A/N: I do not own anything here, but you already know that. This is a little epilogue thing to go with Inheritance. I hope you like it. If you do (or if you hate it) please REVIEW! That would be awesome!

EDIT: 20/01/14

If you've read this before, you might recall this being a multi-chapter fic. Well, now it's not, and here's why.

This story is really old. I almost took it entirely down but, because I'm sentimental, I'm keeping the Epilogue up because it was such fun to write back in the day. After posting the two chapters after it, however, I realized that I had gone terribly out of order and it was unfixable. There were so many plot points that I did not fill in soon enough and it was a mess.

Thank you all for the support this story has gotten, but I am unable to continue it. Recently, I was browsing around here and was overcome with how embarrassing this story was for me (the chapters after this, mostly), so I took them down as I don't want that quality under this pen name. If you are interested in how it was supposed to go, you can PM me and I'll try to get back to you.

Thanks again for all your kind reviews and all your support. It made me smile. Have a great day, guys. Love you.

Epilogue to Inheritance:

Riders Return

Eragon awoke just before dawn and stretched, cracking his back. He ran his fingers through his hair, which he had cut recently. It was much shorter than he usually kept it- a nice change. In the padded basin in the center of his room, Saphira stirred. A puff of smoke escaped from her nostrils and the smell wafted through the air.

Eragon gazed into the early morning gloom. The farthest corners of his room were still hidden in shadow. Eragon was very proud of his house. He had built it to resemble the one that he had stayed in during his time in Ellesméra. It was sung out of a great oak tree by he himself, with the help of Glaedr and Saphira, of course.

Wake up, Saphira, Eragon thought. He pushed the covers off his legs and got out of bed. Saphira was still asleep. Eragon shook his head as he brewed himself a cup of tea. The herbal liquid scalded his mouth when he took a sip, making Eragon grimace. Still, he continued to drink. The tea cleared and refreshed his mind and set him at ease after another restless night.

It had been four years since Eragon and Saphira had left Alagaesia with the dragon eggs and the eldunari. Since then, Eragon, Saphira and the elves that had accompanied them found a suitable place to build the city where the new Dragon Riders would be trained- a defendable valley situated between two tall peaks, the mouth of which faced the west and Alagaesia.

Once they had found the place, Eragon and Saphira, with the help of the elves and the eldunari, began to build the city, which they called Dras Shur'tugal- Dragon Rider City. It took quite a long time to accomplish the imposing town. Eragon's vision still hadn't been completed entirely, but he had gotten a good start. He built the houses and halls in the elven style, pulling inspiration from the ruins of Doru' Araeba.

Two years after they had settled there, ten buildings big enough for dragons larger than Glaedr had been had been finished, the sparring field had been sectioned off, and a couple promising looking caves in the surrounding mountains had been marked off. This immense project kept Eragon and Saphira busy for long hours each day and prevented them from wasting their energies mourning what they had left behind. Most of the time, Eragon was thankful for that. But occasionally, he felt an overwhelming loneliness envelop him at night when the work was over and he was waiting for his waking dreams to whisk him away.

Most of Eragon's waking dreams were filled of memories, most of them painful- the war, Roran, Murtagh, the new city, the eggs, Arya. The list was endless. More often than not, Eragon woke up in a cold sweat. The next morning, he would throw himself into his work, forcing himself to forget. And so, Eragon became numb to the world.

In the third year, the first of the dragon eggs hatched- to an elf by the name of Katana. When that happened, Eragon spoke to Arya for the first time since his departure. The news was happy, but at the sight of Arya, Eragon found himself pulled into a downward spiral of depression. As such, he kept their conversation as short and as formal as possible, talking much about Dras Shur'tugal and little about himself. When the connection was cut off, Eragon felt worse than he had in the three years.

In a couple month's time though, Eragon was once again thrown into his work. Katana and her deep purple dragon, Jahan, had arrived and Eragon and Saphira had to become her mentors. Katana was a young elf- only about fifty years old, with raven hair and blue eyes. Her being an elf and participating in the war made her training very easy. She had much need of improvement in her archery skills, but was a decent sword fighter. Jahan was a good flyer, strong and fast, but very conservative and thoughtful. Saphira found that he was reluctant to perform complicated spins and maneuvers without first thinking them through for at least two days. He soon grew out of that.

