The Eragon series (The Inheritance Cycle) by Christopher Paolini was one of those books everybody read back when I was a kid. It felt like one of those staples of fiction. A beautifully crafted world you are being carefully led through. One that succeeds in making you feel at home while incrementally introducing more and more fantastic, unbelievable and breathtaking elements. Ending in high stake battles on the backs of dragons and realistic yet tragic endings to complex love stories. As a kid it was obvious what made me fall in love with this. The Idea of finding a Dragon to have as a friend and lifelong companion was captivating and filled me with dreams of becoming a Dragon Rider myself. Who wouldn’t, Dragons are fucking cool. When restarting the series, however, a familiar fear enveloped me. How many books have I read now that, when I was a kid, swept me away and let me lose myself in adventure but on second read just weren't as good as I remembered. Too many disappointments...