In Eragon as a Mage

The cabin was eerily quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire and the shallow, uneven breaths of Leo's father. The wound on his arm had worsened despite Leo's best efforts. The ragged bite mark left by the wolf was swollen and inflamed, the surrounding skin darkening to an unhealthy shade of red.

Leo sat by the bedside, wringing out a cloth in cool water. He placed it gently on his father's forehead, his hands trembling slightly. His father had been slipping in and out of consciousness for hours, waking only to mumble incoherently before falling back into restless, fevered sleep.

"Come on, old man," Leo whispered, his voice tight with desperation. "You've fought through worse than this. You can't give up now."

But the truth was, Leo wasn't so sure. The fever had come quickly, burning fiercely, and his father's skin felt like fire under his touch. The sight of the red streaks creeping up his father's arm chilled Leo to the bone; he knew what they meant. Infection. Poison. Death.

His father stirred, a low groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy.

"Leo?" he rasped weakly.

"I'm here," Leo said quickly, leaning closer.

His father's gaze wavered, and he tried to lift his good hand, but it fell back limply onto the bed. "Your mother… she'd know… what to do," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

"You taught me enough," Leo said firmly, though his voice wavered. "I'll figure it out. I'll fix this."

His father didn't respond, his eyes slipping shut again.

Leo stood and paced the cabin, the small space feeling more suffocating with each passing moment. His thoughts raced, frantic. He couldn't just sit there and watch his father fade away. He needed something stronger—something beyond the simple remedies they had on hand.

The compendium, hidden beneath his cot, suddenly felt heavy in his thoughts, like a presence pressing at the edges of his mind. Then, faintly, he heard it.

"There is a way…"

Leo froze, his breath catching in his throat. He turned toward the cot, his gaze narrowing.

"The price is steep, but the knowledge is yours," the voice whispered again, soft as the wind but undeniable.

"No," Leo said under his breath, shaking his head. "Not you. Not now."

The compendium's whisper came again, more insistent. "He will die without intervention. You know this."

Leo clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. The last time he had tapped into the compendium's knowledge, it had drained him nearly to the point of collapse. He wasn't sure he could risk it again—especially not now, with his father's life hanging in the balance.

But the sight of his father's pale face and trembling form filled him with dread. He knelt beside the bed, replacing the cloth on his father's forehead and dipping it into the cool water once more.

"You're not going anywhere," he said quietly, his voice filled with determination. "I'll figure something out. Just hold on."

The compendium's voice grew quieter but did not disappear. "The answer lies within. Do you wish to know, or will you gamble with his life?"

Leo turned toward the cot, glaring at the hidden book as if it could see him. He was torn, his mind spinning with indecision.

"I won't pay your price," he muttered, his voice a low growl.

"The choice is yours," the compendium replied, its voice fading into silence.

Leo sat back, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on his shoulders. He spent the rest of the night tending to his father, cleaning the wound, and applying fresh poultices, all the while ignoring the pull of the compendium.

By the time the first light of dawn began to seep through the cracks in the cabin walls, Leo's resolve had hardened. If his father didn't improve by midday, he would open the compendium and accept whatever knowledge it had to offer—no matter the price. For now, though, he would try every other option first.

The cabin was dimly lit by the morning light filtering through the wooden shutters. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the room. Leo sat on the floor, his hands trembling as he held the compendium in his lap. The weight of it felt heavier than ever, its worn leather cover radiating an unnatural warmth.

His father's condition had worsened overnight. The fever raged on, his breathing shallow and labored. The infection had spread further up his arm, the angry red lines now snaking toward his chest. Every second felt like a countdown to the inevitable, and Leo was running out of time.

The compendium's whispers were faint but persistent. "Open me. The knowledge is within. You have but to ask."

Leo hesitated, his thumb tracing the intricate symbols embossed on the cover. He had promised himself he wouldn't rely on it—not again. But the sight of his father, pale and frail, pushed him to the edge of desperation.

He opened the book.

The pages shifted and turned on their own, a soft glow emanating from the ancient text. Words began to form on the blank parchment, written in a language Leo couldn't fully understand but somehow knew.

"Life can be restored, but the cost must be paid."

"What cost?" Leo whispered, his voice barely audible.

The words shimmered, rearranging themselves. "A piece of you. A fragment of your soul. A bond that can never be undone."

Leo swallowed hard, his mind racing. He could feel the compendium's pull, the promise of power, of salvation. But deep down, he knew nothing came without consequences.

"I don't care," he said through gritted teeth, his voice rising. "Just tell me what to do!"

Before the book could respond, a weak, rasping voice cut through the silence.

"Leo…"

Leo's head snapped toward the bed. His father's eyes were half-open, glazed with pain but filled with an intensity that stopped Leo in his tracks.

"Dad…" Leo closed the book and set it aside, rushing to his father's side. "You're awake."

His father's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "Barely," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

"Don't talk. Save your strength," Leo said, reaching for the damp cloth to press it against his father's forehead.

But his father shook his head weakly. "No… no more waiting. I don't have much time."

"Don't say that," Leo said, his voice breaking. "I can fix this. I can—"

His father's hand, weak but steady, gripped Leo's wrist. "Stop," he said firmly, his gray eyes locking onto Leo's. "I know what you're thinking. I heard you… talking to it."

Leo froze, guilt flooding him. "I—I didn't mean to—"

His father squeezed his wrist, cutting him off. "Listen to me, Leo. Whatever that thing promises you… it's not worth the cost. Not for me. Not for anyone."

Tears welled up in Leo's eyes. "But you'll die," he said, his voice cracking.