With another dragon rider there, Eragon found it was easier to cope with his self- banishment. He and Katana got along well, though he never talked to her on a personal level. He was always 'Ebrithil' to her and she was always 'Katana- finarel'- nothing more.

Eragon and Saphira became even busier with the arrival of Dalian and his dragon, Quill. Dalian was a human and fifteen- the same age Eragon was when he had found Saphira's egg. They got along even better than he and Katana. It was harder for Dalian to use magic and to swordfight, but Eragon was patient, remembering his own training before the dragon's changed him. Quill was an excellent flyer though. He was silver with ivory spikes along his back. Dalian said he had been reminded of a porcupine's quills upon seeing the dragon, thus earning the name, 'Quill'.

The last Rider to enter Dras Shur'tugal was another elf named Malachi. His dragon, Súndav, was black as night, same as the elf's hair and eyes. He was older than Katana, approaching eighty years, and was quite an adept fighter and spell caster. Eragon was surprised and pleased to find that Blöhdgarm and another elf had known Malachi.

Eragon and Saphira's days were occupied with the training of Katana, Dalian and Malachi, and the building of Dras Shur'tugal, which was a never- ending process. Throughout, Eragon and Saphira continued to learn from the eldunari, but the dragon souls seemed to be more withdrawn, especially Glaedr. Eragon tried not to seem too worried about that. He had accepted that one day Glaedr and the others might want to move on and disappear into the void after their riders.

Saphira, come on, he thought. You're supposed to teach Quill to backwards corkscrew today. Saphira shifted her great head and opened one eye. The great blue orb glared at him.

Fine then, she said. Saphira lifted her head and stretched like an oversized cat. She yawned and Eragon coughed.

You breath is really atrocious, Saphira, he thought. She sent up a plume of smoke around his head. Okay, okay, I'm sorry! But it's true. Saphira sniffed and began her morning tongue bath.

Eragon sighed and donned a new set of clothes- dark pants, boots and a light green tunic. He then moved into an empty space and proceeded to start the Rimgar, as was his morning routine. He struck the first pose, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Then he slipped into the next one, fluid as water. He continued through the Rimgar exercises for the next half hour. When he had finished, he was covered in a light sweat. Eragon belted Brisingr around his waist and glanced over at Saphira again. She was still occupied with her tongue bath.

You're slower than a snail today, Saphira, commented Eragon. He sat on the edge of his bed and watched her.

A beast as mighty as I shouldn't be compared with such delectable snacks, sniffed Saphira. Besides, the Snalgli on Vroenguard were quite fast for soft shell-covered creatures.

That is true, replied Eragon, remembering his encounters with the huge creatures. Still, you need to hurry up. I've been waiting for ten minutes already.

Wait no longer, little one, Saphira said. I am ready. She stood and nudged her saddle which lay in the corner of the house. Eragon jumped to his feet, retrieved the saddle and buckled it tightly around Saphira's belly before climbing upon her. He strapped his legs into the saddle and gripped the neck spike in front of him.

Let us be off, Saphira, Eragon said. Our students will have already grown bored in our prolonged absence.

Saphira inclined her large glittering blue head in agreement and walked to the entrance of the house. The paused there for a second and shifted her weight to establish good balance before tensing her legs and pushing off. She hovered in the air, a hundred feet above the ground before snapping out her large blue wings and catching the breeze.

Saphira flapped twice, gaining altitude, and then soared across the valley, taking her time. She dipped and swerved, following the invisible currents of the wind. Eragon let her, enjoying the feeling of the cool morning air on his face, blowing through his hair. It was in the sky, flying with Saphira, that he was the most comfortable, the most at peace. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. At this time of day, Eragon could only describe the smell of the air as fresh and new.

All too soon, Eragon and Saphira found themselves circling over the sparring fields. Below, Eragon could see his three pupils and their dragons, sitting in the field. Saphira stopped flapping and glided down to the field gracefully. She alighted on the dew- covered grass in a matter of seconds. The dragons and riders all stood to greet her and Eragon.

