In the great hall of the Dragon Mountains, the air was heavy with power. Majestic pillars carved from black obsidian rose to the high ceiling, each etched with runes that pulsed faintly with ancient draconic energy. Around a massive round table sat figures whose very presence distorted the air, Rank 8s and Rank 9s, the ruling forces of dragonkind.
At the head of the table sat a man with long crimson hair that shimmered like molten lava. Two curved horns jutted from his head, faintly glowing at the tips. His sharp golden eyes carried a weight that made even the strongest hesitate to meet them. This was Eragon, Lord of the Dragon Mountains, the Red Tyrant.
