The battle was won, but once again, Eragon had lost.
A long procession followed the casket, which two somber faced elves and openly anguished humans carried. The amber wood gleamed in the red sunlight that slanted through the trees, as night began its malignant claim.
Over the rush of the Ramr River, the air was filled with the sighing song the elves sang in mourning for their lost princess, ambassador, and friend. Beside Eragon Saphira keened, long, low, and so mournful he felt a fresh batch of tears surfacing in his eyes.
Indeed, they had won. The white-hot rage that had engulfed them when they saw Arya fall at Galbatorix's hand had lended them the last surge of adrenalin, and in turn a final… fortitude, in which they prevailed in slaying the evil king.
But, oh, how they had lost.
She was buried in a cemetery dedicated to all of those whom gave their lives in the final battle.
Afterwards, as the mourners slowly streamed out of the grounds, Orik passed by them. His eyes were red-rimmed, as was the tip of his nose.
"Ah, Eragon, my friend. What terrible losses we've all had on account of this cursed battle. Alas, you must beware you do not loose yourself pining over things even you, my powerful friend, cannot change." With that, he clasped Eragon's arm in one hand, laid the same hand upon Saphira's leg, and made his leave.
They stayed long after everyone else had left, even Queen IslanzadÃ. They stood through the long dark hours of the night, neither speaking in their sorrowful time of reflection.
At last, as dawn filtered through the trees, Saphira spoke.
She died a warrior's death, is it ought to be for one so pledged to our cause. Should we not honor her sacrifice, and rejoice as is fit?
You're right, but I doubt I can ever truly feel joy again.
Time heels all pain, little one. I too, shall miss her beyond words, but we must hope that one day the sun will rise and we will again find pleasure in this existence.
Of course, and we have Gleadr to aid us in our efforts to teach Nasuada and her hatchling the ways of the old, when the time comes.
Yes, there is much to be optimistic about. Shall we be gone from here? Let us fly together, Eragon, and cleanse our souls in this new day's light.
Let's, he agreed.
And so they flew, basking in the red dawn and an underlying sense of rightness, for though they had lost, Algeasia had its freedom once more, due to a sacrifice that led to the slaying of an evil king.