"Good morning, Ebrithil," the three dragon riders said in unison. Eragon nodded to them as he jumped down from Saphira's back.

"Good morning, Shur'tugals," Eragon replied. The new dragon riders then greeted him in the elven tongue and Eragon replied in kind. He could hear the same greeting taking place between Saphira and the other dragons.

"My apologies for being late," Eragon said, continuing in the ancient language. This was mostly for Dalian's benefit as he was still learning the Ancient Language. He could remember most of the words, but he struggled with the grammar as it differed so from his native tongue. If Dalian wasn't struggling so, Eragon would've spoken in his own language, of which all three were fluent in, but he had learned that the best way to become fluent in a language was to hear it and speak it as much as possible.

"Did you have time to meditate yet?" Eragon asked.

"No, Ebrithil," Katana replied curtly.

"Very well, then," said Eragon. "All of you go out and meditate for a half hour and then return." The riders bowed their heads and left promptly. Saphira had the dragons do the same thing. After both dragons and riders had disappeared into the trees that bordered the sparring field, Eragon sat down in the grass next to Saphira. He plucked up blades of grass and shredded them without reason while Saphira examined the play of the morning sunlight across her scales.

After a half hour, the dragons and riders returned and Eragon stood, ready to teach.

"We have completed our meditation, Ebrithil," said Dalian. He had mixed up the sentence structure yet again, but his message was clear enough.

"Good," said Eragon. "Tell me what you learned." Eragon sat on the grass and listened as, first Katana, then Dalian, and lastly Malachi told his of their meditations. All three of them were very good at listening to the sounds of the surrounding forest. Eragon decided that soon he would not ask what they had learned from their meditations, just as long as they stuck to this morning routine.

As the dragon riders concluded with their tales, the dragons rose and Saphira led them into the skies for their morning warm-ups- five laps around the sparring field at increasing speed- before reviewing the previous day's lesson and starting on the new one. Meanwhile, Eragon started the dragon riders on the third stage of the Rimgar.

Eragon had to admit that he was rather jealous of the lax training that he was putting these dragon riders through. He wished that he had such a slow, steady, constant rhythm to his own training, but unfortunately, there wasn't the time. He reminded himself that he might've found the repetitiveness slightly boring and told himself to focus on the lesson. Today Eragon was going to teach them about drawing energy from the plants- a lesson that he had been looking forward to.

"Tell me, what powers the spells that we use?" Eragon asked the new dragon riders, once they had finished their morning exercises.

"Energy," replied Katana in an instant. That didn't surprise Eragon. He had learned that she was a bit of a know it all. She had a habit of answering all of Eragon's questions.

"And where do we get that energy?" asked Eragon.

"From our bodies," said Katana. Eragon nodded.

"And from our dragons," Dalian added. "I once used some of Quill's for a spell."

"Very good," said Eragon. "And we all know that the spells we can cast are dependent upon the amount of energy we have at our disposal. Now, what you don't know yet, is that energy is all around us, as long as there are living things." Eragon paused, watching their expressions. He was about to continue when there was boom. Eragon backpedaled from a spot in the ground that was now issuing copious amounts of smoke. He was reminded immediately of the moment Saphira's egg had come to him.

Eragon, what happened? Saphira said. Eragon glanced up to where she was in the sky. The dragons circled high above Eragon's head.

I'm not sure, Saphira, Eragon replied. He edged towards the object that was still smoking, but not as much as before. The grass around it was singed black.

"Ebrithil, what's going on?" asked Dalian. He and Katana and Malachi had backed up as well. Eragon knelt down and fanned a bit of smoke away revealing what looked like a piece of paper. Written in clear print were the words, 'Eragon Shadeslayer'.

"I'm not sure," Eragon replied. "But I'll soon find out." He reached out and picked up the paper. It was warm to the touch. Slowly, as if it could bite him, Eragon opened it.

Arya whispered to her steed in the Ancient Language and ushered the horse forward. It began at a leisurely trot, gradually picking up pace. Arya was silent as she rode through Du Weldenvarden, gazing at the trees around her. It was calming for her to be alone with only her thoughts in the forest and it certainly was different to be riding a horse once more.