His father's expression softened. "I know," he said simply. "And I've made my peace with that." He paused, his breath hitching as he winced in pain. "There's so much I wish I'd told you… so much I wanted to teach you. But Leo… you've always been the reason I kept going all these years. After your mother…" His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard. "You were all I had left. You gave me purpose. And seeing the man you're becoming… it makes me proud."

Leo couldn't hold back the tears anymore. They spilled down his cheeks as he clutched his father's hand. "You can't leave me," he whispered. "I'm not ready."

"No one's ever ready," his father said softly. "But you're stronger than you think. Smarter, too. You'll figure it out."

Leo shook his head, the weight of the moment crushing him. "I don't want to lose you."

His father's grip tightened ever so slightly. "You won't lose me," he said. "Not really. I'll always be with you, Leo. In the things I taught you, in the memories we shared. In here." He tapped a finger weakly against Leo's chest.

Leo bit his lip, nodding through the tears. "I don't know if I can do this without you."

"You can," his father said firmly. "And you will. But promise me… promise me you won't use that book. Don't let it take you down a path you can't return from."

Leo hesitated, the compendium's whispers still lingering in the back of his mind. But as he looked into his father's eyes, filled with pain yet unwavering in their resolve, he knew he couldn't break that promise.

"I promise," Leo said, his voice trembling.

His father managed a faint smile, his eyes growing heavy. "Good… good boy…" he murmured, his voice fading as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Leo sat there for hours, holding his father's hand, the compendium lying forgotten on the floor. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room, but the weight in Leo's chest felt colder than the Spine's harshest winter.

The morning came shrouded in an eerie silence. The soft chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves outside the cabin, and even the wind seemed muted, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Leo sat by his father's bedside, his eyes rimmed red, exhaustion etched deeply into his face.

The fire in the hearth had burned low, its embers glowing faintly. His father's breathing was shallow, each rise and fall of his chest a battle. The infection had spread, leaving his once-strong frame pale and weak.

Leo gently wiped his father's forehead with a damp cloth, his movements slow and deliberate. He had spent the night by his father's side, listening to every labored breath, dreading the moment when they might stop.

The compendium lay closed on the table, its whispers now silent, as if respecting the gravity of the moment. Leo hadn't dared open it again, not after the promise he made.

"Leo…"

The weak voice drew his attention immediately. He leaned closer, clutching his father's hand. "I'm here," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

His father's eyes fluttered open, the gray irises clouded but still carrying a flicker of recognition. "It's time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," Leo said, shaking his head. "Don't say that. You can fight this."

A faint, wistful smile tugged at his father's lips. "Some fights… you can't win. And that's okay."

Leo's throat tightened. "I don't want you to go."

"I know," his father said softly. "But this is the way of life, Leo. We all return to the earth eventually. You mustn't let it break you."

Tears welled in Leo's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wanted to be strong, for his father, for himself.

"Remember what I told you," his father continued, his voice growing fainter with each word. "You're strong… resourceful. You'll survive, no matter what."

Leo nodded, his hand trembling as it held his father's. "I'll try," he whispered.

His father's eyes drifted to the window, where the sunlight filtered through the shutters. "Your mother… she's waiting for me," he murmured, a faint smile crossing his lips. "It'll be good to see her again."

Leo's heart clenched at the mention of his mother, a woman he had never known but had always felt the absence of.

"I'm so proud of you, Leo," his father said, his gaze returning to his son. "Don't ever forget that."

"I won't," Leo said, his voice breaking. "I promise."

His father's eyes softened, his grip on Leo's hand loosening. "Good… boy…" he whispered, his voice fading as his eyes closed for the final time.

The room fell into an oppressive stillness. Leo sat frozen, his father's hand still in his grasp, the weight of the moment crashing down on him.

He didn't know how long he sat there, his chest heavy with grief, before he finally moved. Gently, he laid his father's hands across his chest and pulled the blanket over him, his movements slow and reverent.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Leo worked methodically, his mind numb to everything but the task at hand. He found his father's favorite tools, the ones he had used for years, and set them aside to be buried with him. He prepared a shovel, bundling it with a few other supplies before stepping out of the cabin.

The air outside was crisp and cold, the forest silent as if mourning with him. He walked until he found a small clearing nestled among the trees, a spot his father had always admired for its tranquility.

With trembling hands, Leo began to dig. The physical labor was a welcome distraction, each thrust of the shovel into the earth dulling the sharp edge of his grief. By the time the grave was ready, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the clearing.

He returned to the cabin and carefully wrapped his father in a thick blanket, carrying him to the clearing. His arms ached from the weight, but he refused to falter. This was his duty, his final act of love for the man who had given him everything.

Leo lowered his father into the grave, placing the tools beside him. He knelt at the edge, his hands gripping the dirt, his voice shaking as he spoke.

"Thank you… for everything. For teaching me, for raising me, for being there even when it was hard. I'll never forget you, Dad."

He sat there for a long time, the stars appearing in the sky above him. When he finally rose, he began to fill the grave, the sound of the dirt falling a stark reminder of the finality of it all.

When the grave was covered, Leo marked it with a simple flat stone, carving his father's name into it with his knife.

As he stood there, the compendium's whispers returned, faint and almost mournful. "A life given… a life taken. The cycle continues."

Leo ignored it, his focus on the grave before him. "Goodbye, Dad," he whispered, his voice carrying into the still night.

With heavy steps, he returned to the cabin, the weight of his loss settling over him. But even in his grief, he felt a spark of determination. He would honor his father's memory by surviving, by continuing to learn and grow.

And he would carry his father's lessons with him, always.