Reborn as a Dragon in Alagaësia

James perched on the edge of the rocky cliff outside his cave, the cold mountain air swirling around him as dawn's light crept over the jagged peaks of the Spine. Rays of sunlight glinted off his scales, casting royal purple and golden glimmers across the stone below. He spread his wings slightly, marveling at how the translucent membranes shimmered and rippled, revealing a delicate yet durable design etched into his very being.

This is me now, he thought, his mind heavy with the realization.

He turned his head, angling to get a better look at his new form. His scales, a deep and royal purple, faded into softer lavender near his belly. They overlapped like a suit of armor, seamless and unyielding yet surprisingly organic. He flexed his claws—obsidian black and wickedly sharp. They seemed designed to rend and tear, a stark reminder of what he had become.

His tail swept behind him, long and powerful, ending in a spade-like tip that moved with fluid precision. The most mesmerizing feature, however, were his wings. He extended them further, feeling the pull of muscles unfamiliar yet instinctive. The wingspan was enormous, dwarfing his body, and the membranes, tinged with the colors of a stormy sky, shimmered faintly when caught in the morning light.

He shifted his gaze to a small pool of rainwater collected in the crevice of the rocks. Peering into it, he saw his reflection—a regal head crowned with sweeping ridges and eyes that glowed like amethysts. Those eyes... they were intense, unyielding, and yet so foreign that they unnerved him.

I used to be human, he thought. I was... James.

The name was like a lifeline, tethering him to the fragments of a past life that were little more than scattered shards of memory. He could recall loving books—The Inheritance Cycle in particular. The way he had devoured the series, captivated by its sprawling landscapes, its dragons, and the bond between Rider and dragon. It had inspired him, thrilled him, and had been a place of solace.

But the movie… A faint growl rumbled deep within him at the thought. The film adaptation had been an insult to the magic of the books he'd cherished, a hollow shell that failed to capture their depth. Yet, now he found himself living within this world—not as a Rider or a hero, but as the creature he had once admired most: a dragon.

He huffed a breath, the warm air steaming against the chill of the morning. As much as he loved dragons in the books, being one was an entirely different experience. His body was powerful, yes, but it felt alien—new muscles, instincts, and senses he didn't fully understand. He was no longer James the man; he was James the dragon.

And even that felt wrong. James doesn't fit anymore. It's too... human.

The thought struck him unexpectedly. He had been James, but that name belonged to his past. If he was to truly embrace what he had become, shouldn't he choose a new name? A name worthy of a dragon? Something grand and ancient, like the dragons of old: Glaedr, Saphira, Shruikan.

Yet no matter how hard he thought, no name seemed right. He ran through possibilities, words and sounds that felt regal or fierce, but each one seemed hollow, as though it didn't belong to him. Frustration bubbled up. How could he step forward into this new life if he didn't even know what to call himself?

It'll come with time, he reassured himself, though doubt lingered. For now, he would remain nameless—just James in his own thoughts, clinging to the last piece of his human self that felt real.

The memories of his previous life were fractured and incomplete, making it hard to piece together who he had been. Faces and places came to him in flashes, slipping away like dreams upon waking. It was frustrating, leaving him with only snippets of his humanity.

But his knowledge of Alagaësia felt vivid and clear, as if it had been etched into his mind when he was reborn. He knew of the Riders, their tragic fall, and the iron grip of Galbatorix's rule. That name—Galbatorix—was a shadow over his thoughts, sending a chill down his spine despite his thick scales.

If he discovers me… James stopped the thought there, unwilling to entertain the scenarios that would follow.

He was young, untested, and fragile despite his immense form. He could barely manage to fly without clipping trees or losing control. If Galbatorix ever learned of his existence, James doubted he could survive the tyrant's wrath. The thought of facing someone with the power to dominate and enslave even dragons was terrifying.

Yet, what unsettled him the most was the question of what he should do.

What am I supposed to be in this world? he thought, his gaze drifting toward the horizon.

Instinct told him to stay hidden. The Spine was vast and isolated, the perfect place to grow and learn in safety. But another part of him—the part that still clung to the remnants of James, the human—yearned for something more. What was the point of being reborn in this world if all he did was hide? He had loved the stories of heroism and defiance, of people who fought against impossible odds to change the world. Could he truly stand by and do nothing when he had the power to make a difference?

The wind picked up, carrying with it the earthy scent of pine and damp soil. He inhaled deeply, letting the cold air clear his racing thoughts.

Survive first, he decided, the words forming resolutely in his mind. I need to understand myself before I can do anything else.

His wings twitched, catching the light once more as he rose to his feet. For now, he would focus on survival—learning what his new body could do, mastering flight, and understanding the instincts that came with his form. Perhaps in time, he would find the answers to the questions that haunted him.

He cast one last look over the forests and peaks below. This world, for all its dangers, was breathtakingly beautiful. A flicker of hope stirred within him—a small, fragile spark that promised he might find a purpose here, even if it took time.

With a leap, James launched himself into the air, his massive wings carrying him toward the rising sun. The wind roared around him, and despite his doubts, he felt a small thrill of exhilaration. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it, one day at a time.