This particular horse's name was Calix. He was snow white with black hooves and a black mane and tail. Calix was a truly beautiful creature, all taught muscles and sleek hide. Arya thought that, if she wasn't already a dragon rider, she would ride Calix almost daily.

Absentmindedly, Arya fingered the Gedway Ignasia on the palm of her left hand, a habit she had fallen into since Fίrnen had hatched for her almost five years ago. Right now, Fίrnen was off on a hunting trip far to the east of Ellesméra, where no elves lived. When he had left, Arya had taken Calix out, riding to the west. Each of them had been gone for a couple hours now.

Since he had hatched, Fίrnen had rarely been from Arya's side. They had stuck together most all the time and when Fίrnen needed to hunt, he never went out of range of their mental contact. They had only separated their minds twice before. Each time, Arya felt a sense of emptiness, as if part of her were missing. She felt almost vulnerable.

That's insane, Arya told herself. She had been without a dragon for a century. If anything, this should feel normal. No, she thought. So much has changed.

So much had changed for Arya. After Eragon had left, Arya was left to return to Ellesméra and help to rebuild her race. It was extremely boring work, but necessary, and she felt that she was the best person to fulfill the job. She spent her time between writing reports of casualties and supplies and attending meetings with Nasuada, Orik, Orrin, Nar, and sometimes King Halfpaw of the werecats, either in person of via scrying mirror. For the last four years, her life had completely revolved around politics. She wondered on more than a few occasions how her mother had dealt with it for all those decades.

As much as Arya wanted to help her race and the whole of Alagaesia, the days upon days of politics were wearing her down, making her short- tempered and moody. Her distress was heightened by Fίrnen's increasing impatience with all the proceedings. Arya was lucky to have Fίrnen. She had escaped many unpleasant meetings by simply hopping on Fίrnen's back and flying around for a couple hours. That drove Dathaedr and the other elves in her court nuts.

Arya couldn't help it. She felt so trapped in Ellesméra. There was no adventure, no excitement. Nothing of great interest had occurred during the past four years. Of course, she had to give the three new riders their preliminary training, but even that wasn't enough. She wished that she could go ahead and abdicate from the throne. But she couldn't- at least, not until her race was somewhat back to where they were before they left the forest. That would take another year at least. Most of all, she wanted to be able to travel again. And the first place she wanted to visit was Dras Shur'tugal- where Eragon was.

Arya looked up, jerked from her broodings. As a rule, she forced herself not to think about Eragon too much. She had learned early on that doing so pained her very soul. They had spoken before, but those conversations were strained and formal. She shook her head and focused on Calix again. He was starting to tire. By listening to the whispers of the land and by the position of the sun in the sky, she could tell that she had ridden far towards Osilon. She was maybe a fourth of the way to that city. She whispered to Calix and the horse slowed to a walk, panting slightly. Sweat slicked his ivory hide. Arya rubbed his neck gently and told him to find a stream. The horse nickered softly and swung his head around, heading north.

Calix started off again at a leisurely walk, but they didn't go far. A few dozen yards to the north was a bubbling stream. Arya dismounted when they arrived and let Calix drink his fill. She knelt down and cupped the cool water in her hands and gulped it down. When she was done, Arya sat down on the needle- covered forest floor and rested her back against a large pine tree. Calix began to wander off, sniffing around for something to eat. Arya let him, closing her eyes. She could always find him later with ease.

Arya had hardly rested for five minutes when she heard the high wail of a frightened horse. Her eyes flew open at once. It was rare that elven horses were ever spooked like that. The horse's wail cut through the air again and Arya jumped to her feet, running in the direction from which it was coming from.

She ran through the forest for only a minute before she saw Calix, rearing and prancing away. Arya paused and looked around for the thing that had spooked Calix, but she couldn't find anything. She reached out her mind to the frightened horse and sent him calming thoughts and words. After a while, Calix calmed down enough to stand beside her, though his chest still heaved and his eyes still roved around anxiously.

