance by the sudden upheaval, and he staggered backward, his heart pounding in his chest. The ground trembled beneath him, and the once solid landscape now seemed unstable, as if it were on the verge of collapse.

But it wasn't just the earth that had changed.

The air had grown thick, heavier than before, charged with raw, untamed energy. Leo could feel it coursing through him, the magic surging inside him like a tidal wave. His hands burned, his fingers stiffening as if they had been dipped in fire. His head swam, and a wave of nausea hit him hard, forcing him to drop to his knees.

The force of the magic drained him almost immediately, sapping his strength. The moment the word had left his lips, it had stolen from him—draining his body of vitality, leaving him weak, his muscles trembling. He gasped for air, struggling to stay conscious as the world around him spun uncontrollably.

His body felt as though it were made of lead, his legs no longer capable of supporting him. The magic had been too much. Too powerful. The earth had reacted to the word, but it was not the only thing that had been changed. He could feel the Compendium's whispers in his mind, louder now, urging him to understand the price of his actions.

The landscape before him had split open, the earth yawning wide like a wound in the world. But the pain in Leo's body was more immediate, more pressing. His breath came in shallow gasps, his chest tight as if he were suffocating under an unseen weight. The world around him blurred, his vision dimming at the edges. His heart pounded as if it were about to burst from his chest.

He tried to rise, but his legs betrayed him. The dizziness overwhelmed him, and he sank back to the ground, clutching his stomach. His body was heavy, each breath a struggle. His strength was gone, drained away by the magic's power, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

With a low groan, Leo forced himself to stand again, his knees trembling beneath him. He couldn't stay here. He had to get back to the cabin. His father would be expecting him soon, and there was no time to waste. But the path back to safety felt miles away. Every step seemed like an eternity as the energy from the spell slowly ebbed away, leaving him feeling like a shell of himself.

Staggering forward, he leaned heavily against the nearby tree for support. His hands were still shaking, and his body felt as though it were being dragged through the air. The trees around him looked distorted, their shapes warped as if the very earth had shifted beneath them. The deep fissures in the land were a testament to the power of the magic he had unlocked. He had done this. He had made the earth tremble.

Leo could barely focus on anything other than the ache in his body, the strange emptiness that seemed to linger after the magic had dissipated. The Compendium had warned him, but he hadn't fully understood. Magic always came with a cost. Now, he knew what that cost was—his strength, his vitality.

As he stumbled back toward the cabin, the quiet of the mountain seemed oppressive, as though the very world was waiting to see if Leo could survive what he had just unleashed. His head ached with the strain of the magic, and every step felt like a battle against the invisible forces that clung to him.

By the time he reached the cabin, he was barely able to keep his feet under him. The door creaked open, and his father was there, looking up from his work with a furrowed brow. Leo could barely lift his gaze to meet his father's eyes, and he had no strength left to speak. His body sagged with exhaustion as he made his way to the small fire in the hearth, collapsing on the floor beside it.

His father said nothing, though Leo could feel the concern radiating from him. The silence between them was thick, but Leo couldn't find the words to explain. How could he? How could he explain what had happened, what he had done? The magic, the earth splitting, the drain on his very soul—it was all too much to put into words.

And so, he said nothing.

He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the fire pull him into an uneasy sleep, hoping that, somehow, he could recover from the magic's toll. But in the back of his mind, he knew that the journey he had started was only beginning—and that the cost of the power he sought would always linger, waiting for him to face it.