Ah, the epilogue. My first finished story, folks. If I could go out and buy stuff to celebrate, I would. But we shall have to toast and brake open the casks via internet and, better yet, reviews. Let me know if you loved or hated the ending. Thanks! I no own, you sue not!!

Revenge is sweet, Arya mused as she stood in front of the gates of Vroengard. How ironic that her chase should have lead her to Doru Araeba, the very place where it had all begun. It had been a difficult road that had led her to her goal, but it had been worth it. Each dreary day of traveling through treacherous mountain passes and dark back roads, each moment of despair and loneliness: they had all been worth the feeling of finally finding Istial and plunging her sword through his heart.

Yet, now that it was ended, Arya did not know quite what to do with herself. She could always go back to Ellesmera, of course. That was the obvious option. But she did not feel that she could go back to a normal life so soon, if ever. Something in her had changed after she had met Eragon in Ellesmera. She was a different person, one who could laugh and smile without fear of being hurt or rejected. And the person that she had become could not abide going back to sit on a pedestal.

What else was there for her in Alagaesia? A kingdom? The Riders? No, they had established themselves quite well already. They would do just fine without her. Arya sighed as she let the water surrounding the island lap at her ankles. The waves' gentle swells mesmerized her and forced her to stand motionless gazing out to sea.

There was something holding her back and chaining her to Doru Araeba. Some mystical power wanted her to remain on the island for just a little while longer.

Arya knew not how long she sat by the water. It may have been hours, or minutes, or perhaps a few fleeting moments. All she knew was that she had lost the meaning of life. The drive that had propelled her through the great war with Galbatorix and on to defeat Istial had vanished. All she felt was a desperate desire to cease to be. Life had lost all of its luster. And there she was, alone again.

A birdcall made her look up from her focus on the sea. She smiled as she saw an eagle in its flight soaring high over the land, free of all constraint and emotion. That was what she wanted to do: fly high into sweet oblivion and never look back. Life had been unfair to her, cruel even. She was ready to let go one final time.

And then she heard it, a long, lonely horn blowing off in the distance. She snapped her head quickly in the direction that the sound had come from. Her eyes widened as, afar off, she saw a single gray ship sailing slowly towards the island.

It was a majestic thing with sails as white as clouds and a frame sturdy as a boulder but lithe as a reed. It lapped the distance up, mile by mile until it docked by the island's port. Arya ran nimbly over to it, her mind working furiously to decipher the meaning of the strange ship.

Upon reaching the dock, Arya gasped. At the bow of the ship stood a figure cloaked in white and gray. It was Eragon.

Her eyes grew wide and her usually steady hands began to shake uncontrollably. She gasped involuntarily as Eragon beckoned to her from the boat. She walked closer and closer, unable to believe what she was seeing. When at last she reached the lowered gangplank, Eragon began to descend.

As she beheld his face, she frowned, realizing that this was not Eragon as she remembered him. Rather, this was Eragon transformed into what he was meant to be. She gazed at him with wonder in her eyes, unable to speak an intelligible word.

"I knew that you would be led here," Eragon called out.

Arya could only nod, so incapable was she of controlling her faculties.

"I have a journey to take, Arya, the final journey. And I would not like to go it alone."

And at last Arya understood. Eragon was on his way to the land beyond life. He was the captain of the ship and the crew were those souls whom he had freed. At that moment, Arya knew that a sense of closure was coming to her. She had found her destiny. It was a life away from the pain and sorrow of the corporeal, the sadness that she had become so numb to. Life had scarred her enough. She took the first step onto the plank.

Eragon waited to receive her with open arms. As she melted into his arms, for the first time, she did not feel apart and alone. Instead she felt loved and wanted. A loud bugle sounded in the air. Arya looked up. There soared Saphira, high above the clouds. She too had come to join Eragon. And she was not alone. Another dragon flew in spirals in the distance. Arya recognized it as Brom's Saphira. They had been waiting and were now ready. It was time.

The ship flowed effortlessly back out to sea. As Alagaesia faded into the horizon, Eragon took Arya's hand and together they prepared to face the rest of time.

Alagaesia would remain the same throughout the coming centuries, living in a blissful time of peace. Yet nothing can ever really remain the same. Rather, the winds of change blow through at random times, disturbing everything in their wake; yet from the chaos they create arises something beautiful.

The End.

So, I am DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yeah. Party, party, party! So, in closing, I wold like to thank all of you who faithfully read and reviewed this story. I would not have even written the second chapter without your support. I am grateful for all of your input. This story has definitely helped me in developing my writing skills and I want to thank you all for that. So, that's it, the end. Thanks for all your support,

The Rose of Battle.