"Shh," murmured Arya, stroking his neck. Suddenly, a shadow passed over her and Calix, leaving as soon as it had come. Arya turned her head to the sky and searched for the thing that had cast the shadow. Streaking down through the trees was a great red beast- a dragon. Calix reared and neighed as the dragon landed in the clearing. Arya backed up along with the horse, avoiding the swirling wind and pine needles. Arya could hardly believe it as Thorn touched down and Murtagh hopped off his back.

The rider looked worn and haggard. His hair and eyes were wild. His face looked dirty and a long cut stretched from his left temple to jaw. Mud splattered his clothes and Thorn's legs and sides, dimming the color of Thorn's normally bright scales. Murtagh's black shirt was stained darker in some places with what Arya assumed was blood; whether it was Murtagh's or not, Arya was not sure.

"Arya Dröttning," Murtagh said, sounding surprised and relieved. He bowed his head.

"Murtagh, Thorn; what are you doing here?" Arya asked warily, unsure of their intentions.

"I'd say that I was speaking with you, but somehow I don't think jokes will be appreciated at the moment," Murtagh replied with a wry half smile. Arya gave him a stern look. "Alright, I'm running from someone- well, something." Arya raised her eyebrows at him.

"What could be here that is powerful enough to chase you and Thorn away?" Arya asked. Murtagh shrugged.

"We really don't know," he said and Arya could see the truth of his words in his dark eyes.

"What happened?" Arya asked, more as a command. She wanted to know what kind of creature was out there that would dare to challenge a dragon and his rider.

Murtagh took a deep breath and sat against the trunk of one of the smaller pines in the immediate vicinity. Thorn sat where he had landed, resting his great ruby head on the forest floor, the thump muted by the layer of pine needles. Murtagh brushed a bit of blood that streamed from the cut on his face away before beginning his story.

"After the war, Thorn and I traveled around Alagaesia. Mostly we stayed around the spine, visited Vroenguard a couple times. Once we went to the Beor Mountains. But we never really stuck in one place for more than a week. Anyway, last night, Thorn and I were flying north up the spine when-"

I thought that I felt something with my mind, Thorn said. He sounded tired and sad. I couldn't tell you what exactly it was. It was completely alien to me. But still, it was there. And it was flying. And it was following us. To try and throw it off of our trail, I switched direction and tried to flank it, but it just kept following us. I could not outrun it, nor could I maneuver any way that would throw it off of my tail.

"I looked behind us, but I couldn't see anything," Murtagh added. "There was just the patch of darkness that seemed denser than the rest of the sky, a bit bigger than Thorn. No stars shone there. I think that's where the creature was."

"And did it do anything?" Arya asked.

"Not then, no," Murtagh replied. "But we had to land at some point, so we touched down near Carvahall, far into the mountains. We had thought we had lost it because its mind was gone, but it attacked in the middle of the night. I'm still unsure what exactly happened. It was like someone smothered us with a great black blanket and we couldn't get out. Magic didn't work and there was nothing to swing at and we couldn't see a thing."

I was able to find Murtagh and we were able to try and crawl away. It took all night, but when the first rays of the sun appeared, the thing went away. And we were left like this.

Arya didn't know how to feel. It didn't make sense for Murtagh and Thorn to lie about a thing like this, and they certainly looked as though they had been fighting, but Arya couldn't fathom an enemy that couldn't be harmed. She didn't want their story to be true.

"You couldn't harm it at all?" Arya asked. Murtagh shook his head.

"At least, not with what I did," he said. "I think that it is affected by light though. Maybe those spells would somehow harm it, but there was nothing there to cut at or slash. You couldn't even see. Thorn and I probably wacked each other a couple times last night. We flew straight here after the attack. I thought that you should know since you're a Dragon Rider and Queen. It was only our luck that you happened to be outside of Ellesméra- we don't think the elves would appreciate our presence." Arya nodded, still thinking.

"This is very serious. I should find a way to contact Eragon and Saphira."

"That was my first thought, but I don't know how to reach them." Arya immediately cast out her mind, searching for Fίrnen's when she remembered that he was too far away for them to feel each other. She muttered a curse. Of all the days he had decided to go hunting, she thought to herself ruefully. He just had to choose today. It was a shame because the wards that prevented magic from penetrating Du Weldenvarden were still there. If Arya were to scry Eragon, she would have to either wait for Fίrnen to return and fly south, or ride south now. Both options would waste a whole day.

"I'll find a way to get the information there," Arya replied, a bit of a plan forming in her mind. "Would you like to go to Ellesméra to rest and wash up?"

Murtagh shook his head. "I want to find out more about this shadow. No, Thorn and I will continue to wander. Thank you for the offer though." Arya accepted his thanks with a gracious nod of the head. She then mounted Calix even as Murtagh jumped onto Thorn's back.

"Be safe," Arya called to him. "Eragon wouldn't want you to risk your life doing something foolish." Murtagh grinned.

"That filthy hypocrite; he does that every day!" Arya couldn't help but smile in return, for it was true. Eragon seemed to put himself in life threatening situations just for the fun of it. Arya then wheeled Calix around and rode off towards Ellesméra at a sprint. As she left, she could hear Thorn's wings flap and feel the buffet of the air as the great dragon took flight.

Arya and Calix rode hard straight to Ellesméra. They arrived within an hour, Calix panting, his head hanging low. Arya dismounted as soon as they entered the city and let Calix get water and rest. She then ran to the throne room, where she knew Dathaedr would surely be.

She pushed open the doors and sure enough, there was Dathaedr, writing something at the desk in the corner of the room. She avoided any greetings and simply rushed in and started talking.

"Dathaedr, I have important news!" she announced. Arya then began to explain what had happened in the forest, Murtagh and Thorn's arrival and the story that they told. Throughout, Dathaedr listened with interest. By the end, his brow had furrowed in concern.

"This is troubling news," he said, once Arya had stopped talking. "Yes, I think it is right to warn Eragon Shadeslayer, but how will you reach him? Will you wait for Fίrnen to return?" Arya shook her head.

"Fίrnen said he would be gone for quite some time. Eragon needs to know of this now. I have an idea though." With that, she left the room and walked briskly to her tree house.

Arya had moved out of Tialdari Hall soon after Fίrnen had hatched. There just wasn't enough room for a dragon in there, and soon Fίrnen had outgrown her room. So Arya moved her belongings to a tree house near Tialdari Hall that was large enough for a growing dragon. There were quite a few houses fit for riders in Ellesméra, but they had been abandoned since the fall of the riders. No elf dared take lodging in the houses. It didn't seem right. But, since Arya was now a rider, she felt that living in one of the rider's houses was to be expected.

Arya bounded up the stairs of her tree house and opened the door. The first floor, for it was two floors, was smaller and set with a couch and a couple chairs surrounding a squat table, good for entertaining company- not that anyone ever joined her in her house. Another table sat to the back by a large window, and a desk was in another corner along with a tall, ornate bookshelf. On the second level, the house looked much like Vrael's had been, with a depression in the floor for a dragon and a bed for herself.

Arya maneuvered around the furniture and sat herself at the desk. She brought out a piece of paper and an ink well and feather pen.

"This had better not go astray," Arya muttered to herself as she dipped the pen in the ink and began to write.

Eragon recognized the handwriting in an instant, the precise curves of the runes and the careful lines. The realization of who this letter was from hit him like a blow to the stomach. Eragon had to admit that he was thrilled to receive a letter from her, but the thought of her left a bad taste in his mouth, the taste of so many sorrows; he missed her so. Eragon folded up the paper again without reading it and turned to his students. They looked at him with expectant, curious expressions.

"I'll be back shortly," Eragon said, starting to turn away.

"Ebrithil," Katana said, causing Eragon to stay. "How did that get here?"

"Magic," Eragon replied. "I'll teach you how to do it later. Right now you may relax or spar with dulled blades until I return. Just don't kill each other." Katana and Malachi grinned while Dalian looked worried. Eragon couldn't blame him. Katana and Malachi never failed to beat him in sparring sessions, bruising him badly more often than not.

Eragon turned and began to walk away from his students, his pace quick. He wanted to distance himself from them for privacy when he read the letter. As he walked, he reached out for Saphira's mind.

Saphira, it's a letter from Arya, he said.

What does it say? She replied.

I haven't read it yet, said Eragon, but I think it's important. She wouldn't have written just to ask after my health. We haven't had a normal conversation in years. Eragon felt saddened at the thought. He longed to speak with her, but their schedules didn't allow for it, especially since Arya had to fly to the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden to use a scrying mirror. What if she changed?Eragon thought to himself.

Read it then, little one, Saphira said. I will continue to instruct Jahan, Quill and Súndav. You can tell me of it later. Eragon gave a mental nod and then backed out of Saphira's mind so that his thoughts wouldn't distract her from her aerial acrobatics. He walked a bit farther away and then reopened the paper. The edges were singed, but the paper was no longer smoking.

Eragon paused and examined the first couple characters to discern the language that Arya was writing in. He had become much better and faster at reading, but still it took him a while to figure out that she was writing in his own tongue, for the runes were curved and flowing, similar to that of the Liduen Kvaedhi, the elves' written language. It read:

Greetings Eragon,

I have some very important and distressing news to inform you of. I would've scryed you, but currently Fίrnen is out hunting, and I didn't want to wait.

I was out riding in Du Weldenvarden, when Murtagh and Thorn landed there, bloodied and covered in mud, and told me of a new enemy that now stalks the land. It cannot really be seen or felt, and it didn't respond to any of the spells that Murtagh tried to cast. The creature- whatever it was- only retreated when the morning sun rose. I do not know the extent of the creature's powers, nor how it came to be. Thorn said that he could feel the presence of its mind, but that it was completely alien to him. Maybe a terrible new species has come to Alagaesia. Anyway, Murtagh and Thorn seem bent on finding it again.

I shall try and contact you later. This being is strange and I fear that, if Murtagh and Thorn cannot defeat it, nothing would be able to stop it. If you could, it would be beneficial if you were to return. I would at least like your opinion on this matter.

Love,

Arya

Eragon looked up from the letter with worry. He rubbed his face and reread it to make sure he understood everything. Then he thought again. A strange new creature, she had said. Eragon wanted to know more about this being. How could it not be felt? He wondered. How could it have harmed Murtagh, if Murtagh was unable to even hit it? Eragon didn't know even remotely what this creature was, but he was sure that it wasn't natural. Worry gnawed at his stomach. Murtagh and Thorn are really going after this thing?

Saphira, Eragon called out with his mind. She gave a noncommittal grunt and pushed him to the back of her mind like an irksome fly. Eragon saw that she was focused on Quill's flying, and was becoming very unsatisfied with it too. If Eragon wasn't so worried about the creature, he might have chuckled. It seemed that Quill could never pick up new moves.

Saphira, Eragon said again, this time with more force. Could you listen for a minute? What Arya said is very important!

Yes, little one, but you must learn patience, said Saphira.

This is too important, Eragon replied. Quill can wait to learn the backwards corkscrew.

Eragon then began to read to Saphira Arya's words. He could feel her increasing worry and confusion through their mental link.

That is troubling, Saphira said once she had digested all the words. Maybe Arya is right. Maybe we should go back- especially if that thing can overpower Murtagh and Thorn. As the lead rider and dragon, I think we need to know what new enemies have sprung up. Also, I crave for battles again.

Eragon turned around to look at the three riders on the field. Malachi and Katana were sparring while Dalian watched with interest. If we were to leave, said Eragon, what would they do?

They can learn much from the Eldunari, said Saphira. They have far more knowledge than us, and we wouldn't be gone for too long.

Does that settle it then? Eragon asked, looking up at the sky.

I think it does, Saphira replied. Eragon glanced at the note one more time before holding it up and tucking it safely in his pocket.

Alright Saphira; we'll return to Alagaesia. Saphira spun in the air with joy. Eragon knew that she desperately wanted to see Fίrnen, even as Eragon wanted to see Arya and Roran. But he also felt a bit of fear at the thought of the other creature that would be there when they returned.

The future really isn't set in stone, Eragon thought, reminded of Angela's prophecy. He was going to go back, something he was told he would never do. Eragon Shadeslayer was returning to Alagaesia; his home.